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jaggedamethyst · 2 days ago

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circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part two)

tutor!jayce talis x reader college au

content: reader recently decided to get a physics tutor...it's time for the first session with jayce talis

notes: walk with me and suspend ur disbelief in the actual physics talk...i have to make it somewhat believable that they're actually having tutoring sessions so i dug into the crevices of my brain for old physics topics that aren't too hard if you know them...if you don't..hopefully jayce makes sense LMAOOOO. but i will try not to do too much physics that it takes you out of it, i just want to build the tension and relationship. just trust me.

again mentions of neurodivergence/adhd references but that’s it really

word count: 1.9k

series masterlist

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Ekko was your longest friend—the closest one you had. He understood your brain even more than Viktor did, which was saying something. Since the day the two of you met in middle school, you became accustomed to one another. You knew each other like the back of your hands—which is why you knew he’d be so upset right now.

Immediately after leaving the student center, you scrambled to the dining hall. You and Ekko had a standing lunch date every day unless one of you said otherwise. There wasn’t always anything to say, but the idea of each other’s company comforted you—comforted him. He had been adamant that even if you two sat in silence, worked on classwork, or simply watched something on your phones, that the time was well spent.

Ekko valued these meetings in particular after his last girlfriend. You didn’t talk about Powder much…but he was devastated when she left town. The three of you had been friends for a long time…she’d abandoned you too. Acknowledging how much harder it may have been for Ekko was hard. You were forced to pick up the pieces and it started with daily check-ins over lunch. They stuck.

You spotted him sitting alone, sipping on his drink through the glass. You tapped on it softly, getting his attention, waving.

He lit up when you approached the table, “Funny seeing you here.” Ekko looked at his watch dramatically, “Almost thought you couldn’t tell time for a second there.”

“I am so sorry.” You moved to sit, pulling out the chair across from him. “I got caught up at the student center, needed a tutor for physics.”

Ekko watched you reach and grab his bag on the table. He rolled his eyes knowingly—you were going for the fries of course.

You continued, “Viktor recommended this guy, his lab partner.”

Ekko nodded, “Thats great…but I��m also good at physics ya know?”

“Oh yes, I totally forgot to ask my best friend to be my tutor. My best friend who knows I cannot stay on topic to save my life…wants me to ask him to be my tutor…so we can definitely not work on physics for the entire session.” You paused, a fry just on your lip, “Besides, I didn’t really have a choice.”

“Okay first, I would be a great tutor! And second, what do you mean, didn’t have a choice?”

“Viktor kinda just…led me there?”

“So you didn’t have a chance to get yourself worked up and find a way to not go…great tactic on Viktor’s part.”

There was a silence, but never uncomfortable when you were with Ekko. You smiled to yourself at that, and then about how surprisingly well the first meeting went.

“He seemed nice…Jayce…my tutor.”

Ekko reached into his bag, grabbing his sandwich. “Am I sensing a but?”

“No, actually. He just seemed genuinely invested in me not feeling bad when it comes to sucking at school.” You paused, rubbing your hands in a napkin. “He said we could work on making it all seem more interesting…which I liked.” Ekko still hadn’t unraveled his sandwich, listening intently. You watched him observe you, but not speak up. “What?”

He shook his head, “Nothing…that’s great.”

The rest of your lunch was spent quietly recounting your days, not much of note happening otherwise. Eventually, you parted ways with an unspoken yet understood promise that you would see each other tomorrow.

Your first session with Jayce was also tomorrow. That was on top of everything else you had to do. So much to be done…such little time, you thought.

The following day came just as quickly as the previous had ended. You woke in a frenzy, almost always rushing to and from one class and toward the next. Then, to tutoring.

You stumbled in, looking for any familiar face. You were met with only one, Jayce’s. He stood quickly, grabbing a folder and his bag before approaching you.

“Right on time.” He turned, walking you toward a room off to the side. “This will be the office we use, I requested one with a white board.” He glanced back at you for affirmation before speaking again. “If you ever come for our meetings and don’t see me in the lobby, you can just come in here.”

“Sounds good.” Your lip curled at your voice coming out more weak than you expected. You had to admire your own consistent ability to embarrass yourself, truly.

He stepped back, allowing you to walk in first, again. “So…I printed these forms out for you.” He opened the folder, taking out some of the pages and spreading them on the table. “This is the basis for everything you’ll need to know about physics. There’s legends here, conversion charts, some of the greek symbols you’ll need to know, circuit diagrams, acronyms…everything.” You slowly sat in your chair, observing the filled pages. Jayce noticed you looking between the table and him with wide eyes.

“This is a lot of information…”

He finally sat down. “It is…but we have time to get you up to speed.”

“But there’s these quizzes.” You looked down at the table, tapping a finger lightly against the wood. “Every week we have to prove we understood the concept and I am already weeks behind so it just keeps building on things I didn’t even understand to begin with. I don’t have time, I have to pass the quizzes so I can pass the class and keep my scholarship. If I lose my scholarship, I can’t pay for school and I’ll have to drop out. And all of this over stupid fucking physics and a professor who seems to want to ruin my life specifically.” You finally took a breath, “I can’t do this.”

“I think you can.”

Your eyes snapped up, meeting his. The look on his face seemed sincere—as if he truly believed in the statement. Hardly knowing you at all, he had enough faith that you could, in fact, do this.

“So,” he clasped his hands together. “What’s this next quiz on? What’s the topic for the week?” He got up, grabbing a marker from the white board’s small shelf. He looked at you expectantly, a brow arching as if to ask you again.

“Vectors.”

He nodded, “Okay, and what confuses you about vectors?”

“Well, I feel like I’m pretty good at understanding angles. But as soon as we add in speed or velocity I am just…confused.”

“Let’s start there.” He wrote the words speed and velocity on the white board in broad strokes, leaving space beneath each. “What is speed? Don’t think about it too hard.”

“How fast something is going?”

“Exactly, like a car.” He drew a makeshift car, and an indicator of both miles and kilometers. “Velocity is different.” He sketched a quick graph, a simple y and x axis and an arrow. “Velocity indicates the direction of an object.” His hand followed the trail of the arrow he drew, emphasizing that it was in motion. “So, velocity is the only one that actually would be considered when you look at vectors. Speed is just a number…velocity represents a change in position…which is what vectors do.”

You grimaced at his attempt to make it make sense for you. The effort was appreciated, truly, but it didn’t stick. You feigned understanding, nodding your head in an attempt to get him to move on and explain more. This was common for you. Something wouldn’t make sense, but you wouldn’t want to hold everyone up, to be a burden. So you would sit in class, half listening, half in another world. After class, you’d be forced to scour videos about the very subject the teacher had spent class time explaining. Unfortunately that was a rabbit hole, too, as you would always end up on videos that had nothing to do with school.

His eyes narrowed, not believing that your nod was enough of an indicator that you understood. “Come with me.” He moved to grab the papers for you, stuffing them in the folder and sliding them to you. You followed without a thought, trying to match his steady pace. He lead you to a nearby park down the street and sat his bag underneath a tree. You copied, placing your bag down beside his. It was impossible to not feel awkward, and yet, he persisted.

“Okay stand here,” he pointed a finger to a random spot on the ground. Your feet stood perfect on the space where the asphalt and grass met, one foot on each side. “So just imagine that standing here, you are the bottom of a line graph along the x-axis. He moved his hand side-to-side, palm down, reminding you that this would be the horizontal line. Hotdogs and hamburgers. You remembered the silly phrase from elementary school.

“Okay, standing here…x-axis.”

He walked over to the grass side, “Okay, over here…in the nice green grass…this is positive.” He walked over to the asphalt, “I’m on your left now, on the asphalt…this is negative.”

“…Okay.”

He walked to mirror your position, one foot on each terrain. Then, he slowly stepped on the grass. “Without thinking about numbers, how would you describe what I just did.”

“You…” Your brows furrowed, “You walked to the grass?”

“Right, and that is-“

“Positive?”

“Exactly.”

In a split second, he darted over to the asphalt. “How bout now?”

“You ran to the…to the negative?”

He nodded, meeting you back at center again. He smirked at how quickly he’d even come up with this demonstration. “This is an example of how vectors work. When you think of me running somewhere, picking up my speed, but moving to the quote unquote ‘negative,’ this could also mean that from my original position-“

Your eyes lit up, “You moved backwards?”

“Yup, or even down. On a graph, I mean.” He smiled with each word, amused by how you caught on to his unorthodox teachings. “But if I move slowly and to the ‘positive’ side?” He waited for you to answer.

“You…moved up or to the right.”

“Just like a point on a graph.” He stood, hands on his hips.

You were on the edge of every word he spoke, analyzing his every movement. You knew it was inopportune, but it was rather characteristic for you to lose focus right then. Jayce’s eyes were…interesting. Your first instinct was to say that they were yellow. When you looked closer you noticed the border of dark brown, the flecks of hazel and copper. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen. You got so caught up, you missed his hand coming up—leaving it lingering in the air.

“What,” he questioned, “Do you not like high-fives as encouragement?”

You chuckled, finally meeting his hand with yours. “I actually prefer snacks as encouragement, but this works.”

It was his turn to laugh, then. It was short-lived. You followed his line of sight to see the same woman from the resource center, the one he’d been so enraptured by. Rightfully so; she was even more beautiful than you thought. The sunlight hit her skin just right, almost glistening. You gulped, somewhat intimidated by her presence alone.

She reached you both, immediately giving Jayce a hug before turning to greet you.

“Hey, how’s the tutoring going?” She nudged the man beside her, looking to you for an answer.

“It’s going well,” you glanced at your phone screen, shit. “I actually should get going, but today was really helpful, thank you Jayce, bye.”

You shuffled to grab your things as quickly as possible, avoiding the look of surprise on Jayce’s face. It didn’t really matter, though.

Ekko was going to be pissed, again.

part three

#jaggedamethyst #angst #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x you #arcane #arcane x reader #jayce x reader #jayce league of legends #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #circuit breaker

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allwaswell16 · 2 days ago

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A One Direction fic rec of soulmate fics that are hidden gems as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

💕 De amore ex tempore by @persephoneflouwers

(M, 101k, historical) the Time Travel AU where alternate versions of themselves live simultaneously in different realities and their paths collide every time, until somehow, they converge into one.

💕 I'm Praying (that you don't burn out or fade away) by @lululawrence

(NR, 75k, soul stars) Harry and Louis are literal stars who have known they were soulmates from their creation eons ago, however when Louis came to Earth to start the next phase of their fated future, he forgot everything. Even Harry.

💕 You, Who Never Arrived by abrighteryellow / @a-brighter-yellow

(T, 42k, 90s au) Louis Tomlinson is days away from marrying a perfectly nice podiatrist when he gets a phone call that changes everything. Or, the Only You AU in which Louis has a soulmate and it's definitely not Harry Styles.

💕 i got a heart (but i don't got a soul) by tempolarriefics / @tempolarriefix

(NR, 19k, famous/not famous) the one where louis sells his soul before meeting his soulmate, harry is a popstar with a heart of gold, niall is inadvertently responsible for harry's boners, liam is a meddling angel, and zayn is a demon who made a mistake

💕 The Journal by 4ureyesonly28 / @evilovesyou , RecycledStardust

(G, 13k, magic) When Harry finds himself purchasing an antique journal in the ancient bookshop of a town he's never heard of, he doesn't exactly want to admit that he has no idea how he got there.

💕 Swimming Against the Tide by @neondiamond

(G, 9k, enemies to lovers) Louis and Harry are rival competitive swimmers who kinda hate each other. Turns out they’re also soulmates.

💕 You Can See It with the Lights Out by @larryatendoftheday

(M, 8k, canon) In a universe where you know as soon as you meet your soulmate, Harry's been shaking hands his whole career, waiting for the one.

💕 Crimson Clover by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(T, 5k, historical) Harry and Louis are soulmates, but one is already promised to another. When their plan to flee is discovered and they are separated, Harry falls gravely ill.

💕 Oh, what a world, and then there is you by LaDiDah

(T, 5k, historical) Harry and Louis have met many times before, in many different universes. Soulmates always find each other.

💕 Can't Imagine You Without The Same Smile In Your Eyes by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 4k, uni) It’s been over a week since Harry’s first semester at university began, and he has had zero new exciting friendships or noteworthy experiences, just a bizarre dream that keeps waking him up in the middle of the night.

💕 Louis and the no good, very bad day by @haztobegood

(E, 4k, soulmate goose) Louis collapses back into the bed with a groan. Just when he thought his day couldn’t get any worse, there’s a fucking goose stuck on his balcony.

💕 Falling by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 4k, soulmarks) Based off the prompt: you’re my soulmate and I know we’d have a happy ever after but you’re my best friends ex and if I dated you they’d never speak to me again and I don’t know what to do

💕 That’s the way love goes by bella28

(T, 4k, soulmate goose) In a world, where soulmate geese are sent to the people who can't figure out who their soulmate is, Harry finds himself stuck with a goose when he is attending a concert of his favourite artist Louis Tomlinson.

💕 Bitter Soulmates Series by theweightofmywords / @lil0

(T, 4k, angst) They had never met, but he didn’t think there was anyone in the world he missed more.

💕 So Paris When We Kiss by cherrylarry / @beelou

(G, 4k, exes) There’s a travel website open that he certainly did not open himself. Niall has been trying to get him to Paris ever since he got his mark. There’s not any particular reason why he hasn’t gone, it just never felt like the right time.

💕 What’s in a Name by @hellolovers13

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Louis had always known Harry was his soulmate. The name on his arm disagreed.

💕 emotions won’t grow by localopa / @voulezloux

(G, 1k, angst with a happy ending) so, you’re the unfortunate soul stuck with me

- Rare Pairs -

💕 neither wanting more, neither asking why (series) by @justanothershadeofblue

(E, 40k, ot5) For Louis Tomlinson, there's nothing that compares with getting his soulmark and meeting his soulmate. Nothing that he could imagine that ever could.

💕 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 3k, ot5) Zayn and Louis are soulmates. They're also missing some soulmates. For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

#weekly rec #ficrec #1dficlibrary #1dficvillage #1dsquad

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e1dritchjackal0pe · 23 hours ago

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𝔎𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔐𝔢 𝔄𝔴𝔞𝔨𝔢

Summary: Exhausted by the wild antics of the boys, you decide to have a night inside. You weren't really expecting for Paul and Marko insisting to join you, but perhaps, you should have expected what happens next.

Warnings: 18+ content MDI, fem reader, oral sex (f!receiving), threesome. Paul calls reader "mama" once, but it's in a casual way not the kinky kind. Paul has a praise kink. A dash of dom Marko. They're three all dating, so naturally a little m/m.

Notes: 7.9k words. Paul and Marko eat you out at the same time - that's really the plot. Divider by @sisterlucifergraphics. Not proofread.

For the first time in days, it's finally peaceful. Usually there's a constant barrage of noise echoing off of the walls of the cave: the chaotic hollers and yelps from the boys, the laughter and raised voices bouncing back and forth in a near constant stream of conversation, a pour of music rising from the boombox - and there is music playing right now, but fortunately, you had managed to convince Paul to play it at a more respectable level.

He had initially pouted, groaning and grumbling under his breath as though you were torturing him. But he had relented anyway, tuning the vocals of Vince Neil down in a level that doesn't bounce from the stone in an ear-splitting current. You didn't miss the way he had glared at you from over his shoulder as he did it though, staring at you like you'd committed an unforgivable offence. Always such a drama queen.

You would feel a little bad if he wasn't always charged at Mach speed anyway. It could do him some good to calm down and take things slow every once in a while, and honestly, you're exhausted. The boys are always set at a breakneck pace, regularly tearing they're way up the boardwalk or prowling over the beaches to race their bikes or to snatch up night surfers for a quick meal. There's always something with them. Parties out by the ocean or band performances by the boardwalk.

You haven't had a peaceful night inside in forever. Even more, you haven't had any time with just the three of you in even longer. The group is constantly joined at the hip, as loyal and feral as pack of strays. Permanently banded together as though they're a single soul split into separate bodies. You admire the tenacity of their bond, how close they are, how they've remained together throughout all of the years they've been alive. But you also can't deny that you often wish that you could get Marko and Paul alone every once in a while. That it could just be the three of you instead of you having to share them with David and Dwayne, and even Santa Carla itself.

As dramatic as it sounds, there are times where it seems as though the town is a mistress in its own right, constantly pulling your two boys from you with the temptation of excitement and blood. Luring them with the thrill of flashing lights and violence, and like sailors to a siren song they'd always obey the call.

That's why it had shocked you a bit when they both had elected to join you in returning home after you were all done feeding. The buzz and exhilaration of the hunt had settled. The screams of the tourists having died out, the pitiful wet gurgles of their choking having faded once their hearts had finally stalled, rendered useless without the blood in their veins. Usually the boys are all hopped up after a successful feeding, determined to go out on the town and cause some kind of trouble on the energy induced by the highs they're all riding.

But when you had announced that you were going to settle in for the night, it had completely surprised you when both Marko and Paul had stepped around the corpses littering the ground to join your side, Paul already reaching for your arm to tug you towards his bike.

David and Dwayne had taken it in stride, relenting without any complaints or efforts to persuade them, wolf whistling and clapping with salacious smirks on their faces while Marko and Paul lead you back to the motorcycles that had all been parked behind the cover of a sand dune. The two of them of course responded in kind, returning the dirty grins with juvenile laughter. Paul couldn't have helped not to make some kind of obscene gesture, circling his pointer and thumb together to thrust a finger through it. That had earned him a slap to the chest but the demented cackle he had let out as he pulled you over to his bike let you know that he hadn't minded in the slightest.

Despite all of the initial dirty jokes, the three of you had settled into a relaxed silence, simply basking in each other's company. Marko had occupied himself on the old, tattered couch tucked against the far wall of the cave. His coat is off, draped over his lap as he threads a new patch onto one of its sleeves. A badge depicting a demonic skull resembling the style of a traditional tattoo. He had torn it off of the jacket of his victim's body after he'd drained the man of his blood, smiling down at him while his chest had shaken in a death rattle, waving the patch in the air as though he was gloating over winning a trophy.

He's always trying to add new pieces to his coat. It's become a wearable collage at this point, different materials and patches sewn onto it almost religiously. But as chaotic as it looks, there's a method to his madness and he's extremely picky with what actually makes it onto the jacket. He has an entire stack of them stored in a milk crate, the ones that weren't approved, collected over time. There's probably sixty years' worth of patches and scraps of fabric saved away in there.

You've asked him to make additions to your jacket and that's almost turned out to be a mistake because somehow, he's even more of a perfectionist with yours, scouring over materials with a dedication that's a little concerning. You're pretty sure that he's started targeting people just based on the clothes and accessories they're wearing, all so that he can steal them from their corpses like some kind of demented racoon.

You love watching him work. He always gets that concentrated furrow between his eyebrows, a studious crease pressing them close as he focuses on whatever has caught his attention with an iron focus. It doesn't matter what it is. If he's tuning up his bike or working on another painting, he tackles it with devoted levels of detail and attention that leaves you in awe. Even now, you can't help but to peer at him from over the edge of the book in your hands, staring past the yellowed, dog-eared pages to admire the way he scrutinizes the coat in his lap, threading another loop through the fabric with practiced fingers.

He's always so pretty. So much so, that just the sight of him all the across the other side of the dilapidated space is enough to be a distraction. And it doesn't help that Paul has situated himself so close to you either. It didn't take him long to climb himself onto your bed, almost forcefully making room for himself on the old mattress so that he could flop his body beside you in an ungraceful heap.

The unimpressed look you had given him was scathing, but he hadn't noticed it with the way that his focus had zeroed in on the random assortment of books scattered out across the bed. Paul isn't much of a reader at the best of times. The only thing that he's probably ever cracked open is a porn magazine - maybe a Rolling Stone issue if you're being generous. Getting him to stay still for more than fifteen minutes at a time is a feat all in itself, so it's more than a little surprising that he hasn't so much as twitched in the stretch of minutes that's passed by.

Now that you think of it, he's been suspiciously quiet so far. It's a little disturbing.

You pause in your reading again, losing your place for the second time tonight, but you can't help but to be a little curious. And just when you're about to glance over at him, you hear it. A light, almost deranged sounding giggle that pitches into the air before skipping into an unattractive snort. And then a voice is pitching up high, garish and mockingly feminine: "His manhood pulsed hotly in my hand, engorged and raging in his arousal and I couldn't help but to respond in kind, my breasts heaving as I drew in a shaking mewl. I've never done anything like this before, a sensible lady like me, but God, did I want him!"

The expression that crosses your face is probably one of confusion, if not outright disgust, and your bewilderment has you all but dropping your book onto your lap as you pin him down with a stare. He doesn't spare you so much as a glance, too engrossed in whatever he's holding in his hands. It's then that you notice just what has caught his attention, and of course that's what he had gone for out of the entire pile spread out on the bed.

Based on the art of the paperback cover displaying some windswept, longhaired heroine in a big, vintage dress and the shirtless, muscled up rogue who has her drawn into his arms, it's safe to say that it's some trashy bodice ripper. "Forbidden Destiny" the title declares in an elegant golden font.

You completely forgot that you even grabbed it honestly. In the past month you've taken advantage of the little exchange box posted outside of the public library, showing up every few nights or so to see if anyone might have left something interesting. You don't have much luck most of the time. It's usually cookbooks and DIY guides that get left behind, but every once in a while, you strike gold and get a good horror novel. Maybe a fantasy story if you're fortunate enough. But this week - no such luck.

It was desperation or maybe indifference when you had grabbed that bodice ripper. You didn't think much of it at all. To the point that you had forgotten it existed in the first place, but now you're actually regretting having brought it home. There's almost a twisted kind of glee on his face as he eagerly flips to the next page, eyes glittering in the amber glow of the candlelight, and it almost makes him look like some perverted creature.

"I didn't know our girl was such a degenerate," he remarks, and the delight in his voice is more than apparent. Marko doesn't respond outright, but you hear him snicker quietly from his place on the couch, and it has Paul's smile growing even more. His eyebrows perk up like he's impressed. "Some of this shit is actually pretty graphic. 'His fingers traced my glistening petals, nudging like he might finally penetrate me, and I could not contain my moans any longer. i just wanted him to finally give me what I wanted - what we both wanted.' "

He finally takes his attention off of the pages, and now that it's on you, you can't help but to feel a little embarrassed. Heat flushes through you at the weight of his stare, self-consciousness prickling at your cheeks even though you know there really isn't reason to feel any shame at all. It's just some dumb book - one that you haven't even read. Not that it would really matter if you had.

The lopsided grin that pulls at his lips is salacious. "You know, if you're trying to get off babe, all you have to do is ask."

That has you rolling your eyes, something like a scoff huffing from your throat as you grip the now forgotten mystery novel in your hands a little tighter. "Yeah, cause if I need to get off that's definitely what I'd use."

"There's no reason to lie," he teases, shuffling forward to sit up. "There ain't any shame in it. I am a little surprised about the pirate thing though, I didn't know Black Beard got you hot."

You can't help but nudge yourself from where you've been reclined against the assortment of pillows, using the short burst of momentum to shove at him. It doesn't do anything other than make him laugh and raise an arm up in a weak defense against the persistent bat of your hand. He holds up the paperback up to his face, threading his thumb through the pages to mark his spot so that he can freely admire the cover. He tilts it to you then like he wants you to look, but the mischief in his expression lets you know that it's going to be nothing but more mockery before he can even speak.

"Now that I'm looking, me and him kinda look alike." He waves the book a little like he's trying to bait a cat with a toy. You want to snatch it out of his hands, but you can tell that he's still too on guard, watching you out of his peripheral vision.

You try to act nonchalant, relaxing your shoulders and feigning interest as you dare to creep closer, leaning in under the guise of scrutinizing the front of the novel. Even as you coast your vision over the book you can't deny that there is actually somewhat of a resemblance between him and the blonde love interest on the cover. It would be uncanny if the man depicted by saturated paint strokes looked just a few years younger and his hair was more stylized and less wavy.

"Wow, you're right," you agree. You loll your head on your shoulder, gazing up at him from the corner of your eyes with an indifferent shrug. "His abs are better though."

You wish you could have taken a picture of the expression on his face. His head jerks around in your direction so sharply that it's a wonder he doesn't sprain something; eyes wide as though you've slapped him. That's all the surprise you need to be able to snatch the book from his hands, tugging it out from his grip with a pleased smile despite the betrayal burning in his gaze. You don't hesitate when you hurtle the novel across the length of your bed, sending it clearing past the gauzy curtains enclosing the mattress to land somewhere on the other side of the cave with an echoing clatter.

There's no time to gloat though because he's on you in a blur. Barreling you over with his weight to pin you down amongst the cushions and blankets. You can't help the squeal that escapes you, puffs of laughter bubbling from your lungs as he shoves his face into your neck like he might maul you.

"Marko!" you call, nudging helplessly at Paul's chest while you try to peek past his shoulder, searching desperately for the other man across the room. "Help, he's gonna crush me."

He hardly spares you more than a glance when he looks up from the coat he's still meticulously working on, completely unbothered by your current predicament, but the fires flickering around the dim of the cave seem to highlight the mirth reflecting in his eyes. They're both sadists.

"You look like you have it handled," he answers.

"Are you kidding me?" You snap, trying your best to contort your body out from beneath Paul, but his grip is like metal. Unwavering and heavy, shoving you down in place. "You're both assholes."

"Hey, there's no reason to get mean," Paul chides. But there isn't any hurt in his voice, only that cocky edge that never fails to drive you up a wall whenever he's in the mood to taunt you. He nips at your neck like he's reprimanding you, but the dull sting only makes you squirm, hips twitching for an entirely different reason now. He pulls back from the junction of your shoulder. The grin that perks at his lips becomes just a little salacious, a familiar hunger flickering to life in the glint of his eyes.

"You're the one being mean, actually," you counter. "I was enjoying myself in peace and you had to go and ruin it."

His face shifts into a pout. A display of false sympathy and guilt, but the smoky edge that his tone takes burns something hot along your spine. "My poor baby, how can I make it up to you?"

It's embarrassing how easily he can flip a switch inside of you with nothing more than a simple look. It's even worse that you know he can tell; he can feel it in the way that your hips squirm a little, how your lungs inhale sharply to gulp down air that you don't need anymore - a useless reflex that only gives you away now. A slip in your poker face that you've been trying to train yourself out of but have been failing terrible at. Dwayne's told you that it's a good thing. It keeps the appearance of still being alive, of being human. A good camouflage while hunting or associating among people, but he doesn't have to two perverts trying to exploit his every movement.

It's no secret that Marko's and Paul's appetites are a little robust. It's like they're constantly starved - for each other. For you. You don't think you've ever felt so wanted before. So loved and cherished. They treat you like you're vital, as necessary as the blood in their veins, like they could die if they go without your touch for too long. It always has fireworks sparking under your skin, affection and devotion blossoming in the center of your chest like the warmth of a summer sun.

You crave them too, just as desperately. Sometimes it feels as though the strength of it could tear you apart. Heat coils inside of you, aching dully between your thighs. And he's determined to make it worse, leaning down to nip softly at your lips, drawing you into a slow, teasing kiss. It's easy to fall into it. You can keep your hands from reaching up to cradle to sides of his face, curling your fingers to scratch you nails through his hair in the way that he likes.

He pulls away just enough to speak against your lips, pecking softly between his words as though he can't resist. "Let me kiss it better?"

He watches you with so much intensity that it makes you feel entirely possessed. Tucked away and consumed by the weight of his stare. It's enough to have your body coming alive beneath him, nerves simmering and muscles pulling taut with anticipation. But just under all of it is some stubborn, invading layer of exhaustion, creeping in like a cold draft. You want him so badly that it's like you're choked by it, but it's unignorable that you're also just tired.

You keep up with all of the boys and their whirlwind lifestyle fairly well. You can manage the insane pace they're always set at with just as much passion, but almost like clockwork, it does catch up to you. And you're long overdue for an uneventful night in. Just a moment to relax and exist without anything wild to fill the silence, like shrieks of terror or the metallic growl of motorcycle engines tearing up the beach. And sex with Paul is rarely ever soft or gentle. It's tongue and teeth, desperate hands, and scratches left behind on flesh from greedy claws.

You love his passion. You adore how starved he is for you, and you know you'll never grow bored of it, but unfortunately your body likes to turn against you. Demanding peace over the raw desire aching in the base of your stomach.

The smile you give him is mournful. You're a little disappointed with yourself, frustration prickling over your skin. There's a sigh in your voice when you speak, and you smooth your fingers along his nape in some kind of apology. "I'm sorry Paul, I'm just really tired tonight. I don't think I have it in me for anything crazy."

A part of you inwardly cringes, half anticipating the sight of visible disappointment to cross his face. But you forget that this is Paul - your Paul, and his expression softens a little. Admiring you openly with the devotion of an acolyte appreciating their god. And yet something almost smug makes its way into his eyes, glinting and cocky while he smiles as though you've stroked his ego somehow. "Have we been wearing you out, mama?"

Of course that's where his mind goes. But it doesn't annoy you at all. It only has a small laugh leaving you, your chest puffing with an amused breath while you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him again.

"Need to relax a little, hmn?" He hums quietly, nudging his nose on yours to draw your attention fully back onto him. He smooths a hand over your hip, sweeping his fingers down to toy with the edge of your sleep shorts, stroking in gentle caresses that leave warmth behind in their wake. "Let me help you out then -" he places another kiss to your lips - "you just gotta lay here and look pretty. Let me do all the work."

He's already scooting down, almost absentmindedly shoving some of books over the side of the bed as he makes his descent. Slipping slow over your body to trail the shape of his mouth over you. Skimming them over the material of your old T shirt to brush them over the swell of your breasts. He nuzzles at your chest, peeking up at you just as he sticks his tongue out at one of your nipples through the barrier of your top, tracing it in a tight circle before taking it fully into his mouth. It has your back arching, body contorting to press yourself deeper into the press of his tongue. You can feel the edge of his teeth close over your nipple, dulled only a little by the thin fabric of your shirt, but it hardly does anything to lessen the sting. You can't find any desire to complain or object. The weariness that's haunted you all day is still there, but it's muted, watered down by the heat flowing through your limbs.

That silent question is still there in his eyes, hanging over the both of you while he removes himself from your breast to trail down to your sternum. The old you would feel a little guilty, letting him take over without really getting anything in return, but you know Paul well enough to know that he'll always jump at the opportunity to eat you out. You don't think you've ever met a guy as eager as him to go down on someone. When you'd first met him, you had imagined that he would be the exact opposite. The kind of guy to drag someone into a dirty bathroom for some quick head only to leave after he's gotten off, but you couldn't have been further from the truth.

It's like he's always anxious to have either you or Marko in his mouth. He would spend hours down between your thighs if you let him. And sometimes you have, the minutes blurring into hours until you're sure that the sun is bleeding over the ocean outside in gold and blush, until your body has gone pliant and useless. The promise of that has you nodding, reaching down to your hips to try and tug down your shorts, but his hands stop you, slipping over yours to pry the waistband from your fingers to take them into his own.

His tongue lashes over your lower stomach, just above your shorts as he shifts them down over the shape of your hips. You lift your waist as best as you can, helping him in moving the clothing down over your thighs and past the length of your legs. He throws them to the side carelessly, the billowing curtains blocking off your bed are the only thing that keeps them from flying past the edge and onto the dusty stone floor below.

"No panties?" he teases, looking up at you from his place between your thighs, settling himself until his stomach is flat against your mattress.

"Shut up," you snap without any real bite.

In your defense, you're running a little low on clean clothes. You're definitely due for a trip down to the twenty-four-hour laundromat, but you honestly don't have it in you right now to spend the next three and a half hours sitting in some uncomfortable plastic chair, under too bright fluorescents while you wait for the cycles to finish. It has to be your least favorite part of your week and you've been holding it off with a sense of dread.

He chuckles against the plush of your inner thigh, tracing over the sensitive skin with the plush of his mouth and wet drag of his tongue. He looks stunning like this, wild hair brushing over your body, sketched in shades of gold, his skin casted in a heated amber from the burn barrels blazing around the worn corners of the room. The light somehow makes his eyes equally as dark, blending the soft blue into a shade that almost seems black. It makes his stare heavy, gliding you over like a physical weight that seems to press you deeper into the plush support of the mattress.

His hands are gentle, smoothing over your waist and down to your knees in caresses that has your muscles going lax. He takes advantage of it, using your pliability to spread your legs wide, keeping them splayed open by the width of his shoulders. You can feel his impatience in the firm press of his fingers, gripping at your flesh with a barely restrained greed. You fully expect for him to smother his face between your legs like he usually does, but he remains where he is, trailing kisses and teasing bites behind with his mouth, leaving stars burning across your skin.

His nose glides down close to where you need him most, pooling fire in your stomach when he sucks the tender skin between the junction of your hips between his teeth. You can't stop your hips from twitching, rolling up to chase after the feeling. Trying to entice him into giving you what you want, but he doesn't take the hint - ignores it, more like - and licks a path across the plush of your inner thigh.

A whine pitches from your throat, a pathetic imitation of his name that only makes him laugh lowly. He grins up at you, an almost cruel looking smirk. There's something calculating in his eyes, sharp and glittering. It has a thrill skipping up your spine, shuddering lightly up your ribcage, working out a silent gasp.

"Need something?" he asks, all condescending and cheeky.

"Paul," you groan. You can't keep the frustration out of your voice, and of course, his smile only seems to grow at the sound of it.

He hums questioningly under his breath, too caught up in sweeping his mouth over you now that he's started again, nuzzling close to your cunt like he might actually give you the relief you want. His tongue darts out, tracing close to your lips, scraping his teeth over the tender skin with the promise of finally dipping his tongue into you, but it doesn't happen. "C'mon baby, you know what I need to hear."

And you do know what he wants, but for some reason you voice remains stubbornly trapped inside of your throat. Lodged there by his teasing. You know he wants this just as much as you do despite his stalling, drawing this out for his own pleasure. It's always a little entertaining getting back at him in small ways like this, even if it tortures you too.

You can practically see the moment that the realization of your game registers in his head, reflecting in his eyes in a kind of clarity that's both frustrated and excited.

"Make her ask for it."

Both you and Paul turn your attention over to the other side of the room, looking past a gap in the veil cloaking your bed to see Marko. He's still sitting in his spot on the ragged couch, perched casually on the tattered cushions while he finishes tying off the thread in his hands. He isn't even looking at the two of you, fully concentrated on his task, but the tone that he had used was firm, leaving no room for argument or refusal.

Something about it makes your body thrum. You clench around nothing, hips twitching just the slightest and it forces you to be aware of how wet you've become, smearing a little across your inner thighs. It's like he can tell; he probably can smell it in the air, heady and honeyed, and it's only then that he bothers giving you an almost bored glance. But despite his nonchalance, you can see the intensity showing through it. A heavy kind of hunger piercing through his gaze that locks you in place.

His stare shifts to Paul then, something unspoken passing between the two of them. "She knows how to ask for what she wants."

When Paul turns his attention back onto you there's a wild grin on his face, as though Marko's order has given him the permission that he needs. He loves to tease and toy with the both of you, but ultimately, it's Marko who really truly calls the shots. It's almost shocking how he manages to coax obedience out of the both of you, but especially Paul, being the erratic adrenaline junkie that he is; a slave to impulse and the most hedonistic parts of himself.

It had surprised you the first time when Marko had easily wielded control over him, taking him over with a collected effortlessness that left you a little breathless. He's quiet and unassuming in his authority. Though maybe you should have guessed by the fiendish look in his eyes that he would be the one calling the shots. But now you all work like a group of muscles in a body coming together to create a singular organism; Marko often using Paul like a vessel to give everyone what they need.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Paul says sweetly. Almost mumbling it against your skin as he breathes the scent of you in, smothering his face just above your cunt. "Let me take care of you."

Any other time you would have put up more of a fight. Would have resisted and taunted to light a fire in the both of them, but regardless of all of the excitement, you can't ignore that distant fatigue that still weighs in your bones. You're still exhausted, that hasn't changed, and maybe this once you can finally swallow down your pride just long enough to get what you want.

"Please, Paul." Your back arches a little off of the bed, your fingers curl into the covers, gripping onto the soft linen. "I'll be good for you, I promise."

"There you go. Wasn't so hard, was it?"

You don't have any time to be annoyed because he's spreading you open with his thumbs and leaning forward to lick a long stripe up the length of your cunt, briefly dipping his tongue inside of you to brush it up and circle the point of it around your clit. You would have bowed off of the bed if not for the hands that he moves to secure around your hips in an iron clad grip, fingers threatening to bruise flesh. He chases after the suppressed rock of your waist, moving himself to follow the sway of your body, determined to gulp you down.

Your head lolls back into the support of your pillows, falling back against the plush and silk. The support of them keeps your head propped up, so even with it rolled you can still see him from the bottom of your vision as you stare unseeingly at the shadowed ceiling. You can vaguely see the shape of your hands reaching down to thread through his hair, combing inside of the strands that are somehow both soft and textured from the products worked into it.

A pleased noise rumbles from his chest when your nails scratch over his scalp. A dull wave of pleasure ebbs over you but you still notice how his own hips grind into the mattress, dragging over the blankets to try and chase after his own high. He's always like this, getting off on other people's bliss, feeling it as though it's his own. It always turns you on, how desperate he is to please you and Marko, seeking out your pleasure as though he can't live without it. As though he feeds off of it.

You know that he's craving the sound of your voice, sucking on your clit and tracing you with his tongue to work breathless moans out of you and you find it hard to deny him. "So good, Paul. Just like that - don't stop." You massage your fingertips across his head, and you aren't disappointed when he practically turns into mush under your palms, all pliant and needy. Practically dropping his face into your cunt, grinding his nose over your clit. If he still needed to breathe, you're positive that he would have suffocated by now, but he keeps his face buried in you.

It's blurring over you already. Draping over your body with the warmth of a heated blanket. But the breeze brought into the cave is cool with the ocean, tinged with salt and chilled like satin. All of it fogs your brain over, slipping between your ears like a perfumed smoke. It's dizzying, languid. You barely notice when both of his hand's slink underneath the arms that you still have stretched to claw at his hair, working under the hem of your shirt, traveling up until he's able to cup both of your breasts.

The temperature of the ring on his right hand is shocking, forcing your body to writhe into his touch. His fingers stretch, kneading the shape of chest, plucking at your nipples in a way that has a dull sting sparking over your nerves. It's so gluttonous, how he has your entire body splayed out beneath him. Taken over by his mouth, his hands. It makes you feel trapped in the best way possible. Caught and admired, pinned beneath him as though he's trying to show you worship.

But you're the one speaking his name as though it's a prayer, muttering it brokenly in quiet breaths. You're so caught up in it that the weight of the bed shifting is a surprise. The press of a mouth closing over yours swallows the ragged gasp that leaves your lungs, tasting the sound of Paul's name on your tongue and taking it for themselves.

You didn't realize you had closed your eyes at all, but you don't have to open them to know that it's Marko who's kissing you. You can smell it in the subtle spice of his cologne, feel the leather of the glove that cradles the side of your face as he draws you into a starved kiss. There's something lazy about it despite the passion in it; his tongue tracing along your bottom lip before he dips it into your mouth.

You can't do much to reciprocate. Not with how Paul is still eating you out, nuzzling himself into you and groaning into your cunt almost raggedly. It makes you a little clumsy, even as you try hard to concentrate on the pace Marko's set with his mouth. But he doesn't seem to be bothered by your sudden lack of skill in the slightest.

He pulls back only after a long moment, biting softly at the plush of your mouth, still holding the edge of your jaw in his hand to make you look at him. His eyes rove over your face, taking in your kiss swollen lips, the glossed over sheen in your eyes, the rise and fall of your chest as it heaves in wild pants. He glides the point of his nose over your cheek like he might just kiss you there, leaning his body close over yours while he caresses your chin with his thumb.

"Is he making you feel good?" But it probably isn't really a question. Not with the taunting edge seeping through his voice, but you're already too far gone to care. You find yourself nodding as best as you can, a strangled cry leaving you when Paul sucks hard. Groaning into your cunt, shaking his face a little to smear you over the skin around his mouth.

It's filthy. You can hear the wet smacks from Paul's tongue, the sound of your moans and gasps resonating from the walls of the sunken hotel and back into your ears, pitching over the new track that blares out from the boom box in steady melody. It's vulgar but somehow entirely intimate to be caught up here in the mouths and hands of both of your lovers. Hidden away in some private place that's been carved out for you, a womb in the earth that was violently created to shield you all from the dangers and prying eyes of the outside world. A home made in a telluric tomb.

You wouldn't trade this for anything. Not for mortality, not to feel the soothing warmth of the sunlight on your skin again. With the promise of eternity stretching out in front of you, it's in moments like these that you could stay within forever. Private little moments shared just between the three of you; it's some of the times that you keep close and hold dear.

"It feels so good, Marko." Your hips thrust upward, chest rising harshly as Paul rolls his fingers over both of your nipples. It has heat pooling in your gut like someone's continuously dropping hot wax there. "He's so good, I don't want it to stop. Please don't make him stop."

The smile on his face is both patient and satisfied, and you can clearly read the temptation to refuse you glimmering in his eyes. It has you removing one of your hands from Paul's hair, and you don't miss the almost distressed noise he lets out at the loss. But you're desperate to sway Marko, clutching at his shoulder like the touch might properly convince him.

The mirth on his face is a little mean. Impish in a way. He removes his attention from you to turn it to the man between your legs. "What do you think, Paul?" he asks, still stroking his thumb over your jaw. "Think we should let her cum?"

A small thrum of worry trickles through you but when you glance down it's immediately snuffed out. Paul looks like a mess. Probably more wrecked than you are somehow. It's like he's drunk, eyes a little glazed over and there's a damp sheen smearing over his mouth and the point of his nose. It almost glitters in the faint traces of light flickering around the room, making him messy and vulgar; his hair more unkempt than usual from the hold that you have on it. Most of his face is obscured, hidden as he drags his tongue over your cunt, but the expression that he wears is clear. It's content - peaceful, almost as though he can't imagine being anywhere else.

He doesn't even bother pulling back to answer, nodding while his face is still smothered against you, and when he speaks it comes out all slurred and lazy. "Yeah, think she deserves it." He comes up just enough to be heard a little clearer, placing a soft kiss to your clit. "She's been so sweet dealin' with us for the past few days. Let's take the edge off a bit for her."

They share another one of those looks again. Completely silent and yet somehow entirely understanding. You wonder if they're communicating to each other in their heads, blocking you off from a conversation that they don't want you to hear. The smiles they share seems like an answer all on its own.

Marko is shifting away from you then, sitting himself up to move down beside Paul who he reaches for. Sinking his hand in beside yours, threading his fingers through his wild hair to force his head off of your cunt. You can't help but to admire the shades of gold and the shadows that ripple across Marko's stomach, the stretch of skin peeking out between the short cut of his shirt and the hang of jeans around his waist.

They're both gorgeous and when they both lean in towards each other, meeting over your body to catch each other in a bruising kiss it makes you feel as though you've been lit on fire. The way they go at it is sloppy. Almost animalistic. They groan into each other's mouths, Marko's tongue slipping out to lick up the taste of you just as Paul removes one of his hands from your breast, reaching it up to take Marko by the throat.

Just the sight of it has you moaning, impatiently grinding your hips up to try and draw their attention. Thankfully it works and their lips break apart with a wet smack as they turn their heads to look at you.

"Don't worry, we didn't forget about you," Paul promises. He leans forward to take you back into his mouth, but Marko stops him by the grip he has on his hair, making both of your groan out in frustration.

"She knows what to do."

You could roll your eyes honestly, but somehow you manage to restrain yourself. He'd drag this out for hours if you show any signs of defiance. On any other night you would have liked the challenge, but right now you just want to enjoy it. To bask in the sensation of both of them on your skin. It has whatever fight you might have still had lurking around inside of you dying out.

"Need you both. Want you both to eat me out." You catch something like a warning burn through Marko's stare and it has you spitting out a string of pleases under your breath.

That seems to be enough for them - most notably Paul, who manages to wrangle himself free from the grip on his hair and latches his mouth onto you like he's starved for it. It has you squirming, body twisting from the abruptness of it, but it doesn't take long for you to go lax again, becoming pliant under the strokes of his tongue.

Marko's palm flattens over your abdomen, shoving your back down flat across the mattress to keep you from possibly squirming. Trapping you beneath the both of them. He settles down beside you, curling himself over your lower stomach and hip to settle himself between your thighs. Your vision is mostly blocked by his body, but you can feel him nudging Paul out of the way so that he can close his mouth over your clit.

It's a good thing that he has you pinned because the sensation of two tongues sweeping over your cunt has you jolting. The sound that leaves you is gutted, a ragged sob that trembles its way out of your ribcage.

"Oh, fuck," you moan. When your spine bends it's almost painful, pulling into a mean arch despite the weight of Marko forcing you down and the hold that Paul has on your hips. Your fingers lash out across the bed, clawing through the sheets as though it might save you.

This isn't the first time that they've had you like this, but you're never fully prepared for it. Somehow it always feels more intense than the last. As though you've been submerged in coils of heat and thrashing water; left to sink in the depths of it and drown. Not even the pressure of them on you is enough to keep you present. The pleasure ripping through your veins is almost vicious, coiling and molten in the pit of your stomach.

Their tongues glide over you, messy and wet, sounding sloppy when they occasionally meet in a crude imitation of a kiss. The oxygen pulled into your lungs skips in a strangled gasp. Their hands are all over you. Paul is still toying with one of your nipples, his arm crushed between both you and Marko's bodies, but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest.

It's pure hedonism. It's like they're everywhere. Sweeping over your body, over your legs, your chest, inside of your mind, they're scent pooling in your lungs. It has pleasure boiling in between your hips. Your orgasm already building up to be something devastating.

It's like they're trying to make out on your cunt, lips occasionally meeting in between licks and sucks. Paul's tongue trails down to your entrance, dipping inside to fuck itself inside of you just as Marko's mouth closes around your clit. It has you shouting out again. A sharp whine piercing out through the balmy atmosphere of the cave as a brutal wave of ecstasy crests over you, warm and deep with the promise of something that's going to leave you shambles.

You're almost greedy for that destruction, grinding yourself into their mouths as best as you can. Chasing after the bliss that threatens to eat you up in a fiery rapture. You didn't even realize that you've been begging the entire time. Squeezing out pitiful pleads as they continue to strip you apart with the drag of their tongues. It's building up at a pace that you can hardly track. Simmering and smoldering like something boiling, flooding your limbs with white-hot heat that has your toes curling.

You know they can feel all of your tells, how your body is drawing up tight, the change in your breathing, the small shift in your tone. They're relentless is tipping you over that edge, groaning into your cunt as they drag their tongues over it, nipping softly with their teeth. All it takes is for the stroke of Paul's tongue again, the combined suction Marko's lips sealing around your clit and then you're gone.

The world seems to lose tangibility when you cum. The bed under you vanished and the weight of their bodies disappears. It's only pleasure. Tearing its way through your body, coasting along your nerves, making your muscles seize like you're being electrocuted.

And they make sure to pull you through all of it. Working their mouths over you until the bliss bleeds into something almost painful. It's only then they pull away, letting you catch your breath and reorient yourself through the high clouding your skull. When you hear the sound of light groaning and the wet sound of lips meeting it's easy to tell what they're doing.

You manage to crack your eyes open, staring down at the both of them as they make out. Hunger and their shared lust suspended over them like the fumes of a drug. You remain like that for what might be a few minutes. Content to watch as they kiss, their hands sweeping off of your body to reach for each other, desperate and starved.

You feel satiated. Floating and fuzzy. Finally relaxed after days of living on the edge. It would be so easy to pass out and let sleep take you under, but then you feel a palm smoothing up the length of your leg, drawing your attention back down between your legs. They're both looking at you as they kiss, nipping at each other with their teeth as though they're tempted to draw blood. There's a fervor in their eyes that you know well, ravenous and burning. Waiting for something to be consumed.

"What do you think?" Paul hardly breaks the kiss to speak, his words almost blurring on Marko's mouth. "Think we can get one more out of her?"

Marko doesn't have to reply at all. You can already see the answer clearly in his eyes.

"I think we can get more than just one."

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fangirlstorycreator · 2 days ago

Text

Alastor X Reader

Context: When you discover it's Alastor's birthday, you want to suprise him with a thoughtful gift. But would it be one he'd like? And how would he show his appreciation?

Part 2/2

You had to be very careful bringing Alastor's gift back home, especially considering you were planning on giving him a pet. Getting her home was easy, and thankfully, due to noone being in the hotel lobby, you were able to slip upstairs to your room without anyone noticing. The lady at the ranch had given you a whole box of things to look after her before she was gifted to Alastor, food, toys? A harness, all sorts of things, including a bed to sleep on inside her carrying case. Hiding her in your room, you made sure she was happy, watered and fed before you left the room, and luckily, she was fast asleep when you left her. This was the time you took to help Charlie with her planning and setting up. But, when you did spot Charlie running down the hall, she was actually more suprised to see you than you were her.

"Oh! Y/N! Perfect! I really need your help!"

"Ok, what can I do?"

"Alastor is still in the hotel, but I know he'll come in and see what we're up to if he hears us! Please! Please can you take him out until we're finished? We want everything to be perfect!"

"Ok, sure, I can do that. When do you want us to come back?"

"I'll text you when we're ready, how does that sound?"

"Yeh, I'm fine with that. Alright, I'll go ask him"

"Thank you thank you thank you!!!"

And off she bounded, straight back down the hall. For the princess of hell, she was surprisingly adorable. Chuckling to yourself, you walked up to Alastor's door and knocked.

"Ah! Good day to you my dear. What a pleasant surpise"

"It's nice to see you too Alastor. I was just wondering if you wanted to go for a walk with me?"

"My, I would love to. Let me just grab my staff. Say, before we go, might I borrow you for a moment?"

"Yeh, sure. (Closing his door as you enter his room) What do you need?"

He approaches you, desire in his eyes, taking in all of your features.

"Why.....I need you......my darling......I dare say, we were so rudely interrupted yesterday, and I would very much like to return to what I was planning on doing"

"Oh really...I can't possibly imagine what you mean by that....why don't you show me?...."

"With pleasure....."

Taking you by the waist, he has you against him, hands resting on his strong chest, feeling the warmth of his body radiating into your palms. Keeping searing eye contact with you, he's slow as he leans in, tilting his head to the side, and locking his soft lips with yours. Oh wow he was good. He captured your tounge and lips in a carnal hunger, craving the touch and taste of your lips, deepening each moment, growing more and more passionate. His hand slid up your neck and into your hair, keeping you as close to him as possible. It made you feel almost dizzy, he had literally taken your breath away. When the kiss slowed down, and he pulled away just a little, both you and him were a slignty breathless. But his smile never left, and his eyes still burned for you.

".....Oh......wow Alastor.....I never knew you could kiss like that"

"That is something for only you to know my dear.....I have dreamed of your taste for many days and nights.....and yet they were sweeter than I could have possibly fathomed"

"How long have you been imagining me?"

"Too long my dear.....too long. Now then! Shall we away? I know of a very pleasant route that can take us past Cannibal Town. Would you like that"

"That sounds nice, lead the way. Oh, and Alastor?"

"Hm?"

"Next time you kiss me like that, make it a little longer..."

"Oh ho, don't you worry my dear......I plan too...."

Neither of you saw Charlie jumping for joy when she saw you and Alastor leave, now she could set up for the party properly, without the possibility of him walking in on the suprise. You and Alastor meanwhile, had been walking for about an hour now, but neither of you noticed how quick the time had gone. You were just enjoying eachothers company, hearing eachothers stories, walking to the main square of Cannibal Town.

"I say, I see Rosie over there, shall we say hello?"

"I'd love too"

During the walk, your arm was looped in with his, and that didn't change, even as you both approached Rosie on tne sidewalk.

"Good day Rosie!"

"Alastor! Hello sweetie, back to see me so soon?"

"But of course, it's always a pleasure to see you. And I have with me Y/N"

"Hi Y/N! Gosh I haven't seen you in such a long time. How are you honey?"

"I'm good thank you. It's nice to see you again"

"Same to you too honey. Say? Isn't it someone's special day today? C'mon Alastor!"

"Ah yes....I am aware it is my birthday Rosie"

"Ain't you doing anything to celebrate?"

"I dare say, the only two people in the hotel who know of this, are dear Y/N hear, and an unfortunate dim wit who also resides in the hotel"

"But ain't you gunna do anything for it?"

"If I am being truthful Rosie, just walking through the city and conversing with Y/N, has actually been one of the most enjoyable ways I have spend my birthday, dead or alive"

Awww, that's so sweet of him to say. He's such a gentleman.

"Well aren't you a darling Alastor! (Looks between you and him) It seems you may may have found a lovely lady to finaly spend some quality time with. And I always thought you were an ace in the hole"

"A what now?"

"Never mind sweetie. I've got to go see some people who need my help in Cannibal Town, I'll see you two lovelies later!"

She happily walked down the street. You couldn't help but smile up at Alastor.

"My my, what's made me lucky enough to witness such a beautiful smile?"

"The way you just spoke about me just then. It was wonderful"

"Aha, I always make sure you know how appreciated you are my darling. Now, shall we make our way back to the hotel? It's starting to get dark"

"Wait, not yet"

Realizing Charlie hasn't texted you yet, you luckily thought of a plan B for this on the way, remembering to sneek just a little something into your pocket before heading out with Alastor.

"Why ever not my dear?"

"You've not said anything about your birthday today Alastor, but I want you to know that I haven't forgotten to get you anything"

"I know my dear, but I do not expect anyone to say or give me anything, simply because I was born on this day"

"You say that, but I just wanted to give you a little something"

"Oh ho my dear, I do believe your kiss was more than enough as a gift for me today"

"That's so sweet Alastor. But, I'm still going to give you this anyway"

"I say, what is it?"

You held in your hand, giving it to him, a small box.

"It's not much, but I used to make things out of resin, make them 3D and paint them to look like everyday things. This is just something I made that reminded me of you"

Opening the box, his eyes grew at the sight of the little home made keying. Lifting it out of the box with his finger, it was a 3D version of a bowl of Jambalaya, in a circular clear resin. It looked like Jambalaya inside a clear marble.

"Oh my dear.....it's wonderful"

"I'm glad you like it"

"I love it. Thank you!"

He couldn't contain his happiness, and pulled you in for a quick hug.

"I shall place this on my staff. I dare day it gives it a touch of class, don't you think?"

"I do, it goes together nicely. Oh, I'm getting a text"

Yes, Charlie was finished, and at just the right time too.

"You wanna head back then Alastor?"

"With pleasure my dear"

It was dusk by the time you both arrived back at the hotel, arms still linked, and his smile larger than ever. It was dark inside from your view of the window, but you did glance Nifty's head, quickly being pulled down by Angel.

"May I confess something to you before we enter my dear?"

"Of course you can"

"I didn't always enjoy my birthday when I was a child. I had not experienced a party or a true celebration, but I always did have a wonderful time thanks to my mother. I'd just like to say thank you, for helping me remember that this day can contain happiness"

"Your welcome Alastor"

Reaching your hand up, you hold his cheek, stroking it with your thumb. His eyes fluttered shut, and his ears twisted together, he even leaned into your touch. Opening the door for you like a true gentleman, your the first to walk into the dark lobby, followed by him.

"SUPRISE!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!"

The voices of Charlie, Angel and Nifty all scream when you come in, turning the lights on to reveal the lobby, decorated just like a club from the 1920's, including everyone dressed in their 1920's outfits.

"Oh my word!! I was truly not expecting this! My dear Y/N, did you know that Charlie and the others had prepared this suprise?"

"I might have done"

"Oh you are a sly one...I love it. Thank you very much everyone, this is a wonderful suprise. It truly feels like I'm back in New Orleans. I say? Are those deviled eggs? And dutchess potatoes and-huh! Is that a roasted duck with a candle on the top to have instead of a cake?!"

Alastor can't help but be drawn to the table laden with foods of his memories, smiling and chuckling as he scans them all. Charlie slipped over to you, nudging you on the shoulder.

"He loves it! Thank you for the suggestion Y/N, it's perfect"

"No worries Charlie. You and the others did a great job at decorating. Aaand I can already see Angel admiring himself in the mirror"

"Oh yeh, he loves costume. Alright! Let's get this party started!"

That evening actually went really well, Alastor carved the duck, everyone ate the food, Angel and Husk got tipsy at the bar, and Nifty liked cleaning up behind anyone who was messy. Alastor still had big shiny eyes at the decor and nibbles, it truly did remind him of home. And thankfully, Lucifer was there but stayed a good distance away from Alastor, and also you. Your not suprised though, you did shout at him. You were actually quite shocked he didn't hit you with one of his wings, or try to kill you. As a sinner who spoke to the king of hell like that, you half expected to be at least suffering with a few bruises. You were stood laughing with Alastor, when Angel and Husk stumbled over, drinks in hand.

"Happy birthday smiles! How'd yah like my outfit? Pretty sexy huh?"

"You seem rather intoxicated there Angel. But yes, your attire does suit you splendidly"

"Thanks! Hey uh, I've got your present hear smiles! Hear yah go! I hope you like it!"

He hands Alastor a box with a ribbon, and upon opening it, Alastor chuckles and shakes his head.

"Angel Angel Angel..."

"What? Don't yah like it?"

Angel asks as Alastor pulls it out to have a better look, at a custom made cooking apron with his name on, and a picture of the map of New Orleans.

"It's marvellous my good man. I shall very much take pleasure in using this the next time I prepare my signature dish"

"Nice!"

"And what about you Husk? Did you get me anything"

"You own my soul. I ain't gotta get you shit"

"Aha! As humorous as ever my good man!"

"C'mon Angel. I need another drink"

You weren't suprised Husk didn't get him anything, He hates him. Next, Charlie and Vaggie came up to you and Alastor.

"Hi! I've got you a birthday present too Alastor!"

"That is very kind of you Charlie"

She excitedly hands him a small box, Vaggie on the other hand just looks away with a grumpy face. Just like Husk, Vaggie doesn't like him either.

"My my! How delightful! This is just what I was attempting to acquire on my last visit to town! Thank you Charlie"

"Your welcome Alastor! I know you said you needed a monocle cleaning kit, and I managed to find one!"

"I shall use it regularly. You have my thanks"

As Alastor chats with Charlie and Vaggie, a small hand takes yours and pulls you towards the end of the food table.

"Lucifer?"

"Hey. How are you?"

"Fine thanks. What's up?"

"Listen, I uh...I just wanna say sorry about the last time we spoke"

"Don't be, it's fine. Water under the bridge"

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeh, no worries Lucifer. Today's about celebrating. No need to think or worry about squabbles or arguments that happened"

"Oh! Thank you! I swear, I thought you'd tear me a new one if I came up to you today"

"Really? I'm suprised you didn't do the same. Your Lucifer Morningstar, and I'm just a sinner"

"Oh no no no! I wouldn't do that. Besides, I wouldn't do that to a friend"

"Thanks Lucifer. Your my friend too. So? Do you have anything to give Alastor?"

"(Grumbles) Not a gift....but I suppose......I can be......nice? To him?"

"It's the thought that counts Lucifer, trying to be nice is better than round 2. Come on then"

Begrudgingly, Lucifer does come back with you, just as Charlie and Vaggie walk away.

"My dear....oho! Why, if it isn't the tiny king? I dare say, I didn't see you there at first..all the way down there!"

"Oh yeh?! Well-"

He stops himself, taking a breath and putting on a smile.

"Yeh, I'm am short aren't I? But you know what they say, big things come in small packages, Ha! I uh....ehem....I wish you....a happy birthday......"

"My oh my? What a suprisingly thoughtful thing to say. One might think you were incapable of speaking to me without venom spitting from your lips"

"No no, I uh......can be nice.....so, anyway, happy birthday or whatever. I've gotta go!"

He sped over to Charlie so quick, you could tell he was gritting his teeth and trying his hardest not to tear Alastor a new one. But your proud that he tried.

"Isn't that nice? Charlie, Vaggie and Angel getting you birthday presents, and Lucifer wishing you a happy birthday too"

"I am rather stunned I must say. I half expected it from Charlie, but I was pleasantly surprised by Angel. One might think it was a tacky gift, but it has character. And as for little Lucifer? I believe that was far more entertaining than watching Vox loose his internet connection! Aha!"

"But are you enjoying your party?"

"Oh yes, absolutely. I'm not one for a crowd, but this is rather pleasant. And the food hear is very tasteful. Would you care for an oyster rockefeller?"

"No thank you, I'm ok. But Alastor?"

"Yes?"

"I was just wondering, if maybe we could go to your room for a moment?"

"Of course my darlin-Oh! Ooh...do you wish to 'share' some quality time? Because if that is the case, I am more than happy to oblige"

"Well, you may want to after"

"After? Hm? Now I am even more intrigued. Please, lead the way my dear"

You and him slip away up the stairs, and down the hallway to his room.

"I'll see you in there Alastor. I've just got to grab something"

"Of course, I shall await you"

Quickly, you run to your room, and see your gift for him has woken up, and is in a happy, playful mood.

"Alright little lady, time to meet your new daddy"

Keeping her in the carrier, you place a blanket over and carry her through the hallways, into Alastor's room.

"So my dear, do you care to explain the sneaking around your......I say?......what is that you are placing on the floor? And why has it got a blanket over it?"

"Well, the thing is Alastor, that little keyring I gave you wasn't your main present"

"Oh really? But I did enjoy it so! It's wonderful and I truly treasure it, because you were the wonderful lady who made it for me"

"I know Alastor, and that so sweet to hear. But........if you take a peak in hear, you'll see your main present....."

"Ooooh! How thrilling! (Gets on his knees and pulls away the blanket) It seems there is something moving in hear, let me just open this little door, and-"

He gasps. Unable to take his eyes off the little moving creature inside the carrier. His hands cover his mouth, a small tear running down his cheek, he looks so happy.

"Oh....oh my darling......this is the best gift I have ever received...."

He reaches into the carrier, carefully pulling out the little animal, cradling her in his arms.

"Are you happy?"

"I've never been happier my dear. I can't believe you've got me a baby alligator!"

"You like her then?"

"It's a girl?!"

"Yep. I know you prefer girls to boys in any animal or person, it made sence to get you a female"

"Oh.....she's perfect! I don't know how I can ever repay you"

"No need, she's a birthday present. And I hope you have fun taking care of her. Oh! She hasn't got a name yet, you can name her if you like"

"How wonderful! Let's see.....I think she looks like an.........Abigail! Yes! It's suits her, Abigail it is"

He happily tickles her smooth belly, her little tail wiggles as he does, almost as if she could laugh. His smile has never been bigger, and his eyes are filled with love. Sometimes, when times are tough, having a pet that loves you unconditionally is exactly what you need. He looks like a proud dad, placing Abigail on the floor, and letting her sniff and walk around his room and swamp area, this place was perfect for her, it won't take her long to settle in at all.

"Awwww, she's already playing in the water. She was cute when I picked her up, but now she's even cuter. Don't you think Alas-"

Very unexpectedly, Alastor grabs you by the waist, spins you around, bends you down as he holds you, pressing his lips you yours as your eyes flutter shut. He kisses you and holds you so romantically, it makes you feel lighter than air. Slowly, he let's you stand back up, still holding you in his arms.

"I never expected I gained such a romantic gentleman. I've never been kissed like that before"

"Trust me when I say, this will be a recurring and very pleasurable moment we shall share together. I can promise you that. Infact, would you like to share my bed this evening?"

"Really? Sharing your bed?"

"I simply wish to hold you and kiss you to the point you feel flush and faint in my embrace. I'd like to....quite literally take your breath away....."

"Any woman would be mad not to want that, ok. But aren't you going to be busy with Abigail? She is a baby after all"

"Worry not my darling, I am very good at caring for animals like her, she shall be happy and comfortable by the time me and you are both curled up in my bed"

"Has anyone ever told you, your a really sweet man?"

"Only you my dear, only you. (Sweet kiss to your lips). Now! I do believe I should introduce little Abigail hear, to the rest of the hotel! She will be living here after all!"

"What do you think the reactions of the others will be?"

"There's only one way to find out....."

Picking up Abigail, he ran to the staircase so fast, your hair blew in the wind. You just laugh, seeing how excitable he was at having a pet, it made you feel amazing. You smile walking to the staircase, and leaning against the banister at the top, watching and chuckling at Alastor below. He's holding Abigail up in his arms so proudly, showing her to everyone. Charlie, Lucifer and Angel actually think she's cute, stroking her head and belly. Husk hides behind the bar, swearing and shouting at the sight of an alligator in the hotel, Pentious and Vaggie keep their distance, looking a little sheepish, and Nifty sits on Alastor's shoulder, cooing at Abigail. This was definitely going to be an interesting new time in the hotel, an alligator? Alastor with an alligator? Let's see what will happen.

Link to part 1

#alastor #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel

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foundtherightwords · 18 hours ago

Text

Fallen Empires - Chapter 9

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: none

Chapter word count: 3.2k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60533293/chapters/158509354

Chapter 9

The next morning, Daphne came back from her chores to find Romulus sitting at the table, all dressed up in his old cloak and belt, with his dagger in its sheath dangling from his belt. She looked at him askance, still stung from the previous night. It had started out so well—when she returned from the village, she could tell he'd been waiting for her, and she'd wanted to tease him a little, to see if he had truly missed her. Perhaps she'd gone too far. But then he had made her blood boil, and this time not in a good way. First, he'd had the audacity to order her about in the bedroom—though she didn't particularly object to the act he'd proposed, it was his tone that insulted her. And then, after she'd overlooked that first offense and stirred from her sleep to help him out of his nightmare, he'd kicked her out of the room. Her room! Ingrate fool! She could tolerate some male arrogance, but she had her limit.

"Going somewhere?" she asked coldly.

He avoided her eyes. "Yes. I think it's time I rejoin my legion." His voice was polite but flat.

Daphne's heart stumbled, as if his words had just grazed it like a knife. The day before, down in the village, she'd heard about a big battle going on in the Parthian city of Nisibis, not far from the border. Everybody had been talking about it, saying it would decide the war. She had sat with her mother and Mikkos, praying for Attikos and other men from the village, who were no doubt fighting in it at this very moment. Upon returning to the hut, it had been on the tip of her tongue to tell Romulus about the battle, but she'd stopped herself. She was afraid that if she'd told him, he would've left immediately to join his fellow soldiers. As angry as she was with him, she didn't want him to go. Not yet.

Had he heard something after all? But that was impossible. How could he have, stuck up here with no one for company except the goats? So why did he want to leave? Was it because of what had happened between them? Did he regret sleeping with her? Was he married after all and now regretting his infidelity? Or perhaps he simply didn't want to stay with a woman who had threatened to kill him. She hadn't really meant it, of course she hadn't. It was only because he'd made her so mad... Oh, why had she let her temper get the better of her?

She put the jug of fresh goat's milk down on the table and turned to the larder, bringing out bread and cheese and olive, moving slowly so she would have time to compose herself. "You wish to go to Edessa?" she said.

"Yes."

She didn't want to tell him that the army was no longer in Edessa. "But you're not—"

"I know I'm not well enough!" he snapped, reverting to his old irascible self. Then he took a breath, and continued in the same flat voice as before, like he was trying to distance himself from her. "You mentioned that there's a town a couple of days from here," he said, "where I can get passage to Edessa."

"You mean Adala?"

He nodded. "Adala, yes."

She finished setting out breakfast. "And when do you wish to leave?"

"As soon as I can. I'm well enough for a two days' walk, surely?"

"Yes." She found herself mimicking his tone and grimaced in annoyance.

He got to his feet. "Right. Prepare some food for me then." His old commanding voice was back, and she glared at him. He must have realized how he sounded, for he corrected himself, "I mean, if you could spare some food and point me in the right direction, I'll get out of your hair. I've imposed upon your hospitality for long enough." He'd never spoken to her so courteously, so coldly. She wished he would shout and whine and complain as he had before. It would be a hundred times preferable to this polite stranger.

But there was no point in clinging to him any longer. He was never going to stay. This was bound to happen sooner or later. It would be better if he left now, before she became too used to his presence.

She sighed, thinking of the long summer days ahead, when she would be alone again. Despite the heat, she would sit outside with Midas and the goats, just to feel the presence of some living things other than herself, or go into the garden and put her ears to the beehives, listening to their gentle buzzing, just to hear something other than her own thoughts rattling inside her head. She would miss him, miss this strange, infuriating man...

Then an idea occurred to her.

"Perhaps I should go with you," she said slowly. Her mind was telling her this was not a good idea. Better to cut off the wounded limb and make a clean break, than to draw out the agony. But her heart was saying otherwise. "I have to visit the apothecary in Adala anyway," she explained, "to trade for a few things and restock my shelves."

Romulus looked at her, considering the option. She thought she could see the conflict in her heart reflected in his face, as the desire to spend more time together waged war with the fear of a prolonged goodbye. "Very well," eventually he said, in that same stiffly polite tone. "I would welcome your company."

"Then give me some time to pack," she said, trying not to sound too excited. "And you don't want to travel under this sun. It's better if we leave in the evening. It will be cooler then, and you can stay hidden."

It was clear that he had not thought about the danger of being discovered. He nodded and took off his belt and his cloak.

For the rest of the day, Daphne busied herself going through the various jars and bottles and packets of herbs, taking stock of how much she had, what she could use to barter, what was running low. She had to admit that labeling the jars had been a big help. It helped, too, to have Romulus's assistance as he wrote down her inventory on the wax tablet. For a while, the easy companionship between them felt like the old days again, and Daphne managed not to think too much about the imminent departure. She also remembered to bring Amalthea and her kids to Ione, who was most eager to watch the animals while Daphne was away.

They descended the hill as a waxing moon rose over the rock cliffs. With Midas's bridle in her hand, Daphne led them around the village instead of through it. She knew that on a cool, moonlit night like this, the villagers would be out in droves, sitting on their doorsteps, the women weaving, the men fixing their tools, all sharing drinks and gossip, and this detour was the only way to avoid detection. Once out of the village, they followed the stream as it wound its way through the valley to meet the Balikh. The water was low and sluggish this time of year, but the soft murmur of the current was enough to mask the sound of their footsteps.

"You all right?" she asked Romulus, when they were deep in the valley. "Would you like to ride Midas? Or should we stop for a rest?" She had heard him wheezing behind her for a while, but didn't want to stop before they were far enough from the village.

"I'm fine" was all he said. She looked back at him. His face was gray in the pale light of the moon, his dark eyes were enormous, and he was breathing heavily.

"No, you're not fine," she said, putting Midas to a halt and moving some of the saddlebags of herbs aside. "Get on."

Romulus glanced at the donkey and made a face. "No."

Daphne sighed, exasperated. Such ridiculous creatures, men. "I'm sorry I don't have a war elephant for you," she said. "Get on. I'll not have you collapse on me again."

He looked at Midas once more, before apparently deciding that his comfort was worth more than his dignity, and climbed on the saddle. Daphne suppressed a triumphant grin as she took up the bridle and walked on.

They walked through the night, under the silver moon. After it set, they pushed on for a while longer, until the sky brightened into a pinkish gray and a strip of gold appeared on the eastern horizon. The sun rose rapidly, spreading light and heat across the valley. Eventually, when the heat became too much, Daphne drew them to a stop under a bank of willow trees by the stream and made camp. Romulus looked up and down the bank warily, but after she assured him that they would be perfectly safe, he sat down next to her, with his back against a willow. They ate some of the bread and cheese Daphne had brought along. Then, shielded from the hot sun by the sweeping willow branches above and cooled by the gentle flowing of the stream beside them, they slept.

The sun had dipped behind the hills again, but it was still light, by the time Daphne woke. Romulus was no longer lying near the willow tree across from her, and she bolted up, afraid that he might have slipped away while she slept. But no, he was still there, sitting a little further down the bank. He was trying to shave with his dagger and making a mess of it.

"Need a hand?" Daphne said.

He jumped. "Hades!" he cursed as the dagger clattered to the ground. "Are you trying to kill me?!"

"No, but you may cut your own throat if you try to shave with that meat cleaver." She pulled her own little knife from her belt and sharpened it with a stone from the riverbank, before handing it to him. "Here, try this."

He took the knife from her and tried again. One scrape, and he threw it to the ground as well. "I've never done this before," he said, sounding both frustrated and embarrassed. "There were always barbers..." He glanced at Daphne. "Can you do it?"

Daphne hesitated. "But I've never shaved anyone before," she said. "Well, I did, once. My husband. The morning he left to join the army." It had been the last time she saw him.

Romulus shrugged. "It's not hard. I'm sure you can do a better job than I."

"You trust me?"

She only meant to ask if he trusted her not to make a mess of his face, but a hesitant look came into his eyes, and Daphne remembered that she'd threatened to kill him just the night before. Of course he wouldn't trust her.

She handed him the knife. "It's best that you do it," she said.

The look in his eyes changed inscrutably as he looked from the knife to her and back again. Then, reaching out his hand, he pushed the knife back toward her and raised his chin expectantly.

Crouching down in front of Romulus, Daphne started to scrape the knife across his jaw. A small whimper escaped his throat. She jumped back, holding the knife aloft. "That hurt?"

"It's fine." He cleared his throat. "But usually the barber would put some kind of oil in my beard first, to soften it."

"Why didn't you say so?"

Daphne dug through her supplies and found a jar of almond oil, which she rubbed into his beard. The pulse just below his jaw beat wildly under her hand, and when she happened to lift her eyes to his face, the look he gave her made her own heart thump along with his. How she longed to kiss him there, on his jaw, to feel that pulse and his warm, smooth skin beneath her lips... But he would probably push her away again, and she was not willing to repeat that exercise in humiliation. She put the knife back to his beard. He was right. With the oil, the knife glided over the hair much more smoothly and easily.

"Is that better?" she asked. Romulus nodded once and sat still, as if afraid any movement would cause her hand to slip. "Relax," she said. "I won't nick you. I promise."

"I'd rather you promise not to gut me like a fish," he said.

She glared at him, but his tone was light, and something like a wry smile was lifting the corner of his mouth. She felt her cheeks grow hot. "Don't test me," she warned, trying to put on her sternest face.

His teasing smile grew, and for a moment he looked once more like the man who had taught her to read, the one who had helped her after her father's disastrous visit, the one who had held her hand when she told him about her husband. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said.

His breathing calmed after that, yet her own remained ragged as if she'd just made an uphill climb, and she couldn't help noticing the heat between them. She forced herself to concentrate. Scrape, scrape, scrape. The hair fell away under the blade, slowly. They were breathing the same air, their bodies feeling the same heat, separated only by two thin layers of linen. She wanted to hit him and then kiss him, and then hit him again, for making her feel this way. But she did nothing, only reminding herself that he would soon be gone. Scrape, scrape, scrape.

Once his jaw was clean, Daphne moved on to his mouth, trying not to notice the feel of his lips between her fingers. Then she leaned back to survey her handiwork.

"How do I look?" he asked.

"Very well."

In truth, her shaving was rough, and there were uneven patches here and there along his jaw where she hadn't gotten all the hair. But, freed from his scowl, and with his curls getting longer and falling over his forehead, the face that emerged from under the beard was sweeter, almost boyishly handsome. She cleaned the oil off with the end of her stole and flicked away the little hairs that stuck to his skin, her fingers lingering over his now-smooth cheeks. He tilted his head, pressing his face into her hand, his dark eyes gazing into hers. Daphne's heart jumped. She knew that look. He'd looked at her the same way the other night—had it only been two days ago?

It was on her lips to ask him to stay, to keep this touch, this fire between them just for a little while, just a little longer... Her thumb brushed across his mouth, and he jolted away as if her finger had been a poisoned arrow.

"We best get a move on," he said, getting to his feet.

The plea for him to stay died in her throat. With a sigh, she stood up as well and began packing their things.

They continued in silence, with only the moon as their constant companion. The next day, they left the valley and the stream behind as the path rose toward a plateau. The willows became shrubs, then the shrubs became tuffs of tired brown grass, before getting swallowed up altogether by the tired brown sand of the plateau. Adala lay on that plateau, a handful of mud-brick houses lining narrow, winding streets, all congregating around a small marketplace. Having neither pastures nor arable land, it made its living as a trading post, where merchant caravans stopped for a change of horses before heading to larger towns, and where farmers and shepherds from surrounding villages brought in their goods to barter and exchange. It was the one place Daphne had learned without her grandmother's guidance—the old woman had never left their village and had seen no need for it, but Daphne had understood early on that she could not make a living if she stayed in their village all her life. Besides, she liked the hustle and bustle of the town, though only in small doses.

They pushed on, not stopping to rest, and came into Adala in the early afternoon. Romulus had jumped off Midas's back as soon as the town came into view. Now he stalked next to her, his head low, the hood of his cloak pulled up to cover his face, and his hand gripping the dagger tightly.

"Stop worrying," Daphne said. "No harm will come to you here."

"You can't be sure of that," he mumbled, his eyes darting left and right. It wasn't a market day, so the town wasn't particularly busy, but that only made the two of them stand out more. Eyes were turning their way, with curiosity that would soon turn into suspicion, Daphne knew.

"If you're trying to appear suspicious and draw attention to yourself, then you're doing an excellent job," she said drily.

He straightened up and pushed the hood off, looking slightly abashed. After that, he walked more normally, though he still kept a hand on the hilt of the dagger.

They walked past the marketplace under the shadow of a temple of Zeus and turned into a side street. Unlike the rest of the sleepy town, it was crowded here, as the townspeople flocked to The Lynx's Head for their drinks, snacks, and daily gossip. Part tavern, part inn, part gambling den, it was the true center of Adala, much more than the marketplace and the temple ever were.

Daphne stopped a little further down the lane and nodded at the tavern. "There you are," she said. "Go inside and ask Eukleis at the bar if she knows of anyone going to Edessa. You'll get passage in no time."

Romulus glanced at the crowd gathering outside The Lynx's Head, looking uncertain, but said nothing. He still said nothing when Daphne handed him a little pack containing a change of clothes, a wineskin, some food, and a small vial of poppy juice, in case his wounds still bothered him.

"Well," she concluded. Her voice shook a little, and she cleared her throat, trying to sound cheerful. "I must hurry before the apothecary closes for the day. I guess this is goodbye."

Romulus opened his mouth, but no words came. He kept gazing at her, with a beseeching look in his eyes that she hadn't seen before. She waited. Ten, fifteen, twenty heartbeats passed. He still didn't say anything. His hand moved at his side, but he didn't reach out for her.

"May the gods watch over you on your journey," Daphne said. Then she pulled her stole over her head and led Midas away.

"Daphne?" Romulus called after her.

She spun back so quickly that she hated herself for it. "Yes?" she said, hope flickering painfully in her heart.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "And may the gods watch over you as well," he added, almost as an afterthought.

There was a pang in her chest that might have been heartache, or it might have been mere disappointment. She nodded at him and walked down the street without another look back.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #gladiator 2 fic #emperor geta fic #geta #emperor geta x ofc #geta x ofc

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fangirl-writes · 2 days ago

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It's a wolf thing

Jacob Black x Fem!Reader

Warning(s): swearing, violence, canon-level things

Request: Jacob Black x fem! reader, where reader is dating Jacob, and he is getting more distant towards reader. Bella and Jacob are getting really close so she thinks he is cheating on her with Bella. Reader goes to school, and confronts Bella about it, and Bella tells Jacob. Jacob then yells at reader and reader asks him "Do you still love me?" and then Jacob breaks down and cries, and tells her that he became a shapeshifter. You can finish the rest!

Notes: Jakey really needed a girl to get his mind off Bella; shame that the author decided that girl should be an infant. Anyway-

PS: I went a little bit of a different route than the request, but only slightly. The main beats are still there. Hope you like!

You weren't worried before.

You'd been dating Jacob for a while before Bella moved back to town, and really, what did you have to worry about?

Bella was nice, a bit awkward, sure, but nice. She didn't seem interested in Jacob and, since they didn't go to the same school, they didn't interact with much.

She was with Edward, you were with Jacob, that was that.

Until.

That dreaded word “until.”

Until Edward and the other Cullens left town.

Until she came hauling a motorbike in the back of her truck.

Until Jacob started spending all his free time with her, instead of you.

"Hey," you said, walking into the garage where Jake was crouched by the motorbike and Bella was sat next to him.

Your hands were in the pockets of your jacket, feeling like you'd just interrupted something, even though the guy in the room was your boyfriend.

"Hey, babe," Jacob replied, grinning at you.

"Hey," Bella replied in her usual soft way.

"Bike almost done?" you asked.

"Yeah, I think she's about ready for a test drive," Jacob replied, standing up and wiping his hands a rag. "What do you say, Bella? Ready to give it a go?"

"Sure," she said with a non-commital shurg. "Let's load em up."

Jacob walked over to you, smiling and kissed your temple. "You wanna ride along?"

"If that's okay with Bella."

"Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?"

You shrugged, trying to sweep the pit in the middle of your stomach under the rug.

"Bella, it's okay if Y/N rides along, right?" Jacob asked, walking back over to help her wheel the bikes out to her truck.

"Oh, yeah, of course," Bella replied, smiling a little at you.

Jacob gave you a look that clearly said "see?"

"Thanks," you said, following them out of the garage.

Jacob lifted both bikes into the back of the truck easily, like they weighed nothing.

It made you shake your head and laugh when he did a few extra lift ups to impress you.

See? You're being silly. You have nothing to worry about, you thought.

You hopped in the truck, taking up the middle space between Jacob in the passenger and Bella in the drivers seat.

It was a mostly silent ride to wherever Jake had decided would be good for a test run, but he soon turned it serious with one question.

"If I had told you I couldn't fix these bikes, what would you have said?" he asked.

It was a question you knew to have been nagging at him for a while.

He and Bella weren't exactly close before this project, so why had she come to him?

You wanted the answer almost as badly as he did.

"Are you doubting your mad skills?" Bella replied, jokingly.

"No. Definitely not," Jake said, smirking. "I mean, they'll run fine. It just, uh..."

He glanced at you on the trail off.

"Maybe if I was smart I would have dragged out the rebuild a bit."

That struck you.

"If you told me you couldn't fix these bikes, I would say that that's really too bad, but we're just gonna have to find something else to do," Bella said, a little laugh in her voice.

You, however, weren't laughing.

What had he meant by that? By dragging it out?

"Is that Sam Uley?" Bella asked as they drove by the jumping cliffs.

"Yeah," Jacob replied. "Him and his cult."

You gave him a look and he shrugged. "What? It's true."

"Oh my god," Bella pulled over as one of the members of Sam's group was practically pushed off the edge of the cliff.

The reaction made Jacob (and you this time) laugh.

"They're not really fighitng, Bella," Jacob assured her. "They're cliff diving. Scary as hell, but a total rush."

"A rush?" she asked.

"Most of us jump from lower down," you said. "We leave the showing off to Sam and his disciples."

Bella, reassured that no one was in serious danger, turned back towards her truck. "You guys have some kind of beef with him or something?"

Jacob tossed his head. "I don't know. They just think they run this place."

"Embry used to call them hall monitors on steroids," you remembered, smiling.

"Now look at him."

"That's Embry?" Bella asked.

She'd met him and Quil a few weeks ago at one of the bike repair meetings, back before he was with Sam.

"What happened to him?" Bella asked.

"He missed some school," you explained. "Cut his hair, got a weird tattoo."

"Now all of the sudden, he started following Sam around like a little puppy," Jacob added, frowning. "Same thing happened with Paul and Jared."

Jacob had mentioned that Sam had been keeping an eye on him lately. Like he was waiting for him or something.

It was freaky.

It was like he was next.

Bella straddled the bike, adjusting herself and wrapping her hands around the handles.

"You look like you're scared," Jacob said.

"I'm not," Bella replied.

You were perched on the edge of Bella's truck bed, watching from a safe distance.

Dirt bikes weren't really your thing and it was their project.

As much as the jealousy monster clawed at your insides, you wouldn't let it win. There wasn't a reason.

Not yet.

Bella reved the bike after Jake showed her the controls, but she seemed distracted.

"You sure she's good to do this?" you asked him as she took off.

"I don't know," he replied, watching her go. "Something's off."

He was proven right as Bella swerved, unable to hit the brake before she was careening over the handlebars and rolling into a stone.

"Oh, shit," you said, hopping up as Jacob used the other bike to speed over to her.

You followed, slower, obviously, stopping only to stare dumbfounded at your boyfriend when he swung off his shirt to tend to Bella's head wound.

What, he couldn't have tore the shirt or something? There wasn't a rag in the truck? What the fuck?

By the time you reached them, they were already walking back. Jake's hand was on Bella's waist and she was leaning on him.

"You okay?" you asked her.

"Fine," she replied, though from the blood still fresh on her forehead, you guessed you were done for the day.

You glanced at Jacob, but he wasn't looking at you. His focus was on her.

A few days later, he said he was going to see a movie with her and some of her friends. Some action flick you knew you wouldn't have the stomach for, so you stayed home.

Which, in hindsight, was a bad idea.

You should've asked him to stay with you, fake something you wanted to do with him that night.

Would he have stayed with you when Bella was on the table?

And when he came back he was angry.

You stopped by his house, wanting to see him after the movie, but he was practically boiling when he got there.

"Woah there tiger, you okay?" you asked when he stormed into his room.

He froze when he saw you, an unknown emotion crossing over his features as he stared at you.

"What is there something on my face?" you asked after a beat.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, grabbing at his head.

Your eyebrows furrowed and you frowned. "What I can't just stop by anymore? You are still my boyfriend right?"

"Get out," he said.

"What the hell?" You said, getting up from your slouched position on his bed when he turned away from you. "Did something happen? Hey, talk to me-"

"Stop! Just stop," he replied, pushing your hand off of him. "Get out. Now."

"Why?"

"Becuase I asked you to."

He was breathing heavily, his skin was hot to the touch, and he was starting to sweat.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Y/N, just leave!"

Taken aback by his anger and not feeling like fighting, you relented. "Fine. Call me when you decide to stop being an asshole."

But he didn't.

In fact, he stopped answering your calls, texts, everything. Every time you went to his house, his dad said he wasn't there. He wasn't at school, he didn't go to group hangouts anymore.

You were starting to get worried.

At first you just thought this was a breakup. That he'd finally decided he wanted Bella more than he wanted you. That he switched schools and was spending every breathing moment he could with her.

So, you decided to confront her. Ask her what the hell kind of game she was playing at. And if he was there, better yet, you could yell at him to.

You slammed the door of your car, storming up to Bella's truck where she was perched, talking to some Forks kids.

"Hey!"

She turned, surprised to see you.

"Where's Jacob?"

"What?" she asked, dumbly.

"Is he with you? I haven't seen him in weeks. He won't return any of my calls. He's gone completely cold, so I'll ask again, is he with you?"

You were seething. You wanted to see the words come out of her mouth, for her to confess that she'd wanted him all to herself.

But she didn't.

Instead, she said, "You too?"

You were slightly relieved to find out you weren't the only one that Jacob had ghosted.

And with a quick conversation, Bella assured you that she just wanted Jacob's friendship and nothing else.

Now all you had to worry about was where the hell your boyfriend was.

You caught him at his house one afternoon in the pouring rain, almost not recognizing the boy who froze when you yelled his name.

You stormed up to him, soaked to the bone and freezing, but he stood there, stone-faced and shirtless.

"Where have you been?" you shouted. "You cut your hair, you got that stupid tattoo. What Sam finally got his claws in you too?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Y/N," he replied.

"I don't?" you asked, angrily. "Cause you look just like every other cronie in Sam's cult. He have a no girlfriend rule or something or was ignoring me just easier than breaking up with me?"

"Go away, Y/N," he said instead of answering.

"Hey!" you shouted, grabbing his arm when he tried to turn away from you. "Talk to me! If you need help-"

"I don't need your help."

"And you need Sam's?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

He scoffed, shrugging out of your grip. "Go away."

"No!" you stomped forward as he started to move away. "Don't you still love me?"

He froze.

"Or was that just some bullshit you thought you could say to get in my pants?"

"Stop," he said, turning to face you again. "It's not like that."

"Then what's it like, Jake?" you asked, throwing your arms out. "I don't know cause you won't talk to me! I'm out here in the goddamn rain right now for you and you won't tell me anything!"

Shouts from over Jacob's shoulder got your attention and you saw Sam, Embry, Paul, and Jared standing by the treeline.

"Tell me something," you pleaded. "Anything, Jake, please. I love you."

"I love you, too," he said. "Which is why it's better if we- if I..."

He sighed. "Go inside. My dad's there, you can dry off...I'll be back later, okay?"

"And then? You'll talk to me?"

"Yes. Now go."

You didn't stop him when he turned away this time.

Blinking away the rain and the tears to see him running into the trees with Sam and the others.

Billy offered you a towel and an apology when you went inside.

You grabbed some of Jake's old clothes and put your wet ones in the dryer.

Then, Billy, trying to break the ice, started telling you some of the tribe's old legends.

Wolves.

Jacob came back later, after the rain stopped, to find you and his dad talking, questions flowing out of your mouth.

"Well, this is cozy," he said, strolling casually in the room.

You looked at him, still a little upset with him.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Finally?" you asked back, standing.

Billy and Jacob exchanged a look as you passed him on the way to his room.

"You sure about this, son?"

"She won't tell," he replied. "And...Sam said I could. You know why."

Billy nodded sagely, resigned to his son's decision.

Jacob turned to follow you.

You made it to his room first, sitting yourself down on his bed.

He sauntered in soon after, closing the door behind him.

"Hey," he said.

You raised an eyebrow. "Hey?"

"So, dad buttered you up for the truth?" he asked, coming to sit next to him.

"And the truth would be?"

He sighed. "When I tell you this, you're going to think I'm crazy. But I promise that I'm not."

You turned your head slightly, questioningly. "Okay..."

"All these...changes," he started. "They're not...choices."

"What."

"I mean that they're...better for me to have."

"Jacob, you better get to the point or I'm going to slap you."

He huffed out a laugh. "All right, all right. Um. I'm...I'm a werewolf."

"What?"

"Everyone in Sam's pack is. He's the leader."

"Jacob Black you'd better not be fucking with me right now."

"I'm not!" he said. "Ask my dad, ask Sam."

You shook your head in disbelief.

You'd always known Forks was a sort of beacon of strange happenings. The "bear" attacks, the destroyed dance studio last year, other things over the years. Living there your whole life, you start to pick up on that stuff.

Not closely, enough, apparently.

"And...this is a tribe secret?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Then why are you telling me?"

"Er..." he bit his lip. "Cause you're...kind of my soulmate."

"I'm what?"

He laughed, a bigger, happier laugh than you'd heard out of him in a while.

"It's called imprinting. Every wolf has one and, well, I found out you were mine the same night I shifted for the first time," he said.

"When was that?"

"The night I came back from the movies with Bella. Remember how I was all angry and hot?"

"Yeah."

"It was the wolf in me trying to come out. After you left I had to practically jump out of my window to avoid destorying the house."

"I bet Billy would've been thrilled with that," you said, laughing.

Jacob laughed to, leaning in to hug you. "I'm sorry for putting you through all this shit. I thought...I thought it would be easier if I just...waited. But you've never been patient so I should've known that wouldn't work."

You smacked his still bare chest.

He smiled.

"This is a lot to take in," you said.

"I know. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

You reached up to cart your fingers through his hair. "I miss the long hair. But I can't complain about the abs, and the tattoo is kind of hot."

He snorted. "Thanks."

"Is the...warmth all a part of the wolf thing, too? Or is that just you."

He chuckled. "It's a wolf thing."

You hummed. "Well, I've never complained about that part. Tell your ancestors thanks for that."

"I'll get right on it," he said, smiling.

The two of you laid down then, snuggling up on his small bed.

"So. I have a werewolf boyfriend."

"That you do."

"A soulmate werewolf boyfriend."

"You're not gonna let this go ever, are you?"

"Nope. Get used to it, wolf boy."

He groaned. "Do not start with the nicknames."

"Oh, no, I've got a whole list I'm excited to test out on everyone. Think Embry would like dog breath? Ooh, or butt sniffer?"

Jacob rolled on top of you, practically smothering you, which only made you laugh.

He sighed, lifting himself up to look at you. "I really do love you. You know that right? I didn't just say it that time because-"

"Hey," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "I know. And thank you. For telling me the truth. I, uh, I kind of thought you were cheating on me with Bella."

Jacob laughed. "With Bella? I knew you were jealous."

"Was not!"

"Was too!"

"Oh, you're gonna get it now, wolf boy," you said, pushing him off of you and taking the upper hand.

He let you, of course, you couldn't move him before he had extra wolf powers, let alone now.

You couldn't hurt him, but you didn't think wolves were impervious to being ticklish.

"AHAHA!" he laughed out when you started, making you smile with triumph. "Okay! Okay! I give! Uncle! Can we go back to cuddling?"

#jacob black x reader #jacob black x you #jacob black imagine #twilight imagine

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bullet-prooflove · 2 days ago

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5500 Follower Bingo Celebration: Love Letters - Mitch Keller x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @dolphs-darling @watermeezer @queenslandlover-93 @lostinwonderland314

When Mitch was away on the rodeo circuit, he used to write you love letters. They weren’t much, scribbled lyrics, places he’d wanted to take you, how much he was missing you at the time. He would always address them ‘To my sunshine’ before sealing them up in an envelope with a kiss and placing them in the mailbox.

You never wrote back, there was no point, he would already have moved on to the next town by the time you did. Instead you sent him voice notes, snippets of you singing his songs and Mitch he would been on top of the world when he went out into that arena, because the sound of your voice was music to his ears.

Now it’s a decade later and Mitch is sifting through a shoebox filled with memories that had long since been forgotten. The two of you have gotten a little house near The Buck, one with a yard for the dog you’ve been begging him to consider. It’s going to happen, he knows it is, he just likes to pretend you haven’t gotten him wrapped around your little finger.

“I didn’t know you still had these.” Mitch says as he studies the postage stamps.

Mississippi, Nevada, Kansas and many more. He hadn’t realised he’d gotten around so much back in the day.

Your chin comes to rest on his shoulder as you raise up on tip toes to survey them.

“I used to get them out from time to time when I was missing you.” You confess, your arms wrapping around his waist, holding him close. “I could play those songs in my sleep by the time I got back to Tulsa.”

Hearing that, it does a little something to Mitch. He’s had his troubles over the years, the injury, the drugs, his incarceration, he thought he’d fucked things up for good after that second stint in rehab but the two of you, you were always inevitable, like the sun raising in the east and setting in the west.

“Do you think you could play one for me when we get home?” He asks you, the stubble on his jaw grazing your skin as his cheek comes to rest upon yours. “See if we can still find a little of that magic?”

“That depends.” You tell him, your hands coming to rest on his belt buckle. “Do you still have the hat and chaps?”

A filthy smile crosses his features as he says/

"Why Sunny, I actually think I do."

Love Mitch? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.

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#mitch keller #mitch keller x reader #tulsa king #garrett hedlund

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knivestothroats · 2 days ago

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The Professionals - Tommy and Fletcher go to White Castle

the fast food place in question is not necessarily white castle i am just using the same naming convention as "buck and fletcher's excellent adventure" co-written with @victimeyez The Professionals || In The Woods Somewhere || Professional//Victim CW: long term captivity, panic attack, the realization that you got old and sold out

Tommy hated going in the basement.

It was dark and cold and too reminiscent of his old room. His old prison, more like. Especially after the last time he pissed Caius off.

Your room is upstairs, he kept telling himself. Your room is upstairs. They’re not keeping you down here.

But Tommy knew Fletcher could change that on a whim. He just had to be good and not give them a reason to. And that meant not protesting when Fletcher said he had to help look for something in the basement.

“I’m pretty sure the people I trade with are keeping more of my jars than they’re giving back,” Fletcher said. “I don’t know why else they’d be disappearing. Fuckers.”

Tommy was pretty sure the last part was said as a joke, but he wasn’t positive.

Fletcher still had shelves full of preserves, but they had said something ominous about making it through the winter. So, the two of them were digging through boxes to look for more jars.

Fletcher made sure Tommy steered clear of certain boxes. He didn’t ask what was in them.

Tommy pushed aside a box filled with clothes to check the next. But behind it was not a storage tote. It was long and rectangular - a hard case for an instrument.

Tommy flipped open the latches and lifted the lid. Inside lay a bass guitar. It was a deep, sparkling blue with a strap patterned with lightning bolts. He gingerly picked it up and held it, positioning it over his knee like he was going to play.

“Put. That. Down.” Fletcher snarled from behind him.

Tommy quickly returned the instrument to its case and shut the lid.

“Sorry!”

He turned to apologize to Fletcher, but was taken aback by just how angry they looked.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t touch your stuff,” Tommy went on.

Fletcher said nothing. Their hands were clenched into fists at their side.

“Do you… play?” Tommy asked. He wasn’t sure if he should push it, but he felt the need to claw his way out of the furious silence.

“No,” Fletcher said shortly.

“Oh. Um…” Tommy tried to think of a better way to ask, then why do you have it? “Did you… want to learn?”

“It’s my friend’s.”

“Oh! Okay. They don’t, um…”

Fletcher folded their arms and looked up at the ceiling. “He doesn’t play these days.”

“I see.” Tommy drummed his fingers on the top of the case. “Did you… want to learn? Because I can - I can only play bass a little, but I can, like, follow along to tab, um, if…”

Fletcher looked down at him. Their expression had eased up, and they looked interested now.

“You play?”

“I used to play drums in my band,” Tommy said. “My friends showed me a little bit of their instruments.”

Tommy could swear he saw Fletcher’s eye twitch.

“Drums, huh?” they said flatly.

Tommy swallowed and nodded.

Fletcher sighed, closing their eyes for a brief moment. They slowly raised their arm and pointed.

“My guitar is over there.”

Tommy’s face lit up. “You play guitar!”

“Not in years,” Fletcher said.

“Were you in a band?” Tommy asked.

“...No.” Fletcher’s eyes were wandering, lost in thought. Hands still in fists folded over their arms. They wanted to say something but wouldn’t.

“You and your friend played together?” Tommy prompted.

“Yeah…” Fletcher took a breath like they were going to say something else, then shut their mouth. “Let’s keep looking”

“I have to go into town, and I don’t want to leave you here alone,” Fletcher said. They had pulled up a chair to talk to Tommy as he sat on the edge of his bed. “Do you think you can handle coming along?”

“Um,” Tommy blinked a few times. The thought of getting out of the house should be exciting, but he had barely been out in public in years. Closest he got was the conventions he was taken to as a product demo, and the aquarium trip, where he’d had a panic attack. He ran his hands over his legs. “Like, where are we… going?”

“I have to do a supply run every month or so,” Fletcher said. “At least while there’s a group in the house. We need groceries. Sometimes I have to pick up ammo, medical supplies, things like that. But I don’t want to leave you here unsupervised, and I don’t trust the trainees to… well, you can ask Buck what happened when I left him behind to go on a run.”

It was odd to think of Buck being trapped here at the whims of violent tormentors. Tommy knew it had happened, of course, but seeing Buck come and go of his own volition made it difficult for those perceptions of him to coexist in his mind.

“So… not really a choice, right?” Tommy forced a half-smile.

“Hm, no,” Fletcher said. “Just getting a vibe. Do you think you’re going to panic?”

“Um. I don’t know,” Tommy picked at the sheets.

“Well, look, we’ll see how it goes, maybe you can wait in the car for some stuff.” Fletcher shrugged. “But, we have to talk security measures. Can’t have you running off or running your mouth. It would just be a big mess for me to clean up, in the end. You understand that, right?”

Tommy nodded.

“If anyone finds out about you or this place, I’d have to kill them,” Fletcher emphasized.

Tommy dropped his eyes to the floor and nodded again.

“So, to be safe…”

Fletcher pulled something out of their pocket that sent a shiver up Tommy’s spine.

It was his old collar. The one Caius had made him wear, with the electrified barbs that dug into the tender skin of his throat. He felt sick just looking at it.

He was grateful for the new, painless collar. Buck had still looked put off when he saw it, and it had made Tommy somewhat embarrassed, but to be honest, he didn’t know how he would feel not wearing a collar after all this time.

And now the old one was back.

What if they weren’t going on a supply run at all? What if Fletcher was taking him back to Caius?

“If you’re good,” Fletcher said, watching his pale expression. “Next time it can be a normal shock collar. No barbs. Okay?”

Tommy nodded, eyes never leaving the collar.

“Alright, c’mere.” Fletcher gestured for Tommy to lean forward. He obeyed in a stiff, robotic motion, forcing himself through the fear. They reached behind his neck and unbuckled the collar. Freed for a moment, but now his throat was rendered vulnerable to his old collar’s teeth. Tommy sat deathly still as Fletcher replaced his old collar, even when the barbs bit into his skin. He white-knuckled the sheets.

Tommy’s chest felt too tight for his heart, too tight for his lungs. Tears stung as his eyes. He couldn’t move. With a blink, the tears breached and spilled down his face.

“Woah, you good?” Fletcher sounded surprised.

Tommy tried to say “I’m okay,” but all that came out was a tight lipped “Mrmm.”

Fletcher observed him carefully. Hands twisted tight in the fabric, chest rising and falling rapidly, crying silently.

They didn’t want to walk it back - relent and let him wear a different collar immediately after declaring he needed to wear this one. But they didn’t know how to comfort someone having a panic attack. They only knew how to instill fear, not subside it.

Fletcher put their hands on Tommy’s arms.

“Can you do this for me?” They gave him a gentle squeeze. “Can you keep it together?”

Tommy gave a slow, unconvincing nod.

“I won’t use it if you’re good,” Fletcher assured him. “And all you have to do to be good is do nothing.”

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and nodded again.

“Okay. Look at me. Deep breath, okay?”

Fletcher took a big, slow breath. Tommy followed along. Fletcher held it a few seconds, then slowly blew it out. Tommy’s breath came out shaky as he copied their actions.

“In for five, hold for five, out for five. Okay? Do it again.”

In, two, three, four, five. Hold, two, three, four, five. Out, two, three, four, five.

Despite the exercise, Tommy made an involuntary noise of distress - a muffled moan from behind his clenched jaw. He began to shake, nervous energy overflowing in his body.

“Okay, hey,” Fletcher moved their hands to his shoulders. “Watch me, watch.” They held up a hand. “Touch your thumb to your pinky, ring, index. Skip the middle. Pinky, ring, index.”

Tommy watched, unsure, before looking down at his own hand to mimic the movements. Pinky, ring, skip the middle, index.

“Okay, good. Now, pinky, middle, index. Pinky, middle, index.”

Pinky, middle, index.

“Alternate those. Pinky, ring, index. Pinky, middle, index. You’ll have to think about it.”

Tommy tapped his thumb to the tip of each finger. When he changed the pattern he hesitated, making sure not to touch the finger he needed to skip. Fletcher was right, it required his focus. His breathing began to calm down on its own.

“There you go!” Fletcher ruffled his hair. Tommy leaned into it, but the touch lasted only a moment.

There was a chill bite in the air. Fletcher had wrapped a scarf around Tommy’s neck to hide the collar, and given him a coat to wear - a heavy denim work jacket, lined with well-worn flannel. It dwarfed his thin frame, but kept him cozy.

Tommy pulled himself up into the truck, settling into the bench seat in the back.

Fletcher turned around in the driver’s seat to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

Tommy stiffened, trying to figure out what he had done wrong. “Uh…”

“Am I your chauffeur? Get up here.”

Tommy hesitated only a moment before clambering out of the back and moving up to ride shotgun. He tucked his hands between his thighs, both to keep them warm and to maintain his distance.

“What kind of music do you like?” Fletcher asked. They plugged an aux cord into an ipod and began to scroll.

“Oh, um, whatever you want to listen to is fine,” Tommy assured them.

“Not what I asked.”

“I, uh… I like punk music,” Tommy admitted.

Fletcher looked up at him and smiled. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Um, like… Billy Talent, The Offspring, Destroy Boys, uh…”

“Green Day?”

“Yeah.”

“Against me!?”

“Yes, some.”

“Bouncing Souls?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay, I’m just going to put it on shuffle, you can tell me what you recognize.”

Fletcher drove carefully through the woods, following a path through the trees marked only by previous tire tread. The truck bumped along steadily until they emerged onto an empty country road.

“We’re just going into town to go to the grocery store,” Fletcher explained. “There’s a farm I have a barter system with, and I normally like to go there for my produce, at least, but… I took Buck there one time. And having one guy with visible scarring who has to wait in the car is explainable enough. But a second guy with visible scarring who has to wait in the car, that starts to get suspicious. So, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t want to stop going there, but I also don’t want to have to stage a death cult situation if they catch on that something is up. They’re nice people.”

“...Sure.”

“I don’t… love going out in public, either,” Fletcher admitted. “But I’m good at lying. You… maybe just hang back a bit and try to stay calm. In fact, it’s best if you don’t talk to anyone. We can get you some headphones or something if it’s overstimulating. I don’t know how bad off you are.”

“I… I think I can hold it together,” Tommy mumbled. He watched the scenery go by out the window. Everything was frosted in snow – the trees, fields, the occasional home or warehouse set back from the road. It was all a reminder that a normal world still existed, even though he hadn't been part of it for years.

Caius usually cuffed his hands to the inside door handle. Without being tethered in place, he wasn’t sure what to do with them, so he kept them tucked away.

Tommy gasped suddenly and turned his head away from the window.

“What?” Fletcher asked, eyebrows raised.

“Just… dead cat. On the side of the road.”

“Aw, that’s awful.” Fletcher shook their head. “I don’t know why people still think it’s okay to have outdoor cats. They think their pets are somehow immune to the dangers of the world, and then they get hit by cars or eaten by coyotes or whatever. Or come home with fleas. Diseases.” They took their eyes off the road for a moment to look at Tommy, their gaze heavy on him. “It’s just not safe out there.”

Tommy swallowed and nodded, letting his eyes drift back outside.

When they got to the grocery store, Tommy trailed close behind Fletcher, hands tucked into the pockets of the coat. Fletcher would ask for Tommy’s input occasionally, but mostly moved through swiftly, stocking up in bulk. His role was as their shadow, collecting items here and there at Fletcher’s direction.

It wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else how on edge Fletcher was, but Tommy could see it. A tightness in their features, tension in their shoulders. The way their eyes moved around like they were scanning for threats.

Tommy was feeling the anxiety as well. It had been so long since he had been around so many people that were just… normal. Going about their days. Didn’t know who he was, or what he was. The aquarium visit felt distant, faded like far more time had passed than actually had. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as the grocery store was, bustling with people. He caught some eyes lingering on the pale patches of his skin, on the long scar that ran down beside his eye. He shook his hair down in front of his face to cover him as much as it could, hiding a grimace when the motion tugged painfully on the collar.

It crossed his mind - what if he tried to get help? Even if he ran up to a stranger and begged them to help him, would they? Did it make a difference if he found the store manager, asked them to call the police? What if he made a scene, screaming that he was being held against his will?

He would probably just look crazy. People would turn away, more uncomfortable than concerned. He’d seen the shocking amount of apathy people had when he was sleeping rough. Even if someone cared, Fletcher would talk their way out of it. Or, if they fled the scene, they would find him later, and take him back. And then he’d really be in for it.

He couldn’t imagine it working. Nothing had worked out for him in years. All it would accomplish would be to ruin any good graces he had with Fletcher. They would never take him out of the lodge again. He could lose privileges to food, to outdoor access, to any small luxuries Fletcher allowed him. They would hurt him for sure. Worse - they might send him back.

So Tommy behaved. He only spoke when Fletcher asked him a question. He avoided eye contact with the other people in the store. He didn’t ask for anything.

The cart was filled to the brim by the time they were done. Fletcher climbed into the bed of their truck and had Tommy pass them the bags so they could load them into coolers against the cab.

“We need to leave room,” Fletcher said. “We have more pickups.”

Tommy didn’t ask where they were going. The next stop was a house in a residential neighborhood. He waited in the car while Fletcher went up and rang the doorbell. A woman answered and welcomed them inside. They emerged a few minutes later carrying a grocery bag, which they put in the back seat before driving off again.

“You hungry?” Fletcher asked.

They took Tommy to a fast food drive through. Tommy was overwhelmed by the amount of options on the menu, and picked a simple staple - cheeseburger, fries, chocolate shake.

Tommy took a bite of the cheeseburger. It was… underwhelming. He really was spoiled by Fletcher’s cooking. Next, the fries. Now, those scratched an itch he didn’t know he had. He took a few more and dragged them through his milkshake, reveling in the complimentary flavors of salty and sweet.

Tommy had scarfed down his food by the time they made their next stop. The truck pulled up along the curb outside of a music supply store. He looked at Fletcher in surprise, but didn’t say anything.

Fletcher said nothing either, just got out of the truck. Tommy followed them inside and up to the desk.

“Hey, I’m picking up an order for Fletcher.” They rapped their knuckles lightly against the counter.

The employee tapped away at the computer. “Mkay… Fletcher? Yep, got it right here. That your truck? We’ll start bringing it out to ya.”

Fletcher nodded and headed back outside. Tommy lagged slightly as he followed, looking around wide eyed at the vast array of shiny new instruments. He badly wanted to stay and check some out, but he had to stay at Fletcher’s heel.

He still didn’t ask.

The employee wheeled out a u-cart. Most of it was in boxes. But the boxes had labels - images of what was inside. And the bass drum was in its own distinct travel case.

Fletcher lowered the tailgate and began to load in the new drum set with the employee. Tommy jumped in as well, hands shaking. He remembered packing up Avi’s van to play shows. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

Fletcher thanked the employee. They turned back to Tommy.

He was on the verge of hyperventilating. He had told Fletcher that he used to play drums, and now they were buying a whole drum set. A new drum set. But yet he couldn’t bring himself to say, is it for me? It felt too presumptuous, too fragile. If he didn’t ask, then Fletcher couldn’t hurt him with their answer. Instead he stood there and waited, wide eyed and trembling.

“Yes, they’re for you,” Fletcher said.

Tommy couldn’t contain himself. He brought his arms up, nearly squealing with excitement, before rushing forward and embracing Fletcher in a hug.

“Woah! Okay.” Fletcher recoiled at first, but Tommy held fast. They patted him awkwardly on the back. “Alright.”

“Thank you so much!” Tommy pulled back to talk face to face, but was still clinging to their coat, his eyes shining with emotion. “Thank you, thank you, what do I have to do?”

Fletcher half smiled. “Uh, not judge me for being out of practice.”

Tommy’s eyes widened again. “We’re going to play together?!”

“Yeah, I’m not going to let you have all the fun.”

Tommy stepped back, hands on his cheeks, beaming at the drums in the back of the truck.

“I can’t believe you bought a whole new kit,” he said in wonderment.

Fletcher chuckled. “I know. The employees probably think you’re my sugar baby.” They closed the tailgate and headed back to the driver’s seat. “Let’s go.”

Tommy was still buzzing with excitement, nearly bouncing in his seat.

“I can’t thank you enough, Fletcher,” he said. “Really, whatever I need to do-“”

“Relax,” Fletcher smirked at him. “I’m, uh, trying out this thing where I’m… a little nicer. I have my reasons. I’m trying to make your stay with me better.”

“I really, really appreciate it, Fletcher.”

“Yeah. I’m still gonna, you know, be mean sometimes. So.” They drummed their fingers on the steering wheel. “When I played with my friend, we could never find a drummer.”

Tommy sensed that this was sensitive information Fletcher was revealing. “Yeah, not enough of us to go around,” he offered a small laugh. “Maybe, if you want to call up your friend, we could all play together?”

Fletcher shook their head once. “He’s dead.”

“Oh.” Fuck. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” Fletcher cut him off.

There was silence for a bit, other than the hum of the motor and the rumble of rough road. Tommy wracked his brain for how to recover the conversation, not wanting to end on such a sharp turn from positive to negative, but it was Fletcher who spoke up first.

“Me and him were partners in crime. There was another guy we ran with. We tried to get him to learn drums but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t exactly audition for a drummer and not let on that two-thirds of the band were murderers for hire. So it was just us.”

“It’s still fun to jam with friends,” Tommy encouraged, his voice soft.

Fletcher nodded. They pulled out their ipod and turned the music back on.

I am a patient boy

I wait, I wait, I wait, I wait

My time is like water down a drain

The two of them cleared out a section of the basement and set up the drums. Fletcher laid down an area rug so they wouldn’t be on the cold cement floor.

Tommy felt a little twist in his stomach and the prospect of having to spend time down there in order to play, but he wasn’t going to argue.

“This thing is so out of tune,” Fletcher muttered to themself, strumming each string of the guitar over their knee. It was red, a little scuffed, and the strap was covered in pins and buttons which Fletcher had stopped a moment to sentimentally ruminate over. They adjusted the knobs as they plucked away. “Okay, let me see if I can remember…”

They played a few chords haltingly, cursing under their breath and trying different placements of their fingers. The chords came together. It was below tempo, but still recognizable as the intro to Blink-182’s “Dammit.” Fletcher giggled in accomplishment.

Tommy hesitated with his sticks above the drums. It was going to be loud. He couldn’t imagine being allowed to be loud. And he hadn’t played in more than five years. What if he couldn’t do it anymore? What if he lost the skill he had spent so long honing? He made constant micro adjustments to the over-the-ear noise canceling earmuffs Fletcher had given him.

“Just do some practice stuff,” Fletcher said, watching Tommy’s hesitance. “Like, uh… what do they call the, like, building block stuff, when you’re learning?”

“Rudiments?”

“Yeah, do some of that shit,” Fletcher said. “Just ease back into it.

Tommy ghosted the sticks above the skins a couple more times before finally bringing one down gently on the snare. It rattled back at him. He tried again, with more snap in his wrist.

One… two… three… four… One… two… three… four… one, and, two, and, three, and, four, and…

The grip felt natural. The movements were a little stiff, but he could tell they would come back with a little exercise. He smiled, biting his lip as he moved from eighths to sixteenths.

Tommy tried a roll next. It was clunky, but not far off enough to discourage him. He looked up at Fletcher, expecting to share an excited smile - a bonding moment as they both returned to their instruments after years - but Fletcher was looking suddenly morose. Their eyes were on the ground, but their vision was distant. They plucked a single string with their thumb repeatedly, barely enough to make noise.

Tommy stopped playing.

Fletcher looked up at him, saw his concerned expression, and huffed. They covered their eyes, then pinched their nose.

“Don’t fucking look at me, man,” they groaned. “Turn your fucking stool around.”

Tommy shuffled around in his seat. He faced the wall awkwardly, drumsticks in his lap.

A pause, a sniff, a throat clearing cough. Foot tapping against the ground.

“Okay. I’m good. You can turn back around.”

Tommy turned back slowly. He tried to study Fletcher’s face without looking at them straight on.

“It’s fine,” Fletcher stated firmly. “I haven’t played… since.” They scratched their head. “It’s been like six years.”

Fletcher fell to silence again, eyes again dropping into the distance. Tommy didn’t dare interrupt.

“Were you like a full punk kid?” Fletcher asked, changing the subject. Their tone was light and conversational once more. “Or just like a pop punk suburbanite?”

“Mm… I mean, I grew up in a trailer park with my mom. It was a pretty safe neighborhood, honestly. But I got kicked out, and no one wanted to hire a seventeen year old, and then it was just one bad job to another…” Tommy looked down at his lap, swinging his feet absentmindedly.

There was a long pause, and he realized he hadn’t answered the question.

“I did protests, put together some charity shows, whenever I wasn’t working. I was knicking some things to make ends meet, but I got caught, and no one paying anything would hire me. Then it was just whatever I could make off of shows and DIY shit, odd jobs, cleaning houses for friends, bottle returns. I couldn’t afford rent anywhere, so as soon as another sketchy roommate dipped, I’d be back sleeping in my car again. But when you’re in the scene, people don’t judge you so much for being poor, for sleeping rough. They’re a lot more accepting, willing to help out.”

Fletcher nodded, thinking for a moment before they spoke.

“I was never like, broke or homeless, but my family was, you know, working class. Both my parents worked and they had three kids, so I had to get a job when I was… 16 or 17 at a local diner. I was waiting tables but I was so bad at customer service they stuck me in back of house. That’s why I like to cook. But right after high school I started doing crime professionally. It took a minute to figure out how to get connected and get a name for yourself and start making money, but once you do, it’s good money. So by the time I was in my 20s I could pretty much buy whatever I wanted. But I never wanted to live the lifestyle of the rich and famous. For one, I didn’t want to flash blood money, but also, I grew up working for chump change and wearing hand-me-down and thrift store clothes, you know? Some people are desperate to ditch that lifestyle but I never felt like I should be a wealthy elite type. I always felt more comfortable in dive bars. Now, I am rich, but I try to be mostly self-sustaining, so I’m just sitting on the money.

“But - punk, right. I was into, well, all of it. Punk, emo, metal, hardcore. My parents didn’t really care if I was downtown at some DIY show until midnight, and mosh pits were the best outlet I had for my…” they gestured vaguely at themself. “You know, whatever is wrong with me. Violent aggression. And people would pick me up when I got knocked down. I always loved that about the scene. You knock each other down and pick each other up. It was violent but everyone had each other’s backs.”

They both sat in silence for a few moments, remembering those days.

“It’s funny how you end up sometimes,” Tommy mused aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, uh… never mind, I didn’t…”

“No, really, what did you mean?”

Fletcher didn’t seem angry. Yet.

“Just that, you know, we were both punks, and uh, it’s like. Anarchy and rule breaking and f-freedom and stuff.”

He paused, hoping the implication would be enough without having to elaborate, but Fletcher still waited. Their eyes had narrowed.

“And now I’m like, an object. A possession. I just do whatever anyone tells me, which isn’t very punk rock. And you… you know.”

Fletcher remained silent. They just wanted him to say it.

“You’re, like, an authority figure.”

Fletcher stood abruptly, lifting the guitar strap off their neck.

“I’m done for today.”

“Wait, no, wait, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“”

“Just…” Fletcher put up their hand to silence Tommy. They picked up a practice pad and passed it to him. “Take this. Go to your room. Practice your fucking paradiddles.”

Tommy took the pad, clutching it close along with his sticks. Fletcher returned their guitar to its case and snapped it closed. Tommy scurried up the stairs, eager to get out of Fletcher’s sight and retreat to his room. It was disappointing not to get time on the set yet, but he could feel he had touched on something very precarious in Fletcher. With no way of knowing what it was, he had to tread carefully, and then some.

He closed the room to his door behind him, dropped the pad onto his bedside table, and flopped face-first onto his bed. Every time he thought things were going well with Fletcher, they’d suddenly get pissed off, and he would suffer for it.

Years of learning to be a people-pleaser, learning to read people and what they wanted from him like his life depended on it - because it did. The one thing he thought he was truly good at, yet his time with Fletcher had shaken his confidence to the core. Nothing that Caius wanted worked - offering himself as a sex doll drove Fletcher to put a gun in his mouth. Attempted flattery was punished as mockery, asking permission was met with annoyance. The apologetic nature Caius had beaten into him for years was now treated like a nuisance. Fletcher could have moments of such startling kindness, like buying Tommy a whole new drumset just today - and then turn around and deliver such cruelty. Whatever this mood was, at least he wasn’t really being punished - for now - but he could stay up all night wondering what exactly he did wrong and still be no closer to understanding by morning. It was emotional whiplash, how fast their mood could change. Tommy was used to walking on eggshells, yet he constantly misstepped with Fletcher.

He burrowed his face into his pillow and groaned, shaken by the interaction. Tommy felt frustrated and helpless. If he told Fletcher that, they might smile. Or - fuck, who knows.

He sighed and reluctantly got back up, repositioning himself to work on his practice pad. He didn’t want to know what would happen if Fletcher caught him eschewing the practice they’d ordered. Tommy started to tap out his old fundamentals, obedient.

Par-a-did-dle Par-a-did-dle Par-a-did-dle-

@suspicious-whumping-egg @whumpyourdamnpears @generic-whumperz @lonesome--hunter

@whumplr-reader @theelvishcowgirl @sunshiline-writes @dont-be-gentle-please @galesgallery

@2in1whump @sparrowsage @apokolyps @whumpinggrounds

@morning-star-whump @leviiio @alexmundaythrufriday

@defire @jumpywhumpywriter @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

@light-me-on-pyre @slightlydisturbedbeans @dislexiher @paperprinxe @desert-dyke

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @cursedandtired

@whump-only @misspelledwitch @redstainedsocks @thehopelessopus @im-just-here-for-the-whump

@thatsthewhump @utopian819 @pretty-face-breaker @thesuffererrrr

#the professionals #writings #original #irl tommy and i both play drums so

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supernotnatural2005 · 12 hours ago

Text

In the Eyes of a Hunter

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Summary: Dean finally had a few days spare from hunting with his dad to come see you at college. Though you weren’t exclusive, seeing you with another man opens up a can of feelings Dean had so desperately been trying to keep closed, and a confession that could change everything.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Angst, self doubt, Dean really needs to appreciate himself more 😩

AN: I know the gif is of Alec (Dark Angel) but, i couldn’t help but see a young Dean and this idea came to me 😅 It's a little more on the angsty side, but I promise the fluff is there. Also Happy New year! I know I've been away, not posting for a little while, but I'm hoping to get back into the swing of things. I hope you guys enjoy this one, let me know what you think?

Masterlist

2003

The crappy daytime shows weren’t cutting it, even in their static form from the ancient TV the motel provided.

You were supposed to have been here two hours ago. That was the plan. Your class finished at 2, and then you were free for the day. Free to see him.

After all, he had come all this way for you. What little time he could get away from hunting, he gave to you. He actively ignored the reason as to why he did, not wanting to admit the truth of it. Knowing it would cause more harm than it was worth.

But as he sat here, aimlessly staring at the fuzzy figures on the screen, time slowly ticking away, his mind restless and full of scenarios that only seemed to bother him the more they spiralled, he realised maybe the harm had already been done.

Deciding he’d waited long enough, he dropped the remote in his lap with a huff and took another look at the digital clock beside him.

4:15 pm.

He stood up from the bed and gathered his leather jacket and keys to the Impala his dad had officially given to him last month and headed out. Maybe you’d just gotten held up in class. He was no ‘Mr. College,’ but he understood there was a lot on your plate. At least from the last few times he’d come to see you. The stress had almost brought you to tears more than a few times, so he couldn’t understand Sammy’s desire to go. But hey ho, what did he know? He killed monsters for a living.

The rumble of the engine purred beneath him as he started the ignition. The sound echoed in the almost empty lot, bringing a proud smirk to his lips. He still couldn’t believe she was finally his.

This car had been one of the only other constants in Dean’s life, getting them from A to B, sometimes even calling her home for the night. He knew as soon as his dad handed him the keys and handed him the responsibility of looking after her, he’d do everything in his power to do just that.

As he drove toward your campus, the signs of autumn were heavily present with the flutters of orange and yellow leaves falling from the trees; his mind drifted to thoughts of you again.

He had met you a year ago, having rolled through town to deal with a simple salt and burn case. He was riding solo, his dad dealing with more dire matters, like a fresh trail on Yellow Eyes. Sam had left a few months prior to go make it as a hotshot lawyer in California, leaving Dean alone in the aftermath.

The fight between Sam and John had been ugly. Dean resorted to the middleman, as usual. He was proud of Sammy, more so that he was actually able to stand up to John, but he couldn’t help but feel the sting of abandonment. What did he have other than this job and his loyalty to finding the thing that took his mother?

After he wrapped up the case, he’d treated himself to a celebratory drink at one of the local bars, which happened to be a student hot spot, and that’s where he’d met you.

He had noticed you almost immediately. You were breathtaking, and he’d found himself glancing in your direction more often than not, watching as you’d laughed and drank with your friends. You were so carefree, beautiful, and way out of his league for many reasons. Those reasons only multiplying once he’d gotten to know you, and they still rang true to this day.

You’d caught him staring; eventually, he’d seen your eyes flicker in his direction a few times. Despite his own self-deprecations, Dean knew he was good-looking, knew the effect he had on women, and he was surprisingly good at playing the confident ‘bad boy.’.

He’d never really given much thought to anything other than a one-time thing. For one, it was easier that way. He never stayed in one place for longer than a couple of days, and secondly, his job wasn’t your normal 9 to 5, and having attachments was dangerous.

However, as soon as you’d made your way over to him, after what had looked like some encouragement from your friends, and introduced yourself with that faux drunk confidence, he was hooked.

At the time, you had just entered your senior year, and you had told him of your plans to take a gap year once you’d graduated. Like Dean, you felt a little lost in life, though for completely different reasons. Your major was something your father had insisted on, despite it not being what you had wanted to do. Apparently his plan was to have you work at his company, maybe even take over for him one day, but you hated all that corporate bullshit.

So Dean already could relate. A demanding father whose opinion was the one and only. Maybe he did understand why Sam had left more than he originally thought. Like right now, he had this mission, his dad’s mission, yet once that was over, what next? Did he just continue what he was doing? Living off of stolen credit cards, diner food, and cheap motel rooms?

The more he got to know you, your desires and dreams to travel the world, live, and experience life, he found himself picturing that, wanting that too. You had a way of making everything seem brighter and more hopeful, making him feel like there was more to life than just a ‘job.’.

He knows now why he kept coming back to you, why he still keeps coming back. Because for once in his life he felt seen, felt wanted, understood. And maybe it was time for him to tell you that. To tell you the truth. Consequences be damned.

However, it was all wishful thinking, and Dean’s search for you was cut short when he spotted you walking out of the student library, your beautiful smile and sounds of laughter filtering through his open window, and beside you, another man.

He felt his chest constrict, his stomach churn uncomfortably at the sight. His knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel tight. He rolled to a stop and watched as you continued to laugh at whatever this douchebag was saying to you.

He knew he had no right to be jealous. You weren’t exclusive. He was the one who’d made that clear, and surprisingly you had been okay with it. You didn’t know what he really did for a living, just that he had to travel a lot for ‘the family business.’.

Though, with his recent self-revelation that his feelings for you ran much deeper than something casual, this felt like a punch to the gut. Maybe this was a sign that this whole thing was a bad idea. Why getting close to someone was not on the cards for him. Of course you would’ve met someone else. How could you not? You were beautiful, smart, funny, and sweet. Why would you wait around for some drifter like him?

With his insecurities rearing their ugly head, threatening to swallow him whole, he failed to notice the two pairs of eyes on him. It wasn’t until there was a light rap at the window that he snapped out of his thoughts. He jumped a little and looked to where you were leaning down beside the partially opened glass, your expression surprised, but you were smiling nonetheless.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Came your innocent question, but it just seemed to rub him the wrong way, that and he noticed that guy lingering a few feet behind you, looking around awkwardly.

“It was getting late; I thought I’d come see if you were okay, but I can see you’re busy.” He spoke the last words with a little more venom as he nodded to the lingerer. And he hated the slight dip in your brow and the downturn of your lips.

“I was actually on my way to see you now.” You began, your voice light but weary. “I’m sorry I got held up. Alex just needed some help, and time got away from me.” Your explanation did nothing to calm his nerves. In fact, it made him feel worse. Like he didn’t matter. Again he had no right, but he was already spiralling.

“You know what? It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged you off. “I’m going to have to cut this trip short anyway. Dad called; gotta meet him a few states over.” The lie came easily, but the knife in his heart twisted with each word. You frowned at him, he saw it in his peripheral, but he refused to meet your eyes. He couldn’t.

“Alex, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He heard you say before you walked around the car and abruptly slipped into the passenger side.

“What are you doing?” His question came out more snappish than he intended. You folded your arms and sat back in your seat, looking much like a stubborn child.

“We’re going to talk.” You shrugged as if that were obvious. “We can either do that here or back at the motel; your choice.” You levelled him with an unwavering stare, one that crushed his resolve and had him grumpily starting the engine and driving back to the motel.

You walked past Dean as he opened the door for you, your eyes widening a fraction at the state of the room. It had certainly seen better days; the wallpaper was faded and peeling from the walls, and the carpet had a questionable amount of stains on it. From what? You didn’t hope to find out. He usually stayed in much nicer rooms, but seeing as it was close to the holidays, this was probably all he was going to get.

You plopped down on the squeaky mattress and looked at him. He was avoiding your eyes, shifting awkwardly in his spot. You’d never seen him this worked up. You liked to think you knew Dean rather well, at least him as a person. He still kept some things to himself, like the details of the job he did with his dad. Sometimes he came to you looking so haunted, but those times weren’t spent with much talking.

You were beyond curious; Dean was a mystery you were still trying to unravel. However, you knew your standpoint: that you weren’t his girlfriend and never would be. He’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t want to make a commitment, yet he kept coming back for you. You didn’t push him as to why he did, in fear he would stop altogether.

If you were honest with yourself, you had fallen in love with him months ago. Yes, your situation was complicated, and he never stuck around longer than a couple of days. But Dean was special; he wasn’t like the guys you knew at college or in your life in general. He was wise beyond his years, thoughtful, funny, and smart, despite how much he called his younger brother the “brains of the family.” And he was also one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on.

“What was that back there?” You decide to just rip the Band-Aid off. You had a pretty good idea, but you wanted to hear it from him. He finally looked to you then, his posture straightening, his arms folding across his chest as if in a defensive stance.

“I told you, I was just checking to see if you were okay.” He spoke as if he didn’t really care for the conversation, but his jaw was ticking, and his brow remained furrowed. “I have to leave, so can we make this quick?”

It was your turn to frown then. Admittedly, his words stung; you hadn’t even had the chance to see him yet, and now he wanted to leave all of a sudden.

“Is this because of Alex?”

“What? No!” His response was quick and higher in pitch, and it only confirmed your assumptions. He was jealous.

“You know he’s only a friend, right?” You offer, biting back your smile.

“And? Why would I care who you’re friends with?” He grumbled and looked down at one of the stains on the carpet beneath his boot, fixating on it as if it were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“It just seems like you do it all.” You shrugged nonchalantly, though your voice tinged with something akin to a teasing tone. His eyes flickered back up to yours, darker than you were expecting.

“You think I care who you hang around with? Who do you date? I don’t own you. If you want to meet guys and have boyfriends, then go ahead; I’m not stopping you.” His voice rose an octave with each word, his body trembling slightly as he unleashed kept feelings out into the open.

“It’s not like everyone I’ve ever cared about or loved sticks around. I mean, why would they? I’m a freak, a loser.” He reveals, his eyes widening slightly at his unmeant confession. You sit in stunned silence, not expecting that outburst from him.

“So if we’re done here, I have to leave.” He quickly adds, embarrassed and angry at himself for saying those things. Things he’d wanted to keep buried and never allow to see the light of day. He hastily begins collecting his things; there's not much, but there’s enough to give you time to snap out of your stupor.

“Hey.” You grab onto his arm with enough force to stop him from picking up his duffle. He obliges you, but you know you have to select what you say next carefully; otherwise, you’re uncertain as to if you’d ever see him again.

“I don’t know where all that came from, but I don’t think you’re a freak or a loser.” You frown sympathetically at him. It hurt you to hear him speak so lowly of himself.

“Dean, I think the world of you.” You admit it, and his eyes flicker to yours, uncertainty shining in those pools of green. “I know our situation isn’t ideal or even normal, but in this last year of knowing you, I think you’re amazing.”

“You do?” The question slips out involuntarily, but your responding smile is warm and calms his nerves a little.

“Dean, you’re the best person I know, the only person I want to see. I haven’t said anything because I know you didn’t want a commitment, but dammit, I love you. I am in love with you.”

Your last word is cut off by the sudden press of his lips. Your surprise squeak quickly turns into a grateful sigh. And you wrap your arms around his shoulders and neck as he hugs you closer to him.

He breaks away after a few minutes, your breaths mingling in the small gap between where his forehead rests against yours.

“I’m sorry.” It’s not what you were expecting him to say, but you allow him the time to speak. “I overreacted, and I had no right to.”

You cup his smooth cheek, which he leans into, and offer him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.” You swipe a thumb across his cheekbone, and he takes comfort in your touch.

“I just. I have something I need to tell you. Something I’ve kept from you, been keeping from you.” He sighs, his face tormented and sad as he pulls away. It’s worrying you, but you try to internalise it for his sake. He takes your hand and guides you to the bed until you’re both sitting side by side.

“Dean, you can tell me anything. You know that, right?” You tell him honestly. He seems to be battling in his own mind, his internal struggle present in his rigid form and fidgeting hands.

He huffs out a humourless laugh and rubs a hand down his face before looking at you. Really looking, and you sit quietly, but strong, showing him you’re there and are willing to listen.

“There’s a reason I never told you what I did for a living.” He begins. “For one thing, I didn’t even think we’d even get this far, and there was no point to put that on you.” He shakes his head, his heartbeat in his ears, his stomach in knots.

“And secondly, it’s dangerous. My job is dangerous, and I’d never want anything to happen to you.” He looks at you pleadingly, and you nod, despite the swarm of questions flooding your mind.

Meanwhile, Dean blows out a nervous breath; he can’t believe he’s going to tell you the truth. Something he’d been the most adamant about not doing. Though he is in too deep, he knows that now, and you had a right to know, a right to run for the hills about what he was going to confess. He’d even agree with you when you called him crazy and walk out that door and never bother you again if that’s what you wanted. Selfishly, he hopes that isn’t the case, but you had a right to choose.

“I’m a hunter.” He begins, and it hangs heavy in the air for two different reasons. For you, you’re a little confused, not understanding the dire build-up and Dean because he was unveiling his and his family’s biggest kept secret.

“To clarify, I don’t hunt deer, elk, or critters in the woods.” He explains, but the alarming look on your face at the only other possibility to you has him panicking. “Not humans either.” He adds with a nervous chuckle, and you visibly relax.

“I hunt monsters.” He reveals, and you stare at him dumbly for a moment.

“Monsters?” You repeat, and Dean nods in confirmation. “As in the bogeyman?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” Dean shrugs as if that was a casual thing to admit. You blink at him, as if you’re trying to process his words, but they don’t quite fit together in your mind. Monsters?

Your heart is pounding now, your mind racing, but all that comes out of your mouth is a shaky laugh, laced with disbelief. “Monsters?” You repeat, your voice thin and tight, like you’re testing the word on your tongue to see if it makes sense.

Dean’s face falls, and for the first time you see him as vulnerable as he’s ever been. There’s something desperate in his eyes, a plea for understanding that only seems to make the pit in your stomach widen.

“Yeah,” he says softly, nodding, but his voice cracks with the weight of the truth he’s just unleashed. “I hunt things that go bump in the night. Demons, ghosts, things like that. Creatures that don’t belong in this world.”

The room feels suddenly smaller. The air thicker. You look at him, your head spinning, and you can feel your pulse quicken as panic starts to creep in. A part of you wants to laugh it off, because this is crazy. There’s no way this could be true, right? Dean isn’t telling you the truth. It has to be some messed-up way for him to push you away.

A cold, sinking feeling settles deep in your chest. “Are you... are you serious?” Your voice comes out shaky, a whisper of disbelief hanging in the air. “Is this some kind of joke? You’re telling me... You hunt monsters?”

His expression tightens, lips pressed into a thin line, as if your question just added a fresh layer of weight to what he’s already carrying. “I’m not joking. I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. Since one of those bastards took my mom." The room grows silent, both of you respectively reeling from his admission.

You had always figured Dean’s mom wasn’t in the picture for the pure fact he’d only ever spoken of his dad or younger brother. For what reason you never knew; however, the truth of it was more devastating than you could comprehend.

When he looks at you again, there’s a pain in his expression that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before, and it’s then you decide this isn’t some elaborate story to make a break-up easier on him or to spook you just for the fun of it. This was very real, and this man had been living it.

“This life… it’s dangerous. The people I meet, the things I fight, they’ll come after anyone I care about. I never wanted to put you in that position.” Dean says, his voice breaking. “I wanted to keep you safe; you deserve so much more than this, than me. You deserve the truth.”

You stand there, trying to breathe, trying to make sense of the words he’s spoken, but it’s like your entire world has been turned upside down. Dean is telling you about this huge part of his life that he’d kept from you, and you can’t tell if you should be running for the door or if you should stay and try to understand him, to understand this.

“But why? Why did you even let me in?” You ask, your voice catching on the last word. The question haunts you, and you need to understand the answer, even though a part of you is scared of hearing it.

Dean’s eyes soften, and for a moment, you see the man behind the mask, the man who is so full of fear, so full of love, and so completely torn apart. “Because I love you,” he says simply, his voice soft but resolute. “I love you, and I never wanted to hurt you. But I don’t know how to make you understand what I do. How dangerous it is. How it’s too late for me to just stop, even if I wanted to. It’s all I’ve known.”

You’re frozen in place, the weight of his words hitting you harder than anything else. He loves you. It’s the last thing you expected to hear, the last thing you thought you’d ever get from Dean, especially now. But somehow, despite the chaos of it all, you feel your heart calm, just a little. Because the truth is, you really do love him. Despite everything.

You close your eyes for a moment, your mind racing with the enormity of what he’s just confessed. You want to scream, you want to run away and pretend none of this ever happened, but you can’t. You’re not that person. You can’t walk away from him, not now, not after everything you’ve felt for him.

You take a deep breath, forcing the words out, even as they feel foreign and strange in your mouth. “I... I don’t understand this. I don’t get it. But I do get you, Dean. I know who you are, even if I don’t know everything about your life.” You pause, letting the silence hang between you, both of you drowning in the weight of the moment.

And then, almost in defiance of the terror bubbling up inside you, you take a step forward. “I’m scared, Dean. I don’t know what this means for us. But I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean’s eyes flicker, relief and gratitude flooding his face. Slowly, carefully, he reaches out and takes your hand in his. “You won’t lose me,” he promises, his voice barely above a whisper, but the conviction in it is enough to make your heart steady, even if just for a second.

You reach up and press your lips to his, the simple action bringing you the sense of comfort and relief you both needed after such a heavy moment. Dean responds in kind, his hands firm and strong as he holds you close, his kiss soft yet purposeful, charged with an unspoken understanding of what kind of life you were agreeing to embark on.

There’s so much left unsaid, so much you’re both struggling to understand. But for now, in this small, broken room filled with the weight of the truth, you both know one thing: neither of you is ready to let go just yet.

As you both part, Dean exhales a long, tired breath. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and in that simple gesture, you can feel the conflict in him, the rawness of everything he's kept buried for so long. And yet, as much as he's terrified of the future, of what this could mean for both of you, there's something almost peaceful in his presence now, as if admitting the truth has, for just a moment, allowed him to let go of the weight he’s been carrying.

“I don’t want to drag you into my mess,” he says quietly, his voice rough. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next. But I want you to know, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Whatever it costs.”

You look at him, really look at him, seeing all the layers that lie underneath the bravado, the smirks, and the jokes. The broken man who’s been carrying this burden alone for too long. Your heart aches for him, for everything he's had to endure. And as much as the idea of what he does terrifies you, as much as the danger and uncertainty swirl around the edges of your thoughts, there’s still a part of you that feels steady.

You take a deep breath, your thumb gently rubbing the back of his hand. “I’m scared too, Dean. But I won’t walk away from you. Not because of this. But you’re right, we need to figure out what this means. All of it.”

His gaze softens, the hardness in his face fading just a little. “You don’t have to be a part of this. You don’t have to be involved.”

You shake your head, smiling gently. “I don’t know what the future holds, Dean. But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I don’t want to face it without you. Not if you’ll let me.”

The silence stretches between you, but it’s not suffocating anymore. It’s not filled with uncertainty or confusion. It’s a quiet understanding, the kind you only get after sharing something raw and unfiltered. He studies you for a long time, his expression softening, before he finally nods. There’s something fragile in that nod, something unspoken that passes between you.

“I didn’t think you’d say that,” he admits, his voice almost a whisper, like he’s afraid saying it out loud might shatter something delicate. “But I’m glad you did.”

You cup his face softly in both of your hands, a simple gesture that means everything right now. “We’ll figure it out,” you say softly. “Together.”

Dean lets out a breath, like he’s been holding it for a lifetime, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders loosens. The truth may have ripped through the air, but it’s not the end. It’s only the beginning.

AN: Hi all, I'm baaaack lol. This purely came out of the gif above and took on a mind of it's own 😅 what originally started as a jealousy fic turned into a; show some young Dean love fic 😂 I guess this can be perceived as a more positive outcome of him confessing his true life to someone he loves. I hope you guys enjoy ☺️

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phossiii · 20 hours ago

Text

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter seven

synopsis: you get into some shenanigans while on the run, reminders of your past coming back to haunt you in the process. and phosphorus comes to a life changing conclusion about you.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, this one's a doozy, reader deserves the world, mahalat is just... mahalat.

The sound of soft panting forced you to slowly come to, a faint groan leaving your lips as your eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sight of an irradiated back and the visible spine underneath.

'Phos...'

You attempted to move, but winced, your entire body aching from head to toe, and your strength not yet returned to break free from his hold.

Not to mention your mind was exhausted from the mental battle you fought to regain control over your body.

Healing be damned, you felt like you'd been hit by an eighteen-wheeler...

"Morning, sleepyhead," Phosphorus sang, looking both ways before quickly running across a back-alley street, just barely avoiding a Pokolistani jeep. "Sweet dreams?"

"Where the hell are we?" you grumbled, weakly lifting your head and turning to face him.

"A town, I think," he answered, making a sharp right turn. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's the last one before we reach the castle."

"Where are the others?"

"Couldn't tell ya. After we got split up, and you decided to drop by, I high-tailed it. The police were on my ass."

"Still are," you scoffed with a chuckle, nodding to the faint sirens in the background. "This your first time dodging the cops, princess?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to complain, snoozy. I'm still waiting for when it's time for us to switch."

"Like hell I'm carrying you. By the time I get back to prison, I'll be on chemo for the rest of my life."

"Demons don't get cancer."

"Skeletons don't have dicks."

"You gonna keep bringing that up?"

"I—" "Shush."

Sliding between two houses, he effortlessly hopped a brick wall, dropping the both of you into a bush just as two more jeeps drove past.

Using his hands, he put you down and pulled apart a few branches, peeking to see if the coast was clear.

You, on the other hand, were starting to really wake up, realizing that you seemed to have a fresher injury on your backside.

"Fuck, why does my ass hurt, too?" you groaned, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Well... I may have smacked it once," Phosphorus admitted, suspiciously. "Or twice... possibly three times... a little over four? Honestly, I lost count after tenth or twelfth time."

SMACK!

"You keep doing that. It turns me on more than you think," he chuckled, adjusting his jaw.

"Pervert!" you whisper-yelled, pissed. "We talked about this! Hooker rules!"

"No kissing on the mouth?"

"Stripper rules."

"What was I supposed to do? You've seen your ass, you should be proud I held out as long as I did," he defended, the two of you standing up and pressing against the side of the house, using the roof as cover from the helicopters.

"Oh, yeah? And how long was that?"

"Five minutes."

"You're impossible."

Managing to reach the front door, Phosphorus melted the handle, unlocking it and allowing you both to slip inside before the search-light could catch you.

Panting, the two of you finally took a moment to breathe, looking around to familiarize yourselves with your surroundings.

"Here," you sighed, pulling off his lab coat and tossing it to him as you headed toward the living room. "I'm changing."

'Fuckin' Christ...'

He could practically feel his pants tightening at the sight of you, naked as the day you were born—save for your boots.

You looked so sexy in the moonlight, and your unabashed confidence only added to the appeal.

"Y'know..." he cleared his throat, shoving his arms through the sleeves before rolling them up. "I think now's a good a time as any to take a nice break. Relax... kick up your feet... let off a little steam..."

"Save it," you scoffed, opening the hallway closet and rummaging around until you found a black trash bag. "We've got enough to worry about."

In the bag was a secret stash of clothes, ranging on a scale of scandalous to downright slutty.

'Perfect.'

Fishing around, you managed to pull out a pair of black, open-stitch, boot-cut jeans, a matching jean jacket, and a black, leather bikini top.

"And just my size," you grinned, quickly tugging them on.

"How'd you know that stuff was there?" Phosphorus asked, confused.

"She's a pretty woman in a European country. Nine times out of ten, she was a party girl at some point," you explained, nodding to the photos on the wall as you tied up the pants. "But she grew up. Got a husband... bought a house... had a kid. They can't see this filth, but she doesn't have the heart to throw away the memories along with it. So she shoves it in a garbage bag and stuffs it in the back of the closet."

The man turned, examining the pictures, quite surprised to see that your educated guess was correct.

She was pretty, and she had a husband and daughter.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"M'catchin a few more Zs before we move on," you announced, adjusting the jacket as you plopped yourself down on the couch, closing your eyes.

"Uh huh," he answered, mindlessly, as he continued to stare at the photo.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"Please! Have mercy!" your mother wailed, frantically struggling against her binds as she looked around the room, searching for a kindred face past the velvet hoods. "I'll do anything!... Oh, God! I'll give you anything you want!"

But not a single one of them stopped, the entire room of cultists pressing on like she wasn't even there, continuing to bow in sync around the altar she rested upon.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"M-Money! I have money! Say whatever number, I'll give it to you!" she begged, gasping and choking for air as she attempted to get her words out, tears rolling down her cheeks in rivulets. "My house! Take my house! It's all yours! Please!"

Out from the darkness, the Grand Master emerged—along with his two attendants—a silver tray in hand.

On it were only two things:

A wooden bowl... and a ceremonial dagger.

"Oh, God!" your mother sobbed, pulling violently against the ropes that strapped her pregnant self to the table. "Please! Have mercy!... I haven't done anything wrong!"

But he drew nearer still, one of the attendants taking the tray as they reached the table, the Grand Master taking the dagger.

The handle was made entirely out of human bone, its carvings depicting the souls of the damned and their infinite torture in Hell.

Reverently, he grasped it with both hands, carrying it over until the dagger's pointed tip was aimed directly for your mother's heart.

"Please..." she pleaded for the final time, unable to stop the second wave of tears from flowing down her cheeks. "Not my baby."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, the Master's face stone cold as he plunged the knife into her heart, her screams of pain muffled by the raging thunder and lightning outside.

Quickly taking the bowl, the Master used it to catch her blood as it spilled from her chest, waiting until the woman lost consciousness before pulling away.

"Tekchau ma'at tu na ekk bay pavak!" he bellowed, dipping his two fingers in the blood before drawing an intricate symbol over your mother's pregnant belly.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

Suddenly, the satanic markings on the wall began to glow dark red, illuminating the room with a presence that would make any sane person turn tail and run.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"TEKCHAU MA'AT TU NA EKK BAY PAVAK!"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA'AK KULA BAA NAT SU DA MAHALAT!"

Roaring with passion, the Master stabbed your mother in the stomach, violently tearing it open as the followers mimicked the sound.

And with a deafening, other-worldly shriek, a malevolent shadow burst from the wound, instantly slashing the Master's throat before moving on to the others.

Blood-curdling creams of panic and terror echoed throughout the room as the followers were murdered left and right, unable to escape as the being had locked all the doors and windows.

Amidst the chaos, one of the attendants rushed to your mother's side, dodging flying limbs and splattering blood.

Sadly, your mother was long dead, but the attendant was quick to reach her hands inside her stomach, quickly fishing around before grasping onto the reason for this whole ritual.

You.

Carefully, she pulled your tiny body out, a smile breaking out onto her face at the sight of your reddened skin, pointed ears, and tail.

You were beautiful...

But her happiness was short lived, the shadow-being finishing off the last follower before zooming over to you, entering your body through your nostrils and successfully possessing your infant self.

Instantly, your tail whipped up and stabbed the attendant in the neck, forcing her eyes wide.

With a sickening slice, you slashed her throat, dropping her to the ground.

She died almost immediately... but not without uttering two final words.

"Praise Mahalat."

"Ladies and Gentlemen! It is my pleasure tonight to show you an act that had never been performed in the history of the world!" the ringmaster announced, his proud statement met with the starry eyes of hundreds of children and parents.

"Tonight... I debut the newest headliner of my show! A marvel by which the likes of you have never seen!"

Nervously, a six year-old you shifted on your feet, waiting patiently on the riser for your cue.

This was going to be your first time performing in front of an audience...

"We've pulled out all the stops tonight! Of course, for the audience, but also for a very special guest we have this evening! Everyone! Please give a big, warm welcome to Mr. Vice President [REDACTED]! And his lovely wife!"

The crowd roared with applause as the spotlight moved to him, the Vice President giving a proud smile and a strong wave before the ringmaster returned to his introduction.

"Now without further ado, I present to you the Hellish Wonder! The Monstrous Spectacle! The Flying Demon of Gotham! (y/n)!"

Quickly, you grabbed your bar, pushing off and swinging directly into the spotlight, earning loud gasps of surprise and wild roars of applause.

Using your momentum, you dismounted, performing three forward flips before Greta—a fellow trapeze artist—caught you by your ankles, swinging in the other direction.

The crowd ooed and ahhed at your display, watching intently as you performed moves that had never been done before—with about as much effort as wiggling your pinky toe.

"You are doing wonderful, (y/n)!" Greta encouraged as she swung over, catching you by your ankles before gravity took her back the way she came.

"Really?!" you asked, eagerly, relieved to hear that you were doing well, and that the crowd was loving the show.

"Ja!" she laughed, warmed by your excitement. "A few more moves and you'll be done! Make me proud!"

As she swung forward again, you let go, doing five backflips in a row before grabbing onto a rope, using it to swing yourself around to the audience.

There, you leaned over, giving high-fives to all the kids as you flew past.

"Cool!"

"Awesome tail!"

"Look at her horns!"

You were over the moon, baffled by all the overwhelming positivity you were greeted with.

In fact, you were so over the moon that you'd failed to pay attention to the last kid, your nail grazing his palm a little too harshly and drawing blood.

"Ouchie!"

The instant you got a whiff... it was all over.

"Time to feed!" Mahalat's voice cackled in your mind, forcing you to gasp and lose focus.

She took over in an instant, launching you at the boy and clamping your fangs down on his arm, tearing it from his socket.

The surrounding crowd let out screams of horror as you began to feast right then and there, tearing into the limb like a feral animal.

But the demon wasn't one to let food go to waste.

Opening your mouth, she flew into the air, spinning around as she blew blazing hellfire in all directions.

The crowds of hundreds trying to escape the big top were immediately set aflame, shrieks of agony and torture bounding through the air.

"(y/n)!" Greta shouted, swinging over and landing on your back, throwing an arm around your neck. "Stop this! You are hurting them!"

But it all went in one ear and out the other, Mahalat grabbing her by her face before effortlessly tearing her head off her shoulders, preventing her from saying anything else.

In a bout of irony, the demon bit her lips off, taking the head as she flew through the roof of the tent, leaving the countless families to burn to death as she soared through the night sky.

Enjoying her midnight snack.

"What the—? Where am—AAAAAAAAAH!" you shrieked, eyes shooting wide as they landed on the sight before you.

An absolute massacre...

Viscera flooded the closed off street, slowly sinking into the city sewers as the rain attempted to wash it away.

Half-eaten, dismembered limbs were strewn everywhere—in the punch bowl, on the buffet table, hell, you had someone's leg in your arms.

Your mouth and hands were covered with blood, the taste of human meat fresh on your tongue.

And all you had done was leave to go to the store...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" you frantically threw away the leg, trembling violently as your hands moved to tightly grasp your hair.

Even the children weren't safe, a tiny hand with a Dora the Explorer watch sitting not too far away.

"These are the consequences of your rebellion, (y/n)..." Mahalat stated, coldly. "You forget your place."

Horrified, you turned around, utterly hysterical as you barfed up a bloody mess.

Eventually, though, you caved, racked with sobs as you crumpled into yourself, wanting nothing more than to be arrested and put to death.

But fate had other plans, the Dark Knight himself swooping in as your angel of mercy.

As he stood over you, surveying the scene, his expression dropped slightly in an uncharacteristic bout of pity.

Especially when you weakly grabbed onto his cape.

"Please..." you begged, voice barely above a whisper. "Kill me."

"Yana!" a voice shouted, snapping you out of your sleep.

Abruptly, you sat up, eyes frantically scanning over the room in search of Phosphorus.

But he was nowhere to be found.

'Shit.'

Jumping off the couch, you used your sense of smell, following his scent all the way to backyard.

The backyard... where he was playing with a little girl.

And the backyard... where her mother and father were less than pleased.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, carefully putting the girl down and letting her run back to her parents. "We were just... pretending to fly."

Sensing the sincerity in his voice, you saved the scolding, deciding not to ask questions.

'We gotta get moving.'

"C'mon," you sighed, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the fence as you turned to the parents. "Thank you for the clothes!"

You let him hop over first before following, waiting until you both got a good distance away from the house before you spoke up.

For the very first time since you'd known him, he was completely silent, not saying a word as you trudged over a grassy hill.

Not one pun.

Not one sex joke.

Not even a single pass at you.

Just... nothing.

It worried you, making an odd string to tug at your heart and force you to get to the bottom of it.

"Phos?" you started, softly, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Lifting his head, he turned to you, eyes widening as—for a split second—your expression morphed into that of his late wife.

Right then and there, it felt as if his whole paradigm shifted, the jigsaw pieces of his life seeming to fall into place right before him.

Taking the shape of you.

Your laugh... your smile... your warmth—they were things he wanted to be in the presence of well-past the end of the mission.

He wanted you, past a friend or a fuck, but as someone to stay by his side, someone to hold.

Someone to care about again...

"Alex..." he blurted, unable to take his eyes away from your face. "Call me Alex."

Surprised, your eyes widened slightly, a familiar burn rising to your cheeks at his intense stare.

But the shock was quick to subside, replaced with understanding as you stopped in your tracks, smoothly taking his hand in yours.

Intently, he watched, your touch singeing his skin as you held his hand, flashing him a coy smile.

"Alright, Alex... let's go kill a princess.

#creature commandos #creature commandos x reader #dc #dc x reader #dcu x reader #doctor phosphorus #dcu #doctor phosphorus x reader #dr phosphorus #dr phosphorus x reader

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