#i just....really wanted to explain everything as descriptive as possible

[sykostyles]

let you love me 1.0

wc: 3.3k summary: in which y/n is a 26 year old bakery owner and she can't quite get this whole "love" thing right; settling on finding solace in being alone. One day, Jackson Cole: an egotistical, but oh so charismatic professional quarterback comes along and swears he can change her mind.. and for a while he does. nearly two years of breaking down her walls.. but they seem to argue about one thing a lot. y/n's "negativity". she swears she's not trying ro be a pessimist.. it just works out better for her if she keeps her expectations low. But what happens when she meets a handsome stranger, who wants nothing more than to see her smile? Will she push everything away again or will she finally accept the love she deserves? or ; tldr sunshine!harry x grumpy! afab reader part two, three, extra

a/n: firstly, I need to thank @freedomfireflies for being so kind, and accepting, and encouraging.. and so many other wonderful adjectives.. but seriously, thank you for giving me the courage to just take the plunge and write the damn thing. anddd for being my beta reader!! getting mother fireflies' stamp of approval has to mean its worthy for everyone else to see.. right? welcome to my first story! please do tell if you enjoyed! (there will be more to this, I'm working on it now <3)

cw: this story contains suggestive and explicit language, minor descriptions of violence, and verbal abuse. please do not continue if these topics upset you!

You knew you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up. You weren’t sure why you thought this time would be any different. Because he was somebody? Because he had a title? Or was it because he showed a genuine interest in you? Was it because he made the effort unlike most of your previous partners? You weren’t sure. The only thing you were sure of? This time, it hurt. A lot.

You curse yourself as you walk hastily back to get back to your car at the far end of the parking lot. Jackson had a lot of nerve asking you to bring him his practice bag all the way from your apartment, to then basically dump you in the stadium corridor. As you’re rounding the final corner to finally escape the thickening air in the stadium, you’re completely lost in your thoughts, thinking back to the conversation you had just left behind..

“Hey, baby, thanks for bringing that. Coach was about to have my ass again.” Jackson breathes out as he sees you round the corner near the locker rooms. He takes the bag from your grasp, and places his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you into his front. Your hands instinctively reach for the nape of his neck; nimble fingers tangle in his wet hair at the base.

“Oh, but of course! Who would I be to not close up my shop early, again. Run all the way home to get your bag, again. Run all the way here just to step in and save the day for my big, strong man? Again.” You giggle, leaning up for a kiss. 

That’s how it’s always been. Y/N is as sarcastic and as teasing as they come. She explains it as “playful bullying” and swears she doesn’t mean anything by it. She has genuine feelings in there somewhere, but she thinks nobody but her needs to know that. She just chooses to portray her affection in rather questionable ways.. In speaking terms, if she’s not being “mean” to you, she doesn’t like you. But she’s tried so hard to get better at it. She swears.

“Do you really have to do that now?” Jackson asks, tilting his head out of the way, dodging your kiss. You look up at him with shocked eyes.

“Do what? Save your ass? As you so graciously put it.” You say, rolling your eyes, attempting to kiss your boyfriend for a second time.

“No, Y/N, that.” He says, trying to pull from your grasp, rejecting you yet again.

“Jackson, I’m not following. Use your words.” you say, turning his head to force him to keep eye contact.

He wasn’t running from this when you spent forty minutes of your evening bringing him his bag for the umpteenth time in your relationship. Not to mention the possible business you're missing out on by closing early. Again.

“Oh my god, you’re still doing it! You’re talking to me like I’m stupid.” he says, stepping back again, attempting to free himself from your hold.

You stand there, stunned. 

“He really is like all the others..” flashes in your mind.

“In what world is me teasing you about bringing you your practice bag, again, insinuating that you’re stupid?” You ask, reaching up to cup his face. “Forgetful? Maybe.” Your thumb making its way across the apple of his cheek

“See, you can't even make one single statement without attacking my character, even when you’re trying to explain yourself.”

“I’m not trying to explain myself, Jackson, I’m trying to understand what you’re talking about. And I’m not attacking your character, Jacky, I’m just teasing you. You know that.”

“You’re always like this. I can’t deal with this right now.” He says, grabbing your wrist, pulling your touch from his face.

“Can’t deal with what? Jackson, I haven’t done anything. Are you having a bad day or something? You were fine this morn– ” You start to say, tugging your wrist from his grasp.

“Just– Go home. I can’t deal with you right now, okay? I have a practice to get to.” He says, turning to walk into the locker room, but is stopped dead in his tracks..

“Jackson Wyatt Cole, you are not just going to walk away from this right now! You can’t just spout this nonsense and then turn into a child when asked to explain yourself. Now, either explain yourself or find someone else to bring you your bag the next time you forget it.” You seethe. 

His head ticks to the side before he slowly turns to face you. Seeing the face you’d grown to love over the last nearly two years shouldn’t scare you, but in this moment you did not recognize him.

“You have got to be the definition of ungrateful.” Oh, he wants to do this now?

“For the greater part of two years I have given you everything and you still think you can talk to me like that?” Jackson starts to raise his voice, noticing the growing audience in the locker room hallway, and the curious gazes from all directions. Please don’t do this now..

“You’re always so mean to me. You know that?” I swear I don’t mean to be.. 

“You make me question every choice I make.” I’m just an overthinker, I don’t mean anything by it..

“Even the other girlfriends and wives ask how I deal with your attitude." Okay, ouch. 

“You don’t think before you speak, it makes you look so rude.” That one’s true.. I’m trying, I promise..  

“You’re so unbelievably condescending when someone tries to make friends with you.” I’m sorry.. I swear I don't mean anything by it.. 

“You think you’re right in every instance, including now. You could have just given me my bag, gotten a kiss and been on your way. But no, you’re here, holding me up, by being a right bitch. So, maybe I should find someone else, because all I can see right now is someone I’m not sure I want to waste my time and effort on anymore.” Okay.. wow. Um. Alright.. Lay it all out in front of your teammates, why don’t you?

You just let him sit there and berate you. Like a child.

That was it. He’d broken through that exterior. That rock solid exterior that you’d spend years building up. It all came tumbling down with just a few words from someone you thought you loved; someone you thought finally loved you. This is what it always came down to when you argued; your inability to see how great things were around you, always settling on the negative sides of things. Always responding with snarky comments, never meeting anyone elses enthusiasm, etc. Normally, you’d be able to hold your own and fight back, but he was using your insecurities and anxieties against you, with an audience nonetheless! How did harmless teasing turn into this?

“I’m.. s-sorry, Jacky.” You finally choked out, tears threatening to spill over. You wanted to stand here and keep arguing. “I’m not any of those things!” You want to yell. But deep down, you know that you are. Not by your own choice though. Through years of failed relationships and tainted family ties, you had become this person. You became this angry, pessimistic, shell of a girl who really only wanted to love, and to be loved, but you had no idea how to really do either of those things. 

You never intended to turn out this way; it just happened. 

And it just makes it easier in situations like this.. 

Right?

“Go home, Y/N. We’ll talk later.’ Jackson sighs, leaving you in the corridor.

Rounding that corner in the parking lot, you don’t even spare a glance and end up walking right into the broad chest of a man. Hands reach up and grasp your shoulders, keeping you from toppling over. Your hands shoot up, grabbing the lapels of his jacket.

“Woah there, love. I gotcha.” you hear. 

Looking up, you’re met with the loveliest emerald eyes you’d ever seen. A smile, that should be illegal to be that bright.. And the jawline? Don’t even get me started! But, with your current state, you couldn’t have cared less in that moment what he looked like. 

You slowly straightened up, dropping your grasp on his jacket.

“Sorry.” you stated, your eyes looking anywhere but his face. “You can let go now.” 

“My apologies, Love.” The man says, letting his hold on your shoulders go. He studies you for a moment, glancing over the features of your face. Taking in your flushed cheeks, teary and swollen eyes, and your all but quivering bottom lip.

You roll your eyes at his use of the moniker again. 

“Don’t call me that.” You mutter, glancing around, noticing the band of guys trailing behind this stranger.

He chuckles, “Well, what should I call you? M’ Harry, by the way.” He asks, reaching inside his jacket, he grabs a tissue and holds it out towards you. 

“Does it matter?” You bite out, ignoring his gesture. “I’m kind of in a hurry, here. So if you don’t mind.” You say, starting to walk around him. “This is exactly what Jackson was talking about.” you think to yourself. 

But you deter none, and continue your journey to your car. Once inside, the tears just flow. 

Jackson was supposed to be different. He’s the one who sought you out after all. 

He met you when he was picking up a cake his dad ordered for his mothers birthday.

He was smitten ever since. 

Made all the efforts to make you feel special. Stopped in your bakery every single day to bring you coffee from your favorite shop down the street. Flowers were delivered constantly; especially since you mentioned that yellow tulips were your favorite.

“I don’t really date anymore.” You admitted when he’d asked you to let him take you out for the thousandth time. 

“Too many bad experiences?” He questions.

“Yeah, you could say that.” You frowned, thinking back on a few of them.

Eventually, he slowly started to break down your walls and swore he’d change your mind. Even went so far as to listen to your worries and promised to face them with you.. 

But here he was, using them against you; just like everyone else did. 

What you didn’t know, the moment you were out of sight, the man that you had left standing there turned to his assistant on his right, 

“Ryan, was that the woman arguing with Cole?”

“Indeed, sir. Would you like her banned from stadium grounds for speaking to you like that?” Ryan asks, pulling his phone from his jacket.

“On the contrary, Ryan.” I intend to put a smile back on her face. “Please, get me her information.”

“Right away, Mr. Styles.”

Getting back to your apartment was a task in and of itself, considering it's hard to see when you’re bawling your eyes out. Walking in, you’re immediately met with the dread of Jackson eventually coming home. 

You shed yourself of your jacket, and set your keys down on the counter. Glancing around the kitchen, you stop your gaze on the vase of flowers that was delivered to you just two mornings ago. Approaching the counter, you pick up the card stuck to the front of the vase.

“Saw these and thought of you. Hope they brighten your day a little. Have a great day, my love. -Jackson”

What had happened in the last two days?

What had happened since this morning? 

You sat there immediately picking apart every interaction you’ve had with him over the time span.. You thought everything was fine. He usually loved your playful banter. He never complained before about your snide tongue when it came to him. He claimed it was one of his favorite things about you.. 

What changed since this morning?

“Okay, tough guy, I get it, you’re the boss.” You chuckle, swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Although you don’t make it very far before you’re tugged right back down, being caged in by the man above you, sending you into a fit of giggles

“Oh, princess, I don't think you do.” Jackson says, sliding his hand up your side before settling on the side of your neck.

“Princess? Wouldn’t that mean you’d have to be a prince?”

“Does that bother you?” He questions.

“Well, considering you’re more of a frog than a prince, I don’t think it’s very accurate”

“What did you just call me?” He asks, wrapping his fingers lightly around the front of your throat. A sly smile forms on his face at the feeling of your breath hitching beneath his fingertips.

“A frog. Do you want me to spell it for you, baby?” You quip, smirking as you feel him increase the pressure on the sides of your throat.

“You’re going to forget how to spell your own name by the time I'm done with you, brat.”

“Mm, is that a threat or a promise, tough guy?” You challenge, reaching up to tangle your hands in his hair.

“I’ll let you decide, princess.” He says, claiming your lips in a searing kiss.

Normally he could go back and forth with you without a thought. Did he not find it playful anymore? Was he repulsed by you now? Did he really want to find someone else? 

He was fine this morning! 

You were driving yourself crazy. You weren’t sure you wanted to fight anymore. Not just fight with him, but fight for him. You sat back and thought more about what exactly he’d said to you. “Even the other wives and girlfriends ask how I deal with your attitude.”

So were you the topic of conversation a lot? Was your inability to act like the other (mostly) fake girlfriends and wives a problem? 

Were you really that big of a problem? 

You knew you could be a handful, but you never thought it would be like this.

Luckily for you, your bakery still has an apartment unit upstairs. Your old bed was currently calling your name, so, you made a drastic decision at that moment and you were going to stick to it. 

You were going to remove yourself from the situation before it could get turned into anything else. It was time to run. Not that you were going to run far, just away from whatever this was turning into, no matter how much it hurt in this moment  

Eventually, you stood and walked to your shared bedroom. You grabbed your carry-on suitcase, which was always packed for the times you were given no notice about accompanying Jackson to an away game, and you retreated back into the living room.

You grabbed a notebook and a pen from Jackson’s office, and had a seat at the kitchen island. Just as you were about to start writing what you were thinking, the front door swung open and in walked Jackson. 

“H-hey.” you squeaked out, dropping your pen on the counter.

“Mm, hey.” he responds, dropping his bag on the counter next to you. He walks towards the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and walking back to be across from you at the island. 

“What’s that?” he asks, nodding his chin towards the open notebook in front of you, seeing “Jackson,” written at the top. “You writing me an apology letter?”

You scoffed, “I’m sorry?”

“Well that’s a start. Keep going.” He grins.

“I’m not, that’s no-“ you start, but his anger bubbles over and he’s already interrupting you, waving his hand in the air to silence you.

“You’re going to sit there and tell me that you’re not going to apologize to me? For causing a scene in front of my teammates? In front of Coach? The owner? The other girlfriends?” 

“Is that what this is about? What other people think of me? You’re always bringing up what the other girlfriends think.” Tears begin welling in the corners of your eyes, once again.

It is true that you’re nothing like the other girlfriends and wives of the players. Most of them are that cookie cutter, instagram influencer type. Meanwhile, your instagram is full of cakes, and cookies, and other endless pastries. The ones you spend 70% of your life perfecting to sell in your bakery. So what you tend you keep to yourself? It’s better than hanging around the Brittany’s and the Madison’s (no hate, ya'lls names just got a bad rep) all the time and hearing gossip about people you don’t know, or care about. You keep it curtly polite in public and mind your business in private. What’s so wrong with that?

“Some of them think you’re rude.”

“Some of them need to get a sense of humor.” You mumble, fidgeting in your seat.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about. You have no idea how irritating you are. It’s like you constantly have to have the last word.” He all but yells, pointer finger in your face. “And don’t get me started on the constant need for reassurance. You have no idea how exhausting that is. You’re just so.. negat-“

“That’s enough. You’re actually insane.” You interrupted, standing to leave. 

He was just trying to dig the knife in at this point. The thoughts of the argument in the stadium corridor long gone.

Jackson notices your carry-on settled by your feet. “What’re you doing with that?” he asks, standing from his seat.

“Isn’t it obvious?” you say, grabbing the handle “You said yourself you thought finding someone else was a good idea, so i’m doing the hard part for you. Now you can go get one of those other professional girlfriends that you seem to want so bad.” 

With every word you said, he slowly got closer to you, each word irritating him further. Once he reaches you, his hands grip your shoulders, spinning you to face him.

“I don’t know where you seem to get off,” he starts, grasping your chin in a firm hold, “but this attitude of yours stops today. Do I make myself clear? I’ve given you everything. The least you could do is act a little grateful.” He states, dropping his hold on your chin. He maneuvers himself around you, grabbing the handle of your carry-on, but you don’t let go.

“I’m through being talked to this way.” You say, yanking your carry-on towards you. “You knew how I was from the beginning. If you didn’t like the way I was, you shouldn’t have pursued me.”

“You don’t have anywhere to go. You’re too.. rough to be loved by anyone else. I’m the best thing you’ve got.” He says pulling the suitcase back towards him. “I’ll just have to shape you into the person you should be.”

You’re just having a full on tug of war game at this point. “Do you even hear yourself? The person I should be? What is that supposed to mean?”

“More.. obedient. You constantly embarrass me with your attitude in front of people. Important people, might I add.”

“Jackson, you really are insane. You think that just because you’re some big shot quarterback that you have any right to treat me this way?”

“Treat you what way? The same way you treat me?” He sneers, moving closer to tower over you.

“If you think me teasing you about forgetting your fucking practice bag all the time is the same as using my genuine fears and anxieties against me then you really are insane. Keep the suitcase then.” You say, letting go as he’s pulling it again.

You’d find a way to replace everything you’d be leaving behind.

“If you walk out that door, you’re done; we’re done.” Jackson says as he’s hot on your trail.

“Is that a promise?” You ask before slamming the door behind you.

You were startled by the sound of shattering glass. Knowing Jackson, he’d just sent the vase of flowers that adorned the counter straight into the door as you slammed it shut.

Assuming this, only solidified your decision further. 

You were done. 

With relationships. 

For good.

Right?

a/n 2.0: thank you for reading this far! I honestly can't believe all of these words came from the thing inside my skull! I swear that thing is broken more often than not.. but seriously! thank you for reading! please go give my dear @freedomfireflies some love from me as well <3

please like &/or reblog if you enjoyed!

#mdni & dividers both by @/cafekitsune #harry styles #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry x reader #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hate That I Love You

adam x insecure!tsundere(ithink) GNreader

Summary: You’ve been Lutes friend for a long while, and occasionally you ran into Adam; after finding out about the extermination thanks to him, you become a three party group. Except you can’t accept liking Adam, him being obnoxious and egotistical, you pretend you hate him. That blows up in your face.

Warnings: Suggestive, swearing, angst ish, hurt/comfort i think, insecurities around strength (mental and/or physical), implied but never confirmed virgin reader, readers looks get insulted nothing intense nor specific, descriptive panic attack/fainting, reader throws an object at adam’s head, NO YN, GN, No alluding to or mention of bodytype/hairtype/skin colour. oh possibly OOC adam idk, not proofread so sorry luvs, I think that’s it if not let me know! enjoy :3

Word count: 2K

Your index finger sat atop the straw sitting in your drink, moving it around the glass as you mindlessly listened as Adam ranted to you and Lute, mostly Lute, about Charlie Morningstar. You weren’t an exorcist- no, you actually didn’t know about the exterminations at all…up until recently. Thanks to one of Adam’s childish outbursts, you had a long night with Lute explaining the whole situation to you. Now you were sworn to secrecy, and conversations of the madness that the extermination were and everything they came with, AKA Charlie.

Adam wasn’t ever your buddy, he was just someone who shamelessly attached himself to Lute's hip; but you put up with it because of your good friendship with Lute. Now, he’s somehow weaselled his way into believing you were part of this weird “team” purely based off of association.

“I mean who does this long horned, pointy teeth, pussy mucher think she is?!” Adam screamed slamming his hands against the table, you rolled your eyes at him and his stupid antics. “You’re one to talk,” You replied, his eyes snapping toward you. “You’ve got both horns and teeth. Why don’t you take that funky band mask off anyways?”

Scoffing he rolled his neck side to side. “Because this is my job, my persona, how’re people gonna recognize me without it!? Duh, dumb bitch.” Muttering the insult quickly, he leaned his cheek on his palm and went back to sucking his drink.

“With all due respect sir, this is really bad news, we can’t let Charlie persuade Sera.” Lute piped up, her mask discarded showing the genuine emotion on her face. Sometimes you couldn’t tell if he was a friend, someone she was in love with, an annoying brother-like figure, or just her lazy ass boss. Maybe all of the above.

Which is probably one of the reasons you kept your tiny little crush on Adam to yourself. He was cruel to you anyways, always comparing you to someone faster, funnier, stronger, hotter at least that’s what you told yourself. Instead you chose to be more of a bitch back, acting as disgusted and disinterested as you could, especially when Lute was around as she could sniff out a lie like some psychic canine.

“Yeah, duh Lute i fucking know that. You think I've been jerking off this whole time! No, eyes, ears focused, I haven't cum in days.” He whined, throwing his head back. Lute only scoffed glancing over at you slumped back in your seat barely sipping your drink, eyes casted downward. “You don’t have to be here for this kind of talk,” Lute started saying, her hand inching across the table to yours, but she was stopped by Adam once more leaning forward, gloved palms slapping against the table.

“The fuck are you saying Lute!? We get another fucker in this circle and you wanna cast her out. Un-fucking-believeable. It’s like you want Charlie to win.” Throwing a napkin at Adam, Lute slid her hand away from you. “They’re not even an exorcist Adam, you’re the fuck head who got them in on exterminations!”

“No i didn’t, they walked in on a private conversation.” Eyebrows knitted together you lurched forward, anger fueling you. “Oh piss off Adam, how many times are we gonna go over this stupid situation! I’m not your fucking friend, i’m not ‘in’ on it, i’m here for Lute and you won’t fucking leave!”

Adam had a bored expression on his face while you ranted, unfazed by anything you’d said. Lute however bit her lip clasping her hands together. In a fight between her boss slash friend, and her friend, she didn’t know what to do. “You always have your nose up in Lute's business, it’s so annoying. Lute’s my man, okay she works for me! Guess who comes first in this business chica? Not you.” Adam mocked sticking his tongue out at you.

Standing you picked up your cup whipping it at Adam’s head, he dodge it easily, but your emotionally fueled violence made you quickly regretful as both Adam’s and Lutes eyes looked at you questioningly. You’d never really lost your shit before, and this wasn’t the worst Adam has said, so they were a little confused at your outburst, yourself included.

“Listen, Adam, I’m-“ Before you could finish Adam keeled over, laughing maniacally as you watched. After a few short laughter filled moments, Adam straightened, elbows on the table, hands hammocking his chin as he smiled up at you.

“Got some bite in you for sure huh babe, ha! I’m not surprised, honestly when i saw you i was like ‘this bitch has a face made for hell’, you probably got up here cause you were unfuckable so, like, virgin. Oh! Oh! That makes so much fucking sense dude! Ha! Bummer, I could smell the weak loser on ya, didn’t I tell ya danger tits?” Adam questioned head turned toward Lute after his animated, and very condescending speech.

Lute only looked down, not responding. Meanwhile you were horrified, you’d always felt a little less than Lute, after all she carried out holy duties, ones that you hadn’t fully known up until recently, so hearing Adam say the same things you thought of yourself, shattered you. Your face felt hot as tears gathered on the waterline of your eyes. You didn’t belong here, you said it for the longest time everyone here was mindless optimist zombies, Lute was your only lifeline, and for a few months you suppose-Adam.

You never hated him, but it’s clear he’s only fond of Lute. You’re the intruder, you’re the odd one. Clenching your fists you didn’t even bother with a come back, you slid out from your table booking it to the door. Tears unwillingly slid down your cheeks, your chest heaving as your throat closed silencing whatever weep dared to exit your throat.

You could hear Lute calling after you but you genuinely didn’t want to be followed by her, you were embarrassed; the last thing you wanted was the strong exorcist coming to witness you crumble. Throwing the door to the building open your wings sprung out on reflex, and after a few quick steps you took off. You couldn’t quite see, or breathe for that matter. Your mind lagged behind you, replaying the moments in your head that matched up to Adam’s insults.

You blinked rapidly as you attempted to focus on the clouds beneath you and breeze around you, but you couldn’t. You choked once more, your stomach convulsing inward causing you to gasp, a sob violently escaping you as you rocketed toward whatever surface you could find. Suddenly you hit something solid, stunning your flight and causing you to spin down, plummeting. As you fell, the breeze stabbed you as you cut into it, your wings sagging and loosely flailing above you, it felt so calm and freeing you didn’t feel the will to stop.

By the grace of god, however, you were caught and roughly smacked against the chest of someone, their arms clutching you tightly. You barely heard a ‘gotcha’ before your vision tunnelled, stomach flipped and you lost consciousness.

——

Waking slowly, your eyes stung the moment they opened, nearly watering at the blinding white that invaded them. Willing yourself to rise, you lazily scanned the room you laid in. A living room, coloured with yellows, creams and whites, it was, in all honesty, way too much. A large portrait of a man with a woman, meticulously scrapped out, hung above the fireplace. You’d never seen this man ever before, and the woman was too scratched out to get any idea on who it was. Suppose these people never existed as it was a painting, but there was something about the man that captivated you so deeply.

“Look who finally rose, sleeping bitchy.” You immediately felt sick, turning your head unsurprised to see Adam standing there smugly. You frowned deeply, it felt nearly impossible to twist your mouth in such a way, but there was no hiding your distaste in seeing the angel. “Why am I here, Adam.” You say scaldingly, eyes closed attempting to shield yourself from whatever foul look took over his face. “Well after your little shit show, a little over dramatic by the way, Lute left to find you, and I went for a fly. Then suddenly minding my own business I see you tryna play asteroid! Then when I caught you, your dumbass went out.”

Sighing loudly you pulled your hand down your face. “Please, admit Lute put you up to it.” Slamming a glass of water down on the table along with a platter of fruit, including oranges, pomegranates and mangos, Adam grunted moving his hand to sit on his hips. “The fuck she did, she’s not getting the praise for this one.” You looked up at him and then down at the fruit and drink on the side table just to your right, you nodded at it. “What’s this?”

You barely whispered out. Blowing air out threw his lips effectively raspberryingring the air, he shrugged. “Stuff for you, duh, you’re like sick or something right?” You nearly smiled at that, you’d never had Adam have that reaction. Quite the array of fruit as well, carefully you picked up a few pieces of orange, as well as mango that had a toothpick sticking up from them you munched down. You hummed, watching like a hawk as Adam walked across from you and sat on the other couch.

“How long was i out?” You questioned after swallowing, gulping down some water feeling the soothing sensation on your raw throat. “Maybe thirty minutes, not long. I texted Lute, I told her you were with me, safe.” That made you pause, you gazed up at him from the bowl of pomegranates you started digging into. “What? Why didn’t she come?” Adam huffed, throwing his hands behind his head and leaned back. “Because I told her not to.” Your mouth fell open eyes wide.

“Why thee holy fuck, would you tell her not to come?” Sitting up straighter you swung your legs over the side, sitting properly instead of lounging. Adam wouldn’t meet your gaze drifting off to the left and right. “Fucking… fuck!” He exclaimed almost in what sounded like exhaustion. Watching him closely, you waited as he seemed to have an inner debate with himself. Then swiftly he gripped his face and ripped off his mask.

The face you were met with was like a punch in the gut, yeah he could be compared to men you’ve seen in your lifetime probably at a gas station or cheap bar, but it was Adam. The man you’ve been trying so hard to hate, getting into cussing battles, throwing insults at each other that rolled off the back, occasionally praising each other's insults, forcing yourself to loathe him when you both kinda knew it wasn’t and now it was real. You got to look in his gold eyes, the dark thick lashes accentuating the uniqueness of his eye colour, the chin hair that crawled just under his chin -which you never expected him to have-, his tousled brown hair, thick eyebrows one eyebrow pierced - also a shock to you-.

He looked like the asshole he was, and it made you fucking sick. Trying so hard to hate him had come to this? Him unmasking himself after saving you? Cruel, you wanted to hate him, get over him not know that all he said about him being the hottest, the dickmaster, pussypounder-whatever, was probably true, that he’s hot. You were embarrassed to feel the nasty hum of jealousy claw at you when you could see the woman in the painting in your peripheral, that was obviously him, with some woman. He was wanted, and taken before.

Flicking his tongue over his lips you caught a glimpse of a tongue piercing because of course the pretty boy would get whatever he wanted without worrying about rules. He shuffled nervously biting his lip as you eyed him shamelessly, which to him was judgemental, his nerves suddenly making him feel sweaty. “Why?” You ask breathily, you were too enchanted to care how he perceived that however. His eyes properly met yours, your legs crossed subconsciously at the zap you felt just by a look.

“Youre fucking dumb you know that? You think I hang with Lute when you’re around because Lute’s there?!” Adam stood after the exclamation, his eyes shooting around the room, hands flying to his hair. “I can’t fucking do this a third time! Fuck!” Tossing a vase across the room you watched unfazed by the sudden explosion, after all this was your thing too.

“I only go round Lute like that because you’re there dumbass, i tried easing up on you; just like Lute said! But you, oh noooo little bitch, just had to be so fucking bratty.” Standing over you sneering, you made no attempts to move, not genuinely scared of his anger but instead, perhaps, a little aroused. You in a way understood where his frustrations came from anyway, you in a sense felt the same way. Might be why you lost it earlier, the yearning had gotten too real, and he seemed so focused on Charlie.

“I am so disgustingly attracted to you, not even in a sex way! And I know how to deal with that a lot better.” Swinging his hand out sassily, he smirked to himself. Plopping next to you he rested his cheek on his hand, elbows rested on his legs. Plucking an orange from the table you watched him eat it, juice moistening his lips. “You think i’d peel fruit, save, house and give water to some broad I genuinely hated? No, stupid.”

Laughing dryly, you looked up away from Adam’s intense gaze. You smiled, eyes falling from the ceiling to your lap. “God i fucking hate you,” Adam’s face looked horrified, opening his mouth to speak, you stopped him grabbing his cheeks and pulling into a searing hot kiss. Your lips crashed against each others’ lazily but passionately, opened mouthed and slightly sloppy. It was slow however, a kiss that wasn’t just a kiss, neither of you wanted to haste past such a moment, such emotion. Adam’s arms wrapped around your hips nudging you forward, understanding the message you moved in closer, your body’s pressing against each other as much as you could from the seated position on the couch.

You dug your fingers into his hair, brainlessly playing with different strands as your tongues slid along one another’s without care, tasting the orange he just ate presently on his lips and to tongue. It felt heavenly being up against him, Adam smelt so good, he was so warm and you could feel how badly he wanted this. His body jittered, his hands gripping you like you’d disappear if he loosened. Pulling away and looking at Adam, he made no effort to move eyes still closed like trying to etched this memory in his mind. You hummed lovingly, brushing hair away from his forehead. “You’re a dumb bitch.” He whispered raspily, opening his eyes, although not by much as they lidded with lust.

You smirked at him brushing your thumb against his bottom lip. “I know. You too.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #adam hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #hazbin hotel fluff

[justwonder113]

Showering Seungmin with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; IN;

Part 2 Here

Summary: Everything between you and Seungmin was a competition and to win and make him shut up you were even willing to kiss him sensless Warning: Gender neutral reader but if I missed anything please let me know; Bold reader; mentions of consumption of alcohol; Both reader and Seungmin are little bit tipsy; some cursing because I'm cute like that; reader feeling a bit claustrophobic at the beginning. Seungmin being hit on by a drunk girl; unclear feelings; Both reader and Seungmin are brats and really chaotic to put it simply; Bit graphic descriptions of possible scenarios. Making out in the middle of nowhere; Slightly suggestive; Please notify me if I missed something. A/N- I really hope you will like it, It's not really enemies to lovers but It's the first time I've written something inspired by the dynamic. I'm really curious on anything you have to say so please feel free to interact Word count-4.7k

You loved your friends, you really did, but sometimes you just couldn't understand them. It was beyond your imagination why they chose to go to a bar on your first day of vocation, as the first thing to do here. There were so many things to do!

Lately you've been really swarmed with work and it really took it's toll on you, so as a way to unwinde you and your friends alligned your schedules together and decided to go to a winter resort. You arrived just today, and you already fell in love. It was the type of place you see in tvshows and movied. It was a place straight out of fairytail. You were simply mesmerized by this place and you wanted nothing more than to explore every part of it, to get aquitanced with this majestic place, but, unfortunately for you, convincing your friends to go with you was more challenging than you could think it would be. They kept insisting that they were too tired from the road and just wanted to relax and drink today. It kind of bummed you out when no one out of so many people shared the same idea as you. You pondered over the idea to go exploring by yourself, but you also didn't really feel like roaming unknown places in the middle of the night all alone.

Okay, to be fair, Seungmin vouched for you and said it was a good idea to go. But it was Seungmin! Everyone and their mama knew that you two didn't get along with each other. You had conflicated feelings about him, you were by any means no friends but you respected him, but you also really hated how narcissistic, snobbish and so rude! He was like the human boquet of the quialities you disliked in a person. You knew he's an unique character from the start, you were even intrigued by it for a while, you only started hating him when he something Snarky and rude to your best friend. YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND! Of course it was eons ago and your best friend was way past over this and now was friends with him, but still. Your friend also explained that he was just like that and didn't mean half of the things he said. That you would just get him if you gave it time and effort but here you were. He failed in your eyes once and there was no going back. Sometimes you pondered of you should let go of the negative feelings, after all he was in your friend group and people were getting tired of your constant bickering. Truth be told, you thought that it was a huge progress from your side that you were now more benevolent and maybe even more friendly towards him. At least you could be in a room with him and parttake in conversations that involved him. By all means you were not friends, you had this weird rivalry between you. You didn't even know when it started but now everything was just competitions between you. And you took great pride whenever you beat him. You just loved rubbing your victories in his face and teasing him about it, but sadly, when you lost he always returned the energy sometimes even ten times more just to piss you off. He was just a huge brat! And to think that only Kim fucking Seungmin was on same wavelength as you.

You took another shot as if on reflex. You wouldn't lie, you enjoyed yourself. Hanging out with your friends was always a pleasure, you had comfortable and had fun with extended friend group it was nice to meet up together after a while ,but you couldn't help but feel restless. Also alcohol didn't hit right today, you were worst kind of drunk, your mind was fully alert while your body felt like it was slowed down and didn't fully listen to you. You tried to engage in conversations but most seemed like they were already out of it, some of them were dancing without a care in the life, you saw few of them chatting up with people. You sighed this wasn't how you imagined your first day of vocation. The main reason you felt overjoyed to go here was that you were tired of being surrounded by four walls constantly and that's what you were doing now, you were stuck in this stuffy place. You didn't want to be a buzzkill but you were getting really restless here. It felt so staffy and full that you felt like you couldn't breathe properly. So after a few you just excused yourself grabbed your coat and went outside.

The cold air caressing your skin immediately soothed your senses, you felt like you could finally breathe again. You looked around the streets were mostly empty, it was way past midnight after all, everyone was probably at home. The streets were lit by vintage looking streetlights which eluminated soft yellowish glow. The streeets were covered with thick layer of fresh snow which crunched with every step you took. What you loved the most other than calmness of this small old city was that how beautiful it looked in the night. The scenery looked like one from the old french drawings you see in antique stores. Also it just simply amazeed you how mesmerizing it was to watch it snow on lampion lights. The snowflakes looked extra beautiful on the light. You were really glad you decided to go here.

The sound of the familliar voice made you groan in distaste. Couldn't let you be at peace for a minute huh? You turned around to scold jim for ruining your perfect picture but the sight had you let's just say rendered speechless. He wasn't alone, he was with some girl who was literally hanging on his arm for dear life? Was she flirting with him? She was really beautiful and stunning, but why did he look so awkward? You scoffed, sure he was really handsome and pretty too but really? Him? Or has he not opened his mouth yet?... You didn't like it.

You prepared yourself to leave this perfect place and go inside when you heard Seungmin say that he wasn't interested and ask to respect his boundaries. You were going to ignore it and just mind your business, you just didn't like how this girl kept pushing despite him declining her offers. Honestly what happened to taking no as an answer? This was just plain disrespectful.

You groaned out and approached them while cursing at yourself. Couldn't you just mind your business? "Baby there you are! I was just going to call you! Do you see how prettily it is snowing? Lets' take some pictures!" You tried to sound as sweet as possible while trying not to die from cringing too hard at yourself. Seungmin's eyes almost went up to his forehead. What a dumbass- you thought as you stood next to him and hugged his armn. "Who's this?" You acted all confused, honestly, you felt like you deserved an oscar. Seungmin atammered for an answer while the girl pouted ar you. She definerly had too much to drink. Where were her friends? Why was she alone?

"You're together?" She looked dishartened, what a poor thing.

"Yes, I tried to explain but you wouldn't listen." Seungmin sighed. The girl pouted, looking offended suddenly she started huffing-" There's no way you're toghether!" Oh she was getting annoying now, you glared at her, how dare she doubt you "I beg your pardon?"

"I've been here with my friends all evening, you two didn't even talk not even once, how would that make you a couple?" So she's been stalking Seungmin all evening, kind of creepy. You were really hating whis whole interaction so damn much!

"Okay I will prove it to you then no problem." You turned to Seungmin who looked confused, unaware of what you were planning to to. You couldn't blame him you also had no idea what the fuck came to you. He looked at you for a second but then gave you a nod, giving you a green light to do whatever you deemed nescessary. You iternally thanked yourself for taking all those shots earlier, there was no way you could do this sober. You grabbed Seungmin by his collar brought him to you and smashed your lips against his. Seungmin immediately leaned into the kiss and kissed you back. Suddenly you were surrounded by him, his soft lips, his warmth, his hands around your waist which felt so hot you felt them through your coat, the intoxicating smell of his perfume. Never woud you have imagined that you would love kissing the Kim Seungmin this much. You mentally counted up till five and then leaned back, already missing the touch. The girl sighed in defeat and left you. This had to be one of the weirdest interactions you've ever had. Well it was another win on your side so you didn't really care.

You quickly let go of Seungmin once you made sure the girl left you two. You had to get out of here so you started walking towards random direction, you had to be anywhere but with him. What the fuck had come onto you? How could you kiss him like that? You don't kiss people you're supposed to hate! It was so embarassing, you wanted the ground to swallow you whole, there's no way you could look him in the eyes after this.

You knew he followed after you by the sound of hurried footsteps and crunching snow, not as satisfying sounding when you're running from your problems, or one big problem called Kim Seungmin.

"Thank you for helping me our there, it was getting really awkward." He said it as if you just casually get him out of the situaation. How was he so calm? Was he even human? Did he even feel even ounce of human emotions, except maybe the need to be annoying all the time. You took a deep breath, there's no way you would show it to him how much this affected you. "Didn't know you had thank you in your vocabulary, the more you know huh?" He scoffed,"don't be a brat." you couldn't help but chuckle, "there you go being your charming old self. seungmin grinned. Oh no. " So you think I'm charming?"He looked at you with "Innocent" smile which made you groan, he sure had a talent for being annoying. "Goodbye." You were not in mood for his teasing. You were somewhere in this city might as well explore it. You thought that Seungmin listened to you for once and left you but no, he had to start yelling in the middle of the night while everyone normal slept "You're the one who kissed me but now you're the one running away?" God sure blessed him to be the most infuriating little creature that ever excisted.

"First of all don't be loud it's middle of the night and people might be sleeping, also I'm not running away, I just don't like to be with you. I'm already starting to regret that I helped you, I should've just minded my business." Seungmin looked unamused.

"But you didn't. You stayed and helped me. You even went as far and kissed me!"

"You're really annoying do you know that?" He smirked and you instantly regretted not ignoring him, so what if he woke half the people here? You didn't know anyone here. Seungmin got closer to you. "While are you backing down and trying to run away from me? Is it that you're flustered baby?" He emphasised the word baby, mimicking the sweet tone you used earlier. The audacity of this fucker! You wanted to just punch him in the nose. You rolled your eyes, dissmissing him entierly. "Please, like you could fluster me." You continiued walking away from him, you wouldn't give him satisfaction to poke fun at you. You didn't hear any steps maybe luck did exist and he left you. You heard a step, a yelp and a loud thud.

Turning around you were greeted with the image of Seungmin laying flat on the ground. You quickly rushed to him, yes the roads were slippery but how did his ass manage to slip this bad to fall flat on the ground? He looked up to the sky with poker face, no sign of pain no nothing, his face completely unreadable? Is it possible to die just from a simple fall? "Seungmin are you okay?" No answer, You shook his shoulders, "Min?" He looked at you for a second, when slowly and dramatically lifted his hands to cover his face. What the hell? " Min? Did you hit your head? Are you hurt? What the fuck are you doing?" Still no answer, it only hit you that he was just embarrased when you noticed how red his neck and ears were. You couldn't help but laugh, and he immediately answered with a groan. "Are you embarassed?" Another groan which made you laugh harder also following by an unimpressed grunt. "Sorry, sorry, it's just ironic, you were the one talking about flustering me and stuff, now you can't even look me in the eyes." He could be cute after all.

"I want to die." Seungmin groaned out after a while, you were hysterical at this point.

You tried to get him get up or at least to remove his hands from his face but to no awail. "Oh stop being difficult, what do you want to get up? You will catch a cold dipshit." What bug did bite you today, why were you kind to him? It really was beyond you.

"I want a kiss on the lips." Oh so he could talk now, you scoffed and got up.

"Nevermind I hope you get pneoumonia! You either get up or I'm leaving you here!" He peaked at you through his fingers, you tried not to crack and not to smile, he looked so silly. He shook his head and covered his eyes again. Wow what a serious adult.

"No you won't you're too kind for your own good." This fucking! You hated how he was right. You really should just leave him here, that's what he's asking for!

After not hearing anything from you, Seungmin took his hands of his faces, to check if you in fact leave him here, he looked baffled when he noticed that instead of leaving him you laid next to him looking at the sky with unreadable face. "What are you doing? The fact about Kim Seungmin was that he was always calm and collected no matter the situation and to think he showed so many emotions today.

"If poeple were to look at you they would think that you're crazy or some drunk asshole, Someome might call cops on you or an ambulance and that's such a headache. If I lay here people most likely will ignore us because we're plain crazy or drunk, I think I am still tipsy." Honestly you were more or less sober now, who wouldn't be after laying on snow? He better pray you don't get sick, or him because you would most certainly beat his ass.

Seungmin looked at you for a second, you could feel his gaze even though you weren't looking at him he turned his head towards the sky after a while though. "Or they might think someone ran us over with a car, someone more creative might even think we were shot, although there's not blood." You couldn't help but huff out a laugh. He seemed more talkative now, even though the subject of conversation was quite unique. You somehow prefered it this way.

"Depends on where we were shot, also we should consider the sound effect. By the way it's snowing the blood might get covered soon. Car theory is also silly, the road is too narrow."

"Hm, you're right." You felt the urge to tease him for finally admitting for once that you were right but you didn't want to disrupt the peaceful moment. The silence was comforting. "It's really pretty, looking up at the snow."

"It is." It really was, in fact it was one of the most majestic sights you've ever witnessed. Streetlights were making it even more beautiful, it was like you could see every snowflake clearly.

You laid for a while enjoying the sight, the sliense, the comfort being with him brought. It felt good to just exist and simply enjoy a simple moment. You didn't even realize when your hands moved towards each other and started holding onto each other so tightly. What baffled you more was why didn't hate the feeling. Mere couple of hours ago you would've simply laughed at the idea of you holding hands with Seungmin. You wondered what shifted inside you.

"I think it's safe to say you do care about me." Of course he had to ruin the moment. Groaning in disdain you straightened up, his hold on your hand immediately tightened, one might even think he was afraid you would let go. He looked at you with the mischevious smile which unforunately tugged quite hard on your heartstrings, you obviously ignored it. "Says the one who literally fell for me." You couldn't help but quip back. He huffed dissaprovingly, his cheeks puffing up so cutely in the meantime you just waned to poke it. "I didn't fall for you!" He protested, you just rolled your eyes, "okay okay, you fell down while chasing after me." He looked uniimpressed. "I only did that because you kept running away god knows where! Do you even know where we are?" It was infuriating how he always pointed out right thing, but you didn't care. Backing down wasn't an option, this was a matter of pride." Do you?" 5 year old kid comeback but hey as long as it worked. Seungmin averted his eyes, he also had no idea. "Damn Seungmin, I didn't know you were so dedicated to me that you would go literally god knows where for me." He scoffed and crossed his hands. "You know what? Nevermind, I hope something finds you and eats you up." Satisfied that you were getting under his skin you grinned. "Oo Kinky."

"I hate you."

"As it turns out my dear Sungsung you don't."

"Okay I don't." You didn't like how his answer made you feel giddy.

"So you do have a heart! I'm impressed." You were not going to lie, you enjoyed this fucked up weird dynamic you two had.

"Yeah, can't seem to get rid of it, it's vital or whatever," he even made a point to dramatically roll his eyes as if he was annoyed at his heart.

"Tell me about it."

It was silent for a second or two but of course Seungmin had to break it. "What about you?" You looked at him expectantly, unsure on what he was getting at, Seungmin sighed as if dissapointed you didn't know what he meant. "Do you hate me?" He really loved asking those tough questions huh.

"Are you curious now?" What were you supposed to say, you knew you didn't hate him but you couldn't also name what you felt towards him.

"I am." He looked at you with wide eyes and you gulped in awe, it was first time you saw so many emotions reflect in his eyes, you had to tell him the truth or it would be ruthless.

"I don't hate you..." You paused hoping he caught the hint that you wouldn't be able to provide him with better answer for now. He smiled at you and shook his head.

"What a sap." Oh this little asshole!

"Oh shut up, you're literally being delusional!" Seungmin was full on grinning now, "why should I shut up? Are you getting shy perhaps?" You made a point to laugh dramatically as possible, "last time you teased me about being all shy and flustered you fell flat on the back, have you even considered to learn your fucking lesson? Or you want Karma to get you back, I knew you were masochistic freak! Be gone evil!" You got up and started walking, again he caought up with you, god this was getting boring.

"It's fun teasing you, I don't care if I might get hurt again because Karma got to me, I like seeing you all flustered up."

"You call this flustered? Oh baby boy how naive you are." It's really a shame you don't have a single oscar, maybe you should've gone into theatrics.

Seungmins face looked almost challenging. "Care to show me then?"

"I don't think you can handle me."

Seungmin did the thing everyone, unfortunately even you, thinks is attractive as fuck, he smiled at you while poking his cheek with his tongue, what a smug asshole. "Try me!"

You just blinked at him, eyebrow raised, -"really now?" You started approaching him while he looked at you with challenging eyes. You got close and close until there was literally no space between you. His face was unreadable once again but you took noticed how heavily he gulped once he felt your body against his. How cute of him to think you wouldn't see right through him. You smirked, "It's kind of funny, really, because I clearly remember how shy you got after I kissed you." He scoffed but didn't say anything, clearly waiting for your next move. He was simply watching you, analyzing you, just stydying you as if you were the most interesting subject. You stared back at him, challenging him back, you slowly started sliding your hands up his arms until they rested on his shoulders. "Can't even deny it, see? Didn't know you could actually be somewhat cute.

Seungmin made a point to just as slowly put his arms around your waist as you did, slowly dragging his hands up your hips and onto your waist. "What are you going to do about it?"

When did you even start whispering to each other? "God, you're so annoying, can you literally shut up for a second?"

Seungmin huffed, clearly amused by the situation, he once again looked dead into your eyes and mused "Make me!"

Oh he was on! You were absolutely set on on ruining him now. "Brat!" You mumbled against his lips before smashing your lips against his. There was literally nothing romantic or slow or emotional about the kiss. It was passionate, hungry, aggressive, hot and full of yearning. You two kissed each other like you two were starved of each other, you kept devouring each other's lips as if you wanted to become whole. You kissed him with as much passion as you could, he almost immediately kissed back, you fought for dominance at first but Seungmin gave in pretty soon, you knew it wasn't because he couldn't keep up, you just knew he could get you weak in the knees if he wanted to. He was thinking of something with his twisted head of this, there was no fucking way you were going to let him win, you were more set on making him flustered mess now. Maybe you were overthinking things but you didn't fucking care.

Seungmin let you do whatever you pleased, it was amazing how pliant he was being. You know he enjoyed just as much as you by the soft sounds he made occasionaly, every gasp of air, every tiniest little whimper did things to your heart you were shamed to admit. You felt excited, greedy, hungry for more! You've never felt more greedy in your life. You wanted to kiss him till your lips fell off. As much as you hated to admit it you just loved how his lips felt against yours, how soft they were even though they were chapped from the cold, how warm they were...You really hated how he made you feel so many emotions at once. What you hated even more was how alive he made you feel.

You slowly slid your hand through his hair, loving the feeling of his soft locks between your fingers, you just couldn't help yourself now. You grabbed the fistful on his nape and pulled on them experimentaly. He groaned against your lips and your heart almost did a backflip at this, you weren't even going to mention other parts of your body. The buttierflies in your stomach were full on raving now. Was he always this hot? You wanted to hear more! You slowly bit his lip and the soft whimper he let out was simply delicious.

Seungmin kissed you with more passion now, his hands migrated from your waist to your neck. His hands were really big and warm, it was something to feel them directly onto your skin, what made you weak in the knees was how he held you, right underneath your jaw, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. He slid his tounge briefly against your lower lip asking for entrance, who were you to deny him? You almost melted into a puddle when his tongue brushed over yours. You would have given in and let him take the lead if you weren't so set on winning this battle you've convinced yourself this was.

Eventually you two had to part because there was this thing called oxygen you needed to live or whatever. Your lungs were burning. Both of you could barely breathe, your lips felt as if they were buzzing, and you were hot all over, but it didn't stop you. You softly held him with one hand on his cheek and the other on his shoulder. You showered his jaw with slow kisses, when you decided to slowly migrate your little attack down his neck, down along his pulseline. You dragged each and every one of them as much as you could to torture him more. His whole body was so tense, so warm. Held onto your hips so tightly, you wondered if it would leave marks on your skin. You kissed your way down his carotid artery feeling perfectly fine how fast and strongly his heat was beating. You wondered for a second if your heart was any better.

You just knew you found just the right spot near his collar when his whole body shruddered and he let out a cutest little noise of both complaint and pleasure, you waited for a second but he did nothing to stop you. He held onto you so tightly you were afraid your back could break in half when you slowly bit him on his sweet spot. He looked deep into your eyes looking unimpressed while you looked at him like you were an angel sent to earth just for him. You felt proud on the reddening spot on his neck. Maybe it would even be visible for days.

"What the fuck?"Both of you got startled by Han's shocked voice. He looked at you all wide eyed clearly waiting for any kind of explanation. You and Seungmin quickly let go of each other.

"We've been searching all over for your asses while you're here eating each other's faces off? What the fuck gyus! Sincw when are you two fucking?" Han kept berating you while you two sat in silence. You looked at Seungmin who looked like he wanted to die, his face all red. You couldn't help but just laugh, . "He wishes I fucked him. Also I win Minnie" You softly patted his butt, honestly even his but was great how was it fair? Seungmin looked like he was about to die from embarassment. You've absolutely won this battle, he coudln't even say a word, he was speechless! Kim fucking Seungmin speechless!

"I'm coming, lead the way Sungie." You ran towards Han completely ignoring Seungmin, smiling like you've never done anything wrong in your life.

"I need details, what the fuck happened here?"Han wasn't giving up. You wondered if you could sneak Seungmin into your room later without anyone noticing.

A/N - Can't believe I finally finished it, you've no idea how many times I have rewritten it. I really hope you enjoyed it. Any type of feedback is always welcomed, or anything really, if you want to send a request, an ask, a thought, headcannon or you simply want to chat. I live for all these interactions. They literally make my whole days! Thanks for reading, love you all and please take care of yourselves^^

#stray kids #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #skz #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin #seungmin fluff #seungmin imagines #seungmin skz #seungmin stray kids #seungmin x reader #skz seungmin #stray kids seungmin #Seungmin x gn reader #Seungmin

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| |Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“…Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe…or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll…keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “…Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“My dearest good doctor,” Egg Boi #04 reads. “What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh…yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right….” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as your turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, least you get scrambled.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor…,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We…invite my…dad.”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh…So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years…his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois. They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up a…er… interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’. Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God…

Lucifer begins to sing.

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Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh…hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm…he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No…not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say…light treasure hunting…?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh…his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of… a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of… let’s say… mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like… the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story…Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh…” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.  A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why…why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I… I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think…” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just….” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Motherfucker!” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firm against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“………No.”

“Then settle down, Husker,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still…or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “Bitch.”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “Virgin.”

Husk’s fangs show when he growls. “I am not…grandma.”

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties…or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot …or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected.”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you…do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“What does that even mean?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I…have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh…and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha!”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’.

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh… I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“Husband?” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “Pause,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh…Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well…no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘friend’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just…I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why…?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why…ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘friend’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean… I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything.”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wife it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Will double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs. Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This….” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh…that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait…,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You…you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

“Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes…?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer. Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass. Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor.. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we, my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment. Someone pounds on the door. You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops…?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room…Huh, that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw. 

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows. 

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully, with a grin.

“Mimzy…” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “…Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh…

Another song.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—he doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he sys, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“Doting husband?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close… just… one… second…

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems…It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride…his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘glorious’. People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh… I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just…trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x y/n #the radio demon #radio demon

[ghostehe]

in this life and all the others !!!

alternatively — ☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩ john price prepared his daughter for everything and that included him being gone. what he didn't prepare himself for was her being gone.

simon riley x fem!price!reader — 𖦹₊˚⊹☁️

warnings — ⋆｡°✩ language. kinda ooc!simon but idgaf. reader may have some specific traits, sorry for self projection, it WILL happen again. kidnapping, allusion to death, blood, wounds, the usual yeeyay with their line of work. john is going through it. reader and ghost are already together.

author's note — ⋆｡°✩ hiii :) my first time ever writing for this fandom and i'm reallllly excited!! i hope you like this <3 fair warning, the reader's sense of style, hair length description, possible field of work may be specified so if that's not to your preference, i'm really sorry for it :( if you would like me to do something like this with some specific points and all, you can just ask me!! i'm sure i'll be able to work with that!! thank you so much for reading, i already love each and every one of you <3

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

it felt wrong to admit it now but when your mother first dropped you at your father's house, he didn't — well, he didn't exactly want you.

it wasn't as if he didn't love you, he did — you were his daughter. but his life had enough chaos to last him a lifetime and he was just fine with staying in touch with you through screens and only seeing you alternately on christmas, that too if the circumstances allowed him too

sure, he wouldn't be there at your parent teacher conferences or have you show him your report cards. he wouldn't get to see you perform extraordinarily in your extracurriculars or have you run towards him with whatever prize or trophy you'd get. he wouldn't always be there at your birthdays and sometimes, he might even forget to mail you a present. he might not get to see you grow up and he might only be just your father and never your dad.

he was fine with that.

so, what would it matter if his heart broke a little when his ex-wife, your mother, called him the night after they had signed the divorce papers and asked him to talk to you because you wouldn't stop asking for your dad? why would he be second guessing himself after hearing your small voice breaking in between as you asked him to come back? why did he get the sudden urge to drive to your mum's house and pick you up and apologize and let you choose the colour of the walls of your room in his house — your home?

but sure, he was fine.

he assured you that he was just a call away, told you to be good for your mom, eat your veggies, be nice and kind and then bid you goodbye. he tried hard not to pay attention to your cries as your mum took the phone from you and apologized to him, explaining that you just missed him.

'she just misses you, john,' and he was ready to break down then and there. you needed him, your dad, and he was refusing to be there. refusing to let that shadow of his work even fall on your shadow for a second. refusing to let you be a soft spot for him because that was the most dangerous thing a person in his line of work could ever have.

'she'll get over it soon, forget her old man and all,' he tried to laugh it off but his voice broke and before your mum could say anything, he hung up.

the next time he saw you, you were at his door, standing with your luggage behind you and your mother. he noticed that her own luggage was still in the cab and it didn't take long for him to figure out what was coming. he had tried to explain himself, explain why exactly he wasn't cut out for this and that he was very happy with seeing you every other weekend. all while you stood near the staircase and stayed quiet.

your mum left and left you behind with a father who didn't even remember his daughter's favourite colour.

he remembered the look on your face and the way you tried to make yourself as small as possible, taking the least amount of space you could. you had just turned ten, your birthday being one of many that john would eventually come to miss and he looked at you like you were still that same one year old baby who pulled herself up and walked to her dad.

he grabbed your luggage and one of your hands and walked you up the stairs and into one of the rooms down the hall. it was mostly empty, a twin size bed and a dresser drawer spread out with a wardrobe in the corner but he figured you'd be fine.

if he saw you pause at the walls being your maybe-favourite colour, he didn't say anything.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

"what do you mean?"

"john — "

"stop, just — stop," john took a deep breath, exhaling shakily as he broke eye contact with laswell and looked away. his hands ever so slightly shaking came up to fix his signature hat as he pointedly ignored ghost's gaze piercing him from where he was listening to everything at the back of his office. "what do you mean?"

"we're trying to locate — "

"that's my fucking daughter and you swore that this wouldn't ever catch up to her!" john snapped, his voice firm and sharp as he desperately tried to hide the tremor in his words. "you — you guaranteed that my line of work would never catch up to her and that she'd be safe and she'd be fine and now she is — "

he cut himself off with as soon as his voice cracked, looking away as he shook his head, shaking the concerned and empathetic eyes of kate and the blank stare of his lieutenant. deep down, he knew that she was doing everything she could to locate you — the whole base was. with soap leaving no stone unturned as he investigated the residence, gaz checking the cameras installed out the place and the street to find a trace of anything, kate herself flying down to the base to do everything she was capable of doing and ghost doing... something, everyone was on it.

but still, you were his daughter.

his daughter. the one who always waited up for him ever since you learned that your dad would be away for a while but he'd come back. the one who called him 'old man' but cried and got upset whenever he tried to have the 'when i'm gone' conversation with you. the one who made cards for every single occasion, cards he still cherished with his everything. you were his everything and you were nowhere to be found.

in a way he blamed himself, he always did. whether it'd be you catching a fever or not having all of your project supplies, he'd always blame himself. he'd continue to do it until someone — more often than not, kate — came by and knocked some sense into his head, told him that one shortcoming doesn't make him a bad dad.

his eyes glanced around the room, anything to prevent him from looking into the empathetic gaze of kate because it felt like she had already accepted that you were gone. you were not, you were just taken — taken from him and he needed to get you back.

he locked eyes with simon and took in his appearance for the first time since he came into the room. truth be told, nobody really saw him coming in, nobody even called for him to be in here. he just showed up and john knew that it would be futile to get him to go out — not that he wanted him to go. it was weirdly comforting, having simon in the same room as they discussed what to do next. maybe it was because they both had the same goal in their mind, get you back or maybe john had just grown familiar with his presence after countless mornings of him descending down the stairs to see him and you at the breakfast bar. whatever it was, john was grateful simon stuck around.

looking at him, everything was the same, not one thing out of place but john knew different, he knew better. he could see the small specks of blood decorating his infamous skull mask and the empty holster attached to his thigh. he could barely make out the dark spots on his glove but if he strained his eyes enough, he'd find them.

he wasn't looking at simon, he was looking at ghost.

john knew that ghost hadn't expressed one percent of what he actually wanted to express. he knew as soon as he stormed out of the room when laswell broke the news to the team and returned a couple hours later, gloves discarded somewhere and his knuckles stained with blood. he kept his mouth shut, mind running haywire as he tried to plan out anything, anything to get even a sliver of news about your whereabouts.

he could feel kate stare at him with calculating eyes and something akin to guilt swimming in them. he could feel simon stare at his form as he paced around the room, hands fidgeting as he fought the urge to call soap and gaz every minute.

kate's gaze didn't bother him, simon's did because it mirrored his hopelessness.

he was so lost in his own guilt and desperation and defeat that he didn't hear the footsteps thundering down the hallway, not until they were right in front of them and the door slammed open. it was only then he looked to see soap panting, a small piece of paper in his hands and he pointed to it back and forth and for a moment, john could feel the sickening sense of hope swell in his chest.

gaz was right behind soap, seemingly in a better position to speak than the latter and plucked the piece of paper from his teammate's hands and held it out for john to see.

"what — "

"we managed to trace the owner of the car that was seen going around your block more than eighteen times," gaz informed, eyes flickering to ghost who had now made his way towards their small group and back to his captain in front of him. "the car was brought under a very... creative way, three shell companies and we traced each one of them back to a single corporation."

"they have these warehouses, right outside of the town," soap continued, taking notice of the desperation in his captain's eyes and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, "it's a very good chance she's there."

"how sure are you?" it was the first time ghost opened his mouth ever since he joined john and kate. his voice gave away nothing and to anyone, it must have sounded like he was just talking about any other mission but john knew that it took everything for him to keep his voice steady and strong.

"damn sure, lt."

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

john remembered the first time he had the 'when i'm gone' talk with you.

you were eleven, and it killed him inside when he realised that he would have to make you understand the risks in his line of work.

he remembered the way you threw him the dirtiest look you could muster, the most withered glare set on your face as soon as he said the words and he had to stop and blink in surprise because goddamn, his daughter was scary.

he remembered the way you shook your head at his every 'understand?' the way you tried to run off to your room and you would've, if not for his arms shooting out to catch you before you could bolt. the way you told him to be quiet as politely as you could when he continued, denial in your eyes at the prospect of your dad going away and not coming back.

he remembered his heart cracking in two when you looked up at him with tears in your eyes and he almost stopped himself, cursing himself in his mind because you shouldn't have to sit here and listen to him telling you what to do in case his dog tags came back and he didn't.

you managed to get yourself free from his hold and rush upstairs to your room and he didn't have it in himself to call you back down and you both left it at that.

the second time he tried to have the talk with you was when you turned eighteen and he got shot on a mission.

the way you looked at him when he woke up in the hospital still haunted him on nights when he couldn't sleep and he knew that he was basically torturing you with this. going away and not providing any guarantee that he would come back but he couldn't.

he could leave tomorrow and say that he'd be back in time for christmas and there would still be a chance that he'd end up coming back home in a casket.

he couldn't give you the security of his arrival but he could prepare you in case anything ever happened and he did. he set apart bank accounts for you, under a different name and a different address. he brought two different apartments in the city, under a different name and a different address. he brought a small house and trusted that you would make it a home, under a different name and a different address. he made sure that you would be okay if he left, after he left and he knew he did a damn good job with it.

you didn't do the same.

he prepared you on how to live if he went away before it was time but he never prepared himself for if, god forbid, you were gone. he never had to because what kind of father would want to come to terms with the knowledge that their kid could leave before them?

"hey — hey, honey," he brushed the hair out of your face, his facade slowly crumbling away with his fingers came back stained with blood — your blood. his gun lays discarded next to him and he almost wants to go back and bullet a few more bullets in those bastards' heads for your condition. "you still with me?"

"dad..." you whispered, eyes fluttering close with fatigue and blood loss as your head rested against the wall. he could see the way you forced your eyelids to stay open, your grip on his hand weak and so delicate that he wanted to scream.

"i'm here, i'm here," he murmured, stroking your cheek to keep you awake while you both waited for the clear signal from the rest. his hands were shaking and he was sure that his heartbeat could be heard by everyone else on the comms but even then, he had to be strong. "i'm here, my sweet girl."

"you know," you forced these words out, eyes unfocused and dazy as you made an attempt to smile at his terror stricken face, "now's my turn to do the 'when i'm gone' talk. you already had two chances."

"NO! no — no, no," he shook his head, eyes blurring ever so slightly as the chaos over the comms became white noise to him. "we will never be having his conversation. ever. i'm supposed to go first and it'll be me. i don't care if i have to fight the fucking grim reaper for this, it'll be me and never you, you hear me? never — never you."

"when i'm gone," you continued as if he didn't practically tell you that he'd fight the devil if you went first and held onto his hand just a little bit tighter, as tight as your wounds would allow you to, "i want you to continue to invite simon around."

"darling — "

"no, please. i know you both and i know you'll just go away from the things that remind you of me and i don't want that," you talked quietly, your voice dipped in pain and john used his free hand to apply more pressure on it and when you didn't really wince or made a move to recoil back, his panic grew. "you both will remind each other of me and i don't want that to just hurt you more. invite him over, have tea, talk shit about me and — and just, keep him company. keep yourself some company."

"none of that is happening because you're not going away," john spoke sternly, his eyes determined and so confident that for a moment, he himself believed that you'd walk away from his alive and breathing. "we have years ahead of us and someone needs to be with me to make fun of riley for liking that stupid sitcom."

"i want you to be happy, dad," you continued, eyes fluttering close and stay shut for me even a longer time now and john panicked. "always happy."

"only when i have you," he shook you awake, your eyes shooting open at the motion and he almost cried in relief. he set you firmly against the wall and withdrew his hand from your grasp to talk over the comms. "lads, how's it looking?"

"positive, i believe. how's our miss soldier doing, sir?" gaz asked and john heard the occasional shower of bullets from his side and figured they were still stuck in the crossfire. "any damage to that billion dollar outfit of hers?"

"well, it's stained with blood now, so," john replied dryly and could feel gaz draw in a sharp inhale at that and figured he'd be out of the harm's way soon. "keep me updated."

he knew ghost was nearby, could feel his boots echoing in the almost empty hallways down the corridor and knew that you both were safe and secure. it was only when he looked away from the corner and back towards you that he noticed your limp hands and the way your head was slumped forward. he hands shook as he cupped your face and called out your name, almost hopefully.

"darling? honey, you gotta wake up," he spoke, almost inaudible and his own voice sounded foreign to him. it sounded too hollow and he hated that it looked like he had already accepted that you were gone. you were not. "come on, love. don't do this to your dad."

his hands were shaking terribly and blood smeared across your cheeks but he didn't care. all that he cared about was that you were there, still and so silent in his arms and you were not answering him. his could feel his heart break. he could make out exactly where it hurt him physically as he repeatedly called out your name and you did not respond.

heavy footsteps sounded from behind him and he didn't have to turn to know that it was simon — ghost, in that moment. he didn't have it in himself to turn. partly because you were here in his arms right now and if he turned, you being gone would be reality and he didn't wanna face that. partly because he didn't want simon to see you like that. blood trickling down the side if your head, face smeared with blood and a wound in the abdomen. no, john wanted simon to remember you happy, smiling and alive.

he wanted simon to have that much, even if his own last memory of you was you begging him to stay happy after your death.

and he thought about it. as he cradled your body close, rocking back and forth, he thought it was simply impossible. as if he'd ever be happy again without you here.

he didn't notice simon walk closer, didn't see him walk around to crouch in front of him and only realised that he was here when he called out his name. he couldn't even hear it clearly, high pitched ringing in his head and blurring images in front of him, the feeling of your blood on your hands, it was all just too much.

" — tain? captain?" simon called out, his eyes locking with his and john knew that it costed ghost his everything not to stare at you. his skull mask laid discared next to him, his signature balaclava in its place as he kneeled down. john could see the way his hold on his gun was too loose and the way his hands were trembling just the slightest bit as placed his gun back in his holster. "we need to get out of here."

"doesn't matter," john replied, his voice not giving away the turmoil in his heart and the war that was going on in his head. "she's gone, ghost."

"cap — "

"my daughter, she — fuck, my kid," john exhaled shakily, his hands carefully pushing away the strands of your hair out of your face. "lord, i don't have a child anymore."

"captain — "

"you don't get it, i'm not a father anymore!" john exclaimed, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence as reality settled in. the weight of it seeped into his bones and he knew that he would carry its weight for the rest of his life. until he saw you again. "i'm not a dad, anymore."

he couldn't let you go, couldn't place you down and let you be gone from him. he couldn't accept it and why would he want to? what kind of father would he be if he just accepted that he was never going to hear someone call him 'dad' ever again? he'd never hear the words 'i love you, dad' or 'good morning, dad' or see your face smiling at him after he came back from a particularly long and stressful deployment or have you hug him whenever you got a nightmare or drink tea with you and simon as he joked about your relationship with his lieutenant. how was he going to accept this cruel and wretched version of reality?

"you'll always be a dad, captain," simon spoke quietly, his hand reaching out to smooth your hand down and just like his own hands, john noticed that it shook. "always gonna be her dad."

john couldn't do anything except watch. he tried to move, his mind screamed at him to move but his body caged him down. the dead weight of you — his daughter — weighted him down and for a moment, he was so sure that he'd feel this weight for the rest of his life. because, how was he supposed to forget the way you asked him to be okay after you? how was he supposed to be okay after you?

how was anyone supposed to be okay after you?

he blinked, eyes stinging with tears that he refused to let down and looked towards simon who was too quiet. john looked at him, watched him as he leaned down until his forehead was pressed against yours and felt an invisible knife twist around his heart. he could see the balaclava move and figured he was saying something to you but the ringing in head refused to let him hear anything, though, he thought that he heard the words 'come back' and 'don't do this to me' and felt his heart break some more. he had never — never — seen his lieutenant look so hopeless. so defeated. not when he found out that you both had broken up for some indefinite reason, not when he got injured on a mission and the only thing he asked for was you, not when you had made it your mission to paint his nails and only relented after his nails were a shade of wine red.

no.

john had always seen ghost so full of life around you. he had always seen his eyes crinkling at the corners as he spoke to you in low tones, always seen his shoulders dropping from their usual tense posture whenever he was around you. he had always seen him as simon around you.

john looked at him and realised that not only did he lose his daughter, simon lost the love or his life. he lost the one thing and one thing only that made him the happiest. he knew simon loved you even though he hadn't said the words out loud out, he knew he loved you. it was evident in the way only you were allowed to hold onto his mask for him as he adjusted his balaclava, in the way he always listened to you speak about anything and everything under the sun and never once interrupted you, in the way he always brought back something for you from his missions, ranging from a rock to a dried flowers.

john looked at him and realised that at any cost, he'd have to make it through this, for simon. for your promise.

for you.

he nodded, not trusting his voice to say anything and moved to stand up, your head lolled against his shoulder as he placed his hand under your knees while the other wrapped around your shoulders. he stood up as carefully as he could, as if any movement would cause you discomfort and held on tighter to push himself to be on his feet and — you whimpered, your wound pressing against his vest and your dad stilled, frozen alongside simon whose eyes shot towards your face as you stirred, your expression scrunched up with pain.

it didn't take more than a second for ghost to abandon his gloves and check your pulse as you went still once again, forcing his hands to stay still. john pretended not to hear him whisper 'please' under his breath as he placed his hand on the side of your neck, mainly because he knew he would break down if simon didn't hold himself together.

he looked at ghost who nodded and then he was already off, walking swiftly in front of john and you as he put on back his gloves and drew his gun to clear out anything that could show up, making a path from their corner to the evacuation point. john walked as fast as he could without jostling you and mumbled rapid apologies as you groaned in pain.

"we're heading out," ghost informed soap and gaz who were on the other side of the floot, drawing out any left hostile parties left. he filled them in your condition and in less than thirty seconds, they were running towards the three of you, panting and guns drawn. "she has already lost consciousness and we need to get her back."

john could only walk wherever ghost turned, his movements a bit too robotic and as they cleared out the building, the only thought he had was you, your safety, your life.

he doesn't remember much of the ride home but judging by the blood — your blood — on his hands and clothes, and the number of times gaz asked him if he was okay, he wasn't sure if he wanted to.

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

"so, i pass out from the pain and blood loss and your first guess is that i'm dead?"

"well, when you put it like that — "

"there is no other way to put it!" you laughed, instantly regretting your decision to do so as the action pulled on your stitches. "fuck — that's a bit dramatic, don't you think? did you even check my pulse?"

"listen — i was not thinking. my girl was just laying there in her own blood, what was i supposed to do?"

it's been more than a couple weeks since you've been discharged from the hospital, stitches in your abdomen and the side of your head but it's mostly inconvenient rather than painful if you could be honest and john and simon both know this because you have expressed this opinion far too many times.

john and simon both disagreed.

you wish you could say that they had toned the whole scary-guard-dog thing down ever since you got discharged from the hospital but you'd be lying. if anything, their protectiveness dialled a few notches up. if your dad was busy with something, simon stayed with you and vice versa.

now, your dad was protective. you had always known this. if you thought that there was no way he'd be able to get more protective than he was before this whole ordeal, you thought wrong. you weren't allowed to get up from your bed unless it was to stretch your muscles — (simon volunteered to help you with that. you dad threw his boot at him. thrice and then one more time for good measure.) — or to use the bathroom. you were on strict diet for the first week, mainly consisting of fluids and lots of proteins alongside the years' worth of medicine you had to take. he stayed home, officially on leave until he was sure you wouldn't collapse after standing for more than seven seconds and then he stayed for an extra week simply because he wanted to.

("i think i can pick up the remote without popping out my stitches."

"'m not talking any chances, kid.")

and then, there was simon.

if you thought that there could be no more increase in the protective measures after your dad, simon set out to prove you so wrong.

he stayed with you even after your dad went back to the base and that meant he stayed with you. you couldn't move an inch without his hand coming up to stabilize you — you told him you didn't need it, he disagreed — or just straight up pushing you back to sit down, gently and doing whatever you were out to do. it made your life just a tad bit difficult but you knew this was coming from a place of love — and fear.

"i'm okay," you smiled softly at your boyfriend, hands intertwining with his as you both laid on the couch while your dad worked in the kitchen, occasional shouts and gasps announcing his continued presence. "i'm okay."

"the fuck? you are not," simon's eyebrows were furrowed and you fought the urge to lean up and kiss the spot until he relaxed, partly because it would put pressure on your stitches and you did not need another lecture on basic medical knowledge by your dad and your boyfriend again. "don't make me tie to your bed."

"don't threaten me with a good time," you laughed softly at his blank stare, squirming away as he poked one of almost healed bruises. "fuck you."

"you're injured, not now," you could practically feel the smirk behind his mask and gave him the best unimpressed look you could. "stop lookin' at me like that."

"when was the last time you slept?" you ignored his advances and slapped away his hand that was coming up to tug you towards him, looking him in the eye. "you look worse than me."

"i'm breaking up with you."

"no, you're not."

"no, i'm not," simon sighed, his hand coming up to run through his grown blonde hair that he had intended to get cut — not by you because he doesn't trust you with scissors anywhere near his head. "i slept last night."

"liar," you narrowed your eyes at him, taking in the dark circles around his eyes and the way his eyes were droopy and how his eyes remained close when he blinked. "i heard you watching that movie you told me you hated."

"i was not — "

"simon," you sighed and he stopped speaking, knowing he was in for a lecture from you about his sleeping habits and his biological sleep cycle — something you wasn't even sure existed in his body. "love, why haven't you been able?"

he stayed silent, his hands fumbling with your hands and twisting your rings around your fingers. he almost smiled when he noticed the ring that he had made for you on your ring finger, a small 's' in the middle with a semblance of a tiny heart next to it.

"haven't been able to," he replied finally, his voice gruff with faux annoyance directed at your ability to coax answers out of him just like that. "too much going on."

you knew what he meant by that. the last couple weeks have been hectic to say the least and you couldn't help but feel guilty about being a part of the reason for your boyfriend not being able to sleep. "i'm sorry."

"shut up, what for?" he rolled his eyes and placed a fleeting kiss to your cheek, very near to your mouth before leaning back. "i'd take a few sleepless nights over your bleeding out any day."

you didn't say anything, just tugged on his arms firmly enough to make him get the hint and settle back into the mountain of pillows you had brought down from your room. he looked at you, a confused look in his eyes but complied as you pulled him towards yourself and wrapped your arms around him, smiling when he nuzzled into the crook of your neck and finally, relaxed. he pulled back just for a moment, one of his hands coming up to squeeze yours when you frowned at the lack of contact while the other one pulled away his mask, leaving his face bare.

you had seen his face many times but each time, you found yourself falling in love more and more. you knew each and every scar that adorned his face, every inch of uneven skin. you had spent nights kissing all that he thought made him ugly and promised him that he thought so wrong. you said nothing as he looked at you once again, eyea squinting at you playfully before he was back in your arms.

"i love you so much, you know that?" you whispered, your hand playing with his hair. you could feel him press feather light kisses to your neck, his breath fanning over your exposed skin making a trail of goosebumps and you didn't mind it one bit. "you know that right?"

he hummed in reply, pressing himself as close to you as he physically could. you didn't stop playing with his hair, knowing how much it relaxed him and soon him, he went completely still next to you, his grip on your loosening just a bit as he went slack. you couldn't help but admire him when he was like this, his face free of the usual scowl that he pulled up with him at every table, the furrow of his eyebrow that you always kissed, the frown that he had whenever anyone spoke, it was all gone.

you didn't hear your dad come in, a tray of three steaming cups of tea in his hands and settled it down on the centre table, proud of himself. he picked up your usual cup, strawberries drawn on it with a few daisies in the middle spaces and gave it to you, smiling softly before turning to look at simon — who to his surprise, was fast asleep against your shoulder.

"he's knocked out," john remarked, making a mental note to make another cup of tea for simon whenever he woke up and settled back into his designated chair adjacent to yours. "never saw him this... relaxed."

"yeah, well," you sipped out of your cup before placing it on the side table, eyes flickering to simon's still figure before looking back at your dad, a small smile on your lips, "he's been pretty set on not letting me lift a finger."

"he's worried about you," your dad nodded and you couldn't help but feel your heart flutter. "never seen him so out of mind. you know he loves you, right? he would fold the earth in the half if anything happened to you."

"i know, dad," you replied, eyes locked on simon as he slept next to you. you could see his chest rising and falling with every breath he took, his lips slightly parted as he breathed in and out evenly. "i don't even know how i'm supposed to tell him just how much he means to me. i don't know where to begin."

"he knows," he stated, sipping out of his own mug — with small yellow crowns — and setting it back down. "you'll both make it, you know? don't need to see the future to figure that out."

you knew what he was talking about.

you'd make it. of course, you would. it was simon who held your hand randomly while you walked around your town. it was simon who made sure that you were always stocked up with your favourite candies and chocolates. it was simon who learnt how to make paper rings because you were singing that song about how you'd marry him with paper rings. it was simon, always.

and even if this lifetime was enough for you, you knew that you'll find yourself falling for him in every other life. in all the universes out there, in every version of reality, you'd find yourself in love with him. you knew this much, you felt it in your bones.

maybe in another life, you would've seen him from across the bar and he would've sent a drink your way. maybe you would've ran into him at a coffee shop and he would've asked you your favourite blend. maybe you would've been childhood friends and he would've always been in love with you.

it would always be you and him.

"yeah, i know."

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

#ghostehe — ★₊˚﹟🪐 #call of duty — ₊˚⊹♡ #simon riley — 𖦹₊˚⊹☁️ #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley imagine #simon riley au #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #ghost x female reader #ghost x fem!reader #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x y/n #cod x fem!reader

[enchanted-wildflower]

On animism

One of my teachers at university told us something today, that I believe to be relevant to animism and therefore also witchcraft:

He explained that in the West we see everything as occurences, whereas in some languages the same happenings are described as actions. Meaning that in the West we tend to imply that there is no agency involved in whatever happens, while some other languages tend to imply that someone activily causes things. His example was that in the West rain is understood as something that just happens, no one causes the rain. Whereas in Mesoamerica it was believed that it rained because some god was crying.

While the idea of a literal crying god causing it to rain on earth might be outdated, I find it really interesting how these two perspectives - events vs. actions - might shape our relationship with the world. If rain is not just an occurence, but someone acting with agency, rain becomes another part of the community we live in. The community then doesn't only consist of humans anymore, but of everything that surrounds us. Suddenly there are all these new players that actively affect your life with their actions. Other-than-human persons that you can interact with and with whom you have to keep a friendly relationship. If the tree in front of your house isn't just an object, but a being with agency, you actually have to be at least respectful and might even want to build a relationship with them, get to know them, learn from them.

I think that's really the core of animism. Descriptions of animism are often reduced to the believe that everything has a soul, but I think believe doesn't even factor into it. You don't need to believe that there is a non-physical aspect to rain, mountains, stones. It's about how we interact with them. I don't even have to ask myself the question if the tree in front of my house has a soul in order to learn about and from them or to interact with them. In my opinion animism is something that is done, not thought or believed. It's a perspective.

Listening to my teacher also reminded me of the following part of Braiding Sweetgrass (great book btw) which explains all this really well:

A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores and contained by the word. But the verb wiikwegamaa - to be a bay - releases the water from bondage and lets it live. "To be a bay" holds the wonder that, for this moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise become a stream or an ocean or a waterfall, and there are verbs for that, too. To be a hill, to be a sandy beach, to be a Saturday, all are possible verbs in a world where everything is alive. Water, land, and even a day, the language a mirror for seeing the animacy of the world, the life that pulses through all things, through pines and nuthatches and mushrooms. This is the lan- guage I hear in the woods; this is the language that lets us speak of what wells up all around us.

[...]

This is the grammar of animacy. [...] In English, we never refer to a member of our family, or indeed to any person, as it. That would be a profound act of disrespect. It robs a person of selfhood and kinship, reducing a person to a mere thing. So it is that in Potawatomi and most other indigenous languages, we use the same words to address the living world as we use for our family. Because they are our family.

To whom does our language extend the grammar of animacy? Naturally, plants and animals are animate, but as I learn, I am discovering that the Potawatomi understanding of what it means to be animate diverges from the list of attributes of living beings we all learned in Biology 101. In Potawatomi 101, rocks are animate, as are mountains and water and fire and places. Beings that are imbued with spirit, our sacred medicines, our songs, drums, and even stories, are all animate. The list of the inanimate seems to be smaller, filled with objects that are made by people.

[...]

The language reminds us, in every sentence, of our kinship with all of the animate world.

- Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge and the Teachings of Plants (2013), p. 78-80.

#animism #witchcore #witch blog #witchcraft #witch books #braiding sweetgrass #witchy #folk witchcraft #folk magic #plant witch #bookblr #bookish #booklr #studyblr #animist

[schrodinger-swriter]

Hello! I just saw your fluff alphabet and would like to request A, I, K, O, P, Q, and U for Sir Pentious. Thank you! :)

I, K, O, P, Q, and U for Sir Pentious

You can find A in the previous alphabet post for Sir Pentious, I hope you don't mind not having it all in one post!

I hope you enjoy this, Anon C:

INJURY:

He would cope.. not very well if you were to get hurt. Given that it was hell that was a likely probability. He often sends one, or even up to three, of his egg boiz with you to keep an eye on you when he isn't around. He may even scold his eggs for allowing you to get hurt, no matter how unfair it would be. He would fret over you, treating the most basic injury as if it were a death sentence. You will more than likely have to tell him that you're not dying, and that he needs to calm down... just a little bit... If he were the one injured, I can see him trying to walk it off in the beginning... but seeing the attention he's getting from you, he might try to milk it.. just a tad. He won't ask you to do every little thing for him or overplay some of the pain, but he will definitely ask for more affection than usual!

KISSES:

He loves taking your hand and kissing it, likely dipping down as he does it to really push the dramatics. He loves kissing you on the mouth, too. Short pecks, long kisses, anything in the middle, he loves it. Going into the relationship he didn't think he had a preference of where he was kissed, but he quickly learns that he loves receiving kisses on his cheeks. Please give him a peck before you go out to do something, his hood will fan out in an instant as a grin tugs itself over his face.

ODDITY:

Everything. He's a creative and an inventor, it's kind of in the job description to be at least a little odd! He will approach you in excitement as he rattles off about an idea for a new invention he's come up with (and also, to seek for your approval if it's not meant to be a surprise for you..)

Sometimes he will go on a tangent about an invention and the skills needed for it, which might lead to him having to explain those smaller details.. has a habit of sometimes overexplaining or underexplaining.. he doesn't mean to, he's just so excited and is a little all over the place as he doesn't get much of a chance to ramble to someone about this interest of his!

He has a habit of tugging on his hood when he's embarrassed or stressed, sometimes even pulling it over his face if he's feeling particularly flustered.

PETNAMES:

"My Darling," "My Dear," "My Love," and above all else, he calls you his Beloved. He almost completely replaces your name with them when you two fully establish your relationship, only reserving your actual name for rare occasion.

As for what he likes being called... Naturally, he has a soft spot for terms of endearment from his time, but I think he would be just as ecstatic if you called him anything sweet. I like to believe he likes to be called "Sweetheart," or any variation of the "Sweet___" nicknames!

QUESTION:

Hmm... this one is a hard one... but I think sometimes he would ask for reassurance. Not just that you still love him, but to confirm things about you. Totally not because he's making something for you... and he wants you to confirm a hype specific question of what your favorite color is down to the pantone code or something along those lines... heh..

I think at some point within the series, depending on where it is in the timeline he might start asking you if you believe it's possible to ascend to Heaven after being sent to Hell. Things about the quickly approaching extermination. A lot of those questions turn into promises of victory.

UPSET:

When Sir Pentious is upset he tends to seek you out, whether he be angry or sad or stressed. He finds comfort in you, and spending time with you is by far the best stress relief for him than anything else in Hell. Usually, to cheer him up you two just talk or do an activity together! Though if he's feeling worse than usual, he might have himself sit alone in his room for a while.. this is more common before the relationship/within the early stages of it.

If you're the one upset he's going to try his best to make you feel better. Making quick inventions to bring a smile to your face, letting you vent to him.. and perhaps, if someone upset you he would try to confront them... that... usually doesn't end in his favor, leaving him bloody and bruised... but hey if he can survive getting blasted into the sky by Alastor, then he can survive most anything!

May send one of his egg boiz to keep an eye on you and/or check in on you if you're upset with him. Being apart is killing him inside, and he feels so so bad. He's already doing way more than he needs to in order to win over your forgiveness. He will grovel, too.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin x you #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #sir pentious x you #sir pentious imagine #sir pentious x reader

[imagine-that-100]

Will We Talk? | Part 2 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 15.2k

Warnings: Smut 

A/N: Besties, hellooo! I honestly can’t explain how shocked I am that with the response to Part 1. Alex stans you’re back and I’m thrilled you enjoyed the first part! I’m so excited to share this one with you, I can’t believe after almost 2 years this fic is finally coming out and I’ve finally finished part 2 ahahhaa. Really hope you enjoy it, can’t wait for your reactions. Let me know if theres anything that you want to see happen in part 3 because I’m very interested! Thanks again to @alovesreading and @kennedy-brooke for putting up with me pecking your head and helping with this chapter, it’s much appreciated! Thanks everyone for reading, and I really hope you enjoy! Thanks a million x

| My Masterlist | 

| Part 1 |

Just as you were turning yourself around again to head upstairs, Alex leaves you shell shocked when he asks you, “Do you want to fuck me?”

Instantly your eyes are the widest they could possibly get and you’re sure your jaw falls open. Looking at him intently to try and make sure you’re not dreaming this, you deadpan, “Excuse me?”

“Do you want to fuck me?” Alex asks, putting the record back like it's the most casual thing to ask someone he barely speaks to, “Is that why I make you nervous?”

This should be the easiest response you’ve ever given him.

“I-”

But your words fail you. Your heart feels like it’s about to beat out of your chest.

Wait… Do I want to fuck him?

You scorn yourself, not needing that question answered right now because you’re so confused, you have your own questions that need answering.

Your words are immediately defensive and you don’t hesitate to narrow your eyes as you ask, “What have I done to make you think that I want to fuck you?”

“Well everything that I just mentioned is what rules out fan behaviour.” Alex tells you saying this like it’s the most normal thing leaving his mouth, “It was just something else that popped into my mind whilst I was trying to figure you out.”

Why is he trying to figure me out in the first place though?

After a second Alex raises his eyebrows at you, curiously wondering, “Well?”

“I- I’ve not- ever really given it much thought.” You stumble on your words, because in truth you think you’d maybe twice looked at him and guessed he was good in bed and you didn’t let your mind wonder past that.

When he asks, “Do you not think it would be good?” after waiting for your answer, you’re sure he can read your mind.

Your brain is whurring around, but you can get it together enough to say, “I never said that.”

Alex smiles a little at that and he takes a step closer as he asks, “So your answer is yes then?”

“Never said that either.” You shake your head, taking as much of a deep breath that you can without making it obvious.

Alex shrugs a little as he watches you, “Well it's a simple question.”

Is he deluded? This is the furthest from a simple question he could ever get.

“You sound like you want to fuck me.” You fire back at him, hoping he’d give you some inclination of how he even wanted you to answer.

He smirks at you as he says, “I mean, I'd be interested in seeing if your mouth can do something other than talk at a hundred miles an hour.”

Holy fucking shit.

If you’re honest this feels like you’re having the biggest practical joke of all time played on you. You have no other idea where all this would be coming from, because you certainly can’t imagine Alex Turner - out of all the people you know - saying suggestive things to you.

You’re truly shocked to your core. Never did you ever think that this brief trip to your house would have you gawking at Alex like he was a headless chicken. But because he just said that, you’re a bit fuming now.

“You’re sounding pretty cocksure.” You frown a little at that, getting defensive, “Why does me being nervous and chatty around you automatically make you think I want to fuck you?”

“You’re not like this with anyone else.” Alex smiles as he tries to explain himself, because to him it makes perfect sense. He’s experienced it before which is why he’d rather hear you tell him straight and he hopes that explaining where he’s coming from will make you more vocal, “Which tells me you can’t blame every interaction we’ve had on you being an introvert. And you don’t know me well enough to be nervous around me because you really like me, so that leaves me with the assumption that you might want to fuck me.”

“That's possibly the most arrogant thing that’s ever left your mouth.” You frown at him but Alex can’t help but think it’s adorable. Like a mouse is angry at a cat.

But then you make him fully grin when you say in your anger, “Besides the fact you think my mouth would be occupied before yours, that's hilarious in itself. No wonder you’re single.”

Stop fucking talking Y/N. Nulled your point completely there, you idiot. Stop thinking about it!

“So you’ve planned this out already.” Alex smirks, “Good to know.”

“No I-” You stop yourself from saying anything else you regret as panic bubbles in your stomach. You take a deep breath with your eyes closed and you start to say, “Alex can you p-”

But your words halt and your eyes open when you feel his hand come to rest on your hip. You see he’s right in front of you now and he’s looking at you reassuringly with only a vague amused smile on his lips.

You’re positive you stop breathing when he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes go wide again, and unable to stop yourself you ask, “Right now?”

“Yes.” Alex nods with a small laugh.

“No,” You shake your head, and shock is so clearly seen on your face and heard in your voice when you say, “You can’t.”

Alex has to ask you, “Why not?”

At the end of the day a kiss could make up your mind. Something so innocent is surely something you wouldn’t be opposed to.

You almost make Alex burst out laughing when your defence is, “Because I’ve not had a drink.” and not because you don’t actually want to.

His lips are curled up into a smile when he asks, “Why do you need a drink for me to kiss you?”

“To help me relax.” You tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world and the singer has to keep it together.

Feeling the need to remind you he blankly states, “It’s a kiss.”

“Sorry,” You shake your head, looking at him like he’s just told you he has three big toes or something abnormal. What a fucking idiot, it’s not just a kiss when you’ve not had a drink. You had to ask him, “When was the last time you kissed someone sober that wasn’t a person you were seeing?”

Alex laughs openly for a few seconds there and the way he’s laughing does seem genuine. It’s the same laugh that you’ve heard when he’s in Miles’ company or anyone else who he actually likes to spend time with. You just really don’t know why you’re hearing it, but it does calm you down.

Both of you share eye contact for a few seconds as you watch him laugh and you’re processing the past few minutes in your mind. Alex Turner, your best friends’ husband’s best mate, has as asked you if you want to fuck him. And he’s pretty much told you that he wants to fuck you. And he’s asked if he could kiss you.

And as you’re thinking all of this, you’ve subconsciously settled into his hold on you. Both his hands are holding your hips now, resting gently as his thumbs move over the soft material of your skirt.

You’ve not realised you’re now looking at him inquisitively, you’re looking up at his features like you’re curious. And truthfully, now you are. The longer you look at his face, the more you wonder if his skin is as smooth as it looks. The more you catch sight of his lips, the more you wonder how he’d use them when they are against yours.

So Alex asks you a simpler question in a quiet voice, hoping to not scare you out of the trance you seem to have got yourself in. “Do you want me to kiss you, Y/N?”

You try not to think about what he’s said, instead you look up into his eyes during this quiet moment you’re sharing. He seems to understand that you’re silently asking him if he actually wants to kiss you, so Alex just leans down and answers your question.

The moment his lips connect to yours, you feel like your heart is about to go into cardiac arrest. Like it’s the last burst of energy before it ultimately gives up on you and you pass into a peaceful and less anxiety inducing afterlife.

But you don’t die on the spot. Instead, your lips move against his slowly as you let him lead you.

And Alex kisses like he has no other place to be apart from right here. The previous rush of needing to get back here and get changed before Katie and Jamie come to pick you up is as if that was never the plan at all.

You’re trying not to spiral or let your erratic nervousness get the better of you, all you try to do is focus on every movement you feel. On Alex’s hands wrapping further around your back, tightening his hold on you as he kisses you sweetly.

You're taken aback when he deepens your kiss which ends up with your hand taking a hold of his shirt and you pull on it a little as you whimper into his mouth. The noise you release doesn’t phase Alex in the slightest, if anything it encourages him further and he no longer treats you like you’re about to break.

It turns heated and Alex is pleased that you’re responding so well to him. When he draws a moan out of you, he can’t help but feel proud of himself and when you tug a little on his shirt to keep him in the kiss, he really likes it.

He’s not been able to get the thought of what you would be like to kiss or fuck since that night you came to his gig. And finding out that you were available and that you weren’t seeing anyone when he walked you home that night earlier in the year, meant that it was all Alex could think about since getting back home from the latest leg of the tour.

You’re a little breathless when he pulls away and you’re dazed to say the least. Alex opens his eyes first and sees that yours are still closed as if lost in the moment. Your grip is still strong on his shirt like his is around your waist.

“That was good, yeah?” Alex asks softly when you open your eyes.

Your words start to fail you immediately, “I-” so you end up looking down as you feel your cheeks heating up.

But the last thing Alex wants is for you to go back into your shell. “Y/N?”

You have no idea why, but you’re in so much shock at what’s just happened that you blurt out, “I don’t do one night stands.”

Alex smiles a little at that, edging his bets a little when he raises his eyebrows, “Who said it had to be one night?”

“Well, I- I’ve never done the friends with benefits thing.” Blinking a few times, as if to get your thoughts in order, you add, “In fact, I don’t even know if we’re quite friends.”

“We’ve known each other for nearly a decade Y/N,” He fakes a little hurt, “You wouldn’t call me your friend?”

“I’d call Jamie my friend. I’d call Miles, Matt, and Nick my friends.” You're honest when you say, “But I think this is the longest time you’ve ever spent alone with me.”

Alex just grins, “I think this is the only conversation we’ve ever had where you’re not speaking at double speed. Is that because you’re too nervous to even speak now or because you’re shocked?”

The singer is pleased that you don’t go back into your shell at his teasing. Instead, he’s met with the firery side of you that he met earlier when he asked if you wanted to fuck him.

“This might be the only conversation we’ve ever had. And it’s very much the shock.” Some self consciousness kicks back in though as you step out of his arms, “Do you even think I’m attractive or are you messing with me for your own amusement?”

After you move away from him a little, Alex goes and perches on the arm of your settee and folds his arms together when he answers, “I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that.”

“It’s a perfectly valid question.” You tell him, mimicking his movements and crossing your own arms.  

“No, I’m not messing with you. I think you’re really attractive.” Alex tells you truthfully.

It’s confirmed. You’ve definitely accidentally fallen into an alternate reality where this Alex Turner is a hell of a lot nicer than the other one you're used to.

You just believe this further when he adds, “I have done for a long time, but only wanted to do something about it the last few times I’ve seen you.”

“Are you on drugs?” You deadpan, crossing your arms as you walk towards him to stare into his brown eyes hoping for a sign that there’s a fucking party of drugs in his bloodstream.

But Alex laughs as you check his pupils and he shakes his head, “No. Not even had a drink yet.”

And you believe him because his pupils are a normal size and he seems with it in every way other than the words spilling from his mouth. And that just leaves you so beyond confused.

Running a hand through your hair, you scorn him as you begin to pace, “You could have at least hinted or something.”

“I definitely did.” Alex tells you.

Bullshit.

You shake your head as you pace, scoffing, “When?” as you don’t expect him to have an answer.

“When I told Jamie to invite you to our shows,” Alex holds one finger up and adds a second and third when he lists, “And I gave you that triple A pass, and I got you a drink.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” You stop right in front of him. Wide eyed, you go into teacher mode on him and say, “Half the time you answer me in as little words as possible when I speak to you, that's absolutely no indication that you want to fuck me Alex! I don’t even think you spoke to me that night.”

“I bought you a drink!” Alex argues his point, an amused smile still playing on his lips though. You’re funny when you’re feisty.

You want to roll your eyes at him. You end up counterarguing, “How was I meant to know that was you trying to come on to me if you don’t follow it up with a conversation or a shitty pick up line at the very least?”

Clearly Alex remembers the night better than you do because he tells you, “We had a conversation and you barely let me get a word in edgeways.”

And just as you’re about to argue back to try and wipe that victorious smirk off Alex’s face, your phone starts ringing. Quickly walking around Alex to grab your small bag that you had on before, you pull your phone out and see that it’s Katie calling you.

“Fuck,” You look out of the window and see the taxi pulled up at the side of the road. “They're here.” and you’re not fucking ready.  

You briefly answer the phone and tell your best friend that you’ll be out in a minute. You hang up when Alex gets up from his seat and you start rushing around trying to find your tights again because now you really have run out of time.

But you can’t even do that because when you turn around to try and check in another shopping bag, Alex is there and he quickly kisses you again which catches you by surprise. It doesn’t last anywhere near as long as the other one but it still leaves your lips tingling and wanting more.

Pulling away, Alex tells you, “I’ll go and tell them you’ll just be a minute. I think we’re going to have a fun night, don’t you?”

And all you can do is gormlessly stare after him before he pulls his jacket back on and leaves your house with you genuinely not being able to process the last 10 minutes. And you don’t even have fucking time to process it because you needed to be out of the door 2 minutes ago.

So you opt for the last thing you wanted to do when you left the Cook household. You slip your ripped tights off and throw them in the bin before you leave the house and once you have your bag and your boots back on, you lock up and get into the taxi.

You’re cold already which you’re not pleased about but your temperature is the furthest thing from the front of your mind as you climb in the black taxi and you’re seated beside the man who’d just kissed you twice. He looks at you with an amused grin but you don’t give him any satisfaction of looking back at him.

The annoyance in your system grows when Jamie nods down to your bare, and thankfully smooth, legs and asks, “What’s happened to new tights?”

“I couldn’t find any.” You brush his comment off and just look out of the window so you don’t say something you regret like, ‘blame your best mate for asking if I wanted to fuck him and then he kissed me twice’.

You have to bite your tongue at Jamie’s quiet comment back, “Could have saved you the dull walk back if you’d listen to me, Y/N.”

That trip home is the furthest thing from dull that’s probably ever happened to you.

~*~*~*~

At the club Alex has been quite different to how you were used to him - he seems to always be keeping an eye on you, trying to stay close to you at all times but not in an overbearing way, simply wanting to spend more time in your presence.

And whilst that’s enough to have your mind spinning after what had happened back at your house, his casual flirting is only making you even more aware of the change in his behaviour.

If it wasn’t him briefly brushing your waist with the pads of his fingers before joining your chat with Katie, it was him getting you another drink and whispering in your ear about how good you looked. Everything he did slowly drove you insane, and it was no surprise to you that you drank more as a result.

Thankfully now you’re relaxed about it, the more he’s been doing it, the more you’re enjoying it and want him to continue. But that doesn’t mean his behaviour doesn’t affect you. On the contrary, there were multiple occasions in the first few hours at the club he boldly flirted with you when only you were in earshot and he left you completely at a loss for words. But you can’t lie to yourself, it got your heart racing.

So when he comes up behind you at the bar and smirks as he jokes into your ear, “Christ, do you wanna slow down?” you don’t mind at all.

You laugh as you finish taking the sour shot you just got for yourself, “Nope.”

Being properly tipsy Alex notices definitely loosens you up a little. You don’t look anxious all the time, and you’ll actually laugh at the jokes he’s telling you and you’ll look like you’re not nervous to be around him all the time which he much prefers.

There’s something about the way he’s standing behind you but with his arm on the side of the bar, trapping you in your spot beside him that you quite like. And when you look up at him you’re trying not to smile when you see the way he’s looking at you entirely entertained, like he can’t bring himself to tear his eyes away from you.

You feel your stomach fill with that nervous feeling as he keeps your gaze, but instead of blabbing on like you usually do, you ask, “Do you want to do a tequila shot with me?”

“Yeah, okay.” Alex nods and you quickly ask the bartender who served you just a minute ago for two shots.

The singer is standing close to you as you both watch the bartender move, but when you feel Alex’s hand move from holding the bar to the small of your back you look up at him. Almost as soon as you do, Alex turns to look at you too and the time that you hold eye contact, you feel that pull between you that you felt when he kissed you earlier.

And you can’t help but want him to do it again. But you need to get something off your chest before you even think about what he offered you earlier. You lean up a little so you can say into his ear for only him to hear, “I'm nervous around you because you’re always grumpy and distant with me. You never engaged in any conversation I’ve ever had with you, except tonight and the time you walked me home.”

“So there…” You lay it all out on the table for him, and you pull back a little so you can see his face again, “Before tonight nothing to do with it was about sex.”

“And I’m sorry about that Y/N. I really am.” He looks and sounds sincere as he says that, and you believe him when he tells you, “I’ll do better.”

“Good.” You nod, “So you should.”

Alex can’t help but smile as you turn back to the bar to grab your shots. The bartender has put the lime on top of the shot for you and you move them towards you.

Leaving Alex’s shot in front of him, you grab the salt shaker and lick the back of your hand before sprinkling some on the same spot before you pass it to Alex. You watch as he does the same and you pick up your lime and shot and wait for him to get to the same point you’re at.

Once he is, you’re both grinning as you turn to face each other properly so you can do the shot. “Cheers.” You smile and raise your glass up to him.

Grinning, Alex clinks his shot against yours and he watches intently as you lick the salt from the back of your hand, him doing the same simultaneously. The shot is next and he can’t help but be a little shocked when you don’t pull a face when you swallow the spirit but there is a little relief on your face when you bite into the lime.

Grinning as you both put the shot glasses back down, you can’t help the small intake of breath as Alex’s hand finds your hip this time and he holds you against him as he asks over the loud music, “Can I buy you a drink?”

Of course, you accept with a smile, “Yeah okay.”

You really do quite like this friendly side of him, whether he’s flirting with you or not, you don’t mind now you’ve had enough to drink. You much prefer this version of him to the grumpy bastard you’re mostly used to.

Pleased with your answer, Alex asks, “Amaretto?”

Nodding, you grin, “Please.” still finding it both amusing and shocking he knows your drink of choice.

Alex orders drinks for you, a double Disaronno on ice, and for him, a whisky coke. Once you have them the bartender asks the both of you, “You paying for everything together?”

And as you shake your head, Alex verbally disagrees telling them, “I’ll get them all please mate.”

“No,” You shake your head, looking at the bartender and saying, “Let me get the shots.”

“I’ve got them Y/N/N.” Alex gently knocks your hand with your card in, out of the way and puts his card on the machine before you can get yours there.

You sigh and look at Alex who now has a shit eating grin on his face and frown. But instead of scorning him like you want to, you tell him, “I’m getting the next ones.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” Alex smirks despite having no intention to make you pay for anything tonight.  

You pick your drink up and smile at him, “Thank you.” as you take a sip.

Alex smiles as he picks his drink up too and he rests his hand on the small of your back as the both of you make your way back over to your friends. It's about 10:30pm now and you’ve had a great night so far, especially after Kelly came out to join you too along with Nick and Kirsten.

You always thought Nick's divorce was amicable, thankfully nothing like Matts (although you will and always will be on Breanas side of it). But you’ve always loved that Nick never made Katie feel like she couldn’t bring her friend out with you all, and it helped that Kirsten always got on with Kelly and she just became another friend.

Before you take a seat, you thank Alex again and he smiles and nods as he moves to sit beside Nick. You perch yourself down next to Katie as your previous seat and seeing an opportunity arise you lean in and kiss her cheek to draw her attention.

“Hello gorgeous.” Katie grins, her eyes lighting up seeing it was you who kissed her.

“Oh stop it.” You can’t take a compliment to save your life so your cheeks heat up a little.

Albeit, not as much as they’ve been heating up as a result of Alex flirting with you since you got to this club. His flirting made you glad for the low lighting because you don’t want him seeing just how much he can affect you.

Katie asks, “Where have you been?”

“I went to the toilet and then went to the bar to get a shot, but ended up doing a Tequila with Alex.” You explain why you’ve taken so long.

Katie can’t help but smile at this. It feels like you and Alex have somehow slowly become much less awkward with each other the past few times you’ve seen each other and your best friend is thankful for it.

She knows it’s not from your lack of trying, despite how shy you are. Katie is just glad Alex is finally giving you a break and not being a colossal twat.

So she smiles at you as she points it out to you, “You and Alex seem to be getting on easier today.”

“Yeah,” Your eyes go a little wide at her saying that.

You’ve not told her anything about what was said at your house earlier, nothing about the kisses or the proposition to fuck. So you know she’s just being genuinely happy for you that you’re not feeling awkward on a night out with him.

And you really don’t fancy opening that can of worms and making things awkward for yourself by telling her. Because, despite loving your best friend with all your heart, you know she won't keep her mouth shut and it will make you so overly paranoid, you’d rather pretend like it didn't happen and just keep silently enjoying being flirted with.

“He’s not acting like a total dickhead and ignoring me which is helping conversation.” You nod, chuckling a little as that is usually what made your skin crawl in the past.

“Well yeah, that will do it.” Katie laughs.

You let your eyes glance back to the man who bought you your drink and your heart stutters a little when you see he’s already looking at you. You feel your cheeks heat up again as a result of his stare, but you smile back at him as your stomach flips and you give your attention back to your best friend.

Alex on the other hand, can’t take his eyes off you, or more specifically your lips. Since you’ve returned to your friends, you’ve not stopped licking your lips, making them more plump by the second. All the singer can think about is having them on his own again, and he’s dying for it. He should have kissed you at the bar like he wanted to.

He’s half certain you’re doing it unconsciously as a result of the tequila shot, as he can still taste it on his lips too. You only seem to be doing it when you’re not talking, so he realises that must be the reason you’re doing it and not to just silently torture him.

You girls manage 5 minutes of chatting to each other again before you hear the start of Beyonce’s Single Ladies fill the room and it's Katie who gasps and stands up immediately. She drags you from your seat, demanding that you go and dance with her and after that tequila shot, you’re in no position to deny her.

Kelly and Kirsten join you and you’re not sure how many songs pass, it all becomes a bit of a blur as the boys come up and hand you more drinks when they spot you’ve finished your others. Alex is the one who comes up and gives you yours, the first time you notice his eyes scanning your body and you feel no need to hide under his stare like you usually do, you feel great and you’re having too much fun so you thank him and let your eyes take him in.

He looks fucking great. The Chelsea boots paired with his blue jeans that are tight on his arse, and since taking his leather jacket off earlier, he has rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt making him drool worthy. His hair is a nice length again now, longer on top instead of the buzzcut makes him look younger again.

Alex doesn’t miss the way you look at him that time, and he doesn’t miss it half an hour later when he brings you your next drink up to the dancefloor. He catches your eye and raises the glass that you can tell is yours by the shape and you wave him over, and he makes his way over to you.

You’re borderline drunk now, but for you the night feels like it’s just getting going. Little do you realise that your friends are going to have to leave in a little over 45 minutes to get back to the kids.

Alex smiles as he stops in front of you, a little out of breath and sweaty from singing and dancing but he can’t help but think you look so vibrantly alive and full of the best type of energy. This is how he wishes he’d seen you all along, this is the side he wants to see more often of Katie’s shy and nervous best friend.

“For you.” Alex hands the drink over and you eagerly accept, needing something to soothe your throat.

You grin, and take a desperate sip before saying an appreciative, “Thank you.”

Alex’s eyes move back to the people dancing behind you and over to the other 3 girls who he sees are still dancing away but quickly become distracted by Nick and Jamie bringing them their drinks. But Alex looks into your eyes as he points out, “You look like you’re having fun.”

“I am,” You nod, and because your inhibitions are so much lower now than they were earlier, you ask over the loud music, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Course.” Alex nods, smiling at the mere fact you want to.

Stepping closer to him, your chests almost together, you lean up and say into his ear, “Do you actually want to fuck me?”

Alex smirks, but instead of teasing he just leans down and lets his lips brush your ear as he confirms, “I wouldn’t have put so much effort into flirting with you if I didn’t.”

Whilst he loves the small whine you let out, he can’t help but be a little amused yet concerned by the way you rub your temples. You move back a little and tell him, “You’re fucking with my head.”

Alex thinks you look a little stressed about it again like you did earlier, which is the last thing he wants. You’d got so close tonight that he was sure you were feeling the same way he was.

So Alex tries to reignite that flirtiness with you, he leans back in and says, “I’d rather give you head, if that’s any consolation.”

Your cheeks flame at the same time your heart skips a beat and your stomach drops. You didn’t realise how much you like the thought of Alex being the one to do that until it’s offered to you. And the fact he’d said it so bluntly, there was no way you could find a way to twist his words.

He wants to do that. Alex Turner wants to go down on you. And you’ve somehow got to survive the night after hearing that, you have no idea how.

“You- I-” Trying to tell him off is pointless, and giving a coherent answer is even worse, so you end up asking, “Is your aim to make me flustered every chance you get?”

Alex smirks, and instead of answering directly, he just tucks your hair behind your ear as he grins, “You’re cute when you go all stuttery.”

Again you can’t fathom any words, you’re left a little blindsided by the compliment so Alex takes over. He leans into your ear and says, “Would it help your decision if I told you that I want you to agree? That I want you to say yes.”

When he moves back to look at you, in his eyes you can see he means it, along with the lust that’s beginning to shine through too. Whilst it’s finally nice to actually know what’s going on in his head, it doesn’t make things any easier in yours.

“I-” You start but both you and Alex get interrupted.

“Guys, we’re off.” Kirsten shocks both you and Alex out of your conversation and you both turn to her and Nick who you hug goodbye.

Not 10 minutes after they leave, Kelly decides to call it a night which you don’t entirely blame her for because after the last shot you three girls had, she looked like she could fall asleep at any moment.

After getting her safely in a taxi, you and Katie come back up to find the boys and you see them now by one of the pillars with a table around it that isn’t too far from where you were dancing earlier. You do notice now just how busy the club has got, everyone dancing is like a sea of bodies, making it very easy for the singer and guitarist to maintain their anonymity.

Katie, being the loving wife that she is, kisses Jamie deeply after she takes her new glass of wine from him, making you avert your gaze from the couple and focus on the singer again. Alex smiles at you and holds out your new drink for you to take.

“Thank you.” You say loudly over the music and reach to take it from him.

“Ah,” Alex pulls it away from you before you can take it. Over the music, he says, “I have a question.”

“Go on.” You raise your eyebrows prompting him to continue.

Alex only smirks and leans down, resting a hand on your hip as his lips brush your ear and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

The feelings both the proximity to him and the question stirs up in you isn’t unwelcome. The opposite even, but you’re just so shocked he’s asked when your friends are right there.

Kissing like teenagers and definitely not paying attention to the two of you or not, you can’t believe he’s asked when you’re barely a metre away from them.

Not wanting to say no, you bargain with, “If you dance with me?” instead of giving him what he wants on a silver platter.

You’re going to make him work for it. You don’t just sleep with anyone for the sake of it.

But before Alex can even respond, Jamie gets his attention over the music and you see him put two fingers to his lips and simulated smoking.

“Shame,” You lean up to Alex’s ear as you say that. “Maybe later.” You smirk, patting his chest before you grab your drink from him, followed by catching your best friend's hand and pulling her back to the dancefloor with you.

But it’s only about 10 minutes later when you and her find the boys in the smoking area and you tell Jamie that you think she needs some air. Katie almost decked it twice whilst you were dancing and once on the way outside so you think it’s best for her to slow down a bit before they go home,

And when you look at the happy couple, you can’t help but think Jamie will probably be worse for wear tomorrow too. Thank god it’s a Friday night and you know none of you have anywhere to be tomorrow morning.

You’re giggling with Katie as she leans against her husband and the wall one minute, but it’s when you tune out of their slurred conversation you hear your favourite song being played and you think fuck it as you disappear back inside. Once the music is loud again and you’re back in the middle of at least a hundred sweaty bodies, you let yourself loose to the music.

Despite no longer having your best friend to grind against, you let yourself have some fun. Something that if sober you saw, she would probably cringe from the way you’re moving but all your inhibitions are gone. You’re moving freely to the music and you feel fantastic.

You’re unsure how long passes before you feel a large hand hold your waist and a body pressed up behind you. But you don’t panic like you normally would, you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being held.

It’s only half way through the new song that you even turn to look at who it is, and when you do you can’t help but smile and lean back into him when you see it’s Alex. At this point, he looks about as drunk as you, if not more but you don’t hesitate to let your hips move as they were with him now pressed up against you.

You would think you were throwing caution to the wind if it wasn’t for the fact you know your friends are nowhere in sight. Alex wouldn’t be this obvious about it if they were.

With the way you’ve just started grinding against him, Alex can’t think very clearly. You know exactly what you’re doing, teasing him by rubbing your arse against him where his dick keeps twitching for you.

You absolutely love the way the singer can’t keep his hands off you. If you weren’t as drunk as you are you’re sure that you’d be judging yourself right now but feeling him holding you against him and the way you can feel his lips on your neck you let all your inhibitions go. You feel the best you have in a long time and you don’t want to let that feeling go.

So when you’re encouraged to turn towards him you don’t hesitate. You carry on dancing though, putting your arms above your head as you carry on moving to the music, but then you grin at him as he pulls you into his chest and you let your arms fall on his shoulders.

It feels hot as the both of you continue to move against each other but you feel out of breath when Alex dips his head and he starts kissing just below your ear. Letting one hand fall to the side of his neck, you encourage him to continue, leaning your head in the opposite direction so he can carry on his teasing.

But there’s only so much you can take, you need more. So you pull back a bit so he moves and looks at you again, but as soon as you do you lean in and kiss him.

And this time it's like your body sets on fire, goosebumps erupt all over from the intensity of it and you want to savour every second of it. Alex pulls you into him, both his arms wrap tightly around your lower back so you can’t escape him, but you don’t want to. You want nothing more than his lips against your own now and for the rest of the night.

So much so that you don’t hesitate for a single second when Alex deepens the kiss. You welcome it in fact. It feels like its suddenly just the two of you, neither of you care that your surrounded by dozens of bodies, all you can think about is each other and how fucking good it feels to be pressed against each other.

You feel dizzy and breathless the more you kiss him which leads you to pull away for just a second, Alex stays close though and you can feel him smiling against your lips which has you doing the same. The haziness that the alcohol has made you so much more relaxed about it all, and you even find that you love the way your heart is beating out of your chest in reaction to all of it.

On the dancefloor, you kiss for a minute more until Alex ends up making you moan from the way his hand ends up sliding down and grabbing a handful of your arse. It’s at that point he pulls you away from the crowded floor and down what looks to be a corridor that leads to a staff room.

He stops you in the middle of the dark walkway but there’s enough light to see that you're grinning at each other as he backs you up into the wall and dips his head to kiss you again. It gets intense faster this time, as there’s no need to ease into it. Sparks are flying and you feel like you could combust at any second.

It feels instinctive this time and the way Alex holds you, his hand coming up to grab your jaw to make sure you don’t move from how he wants you is getting you more flustered than you were before.

When you need to part, you end up tuning in to your surroundings again, over the sound of your own heartbeat you can still hear the loud music playing in the other room and feel the bass vibrating through the wall you're pressed against. But that doesn’t mean you don’t love the way Alex is kissing your neck, his lips are so precise with what he’s doing that you can’t help but want him to continue.

However, that doesn’t mean the situation doesn’t make the anxiety spike in you once more. All of the thoughts about Katie and Jamie and the risk of them catching you or what the prospect of a night with Alex could mean come flooding back to your drunk mind, and it scares you enough to ask the man whose lips are still on your skin a question.

“If you take me home, will we talk in the morning?” You ask, revelling in the feeling of his lips on your neck. You close your eyes in complete bliss when you continue, “Or is this going to go weird for everyone involved?”

At this point you don’t really care for an answer though. You want him to keep going. You want his hands all over you. But you know that you’d regret not asking.

You feel dizzy kissing him, and you’re only sure that it's real when your eyes open for a split second where you make his face out. Lust is clear in his eyes as he attaches his lips back to yours and you can’t mute the moan that vibrates from your tongue to his.

“Promise it won’t be weird, sweet. I just want you so badly.” He almost groans before his lips attack yours again and that's enough for you for now.

You kiss him with no inhibitions on your end then, you wrap your arms around the back of his neck, forcing him into keeping the kiss going. The thud of your heartbeat is the only thing you can hear and it makes you a little gutted that you don’t get to hear the moan that you drag from Alex’s lips, even if it was silenced against your own.

Feeling like a teenager in a club again is not something Alex has felt in a long time, so maybe that’s why he lets the both of you get a little too carried away. But he can’t stop himself, you’re just so enticing. If you would let him he would probably take you here and now after you start grinding your hips against his when his leg slips between yours to keep you pressed against the wall.

By the time you pull back from the kiss, you want more than just his hands on you though. You want more than just him kissing you, and that yet again brings back one last seed of doubt into your mind. And your nervousness makes you voice it.

Your breath is ragged when you pull back and express your last worry to him, “I don’t usually do this kind of thing, Alex.”

“That's okay,” Alex promises, kissing your lips hard again once more before pulling back to ask, “Are you up for just enjoying tonight and thinking about tomorrow when it arrives?”

“Or do you want to stop?” He cups your face and looks into your eyes to tell you sincerely, “We can stop if you want to.”

You can tell just by the way he’s looking at you that he’s serious. That he won’t pressure you if you don't want this, but that alone settles your worries. You trust him enough to know that he won’t be a dickhead if you let him take you home.

You shake your head, as that’s the last thing you want, “I don’t want to stop.” before you lean back up to kiss him again.

One kiss turns into two, and two turns into three and throughout all of them you can feel Alex’s smile against your lips. So there’s no surprise that he’s grinning when he pleads, “Then let me take you home, sweet.”

And this time, you don’t hesitate to say, “Okay.”

After that Alex books an uber, probably the fastest he ever has. But the both of you stay tucked away in your private spot, stealing kisses and making each other breathless until Alex gets the notification the taxi is only a minute away.

There’s an excited anticipation to how you both interact with each other on the way down to the taxi and the way you both rush to it is enough of a give away of that. But as you set off, it turns out that it’s a good thing you did both rush in because when Alex goes to put his phone on do not disturb he notices a missed call from Jamie and an unopened text.

Where have you gone? Is Y/N with you?

Alex decides to play with the truth a little in his reply. Nothing that would get either of you in the shit but the last thing he needs is you overthinking about Katie and Jamie when you were so clearly excited to be leaving with him.

Yeah sorry mate she was dancing and when we came down to find you and we assumed you’d gone because we couldn’t find you. In a taxi with her now.

You’re sitting in the middle seat, as Alex slid in the door you also entered in so you try and let your eyes focus on the words he’s typing one handed as the other runs up and down your thigh. He’s certainly the best tease you’ve encountered in a long while, and you’re focused solely on his touch and the way that once he’s done with the text he drops his phone to his lap and uses his free hand to tuck his finger under your jaw and angle you towards him so he could kiss you again.

It doesn’t get as intense as it did in the club, mostly your doing, for the sake of the driver. But Jamie doesn’t give either of you long anyway as Alex’s phone vibrates and lights up the back seats again

Thank god. Thanks for getting her home safe

Alex has never typed a reply faster.

No worries mate

And its then Alex flicks Do Not Disturb on, and he intends to have you as his sole focus for the rest of the night.

~*~*~*~

Katie was right, his orange settee is a complete and utter eyesore. And the fact that your head is a little fuzzy doesn’t help that too much, all you know is that one second you were stepping into his flat and looking around at his decor and the next your lips were on his again and you were being pressed up against the nearest wall.

It’s nothing that you don't want, because you do desperately want him now you’ve had the idea in your head all night. The more drinks you’ve had along with all the flirting has let your mind spin.

So much so that you moan when your back slams against the wall, and you eagerly respond to the way Alex kisses you. Your arms fly around his neck, keeping him close and with his hands grasping at your hips, it’s only a minute you’re like that because the next thing you know Alex has encouraged you to jump up and wrap your legs around his hips and he presses you into the wall again, this time his hands groping your arse as he kisses you harder.

There’s absolutely nothing romantic about this. It’s just pure desire that's fuelled by alcohol and how horny the two of you clearly are. Which is why a minute later Alex walks you to his settee and eases you both down onto it.

Both of you are sprawled out across his hideous couch and you’re underneath him responding to his kisses and his touches in a way that fuels him to pull more noises from your mouth.

You can’t even make his fucking face out, you’re mind is so drunk from both the alcohol and the kisses you’re receiving. You want them to endlessly continue, you feel so good about every little touch he leaves on you. Thankfully you don’t need to see his face, you just keep your eyes closed and kiss him back.

The way he’s grinding your hips into yours has you breathless and your mind is spinning even more. But it’s the feelings he’s stirring up inside you now that have you wanting more.

The way he holds under your knee with his free hand and he teasingly rocks his hips into you has you whimpering in pleasure and he fucking loves the way you sound. The way your legs tighten around his waist is enough for him to know you want this, but he continues to tease you anyway.

His lips travel down your neck and he loves the way you're encouraging him, giving him more room and cupping the back of his neck to keep him against you. Not to mention the way you whine when you want him to kiss you again, and when he finally gives in to you he can’t help but tease. He bites your lip and he loves the way your eyes roll back because of it.

After you force him into kissing you hard again, it’s only when you’re breathless that Alex pulls back. But when he sees you blissed out underneath him, he only wants to bring you more pleasure and he’s craving more now he has you where he’s been dying for you.

“Can I taste you?” Alex asks in a husky voice.

If you were sober, that question would have your cheeks heating up, eyes scrunched shut, and you putting your hands over your face in an effort to hide away. So it’s very lucky you’re drunk, you just look at him and nod, “Please.”

He kisses you again then, but this time you feel his hand that had a tight grip of your thigh has moved to slide up your skirt. The way his fingertips trace the inside of your thigh making its way higher you feel your heart start beating faster.

It all but stops beating for a second when he traces over your underwear and he groans when he already feels how wet you are. You think he’s about to tease you for it but he can’t help himself any longer, he moves the material to the side and before you can even process it, his fingers push inside you.

The way you whine and moan almost makes Alex smirk against your lips. He knew you’d make the sweetest sounds for him and he’s proven right when he starts thrusting and curling his fingers inside you.

Your grip on his hair is almost distracting. But it’s that along with your moans and the way he feels you clench around his fingers drives him on.

Alex doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to forget the way your whole body seems to malfunction when his thumb starts to trace small circles on your clit. The noises you’re making are to die for and it has his dick growing harder with every second that passes.

He works you up, getting you breathless for him while you whine and moan beneath him. From the sounds you’re making he knows you’re getting close, and you have his dick twitching in his pants. But with the ache growing more intense but there’s no way he’s not making you cum at least once before he gets any pleasure himself.

However, to you it doesn’t seem like the case because one second your eyes are scrunched closed in bliss, and the next you’re whining and gasping disappointed because he’s not touching you anymore.

“Why’d you stop?” You whine, opening your eyes to see him smirking above you.

You’re about to ask why he’s being cruel and smirking at you but your complaints die on your tongue when you see him bring his fingers up to his mouth and he sucks on one of them. Your jaw falls and he makes you feel dizzy again when he groans in pleasure.

It makes you clench around nothing, aching for him even more. But your previous protest is lost in your mind as you try to commit this scene to memory. Alex however, answers your question without hesitation as he gives you his other finger that he’d yet to suck clean for you to do the job for him. And you do so without a complaint.

“Because you’re going to cum on my tongue first.” He tells you, loving seeing you desperate for him to do anything. Seeing you practically beg with your eyes is enough for him to carry on what he had planned.

He kisses you once he pulls his fingers away, and you can taste more of yourself on his lips. Before you even realise he’s kissing down your body and your breathlessly watching him descend. You shrill can’t really believe that this is how your night has turned out, but all anxieties tied with what this means have been thrown right out of the window. You’re loving every fucking second.

Your skirt might as well not be on at this point. He’s hitched it up enough that it's not even covering you anymore, and he moves himself further down the orange settee after hooking his fingers into your underwear and you lift your hips for him to pull them off. Alex has no shame in watching you and his eyes don’t even stray when he pockets the material.

He leaves hot kisses down your thigh before his head dips further and you feel him lick a bold strip up from your entrance to your clit. Your surprised moan makes him smirk but he can’t carry on teasing now he’s had his first taste, he buries his face into you and starts eating you out with little to no self control.

You encourage everything he’s doing with the moans that leave your mouth. His tongue showing your clit the attention it deserves has your hands rooting into his hair and tugging on it as encouragement.

The way he hums against you like he’s enjoying a meal makes you close your eyes, the vibration of it feeling too good. But when his mouth dips and his tongue is at your entrance and his nose rubs against your clit, you accidently rut against his face.

It makes him smirk but he doesn’t let up. Alex starts boldly fucking you with his tongue and he has to hold your hips down so he has you exactly where he wants you, in his control.

He can tell from the way you’re moaning to the way your legs begin to shake that you’re about to finish and it drives him on. Hearing you gasp his name and tug on his hair as he relentlessly fucks you with his tongue has him clouded by desire and he doesn’t let up for a single second.

It’s no surprise you orgasm in the next minute and he loves the way he makes your back arch off the settee as the pleasure takes over your body. It washes through your system in waves and he doesn’t let up until he feels you push him back slightly, clearly over-stimulated.

You’re gasping for breath when Alex moves backup, smirking as he says, “I knew you’d sound fucking amazing.” and he doesn’t hesitate for a second to kiss you properly again. It grounds you back to the moment and he makes your heart stutter all over again, you love kissing him, it’s certainly a fun way to pass the time.

As you’re getting off with him though, Alex presses himself back down between your legs. With him grinding against you, there’s no doubt he’s making a mess but the friction is so good on your over-stimulated self you don’t care, all you can do is release a few pleasured hums that he silences with his lips. But the singer can only take so much before he needs more.

Alex pulls away, feeling his dick throbbing in his pants, and asks, “Can I fuck you now?

“Yeah,” You nod, opening your eyes to plead, “Please.”

He leans down to press a long kiss to your lips before grinning, “Let’s go to my room then, sweet.”

The singer helps you up and on the short walk to his room there’s many a stolen kiss as you both begin shedding each other of clothes. Alex’s shirt was the first to go, you pushed it back over his shoulders and it hit his bedroom floor seconds after he closed the door.

Before it even hits the ground, Alex has managed to get your top off, and to be perfectly honest you’re glad to be rid of it now. He kisses you fiercely again as he undoes your bra, and he manages to find the zip of your skirt without pulling away and once that’s pooled by your feet, you’re left bare in front of him.

Something which Alex can’t stand an extra minute without taking a glimpse. When he pulls away he doesn’t shy away from looking at your body and it’s everything he’s dreamt of and more. He holds back a groan to tell you that, “You’re stunning.”

His gaze is too intense though. He didn’t even look you in your eye to tell you that, and it makes self consciousness slip back in. You begin to pick your arms up to at the very least cover your chest, but the singer catches you and stops you, “No,” He shakes his head, looking you in the eyes now, saying, “Don’t hide yourself away, you’re stunning.”

Somehow his hands manage to slip between your body and arms so when he pulls you back against him, you’re flush against his chest. He holds himself back from kissing you for just a second so he can swear, “I’m going to make you feel so good, I promise.”

Again, the way he says it and the look in his eye has you believing and trusting him. So much so that you’re the one that grabs his jaw and pulls him down into another kiss.

Making out with him becomes more than passionate again. It’s like something else takes over the both of you. It’s not pretty or sincere, it’s lustful and fierce and it sets your skin on fire. You end up on his bed, him purposely hovering over you so you’re getting no relief, but that at least meant you were able to unzip his trousers, but that has Alex reaching a whole new level of desperation.

“Turn over and get on your knees.” He instructs you, pushing himself back up off the bed as he quickly grabs himself a condom from his drawer.

You can feel yourself throbbing now, the ache between your legs getting more intense when you’re positioning yourself how he wants you. Thank fuck there’s alcohol stopping you from overthinking because there’s no way you could do this sober, the embarrassment would eat you alive.

The anticipation is killing you, and hearing his trousers fall to the ground, presumably his boxers along with it has you wanting to whimper. You can practically feel him behind you, and when you hear the condom wrapper tear and then Alex’s soft grunt as he rolls the latex on, it makes you clench around nothing again. You’re desperate now, your desire for him is getting out of hand.

“You sure you want this sweet?” Alex asks, pumping himself a couple of times as if he’s not painfully hard already.

“Please.” You beg him, whining a little in anticipation. It’s a little pathetic of you to admit but you can’t stop yourself from continuing, “I need you.”

You can practically hear his smirk, “Need me?”

“Yes.” You tell him, and so he doesn’t make you say again you just add, “Please.”

Something excites you at the fact you’ve not yet seen how big he is. You don’t know what to expect, all you have to go off is the way you felt him through his trousers and you don’t think you’re going to be disappointed.

Feeling his hand run down your spine, you expect him to gather your hair or something, seeming like the type to want to pull on it, but instead he eases your shoulders down so your chest is against the duvet and it's just your arse is in the air for him. Without another moment to leave you wondering, you feel him grab your hips one second and the next the tip of Alex’s cock nudges your entrance which makes you gasp. But it's when he pushes forward between your legs letting him graze your clit too that has you whining for more.

Alex smirks hearing you, absolutely loving that he is the one having you react like this. The it’s him who is the one making you this desperate. He’s wanted nothing more for months than to fuck you, and he lines himself up because can’t waste another second.

You moan loudly into his duvet as he enters you and fills you to the brim. The sensation is eye watering. He feels so good. You don’t know why you’d waited all night to get it, you should have accepted the offer before you ever left your house.

He’s so much bigger than you thought. It’s a lot to accommodate to after a long time without any action, but you don’t quite know how you’re going to survive it. You just try your best to take a few long deep breaths in hope that you’ll relax a bit more and Alex seems to notice because he asks, “You okay, sweet?”

“Yes.” You nod, but your voice comes out pathetically weak, so you repeat yourself saying louder, “Yeah.”

“Good.” Alex takes a nice firm grip of your hips then, and he tells you, “Let me hear them noises you make.”

He pulls out a little then and thrusts back into you making you want to whine against the bedding again. But you hold them in until you can’t anymore. He’s deliriously good, his actions, his rhythm, the way his fingers dig into your skin, it's all so much but you can’t get enough.

Once Alex finds his fast but steady pace, you can’t control any of your reactions. It’s too much for you to mute the gasps and whines he’s drawing from you and you must admit that you like that. You’re glad everything feels good enough that you don't have to fake anything. He pulls you against him with each thrust and it makes you whimper.

You're gripping the sheets so hard you feel like you could tear them. And you know his grip on your hips will no doubt leave a bruise or two, but he feels so fucking good you don’t care. The angle makes you feel him so deep and he’s hitting the right spot over and over again and it’s making you see stars.

You think you’re doing well at not being too vocal, mostly because you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how good he is after being so cocky earlier. But then he opens his mouth and all of that goes out the window.

“Good girl.” He praises, squeezing your hips as he pulls you back to meet him that bit harder. He can’t help but watch as he disappears inside you over and over, and he groans at the sight and the feel of you, “Taking me so well Y/N.”

Unable to stop yourself, you moan loudly at that. And the sound itself had Alex following with a long, pleasured, “Fuck.”

“Harder, please.” You beg, knowing that a bit more pressure will have you finishing again sooner rather than later.

Alex doesn’t hesitate for a second, he does exactly what he’s asked and forces himself against you with that bit more intent and it has you clawing at the sheets. The noise of your skin connecting along with both of your moans is pornographic and it turns the both of you on even more.

Your skin has the fine shine of sweat coating it now, another tell tale sign that you’re getting closer to your climax. And with the way he keeps talking you up there’s no doubt that you think you’ll get there.

You bring your fingers up to your clit needing your release now and you groan, loving the way it’s adding to your pleasure. Alex, however, catches on and you only feel the bliss it brings you for a few seconds before it’s stolen from you.

Instead, you feel Alex pull your hand away and he secures it behind your back, holding it in place with his hand on your wrist.

Immediately, you beg, “No please. I-“

But Alex interrupts you, “I’ll make you cum, sweet, don’t worry. But I’ll be the one who decides when.”

“Fuck,” You scrunch your eyes tightly, the ache in your lower stomach and your throbbing clit is almost too much, “Alex, please.”

He can tell you're getting close, so he tells you, “Hold it.”

But that makes you beg even more, “Please I-“ but that has Alex wanting to edge you. He slows his thrusts right down almost to the point where he stops, “No! Don’t slow down.”

The singer takes no pity on you though, instead he leans down so his chest is against your back, enough for him to be able to whisper in your ear, “Don’t be greedy, you've already cum once.”

“But I- please Alex.” You whine, needing your release. You were so close and the now gentle slow thrusts have made it dissipate.

You want it to be back like it was, but Alex has other ideas. As he picks himself back up he warns you, “Take it or we stop.”

That makes you worse. You have to bury your head into the duvet for the minute he slows down. He’s loving dragging it out and teasing you, committing every moment to memory and he revels in it.

The way you’re mewling below him has him grinning, and he continues thrust slowly into you, he can’t help but tease, “Sound so needy for me now Y/N.”

It’s what he wants. He wants you desperate for him. So much that you’ll be happy with whatever it is he does give you, and the mere fact he’d brought you close once he knows it will make your orgasm all the more intense.

When he feels you getting more desperate and trying to back up into him, he gives in and asks, “What do you need, sweet?”

With half your face pressed into the bedding, you just about manage to get out, “You to fuck me harder.”

Alex squeezes your wrist that bit tighter to get you to continue, “And?”

“Play with my clit.” You beg pathetically but the singer doesn’t hesitate for a second.

With his free hand, he slides his hand over your thigh, between your legs once more and he finds your clit with ease. “Like this?” Alex cockily asks for confirmation, as if you aren’t already yelling out for him.

The way he starts fucking you hard again, each thrust hitting you exactly where you need him and that combined with him teasing your clit has you gasping for breath, “Oh fuck.”

It’s almost immediately that you feel your orgasm building again, this time so much more intensely. You can’t help but call his name as he ploughs into you over and over, “Alex!”

Clawing at the duvet isn't even working now. You’re being fucked so good it has you succumbing to every little desire and he keeps praising and saying filthy things to you as well which adds to everything tenfold.

“Can’t believe just how soaked you are for me.” Alex praises as he carries on stimulating your clit, feeling how drenched the tops of your thighs are from everything as well. He groans when he says, “Half want you to cum on my tongue again.”

“No, please,” You plead. You’re almost there now, you can’t have him changing things up again. You genuinely think you would cry if he did. “You feel good.”

“So do you.” Alex breathes heavily, punctuating each word with a thrust.

The volume in the room gets louder as your skin gets hotter. You can’t handle much more, you know you're almost there now and when Alex lets go of your wrist that he was still holding behind you back, and he reaches forward to grab your hair, wrapping it around his fist and using that as his leverage to pull you back into him. It has your back arching and your loud moan filling his bedroom.

“That’s it, sweet, can feel you’re close.” Alex praises, wanting you to give in now, “Let go for me.”

It only takes a few more thrusts from him until you’re seeing white and ecstasy takes over. You clench around him and Alex finds it difficult to fuck you through it, you feel so damn good and the sound of you reaching your climax has the singer finding his seconds later.

You’re not sure how long passes until you come back around. All you know is that when you finally do, your mouth is dry, your muscles ache and Alex’s grip on you is loosening. When he pulls out you whine and Alex utters a small apology, but you can’t bring yourself to move anywhere, you only do so when he goes to his ensuite to get rid of the condom.

When Alex wonders back into his bedroom, you’re just lying flat on his bed, still on your stomach. Now you’re just further up the bed and have your head on a pillow. He doesn’t blame you for resting, the whole thing took it out of him so he can imagine how much you’re aching.

Both of you are still out of breath when Alex lies himself down beside you, only he’s on his back and you’re still on your front. He can see that you have your eyes closed which he doesn’t exactly blame you for after that, but he also doesn’t want to call it a night just yet. Now he’s got a taste of you, he wants more.

“Are you alright, sweet?” Alex asks after about 5 minutes of you both catching your breaths.

You hum confirming you are, letting your lips twitch up a little before blinking your eyes open properly. He looks stupidly good, hair a little unruly and sweaty but also a little flushed and

Alex smiles a little, “You had fun?”

Despite having the best time with him, that embarasses you enough to not be able to verbally answer him. Instead you just nod into the pillow and give him a little hum again and you let your eyes fall closed again.

Sweet, is all Alex can think of the sight in front of him. You’re beyond sweet, it's almost sickly, he’s not used to it at all but because it’s you and you’ve been spiralling around his head for months he lets himself indulge.

After another minute of silently watching you, he almost chuckles when he points out, “This is the most quiet you've ever been.”

“Get out of my house right now.” You mumble into the pillow your face is squished against.

Alex laughs a little then, which you only realise why when he chuckles, “We came back to my flat.”

You open your eyes and look at him and his room around you and realise that you’re at a point now you’ve never been at before.

This gets your heart racing a little, what the fuck are you meant to do now? Do you awkwardly get yourself up and dressed to leave? Does he want you to stay? Do you just go to sleep now? You more than likely could as that was a workout in itself but does he want you to stay? But are you even supposed to stay?

You’re fairly certain that if it’s a one night thing you’re meant to leave? Hell, you even think that to maintain the boundary of friends or whatever the two of you are, once the benefits have ended, you’re meant to say thanks and bye and head your separate ways.

As you’re mulling all of this over, slowly getting more anxious about it, Alex feels like he can see the cogs turning in your head. You’re definitely overthinking something, probably having a hundred worries at once, so Alex opens his mouth ready to tell you to stop, but before he gets there, you ask him a question.

“So…” You feel so awkward asking, but you’d rather be told straight now than fumble over the predicament later, “Is this the part where you say it was a mistake and tell me to get out then?”

Alex almost laughs but he stops himself, before he shakes his head and tells you, “This is the part where you stop over-thinking and you let me make you cum again.”

Your eyes go a little wide at that. “You can go again that fast?”

The singer can’t help but chuckle at that being your initial reaction. He fucking loves the fact it wasn’t a rejection or a look of distaste on your face, just one of shock and curiosity.

“Can’t get enough of you, sweet.” Alex grins as he rolls onto his side so he can easily brush your hair behind your ear, before cupping the back of your neck. He whispers, “Come here” as he leans down and kisses you again.

And it was as easy as that for him to encourage you to ride his cock. Something which after you both got off with each other again, you definitely wanted just as much as him. You’re sure he’s not human because he keeps finding and unlocking all of these different things that you enjoy about being in bed with someone and he keeps using them to his full advantage.

Not that you’re complaining. You absolutely love it. And you can’t get enough of the feeling of his cock inside you.

Riding him feels different, and not in a bad way at all. You can still feel him just as deep inside you but it’s just a little more precise with where you want him. And god does he feel good.

One thing about it pissed you off though. You do all the work in the position and he’s just lying there, yes his hands are tight on your hips and you know you’re doing well because he’s moaning and groaning every time you roll your hips but you want more. You want him the way he was just before.

“Tell me I’m good.” You instruct with a pout, slowing down your movements just a little to give him more encouragement to do so.

However, this has him smirking, raising an eyebrow at you, “Oh, you want to be praised do you?”

He just knew that with the way you get anxious about things, you would definitely have a praise kink. And he can’t lie, he’s glad. He wants to see your reactions to his filthy compliments. Unfortunately for him though, you don’t see the amusing side.

“Just fucking talk to me like you did before Alex,” You snap almost because you didn’t even want to ask and you don’t want to be embarassed for asking when he should just act how he did before, “It’s fucking shit when the other person is silent.”

“Okay sweet, calm down.” Alex wants to laugh but he knows you’ll lose your temper at him if he does, so he does as he’s told, “Come on then, show me how good you can be for me.”

It has your hips moving as they just were again and Alex lets every little sound out of his mouth to try and encourage you. But when you start bouncing on his cock more he can’t help but praise you, whether you instructed him to or not, “You take me so well Y/N/N.”

You whimper at that, because you really fucking are. He’s big and you can feel him stretching you open every time you move, but it’s so much better than the last sexual experience you had however long ago now. You want exactly what he made you feel earlier and that only makes the urge you to carry on even stronger.

Alex can’t help but love the way you’re clawing at his lower stomach as you use him as leverage to move. You look so fucking good bouncing on his cock, your tits moving in time with you and the way your jaw falls open each time you bottom out on his has the singer wanting to bite on your swollen, wet lips even harder.

“Look at you go.” Alex grins, enjoying the feeling and sight of all at once, it makes it even harder to not burst into the condom there and then. He groans as he watches you roll and grind your hips on him before picking yourself back up and slamming your hips down again to meet his. “Riding me so good,” Alex groans loudly before adding, “Like you’ve been doing it for years.”

The praise almost makes shivers run down your spine, going directly to your core making you clench around him as you continue. His words light a familiar fire in you that's been dormant for a long time, to do better, to make him feel good - you’re certain you can get more out of him. Using your pelvic floor to your advantage, you clench tightly around him, making his eyes go wide and his grip tighten on your hips.

All you want is for him to think about you. You want to be good for him after he’s been so good to you, giving you two orgasms already. But you need to make sure you’re not easily forgettable, you want him to continue wanting you how he seemed to want you in the club. You want him to beg for you to be like this.

You love having him beneath you, entirely at your mercy with you controlling how it goes. The pleasure is too good to want to stop but you’re sure if you did you would hear pretty pleas and groans come from those swollen lips of his, begging for you to carry on. You haven’t felt this good in a long time, you’re soaking up the way the praise fuels your ego and makes you so much more confident.

This is how you want him to see you, not a nervous wreck every time he chats to you. If this is just for one night, you want him to remember you as the woman who made him lose his mind with want. The woman who gave him a good show that he will be thinking about for months and every time he sees you again.

The way Alex’s jaw drops and the groans he lets out as you ride him confidently makes you get into it more. You’re getting off at the sight and sound of him getting pleasure from you and it only makes you more sure of yourself. Especially when he starts losing his words over you.

“Oh fuck- sweet,” Alex groans loudly and breathlessly, “Fucking hell- fuck Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name like that, all whiney and desperate, feels like something you should be allowed to listen to on repeat in times of need just like this. You would love to see him like this all the time.

Rolling your hips with even more intent, you clench around him that bit tighter, enough for Alex to gasp and dig his nails into your skin, “Trying to make me cum, aren’t you?” He asks breathlessly, and when you just smirk down at him that bit breathless yourself, he can’t help but buck his hips up into yours as he tells you, “You feel so good Y/N/N.”

It goes on for another few minutes, Alex entirely spellbound watching you bounce on his cock, your tits almost begging to have his mouth on them as you tease them yourself, but he can only focus on clawing at your thighs and hips to make sure he doesn’t finish before you do. You’re worked up, Alex could see every single stage it progressed and how you got more confident in yourself when he started praising you, and he won’t stop, he just knows you’re growing tired.

“You getting tired, sweet?” Alex asks, not patronisingly at all, he just wants you to be honest.

You nod defeatedly, clearly not wanting to admit it even to yourself but definitely not to him. If he hadn’t already given you two orgasms, you’d have no trouble getting him and yourself off like this, but he’s made your legs weak one too many times already. There's only so much you can do and Alex knows you’ve definitely been trying to focus on his pleasure more than your own. So Alex decides to change that.

“Get yourself off, don’t worry about me. Focus on you.” Alex tells you as he grabs your hips, his thumbs pressing into where your hip meets your thigh, and pulls them down to solely grind against his own.

Your jaw falls open when he helps pull your hips forwards and your clit gets the attention it deserves. You close your eyes and moan at the sweet friction and the pleasure it builds inside you and lean forward even more, your hands resting over his heart to keep yourself up now and you can faintly feel the rhythmic beat under your palms.

“Just like that,” Alex smiles, his hands grasping your hips tightly to encourage you even more, “Good girl.”

You rock your hips against his over and over so your clit constantly hits his pubic bone and your jaw keeps dropping from the sheer intensity the pleasure is building with. White heat begins to pool at the bottom of your stomach and it grows with each passing second. You want more though, you need more of the man beneath you, so you put him to work.

Picking one of your hands up off his chest, you grab his wrist and demand, “Give me your hand.”

Alex doesn’t hesitate to let go of your hip and let you have control of him for a second, he must admit he’s a little curious what you were after. Surprise is not something the singer experiences often anymore, but when you move his hand up to wrap around your throat, Alex almost loses his composure because he’s so shocked.

“Oh,” The ‘fuck’ that Alex wanted to say he keeps to himself, and instead he teases, “You're not as innocent as you make out to be, sweet.”

Your eyes are dark as you backchat, “Never claimed I was anywhere near.”

It makes Alex tighten his grip on your neck, enough to have you moan and he feels the vibrations of it beneath his palm. It only spurs you on, grinding your hips against his with even more intent and it gets you so worked up you end up moaning loudly with every movement of your hips.

Alex fucking loves watching you get off and it’s him that’s the cause of your pleasure. He can feel you clenching and throbbing around him so he knows you’re getting closer to your high, and despite not feeling direct pleasure from you grinding your hips into him, the sight of you getting yourself off with his hand wrapped around your throat and you rutting against him could make him cum any second. You’re so fucking hot, it takes everything he has not to flip you over and fuck you until he’d be certain you couldn’t walk tomorrow.

Despite loving your pornographic cries, Alex moves his hand from around your neck and he traces your lips with his thumb before demanding, “Suck it, sweet.”

You do as you’re told, parting your lips and dipping your head so you take his thumb into your mouth and you suck on it. He presses down on your tongue enough to have your moans muted and he smirks when he teases, “Gotta keep that mouth of yours occupied so you don’t wake the neighbours.”

In another moment, you probably would have wanted to curl up into a ball and die at the thought of anyone but him hearing you and you probably would have scorned him for making you paranoid about it. But before your brain could even get there, the singer fucks up into you causing you to release long pleasure filled whines.

It goes on for another minute, and Alex knows you’re getting close, he can feel it and he can see the way the ecstasy inducing actions have you looking almost drunk. He’s going to make you cum a third time, and he’s very aware of it.

“You close?” He asks, not even needing a response because he knows you are.

Despite that, you nod confirming it for him, and he knows your answer before he even asks, “Need me to fuck you hard again, sweet?”

You whine and pull away from his thumb to say, “Please.”

“I got you, Y/N/N.” Alex promises as he lets his thumb trace your swollen lips before he drops his hand so his thumb can tease your clit.

“Shit Alex.” You gasp, needing that direct stimulation even more and it has you trying to bounce on his cock again.

You’re whiny and begging with everything you have other than your voice but you can’t stop, you’re so close, you just need that little bit more. You grab his wrist so he has to continue but your legs fail you miserably. You look to the man below you, those lust filled brown eyes meeting yours and you barely even have a chance to get out, “Al, please.” before he’s on the case.

In a swift movement, he rolls the both of you over, so your back is on the bed and he’s hovering above you. He quickly kisses you, just a quick intense one before pulling away, biting your lip as he does, and he asks, “You gunna cum on my cock, sweet?”

Nodding, you beg, “Please.”

Your nails are already digging into his shoulder blades and he feels them scratch down his back when he starts fucking into you with no remorse. His hips hit yours over and over and it makes pleasure burn through you. It’s constant, steady, endless and you only stay grounded when your fingers root through his hair and grasp it tightly when he kisses your neck.

His lips stay there, barely breaking contact from your skin even when he continues to praise you and tell you just how good you’re doing for him. But you lose your mind when he trails his hand down to your thigh and grabs it and pushes it higher, so he can fuck you deeper. It makes your world stop.

You don’t know what words fall from your lips as your orgasm finally hits you. All you know is that you’re loud and your body feels like it’s been electrified. White heat shoots through you and your nails scratch their way down his back and your other hand pulls harshly on his hair.

Alex is certain he’ll never forget the moment he made you cum for the third time. The way you scream his name, clench around him, and your nails dig into his skin is something he’ll remember forever. He’s obsessed with the way you lose yourself entirely, and after fucking into you a few more times he finishes himself and it’s the sweetest relief Alex thinks he’s maybe ever experienced.

The singer lifts his head, and you see that he looks all fucked out above you, and you’re certain you look the same. Alex can’t help but think you look so fucking stunning, all distant and dizzy and he will certainly take pride that he is the reason you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure. He’s so glad you agreed he could take you home.

Oh, what a night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

A/N: Well then... Really hope you enjoyed part 2! Let me know what you fancy seeing happen in part 3, I have ideas but I'm curious where you all reading want it to go! Please let me know what you thought of this part, and I will get on with writing part 3 for you. Whilst you wait, please check out another AMAZING Alex fic called Constant Repeat by @alovesreading you’ll love it I have no doubt! And thank you again for reading x

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[aeithalian]

Rick. Buddy. Amigo. Explain something to me. Real quick, I promise.

[The Trials of Apollo: The Tower of Nero, Chapter 4]

Good genetic package, Rick/Apollo? Are you sure about that?

Listen.

Estelle's physical description *clap* makes *clap* no *clap* sense. Why on earth does one of the only fully human characters in this series have to have unique and weird physical traits? Also, it makes no sense in the larger scope of Rick's writing style to have chosen this unless he had some sort of larger intention behind it. Not to mention the theories by fans haven't really done much to fully flesh out any perceivable reason as to why this might be:

Poseidon blessed Sally when she was pregnant - By far, this is the most believable to me, but it's still eh, because this feels very weird and I don't get the vibes from Poseidon that he would have done so to the extent that it shows up in Estelle's physical traits. Also if that were true, it doesn't make sense for Rick to just fully drop it in the story without the intention to flesh it out further, because to my knowledge he doesn't have plans for another novel that takes place after ToA.

Paul isn't Estelle's father - Firstly, this is out of character for Sally, and this doesn't fully justify why Estelle has Percy's eyes. PLUS, salt-and-pepper hair still wouldn't be natural for a newborn

Paul is Poseidon in disguise - This explains her traits the best, but Paul's character is so much more satisfying if this isn't true. It's also total bullshit.

Enter me. I have a theory. Yay. But first, we must discuss.

Firstly, I want to talk about her eyes. Going back to the theories, and based on my fair amount of knowledge of genetics (clarification: I write this as I procrastinate studying for my final genetics exam), the eyes are mostly interesting because Apollo specifies that they are immediately similar Percy's. The thing about eye genetics, though, is that they are what we consider to be 'complex traits', meaning that they are influenced by the interactions of multiple genes from both parents. What I mean to point out here is that Sally could definitely have the genes to produce two children with 'sea-green' eyes, considering her canonical eye color is blue. We don't know what Paul's eye color is, which makes my job a whole lot easier because I can assume that it doesn't directly contradict the possibility that Sally just has really strong eye genes (?). ALSO, who's to say that Poseidon didn't just change his eye color to match Percy's when he was born? Ah, yes, the perks of having a shapeshifting dad who seemingly loves you and your eye color a lot (but is still absentee, WHOOPS).

But what I actually found the most interesting about Estelle was her hair color. More specifically, the fact that Apollo says he's never seen an infant with that color hair. And we know Apollo is somewhat of an unreliable narrator (although this rarely affects his descriptions of people other than himself, and has also mostly evolved into a more honest narration since the end of book 3), but I believe we're supposed to trust this dude who just so happens to have been alive for over four millennia. Based on Apollo's previous descriptions of his own powers (see his conversations with Percy in TTC, when he pulls a Mufasa and basically admits to seeing everything the light touches), we know that Apollo knows and has seen a lot of stuff. So, how is this the first time he's seemingly witnessed this type of hair mutation?

I did some research, as one does. To me, it seems as if Estelle has what's called Griscelli syndrome, which is a type of rare autosomal genetic mutation that typically results in phenotypic hypopigmentation of the skin and hair. (It can also result in neurological disorders and immunodeficiency, based on the type, but I digress.) It's also pretty rare, considering both parents have to be carriers, and even then the child still has a one in four chance of being affected. Current statistics from the NIH say that Griscelli syndrome currently presents in less than 1000 Americans, and is rapidly fatal in 1-4 years without aggressive treatment.

That sad note aside, it's weird to me that the way Rick wrote Estelle's physical description makes it seem as if Apollo had never seen anything similar. I feel like a god of both medicine and knowledge would probably be a bit more up to speed with rare genetic disorders, especially because he's so old. The only explanations are that Apollo, in his mortal state, can't make a diagnosis, OR what he's seeing isn't actually something he can diagnose.

FURTHERMORE, from the same chapter, Apollo says something that muddies the waters even further:

It doesn't make sense that Apollo thinks that Zeus would take such an interest in Estelle. Her nature alone doesn't make me think that the king of the gods would take a sudden interest in a literal newborn, regardless of how much Apollo loves her (and honestly, I don't blame him).

What I think? Rick pulled the strings just tight enough that he has a very interesting plot point to go off of if he ever decides to pick up the pen again and write a new book.

What I think? Estelle doesn't have Griscelli syndrome, she is in much more danger than anyone realizes, and Apollo's subconscious put this together from the second he saw her.

Actually, let's rewind. I'm in the process of writing a fic (stay tuned!) and I had a random thought: do the Greeks have an apocalypse story? You know, like Ragnarök in the Norse mythos, and the Revelation stories in the Bible.

The answer? They don't. I guess that's what you get when the Greco-Roman gods are fully immortal and literally can't be killed.

That didn't stop the rabbit hole, though, and what I found was actually very interesting and I couldn't believe what I was reading.

I give you: Hesiod. More specifically, his poem Works and Days. More more specifically, his 'ages of man'. More more more specifically, the iron age.

For context, Hesiod was an ancient Greek poet who lived in the 8th century BC, and was walking right along with Homer in terms of fame at the time. The poem Works and Days is actually more of a really long Facebook post where he complains about anything and everything, especially in his section on the ages of man.

In summary, Hesiod wrote about what he perceived to be the five stages of human life since the creation of mankind by Zeus' hand:

gold: perfect in every way, pious, and blessed by the gods

silver: real bitches, the ugly middle child, so Zeus killed them

bronze: were so violent they wiped each other out

heroic: golden child, contained the heroes of the Greek mythos

iron: middle-aged men still living in their mom's basement

Hesiod wrote his poem during what he perceived to be the Iron age (it's really just him complaining about being born in the wrong generation), but he ends up listing a lot of qualities: 'everyone works too hard, the gods hate us, nobody respects family values anymore', blah blah blah.

I know what you're thinking: Tia, what does this have to do with an apocalypse?

Well, dear reader, bear with me. You see, every time Zeus didn't like an age of mankind, or it became too violent, or it generally wasn't pious enough, Zeus wouldn't hesitate to destroy that race and start over. Basically, an apocalypse.

So, you may ask a new question: what is the criteria for Zeus to destroy the Iron age? And, assuming that this is the age we're currently in, what would it take for Zeus to destroy everything our beloved Riordanverse characters know and love?

My friend, that is where Estelle comes in. Yes, a baby.

Take this excerpt regarding the Iron age:

"And Zeus will destroy this race of mortal men also when they come to have grey hair on the temples at their birth."

I think you see where I'm going with this.

My theory? Estelle, in her unique position as a bridge between not just the mortals and the demigods (eg. her relationship with Percy), but also the mortals and the gods (eg. her great impression on Apollo), is a living, breathing prophecy. A prophecy that the end is nigh for this current age of mankind.

Furthermore, I also think that Apollo made this connection, somewhere in the back of his mind, the very second he realized that her hair was entirely unique. According to Hesiod (who Apollo also mentions later in the book, so we know he knows who Hesiod is), the day that babies are born with gray hair (or, salt-and-pepper for the sake of the theory) is the second Zeus basically get the go-ahead to commit genocide.

This also brilliantly explains why Apollo suddenly, and seemingly without reason, makes to keep Estelle's existence a secret from Zeus, because he knows that it might be the easiest way to get everyone he knows and loves killed by his own father for "the greater good" as I'm sure Zeus will put it. Plus, in his mortal state, Rick didn't have to explain why Apollo did what he did, since Apollo's been having memory issues since the beginning of the series: why would he remember one line from a poem written almost three thousand years ago?

Frankly, Zeus doesn't care about mortals: the only reason he really cares about anyone is if they have enough power to threaten his own, or if they have some sort of power he can benefit from. This, certainly, falls under the category of the latter. Wouldn't you want a chance to remake humanity into the perfect image that it used to be? You would, if you hadn't gone through a five book long grow-a-conscience speedrun like our lovely Apollo over here.

Fortunately for Rick, this is such an outrageous theory that if it never comes to fruition, I won't be surprised. If he ever writes something similar, though, know I called it first.

EDIT: here's the fic i mentioned i was (am) writing

EDIT: a masterlist of my other metas

#riordanverse #trials of apollo #apollogists #also that fic i mentioned will definitely be including this #estelle blofis #theory #fan theory #also if you were wondering my genetics exam went well thanks for asking

[venusgirltarot]

What Would An Album About You Sound Like?

Disclaimer: This reading is for entertainment purposes only. Tarot readings are about possibilities based on your current energy. Energy is forever changing and nothing is set in stone. Always remember, you have your own free will to make whatever decision you feel is best.

Close your eyes, take a deep breath, envision the person you are thinking of and then choose the pile(s) you feel most drawn to.

Pile One

Ahhh okay this is so cute. Im going to try to explain this as best as I can, Pile 1. So this seems like a concept album. The idea of the album (not the sound but idea ya know) reminds me of “Melodrama” by Lorde. I’ll leave a quote here for a better description but it’s like a concept album about a single night

“Melodrama is described as a loose concept album that explores the theme of solitude, in the framework of a single house party with the events and moods that entail it”

The album about you is similar in the sense that it’s a “loose concept album” but it’s about the writer seeing you. It’s like you’re at this party that the songwriter is also at and they’re obsessed from the moment they lay eyes on you. You’re like this beautiful unobtainable being to them and they want to get to know you so bad but they just can’t seem to talk to you. This could also progress to a one night stand that never progresses to more because of a lack of communication to this album is going through the writer meeting you and watching you throughout the night and then goes into their regrets and what they wish they would have said to you the next day, if that makes sense.

They see you at a party and think you’re so beautiful but can’t seem to find the words to tell you that. I keep hearing “I like the way my bedsheets look on your body” from “hello!” By role model. (I believe that’s the right song but lmk if it’s wrong so I can fix it!) and I keep being reminded of this musician on TikTok “Chappell Roan” and their song “Red Wine Supernova” I think that’s similar to what this album would sound like and it also fits the aesthetic. I highly recommend you listen to this song because it fits your album so perfectly. I tried to find a lyric that resonates the best to include but they all work so well that I couldn’t choose.

Despite this entire album being about only you and just one night leading into the next morning, it’s still so diverse (I hope that makes sense) like you’d think there’s only so many songs you could write about a 12ish hour time frame and one person but this writer has endless things to say about you and the night you met them. I could see one song having a feature and it’s later in the album somewhere between tracks 7-12 or so. The aesthetic of the album is very neon lights, the dance floor on prom night after everything has died down and people are starting to go home, slow, melodramatic and just really pretty. Again, I highly recommend you check out “Red Wine Supernova” because it fits so well.

Track list:

1. Pretty

2. Blooming

3. missing you

4. Shinning Eyes

5. Dying Slow

6. Party Streamers

7. Old Fashioned (Feat. Another Artist)

8. Starlight

9. Nova’s Surprise

10. Sunset

11. morning after

12. You

Pile Two

Pile two, your album sounds like one written by Hozier, Noah Kahan or The Lumineers. It reminds me a lot of “Angela” by The Lumineers. Specifically the lyric “Angela, spent your whole life running away” and “vacancy, hotel room, lost in me, lost in you” it also reminds me of Ethel Cain in the sense that it’s a concept album about running away and starting a new life (but not as dark as ethel’s and with a much better outcome than she got. I heard “success story” it’s about leaving behind a difficult past and moving forward. There’s hope for the future in these songs, remembrance of the past and healing trauma. It’s a beautiful album with a good balance of different emotions. I could see this album coming with a short film or a series of music videos that piece together to tell a store. Similar to “III” by the Lumineers.

I keep hearing a few snippets from the deluxe version of “Stick Season” (that will be out June 9th 👀) like “Medicate meditate swear your soul to Jesus / Throw a punch fall in love give yourself a reason” or “we ain’t angry at you love, you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost” it’s such a beautiful album with so much soul and emotion.

I could see this album getting an acoustic live version that artists do sometimes like “Album, live from Wherever” you know? This album has very unique and catchy lyrics that stick with people, the type of lyrics people take and sell on things in their Etsy shop or use as a quote in their yearbook or put in their instagram bio. It almost feels like poetry. I also heard “escapism” this is the type of music that paints a picture and takes you somewhere else. This album will kind of chronologically tell a story about you moving forward and healing from trauma and finding a peaceful ending. Ending with a song like “Angelia”

Track list

1. movement

2. Adelaide’s Interlude

3. mother

4. farmhouse

5. leave me behind

6. baby blue

7. mustang

8. you’re gonna go far

9. more than this

10. peace

11. at your own pace

12. growing pains

13. at last

Pile Three

I feel like this album has a soft rock sort of sound? Like hozier with a rockier edge if that makes sense? It reminds me of the way hozier sings about love. He sings about a very deep and impactful love and his writing his like poetry and I think that’s what an album about you would sound like. I think this album could be about the writer/musician fighting feelings for you because they’re focused on career or are just concerned about the outcome of the relationship. They might have a fear of falling or something.

However, the last card I pulled was the 10 of cups so the outcome is very good. I feel like this album is coming from a reflective place like this is after yourself and your spouse have settled down and had kids or pets or whatever you would like and your partner is looking back at your relationship from the very beginning up until now and writing about it.

I keep hearing “I’m in love with an emo girl” I don’t think this is what the album will sound like but maybe that’s your aesthetic/vibe? This might just be conformation for you. I also keep hearing that Shania Twain song “you’re still the one” this is the kind of album that fans would dissect like narrow down the time you met your person and talk about every lyric and how that lyric relates to you and your relationship etc. this album talks about how devoted and in love with you your person is but also talks about the (I heard “trials and tribulations”) it took for you two to get there so it may include religious reference. Like religion by Lana Del Rey or Don’t Blame Me by Taylor Swift where there’s this slight aspect of religion/devotion to your partner.

You hear a lot about how you have to actively choose your partner everyday to make a long term relationship work and this album would definitely delve into that a little. It could also be produced by you and your partner’s mutual friends or people who have been there since the beginning or very early in in your relationship. I think this would be a longer album and there’s definitely 18+ songs on there 👀

Track list

1. October

2. Cosmic

3. Full Moon

4. Bourbon Street

5. She’s All Over Me

6. Starla

7. The Empress

8. Diamond Eyes

9. Find More of Me

10. Dreamscape

11. Escapades

12. Midnight

13. You’re All I Need

14. Mirror

15. Apartment 32

16. Deep End

17. Eternity

#free tarot readings #free readings #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarot reader #spirituality #tarotcommunity #tarot related #paid readings #tarot #love tarot reading

[lemurzsquad]

Hand Sanitizer

Pairing: Sakusa x gn!reader (platonic or romantic, up to interpretation)

Summary: You and Sakusa hate each other with a passion, and it's almost always a disagreement over hand sanitizer. So when you leave to wash your hands and don't come back, Sakusa learns why exactly you avoid using it so adamantly.

A/N: Okay so this fic. Hooooo boy. This fic. I've been wanting to write it for a while and finally have. It started as a "Reasons why I'm pretty sure Sakusa would hate me irl" and turned into this.

So I have a skin condition known as aquagenic wrinkling of the palms (or AWP), which affects my hands when they come in contact with water, which is what this fic is about. I never hear about this condition anywhere, and it's very lonely sometimes, and there's no real treatment for it (from what I've seen). So this is essentially a vent where I take my skin condition seriously for once instead of just making water allergy jokes to cope lol

(More info about AWP here)

Word count: 3898

cw: skin condition (non-graphic descriptions and discussion) (AWP - please read above), hurt/comfort, angst, crying, enemies to friends...?, emotionally constipated apologies from Sakusa, hand sanitizer is evil /j, vent, not proofread because I just wanted to get this done and posted to do literally anything else, (please lmk if I should tag anything else)

(Disclaimer: I am not a doctor, and everything written here is purely from my own experiences and observations. If you would like to learn more, please do your own research; this is not designed to be informative. It's purely for myself and for awareness.)

You and Sakusa had never gotten along.

You were certain you knew when it started, having been completely oblivious of one another up until that point.

It was when you were both first years in high school, and there happened to be a lizard in the classroom. You, upon seeing it, immediately proceeded to pick it up and ask the teacher to let you put it outside, to which they agreed.

You came back to the classroom, dusting off your hands, when a curly-haired boy took it upon himself to comment, “Go use some hand sanitizer, would you?”

You squinted at him, partly confused as to why he was talking to you and how you had never noticed he sat there before. “No thanks,” you answered, “I'd rather just wash my hands.”

“I don't think just washing your hands would be enough,” he rebutted with a sharp look behind his bangs. “You probably don't even know how to properly wash your hands.”

“Well, too bad! I'm not using hand sanitizer!” You were starting to get annoyed, crossing your arms.

Somehow, that seemed to make him even more disgusted, possibly at the thought that you were spreading whatever it was on your hands onto your clothes now, too.

The two of you threw jabs back and forth until the teacher separated you, which you were both happy to oblige. The animosity between you never seemed to quite dissipate even as the year went on and you became second years. You almost felt bad for the misunderstanding, knowing it was entirely your own fault, but how were you supposed to explain to this random kid that you couldn't use hand sanitizer even if you wanted to? At least, in your head you couldn't.

At some point, you and Sakusa became something of enemies within your class—renowned ones, at that. People would often ask the both of you why you hated each other so much, but your answers were vague at best.

“He's just so pretentious,” you said once.

“They're just so obstinate,” he said once.

And thus, an impasse stretched between you. You hadn't even learned his name until months after your first encounter, too bitter to really care.

Despite the efforts you both went through to avoid being within the presence of the other, you somehow still ended up nearby. Maybe it was your teachers attempting to make you get along—maybe it was the universe laughing in your face.

Throughout that entire time, you still faithfully avoided hand sanitizer like the plague. The one time the nearest bathroom was out of order for a little while and you couldn't wash your hands, you used as little of the accursed substance as you could. Whatever microscopically thin layer that coated your hands there was, you shook it off almost violently, simultaneously disgusted by the feeling of something on your skin and afraid of what it might do.

The disapproving look Sakusa gave you when he saw that was palpable.

At some point, you hated each other mostly out of principle. You'd both kept it up this long—it would be weird to suddenly just let it go since your flimsy justifications seemed enough until now. To admit that you were being unreasonable would be worse than getting along, you separately reasoned.

So when you were paired up for a project, you couldn't help but grimace. Sakusa was the first to go up to the teacher about it.

“I can't work with them,” you heard him say. For once, you agreed with him.

The teacher, however, dismissed his concerns with a wave, saying, “In life, you don't get to pick who you work with. Sometimes you'll have to try to put aside your differences to get your work done.”

It sounded stupid to you, like some half-hearted excuse so they wouldn't have to rearrange seating or partners. But it's not like you had any place to argue, so you resigned to just sucking it up.

Instead of working together, you both divvied up tasks as quickly as possible and did what you assigned yourselves—separately.

All was going well; you ignored each other and worked on the project silently. Despite other groups discussing their plans and the room being filled with chatter, your share corner was dead silent save the sound of pen on paper.

Which didn't last long when suddenly the tip of your pen snapped off. The now open ink tube spilled onto your hands, and when you tried to minimize the damage, it only got worse. By the time you dropped the pen onto your open notebook, raising your hands in surrender, they were absolutely coated in black splotches. A sense of defeat washed over you as you watched your words get covered and your paper stained in ebony.

Taking a moment to glance at your already ruined hands, you just resigned to picking up the pen and throwing it out. It was your favorite pen, which was unfortunate. It couldn't be helped, you told yourself.

Sakusa had noticed you flailing about your desk, silently judging you for the clumsy mess you made when you should have just thrown out the pen the second it broke to avoid the noir crime scene that now covered you and your area. He scowled knowing you would now have to redo whatever you had written for the project.

It was nearing the end of school, the class you were currently in being the final one of the day. You approached the teacher's table and asked if you could go wash your hands. They checked the clock to see about twenty minutes left before replying, “Make it quick.”

You walked past Sakusa's desk on your way to the door. He made the snide remark, “You could get the ink off really well with hand sanitizer.”

It took everything in you not to snap back at him, but you just hurried past, careful not to touch anything on the way out.

Sakusa knew he would never understand you. From the moment you met, you stubbornly refused what seemed to be basic courses of action. Touch something dirty? Use hand sanitizer. Eating? Wash your hands before and after to keep from touching anything.

The couple of times he had seen you wash your hands, it was very brief, and you seemed to avoid using the air dryer, opting for paper towels that were arguably undoing whatever progress you made in washing your hands.

At the same time, you avoided any task that would require you to touch dust or water. You always asked to sweep or clean windows, so much so that everyone just ended up giving you those tasks to get you to stop asking. If you did get something on your hands, you immediately wiped or shook it off, seemingly disgusted. You would even briefly run it under water just to dry it on your clothes so they weren't wet. It seemed there were things worse than water if you were willing to rinse them off.

But it was still that one avoidance that came between you: the hand sanitizer. It was practically the same as water, and it dried quickly. Even if it was comparable to washing your hands, it was still much more convenient in most scenarios. Yet you continued to adamantly refuse to ever use it. At some point you declared, “I would rather die,” when he had tried to squeeze some on your hand, earning him his wrist grabbed and pushed away. 

He just didn't understand.

So when he found you sobbing in front of the stairs, opening your hands and clenching them closed into loose fists repeatedly, he was beyond confused.

You hadn't come back to class after leaving to wash the remnants of your broken pen, so the teacher decided it was your project partner, Sakusa, who should find you and return the belongings you left behind. He went over to your open notebook that remained just where you left it and noted the handful of words that were still visible. 

Sakusa folded the cover over, enclosing the now dried puddle of ink. The remainder of your things he scooped into his arms, leaving the room once the halls had cleared a significant amount. As much as he wanted to just leave your things and go to volleyball practice, he figured it would end poorly.

Plus, what could possibly have kept you out of class for so long that you would have left everything behind? There was no way it had taken that long to get most of the ink off of your skin, so either you had just skipped the last bit of school or something happened. Since you hadn't taken your wallet with you with your IDs (he checked your bag when he put the notebook back inside, sure that it was completely dry), he reasoned it was probably the latter.

“Tsk.” They would have been able to get it off with hand sanitizer, he thought, brows furrowed. This is such a waste of time.

Sakusa wandered through the halls when he didn't find you by the bathrooms. He was starting to think it was a lost cause trying to return your bag; he even had to text his cousin to tell him why he would be late. It wasn't until he got to a particularly empty hallway did he hear something.

Quietly, in a dark alcove with a set of stairs leading up, a figure was huddled against a wall. Their tears were soft but anguished, stifled because it was in the environment of school. Sakusa had tried to ignore them until he realized it was you.

You held your palms up just past your knees that were pressed against your chest. You opened and closed your hands, a fresh cascade of tears painting your cheeks as you choked back a sob. You pressed—with more pressure than could have been painful—your thumb into the center of your other palm, nails digging into the back of your hand. You set your closed eyes on your knees with the hope that it might stop the water that leaked from them.

Sakusa, with great caution, approached your hunched figure. He didn't want to, he really didn't. You were the person he probably hated the most at his school, but somehow he knew he'd seem like an awful person if he didn't at least give your belongings to you directly—he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of another thing to hold over his head.

And yet those thoughts went to the back of his mind when he crouched down in front of you. His mask and curly hair obscured his focused expression as he tried to study your current state. The moment you seemed to hear him there, you held your breath and repressed your already quiet cries.

When Sakusa got close, you buried yourself further in to hide your face behind your knees and clenched your hands even more.

He frowned and something in his chest tightened. His brows furrowed deeper over his eyes and he huffed. He saw your nails digging into the skin on the backs of your hands.

“That's going to leave a mark if you keep doing that.” It came out more biting than he had meant it, but he was being serious.

It was then that you could no longer hold back your sobs, almost choking on your own tears. The grip you had of your hands softened and unlinked; instead, you lightly shook them apart from each other. Sakusa had to take a moment to process, but it almost seemed like there was something wrong with them. 

He just wanted to get you to stop crying so he could give you your bag. As much as he hated the gesture, he asked, “What's wrong with your hands?”

You curled your lips in to bite down on them, fighting back hiccups. With your eyes tightly screwed shut, you upturned your palms.

The sight alone made Sakusa's eyebrows fly up in shock. 

He didn't mean to, but he grabbed your wrist to get a better look. Ignoring the ink stains that faintly persisted, there were pale, patchy splotches in the center of your palm and on the side edges of your fingers; there were even some tiny pale rings on the periphery of the bigger splotches. But underneath that, the skin seemed as if it had soaked in water for hours or maybe even days. Not only were there dozens of deep crevice lines trailing from the tips of all of your fingers to their bases but the lines on your palms were more prominent, surrounded by profound, dense wrinkles that spanned the entire surface.

His eyes darted around your hand for a few moments just trying to comprehend what he was looking at. It looked unnatural—it looked painful. And when he met your gaze, he saw unidentifiable emotions flash across it. Was it shame? Regret? He couldn't be sure aside from the blood that seemed to drain from your face.

You tried to pull your hand away, but Sakusa wouldn't let go. His eyes never left yours, searching for some kind of answer. When he couldn't find it there, he asked, “What happened?” It was soft, calm, and even, enough to make you tear up a little again.

The second time you tugged, he released your wrist. You pushed your thumb into your palm again, looking away. Hiding your hands away in the space between your stomach and where your legs were still tucked against your torso, you sniffled a few times and tried to even out your breathing.

“I-It's normal… it just h-happens when I-I touch water…” You stuttered and mumbled between hiccups.

“That is not normal,” Sakusa said a little too quickly and curtly, realizing it probably would have made it seem like he was berating you.

With another sniffle, you said, “It's a– it's a skin condition.” You started to scratch your palms partly out of stress and partly out of the persistent stinging. “It reacts to water i-if I touch it for too long.”

His eyebrows knitted in concern. “Was that from washing your hands then?”

You gave a small nod, still avoiding his gaze. “I couldn't get the ink off and ended up w-washing them for too long…”

“You could have just used hand sanitizer,” he said genuinely. For the moment, he almost forgot he was supposed to hate you, more focused on being worried than anything.

Your answer was your head shaking rather fervently. “No, I can't.” You lowered to set your forehead against your knees again. “Well, actually, I don't know. I-It just scares me and I don't want to r-risk any more pain than I already have. I haven't h-had good experiences with it…”

“What did hand sanitizer ever do to you?” It came out snarkier than Sakusa had meant. He slowly lowered himself to sit with his legs crossed in front of you, your bag still next to him.

You let out a heavy breath. “I was a dumb kid in elementary,” you started. “I had an obsession with scented hand sanitizer for probably a few months. I used it multiple times a day, and even though I don't know for sure if it's related, my hands got worse after that year I think. Only after that did I finally go to the doctor to get it diagnosed after my mom did a ton of research. I agreed to avoid hand sanitizer from then on. I just don't want to risk being in more pain…”

You both went silent.

“Oh…” It was all that left Sakusa's lips. A sudden wave of guilt crashed into him. All of the times he had berated you for not using hand sanitizer and all of his snide, rude, annoyed remarks resurfaced in his conscience. He felt terrible. He felt bad. Someone was hurting and all he did was throw lighter fluid on their problems—for months—and it seemed there was finally a spark to set it all ablaze. The thought that he started it all made it worse.

“Stop with whatever weird look you have on your face.” You squinted at him and his downturned, scrunched face. You'd calmed down enough to be making quips, it would appear. “It's not like I can do anything about it.” You shrugged, half-hearted.

He searched your face again for any sign of emotion aside from blank resignation, but he couldn't find anything. “Is there no treatment?”

You shrunk down further into your huddle, not vocally answering, but the answer was still clear.

Something about the whole situation made his heart hurt; it made him upset, he realized. “So what, you just have to avoid water?”

The nod of your head to the side looked pathetic as you avoided his eyes. After several seconds of silence, you said, “I used to love swimming. It's not like I can't, it's just… it hurts and it makes me feel gross. I don't even like the beach anymore because if I go in the water and get my hands wet, there's no real place to dry them off.” You laughed humorlessly. “It's stupid. You'd think I would get more used to it and get over it as I got older, but it just made me more upset. Why me? Why did I have to get stuck with a condition that's rare and isn't really bad enough for people to care enough to find a treatment? At least, it feels that way…

“I know it's awful, but I sometimes wonder, ‘Why didn't I get stuck with something worse? Then I might have a way to treat it. Then people might care.’”

You glanced up to judge Sakusa's reaction, instantly regretting spilling your feelings and questioning why you did. Tears threatened to flood over again and spill from your eyes. You felt helpless; not only from your condition but also from being stared down by the person you were certain despised you more than anyone. You were giving him more ammo to be disgusted and to detest you, too.

But you couldn't find his face. His ebony bangs hung down like a curtain and his mask further obscured your view, his downturned line of sight completely blocked out.

When the silence was beginning to crawl around on your skin and became almost deafening, you took in a sharp breath and held it for a moment before breathing out a tiny apology. “Sorry… you don't wanna hear about this…”

“No.”

“...No? No… what?”

“No…” 

Sakusa was struggling to get out the right words. How does he say sorry to you in a way that you might actually believe? How does he tell you that you're allowed to be upset, that you can talk about it? How does he make you understand that it's okay?

And how is he supposed to get you to believe it when it's coming from him?

His voice sounded almost angry but not at you—it was for you. “You can be upset,” he said between gritted teeth, hands clenched into tight fists. “No one deserves to have to live everyday avoiding something so common just to not be in pain. And no one deserves to have some jerk constantly making light of it even if they don't know.”

The way your eyes widened and water dripped down your cheeks in sudden streams said it all. “Oh…” was all you could muster before you completely broke down. No one you had ever told about your condition had seemed to fully grasp how much you were hurting inside, how every day was a struggle to avoid reminding yourself of how awful your hands were, how even looking at your own hands sometimes made you ashamed and loathing of yourself. It was a constant reminder that there would always be something wrong with you; you would always be broken, and there was no way to fix it.

Sakusa let you cry with the renewed emotional rush. He remained firmly planted where he sat, not moving an inch. He was not going anywhere.

And he didn't, even as your sobbing slowed to quiet sniffles and wiping mostly dried tears. It took a while before you finally muttered, “Thank you… No one's ever said that to me before…”

“Well, they should.” His words were curt but lacked any sharpness to them.

When you looked up to meet his eyes, he turned them away from you. Hesitantly, he uttered, “Look, I can't promise you that we'll get along, but I can assure you I'll try not to bother you anymore. No more stupid hand sanitizer comments anymore, either.” It was the only peace offering he could make for a chance to pave a path towards making amends.

You let out a breath through your nose that was close to a laugh before hiccuping, “Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we'll work on our group project together.”

“Don't push it,” he answered, quickly and humorlessly. It only made you laugh, although he couldn't comprehend why.

“It's getting late,” Sakusa tried to divert. “You should head home.”

You reached for your phone, and the little numbers on the screen confirmed his statement. Suddenly, a flash of panic crossed your face. “I don't have my bag,” you state frantically, “or any of my stuff.”

It was then that Sakusa held up the original object of his search for you, gently lowering it to the ground. “The teacher told me to bring it to you since you never came back.”

Relief washed over you in a calming rush, and you finally seemed to relax. You pulled your knees away from your chest and sat with your legs crossed. Confirming that everything was in your bag, an immensely relieved sigh left your lips in a gust.

“Thank you.” Your gaze was earnest, trying to convey just how much you meant your words to make sure it sunk in.

Sakusa just grumbled, “Whatever.” He was back to his usual self despite how he stumbled embarrassingly when he got up and realized his legs had gone numb. He reluctantly offered up his hand to help you stand, but you only looked at it for a moment, mouth pressed into a line, before you got to your feet on your own.

He pretended he hadn't tried to assist you, instead pivoting on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets with a slouched posture. Without another word exchanged, you both headed towards the school's entrance.

The air fell into a comfortable quiet until then. When you did reach the entrance, however, you both stopped in your tracks. You turned to Sakusa, giving him a soft smile and a small wave, and headed down the street. Only when you turned the corner, out of sight, did he head back towards the volleyball gym. He was so horribly beyond late that it was almost laughable.

But he didn't care, knowing it meant someone was there in that very moment for you when you needed it most. So what if he also started to mend whatever nonexistent relationship was there in the process? What mattered was that someone told you that it was okay.

And Sakusa was okay with that. Being late to practice wasn't nearly as pressing as his long overdue apologies. What could be more important than that?

Do not copy and/or repost!! Any likes or reblogs are appreciated, though! (c) 2024 LemurzSquad

#haikyuu #haikyu!! #haikyuu!! #sakusa x reader #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa x gn!reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x gn!reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #lemurz writing #hurt/comfort #angst #enemies to friends trope #skin condition #writing #fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #hand sanitizer #platonic or romantic

[linddzz]

32 with Dreamling? 👀

Smut Prompts:

#32: A suffers from pent-up stress and frustration. B offers their body for them to use to get rid of negative emotions.

Edit: Full fic on AO3

Wordcount: 6977 (nice)

Warnings: Canon typical descriptions of violence. Dream being an unhinged little nightmare, but Hob is so down for it. Also, it's a smut prompt. So there is smut. Dicks abound. In typical fashion it took me a while to get to said dicks though. No beta and only the barest editing.

Summary: Service Dom Hob is here to give his bizarre Eldritch boyfriend the tenderest, gentlest domming of his Endles existence. Dream is still going to be a hissing little brat about it. Tbh I waffled a bit on which way to go with this one, but realized that what I really want sometimes is to have Hob scruff Dream like the pissy wet cat that he is and tell him to SHUSH while Dream goes all ragdoll. I also fully embraced a horny headcanon of mine where Dream is more sensitive to physical touch in the Waking.

Shout out to @amahhi, because I picked little bits from our RP here and there for this. What can I say, we got a good Dream and Hob.

Edit 2.0: trying to get the blog unflagged, so the read more has the fic up to the spicy bits. Full fic is in the AO3 link 🙃

-----

It's been a very normal, mundane, and drab sort of day when Hob comes home at the end of it. There's the standard London drizzle tapping away at his window, transforming the world outside into a melting blur of darkening gray shot through with bright smears from electric street lights coming on one by one.

Electric lights. Brilliant. Literally brilliant. They're all going to pay for it in the long run of course, but fuck is it nice to just come home and flick a switch - like so - to light a room up. 

There's a corpse on his sofa. 

The corpse is on its back, arms rigid at its side. Its skin has a drained, cold paleness with veins as gray as the current sky. The face is perfectly still and perfectly expressionless, with flat blue eyes open and unseeing towards the ceiling. The startling ghastliness of the corpse is offset by the soft black t-shirt, along with black pajama bottoms decorated with alarmingly cheerful blue stars.

This is also, increasingly, a normal part of his day.

"All right, love?" He asks, shutting the door behind him. The first time he came home to Dream lying out stiff and apparently lifeless in his flat there had been a bit more yelling and panicking, followed by careful explanations about what the unexpected sight of a pale and unmoving body with open, unseeing eyes showing up in a safe and comfortable space can do to someone who has been through a few wars.

It kept happening, which meant Dream did not actually understand. But now Dream always makes an effort to put his form into pajamas first, possibly with the logic that if he were dressed comfortably for sleep, then he couldn’t possibly look like a corpse. Which meant he was trying, even if severely misguided. It's more touching than it should be.

The corpse on the sofa routine all started when they became...whatever they are now. The best explanation Hob ever got was that a chunk of Dream’s duties involve delving into the vast unconsciousness of himself, sinking into the wild depths that were made of every dreaming mind that created him to make sure everything was flowing smoothly. 

It was all very metaphysical in all the ways that Hob tries not to think about too much. When he compared it to a computer shutting down for maintenance, he got himself a curdled look of such offended disgust that he knew he was on the money. He compared it to sleep instead, which mollified Dream at the time.

In the past this deeper delving into himself was done from the throne room. Then Dream started showing up in Hob's flat every now and again, refusing to explain why. Hob isn't stupid, so he doesn't ask why after the first few times. Whatever the metaphysics of it, Dream wants to come here and lie on Hob's furniture being vulnerable in the Waking world, despite all his grumblings about said world. Dream may not be able to explain the want for a space outside of work to go to, but Hob gets the difference between grading papers at his office and doing it in his living room. The fact that Dream seeks this space out makes Hob's chest go all fluttery and hot, and he will never question it ever.

It's why he doesn't make a fuss about the fact that Dream hasn't figured out that he looks like a fucking horror movie prop when he does it.

“Obviously.” Dream rumbles in answer. His voice has a deep, slow resonance that's being dragged up from the darkest fathoms. It's a growling sneer, the sharp warning crack of a cliff face about to give. It says that asking things like “all right?” is the most low, simple mindedly human thing Hob could ask, because there is no reason Dream would be otherwise.

“That sort of day then? Budge up.” Hob tosses his coat to the chair, which earns him an annoyed huff of a sound, and shoves a space for himself by Dream's hip, which earns him a growl. 

“What. Sort of. Day?” Dream asks darkly. He turns his head, slowly. His movements are always slow when he's coming up from his not-sleep, and Hob is always fascinated by the process. He imagines Dream reeling himself back from wherever he has gone to, a long thread of his consciousness spooling up to refill the shape of his body. The waxy deadness in his skin doesn't exactly liven up, but it becomes more luminous. The stiffness melts from carved stone to…well not relaxed but something with a bit more give to it than stone anyway. The eyes change the most. The empty flatness of them turns into a clear, bright blue. They're flashing with liquid fire when Dream looks up at Hob, even if the rest of him is still an angrily stiff bunch of sharp edges.

“Not a great one, I think.” Hob leans, propping his shoulders on the back of the couch with Dreams waist and arm against the small of his back. Dream turns his head with his jaw clenched, and Hob reaches out, brushing the backs of his curled fingers in the barest caress over the plane of Dreams cheek.

There's a nearly imperceptible tremor in the core of the body he's leaned himself against. The corners of Dreams mouth tightens, and his eyes flare, like that lightest touch has opened a raw nerve. 

“Maybe the sort of day I could help you forget?” Hob murmurs. He hasn't decided exactly what he's offering when he offers it. They could just stay here, watching some meaningless picture while Dream stays pressed between Hob and the sofa, and Hob combs his fingers through that downy soft black hair until all the tension melts from him. Hob could make that milky, sugary lavender infusion Dream is fond of and kiss him slow and sweet for hours. They could have a wild shag or the easiest love making. Whatever will help ease the coiled tension that’s churning just beneath Dream’s carefully still surface. Anything.

The caress continues. Hob traces his fingertips up the edge of Dreams cheekbone and sinks them back into the wild black hair to cradle around that impossible skull. There's a suspicious scraping sound down by his hip.

“That better not be you clawing up my upholstery.” He hums, rubbing his thumb over the hairline at Dreams temple. “Come on love, what do you want?”

“What. I. Want?” 

The stillness breaks. A hand snaps up and clamps around Hob's wrist. Dream surges up, sitting awkwardly with Hob nearly in his lap, his eyes flashing dark and his teeth bared close to Hob's mouth.

“You would offer yourself then? A sacrifice to what you would call a bad day?” Dream asks, his voice dropping into a hard scrape. There's a sharp prick against the skin of Hob's wrist as claws grow from Dreams fingers. “You ask for what I want?”

“Obviously.” Hob repeats Dream’s earlier answer back at him. This is always the most uncertain part, when Dream is in one of these moods. This night could go a million different ways, but Hob finds himself keen for any of them. Any that keep Dream right here with all of his attention, snarling or otherwise, right on Hob that is.

There's a hiss of sound, sharp and explosive. The sharp pricks against Hob's skin turn into bright bursts of hot pain, and he feels the wet slide of blood down the inside of his arm. There's a shudder, and Dream suddenly curls down against him with his forehead ground into the curve of Hob's shoulder at the base of his throat. It's an awkward reach, but Hob brings his far arm around to run his palm up the knobbed curve of Dreams spine.

“It's alright, love.” He whispers. The slump is not a loosening at all. Hob can feel the jerky tension in every line of Dream’s body, and his love feels like a spring winding tighter and tighter.

“No.” Dream spits. “You ask what I want. The things I want. You are foolhardy. Brash. You understand nothing. Ignorant.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, my Dream.” Hob keeps running his hand up and down Dream’s spine, thinking that he really is wound up if those are the best insults he can come up with.

There's a bizarre, inhuman sound. A sharp, jagged, snarling grind. Dream's other hand splays against his ribs, vibrating and sharp. The Endless goes quiet again, and Hob keeps stroking his back, happy to wait for whatever comes next.

“The way you say my name.” Dream whispers. “I want to open your ribs and make you say it. I want to pull each apart, one by one, like the petals of the rarest flower. I want to splay them, pin them. Expose the secret parts of you. I want to see how your lungs fill and shrink when you say my name, when you scream it. I want to see how your heart beats when you dream of me. I want to put my hand around it and feel the precious fluttering of it when I punch my fingers through the chambers. I want to feel it burst like the most wondrous fruit plucked out and crushed in my grasp. I want to feel the pockets of your lungs crackle against my palms when they fill with air. I want you to be screaming my name when I do it.”

His hand moves as he talks. Long fingers drag along the valleys between Hob's ribs, slow and methodical. They're also shaking, a sharp electric buzzing of claws through Hob's button down shirt. 

That sort of night then?

“If you're trying to scare me off, you’ve already done that sort of thing in a few of my more exciting dreams.” Hob points out.

“I want to do it here.” It isn't even a whisper now. It's just an exhale shaped into words. Hob notices that it isn't a threatening snarl, or the low purr of Dream enjoying the build up to a grand old violently nightmarish time. There's a shivery dread. A horror deeper than the obvious goriness of it all.

“You fantasize about killing me?” Hob asks, curious. Ok fine, it wouldn't actually kill him, but it would feel like it.

“You can't die.”

It's an immediate response. Breathless. Rapturous. Terrified. Hob is starting to get the idea of what's going on here.

“Scariest thing you've said to me, that was.” He observes with some interest. It's true, after all. He's just learned that his immortality fuels his love's apparent wish to vivisect him in the plane where they both know it would hurt the worst, where the violence of it would be all of the bloody screaming reality without the cushioned fantasy of the Dreaming. Dream admitted that in a way that was clear that he thinks about it regularly. It is, objectively, a scary thing to learn. There it is. Horrifying and alarming. Huh! How about that.

He doesn’t pretend to be surprised at himself when his cock twitches against his jeans. The only thing he isn’t sure of is if it’s the violent idea itself, or the fact that Dream is very obviously holding himself back from affectionately mauling him right this instant.

He's still petting his hand up and down Dream's spine, and he can feel the way his love bunches in on himself with a cracked whining sound that makes Hob's chest ache like his heart’s already been torn and exposed for the soft tender thing it is. There are talons still scraping anxiously at Hob's ribcage. There are still claws dug into his arm, but with less force than before. Dream is tense, already in a state, and in the fine process of working himself up into what could possibly be a legendary tantrum of self loathing.

“Right.” Hob declares, coming to a decision. “First thing: put a pin in that idea. I have to sit on it a bit and work up to it, but I did just get a little hard there, so it's not entirely off the table. I don't think that's what you want right now though.”

Dream froze with shock halfway through that, and Hob knows the best course of action is to keep moving before that impossible head has enough time to tangle itself up in a new way. The hand on Dream's spine sweeps up and grabs Dream by the nape, hard. 

There is an explosive hiss of incredulous shock when Hob yanks him back. The face that Hob pulls off of his shoulder has wide obsidian eyes and a snarl with a wicked set of fangs. He holds the nightmare scruffed, meeting glittering dark eyes while his heart pounds with what isn't nearly enough actual fear.

“You want me to stop you.” 

Dream’s eyes widen further, the hand on Hob's wrist drops lifeless to the sofa. Hob watches a burst of pink bloom across the unnatural white of his cheeks before the response is wrestled back down. Dream’s eyes narrow, but he's watching Hob closely.

“You are. Incapable. Of stopping me.” He growls. It's not a threat, just reality. Which is how most of Dream’s threats go.

“You're going to let me though, I think.” Hob says. He digs his fingers a little into the hard muscle of the back of Dream's neck, and takes several mental notes on the way the nightmare’s head lolls back and the hand on his ribs goes still. Hob turns where he's sitting to bring one leg up on the sofa, to bring himself closer to the odd monster he loves so dearly. He pulls Dream further, already feeling dizzy at the way the jagged, black eyed nightmare with his luminous white skin and razor teeth goes pliantly until he's leant back, practically being dipped with Hob over him.

“I think you need to let go, love. But you don't like what you might do if you let go.” He says with a smile. “How about we try things my way hm? You let go, but you hand the reins to me. Let me take charge.”

Dreams face goes through some fascinating shifts. He gazes up at Hob with such a raw, wounded want that it looks painful before the expression flinches when Hob's other hand comes up to stroke his cheek again. There's a jerk though Dream's limbs, and Hob is sure the joints are doing things that would make him feel queasy if he looked.

“You…here?” Dream asks, and his voice is thin and sharp and shivery. Hob knows why Dream’s clarifying that, and why here is making Dream writhe and flush with his mouth stretched a little too far on teeth that weren't meant for a human jawline. Hob knows that things feel different for Dream, when he's in the Waking. He's a creature of thought and idea, and touches in the more physical Waking world come across stronger than he's used to, more overwhelming. It’s not that Dream never bottoms, or even that he never submits. But it’s always in Dream’s own realm, where his submission isn’t really submission at all, but a coy play where he acts up the part of a sweet wilting fae lover or a wanton hedonist. He has a harder time staying in control of the situation, when they’re in Hob’s world, where there are less heated fantasies for him to sink himself into.

And the Dreamlord would never admit it, but Hob has noticed the way he keeps showing up in the Waking world to initiate things, even if it's just to cuddle up against Hob and find ways to get petted until he turns into a shivering puddle of nerves. But cuddling here is one thing, this is something else, something new.

“Here.” Hob nods, stroking his thumb slow and firm over Dream's nape, feeling the little vibration that goes down Dream's spine from that point. “I need you to say you want me to though, ok?”

That gets a furious, low hiss of a growl. Dream’s eyes flash and he snaps his mouth full of razor teeth with the sound like a bear trap. Hob lets him squirm and hiss and shudder. He's always such a trembling little thing, like there is too much going on inside for his outer shell to hold in. One day, Hob is going to properly catalog all of the ways his cosmic power of a lover shivers like a leaf when he thinks he's keeping himself all grim and stoic. 

“You. Wish me …complicit.” Dream hisses, the words grinding out from his chest, as there's no way the wide maw of needle teeth is currently capable of speaking that clearly. “You would have me voice it. Admit to it. To be brought low and ragged.”

“I want your consent,” Hob huffs a small laugh, which might not be the best response but God does he love this proud twit, “you pretty, deranged little thing. I'm not doing anything if you don't actually want me to, and we can stop at any point. It's important to me that you get that.”

“My consent,” Dream spits, and this time there's a tearing sound when he does start clawing up Hob's upholstery, “is that I am allowing it.”

On paper, true enough. Dream is thrashing and snarling and gnashing his monstrous teeth with eyes like flaming pits. He's also kept in place by the weak, flesh and blood human hand holding him by the back of the neck. The only reason Hob is able to scruff him and have his head tilted pliantly back to expose the long white throat, is because Dream is letting it happen.

“I think you would allow me to do a lot of things you don't want me to.” Hob says gently. The thrashing stills, the snarling quiets, Dream's teeth finally shrink down into more standard shapes.

“There we are.” Hob breathes, smiling. His chest feels like it may burst, like Dream may end up getting his dark little fantasy after all. It's more than any man could deserve, seeing the way Dream goes quiet and panting, eyes fixed wide and blue again as they stare up at Hob. He keeps the hold on Dreams neck, and smoothes the other hand back through Dreams hair. 

Dream makes a thin, fragile sound, eyes flashing black before returning to their clear blue.

“I need to know you actually want this, darling.” Hob explains again. “Not just that you're allowing it. I can't go thinking that you might just be going along with what you think I want from you.”

There's a shift of movement, more of a little squirm than the furious thrashing from a few seconds ago. Dream clenches his jaw together and stares, eyes glittering with new wetness. Christ. Hob is going to get a complex. It can't be good for his ego, having Dream like this.

“Yes.” Dream finally whispers, swallowing thickly. He even nods with little jerky movements against Hob's grip. “I want…what it is, you are planning. Here. In the Waking. I want you to have me. Your way.”

Hob rewards him with a hard kiss, mostly because if he doesn't get his mouth on those quivering pink lips he might explode. Dream goes lax with a whining sound that is absolutely going to give Hob a complex. Plush lips part immediately under his, as sweet as anything. Then teeth flash against his mouth, still sharp and wild but followed fast by Dream’s tongue lapping hungrily at the bite. There are hands clawing at him again, pawing at his back, twisting in his hair, digging into his hips. Dream is doing some impossible wiggling and Hob realizes that there is more than one pair of legs hitching around his hips and tangling between his own legs. It must look like he's snogging an enthusiastic spider.

“Enough of that.” He chides, pushing a hand on Dream's chest. Teeth sink into his lip again, and there's a low growl when Hob pulls his head back so Dream can't start trying to get his tongue down Hob's throat. Or trying to affectionately bite his lips off. “Shush. Lie back, and settle down dearest. Christ, you're all wound up.”

Another small push does the trick. Dream goes down with a little huff when his back hits the sofa. He’s suddenly as meek as a kitten, if that kitten had blood on its lips and a sharp intrigued glint to its eyes. Rather like a kitten then, actually.

Not that Hob is thinking much about kittens. He's far more focused on the way Dream’s skin has gained a more human flush to it, on the curious little chirrup noise that comes from him. He's looking up at Hob with swollen pink lips and his eyes still blue, but the dark blue of a deep ocean. The shirt he's wearing is stretched at the collar, revealing the tantalizing dip of his clavicles, and his ruffled hair is the most adorable thing Hob could imagine. It's such a flip from the snarling monstrous thing Hob had scruffed less than a minute ago, and all of it is so wonderfully Dream. Objectively terrifying in his violence, objectively sexier than sin.

“You're horrible for my ego.” Hob declares, sitting up kneeling between long legs that are still clad in the damn cartoon star pajamas. Dream answers this with a velvety pleased sound, and Hob feels legs bent around his hips and hitched up his waist and one bends a knee up on his shoulder-

“Ah-ah, stick with two.” Hob taps at one of Dream’s thighs before getting to work unbuttoning his shirt enough to tug it up over his head. “We're in my world right now, so we’re doing things my way. With a human shape. And stop eyeballing my ribcage, thanks. I told you we're putting a pin in that.”

He can hear the displeased hissing sound, and decides to give Dream a pass on that. There are times where words seem to lack the correct expressions for the Prince of Stories, and he has an astounding repertoire of inhuman, and even inorganic, sounds to fall back on. Despite his orders to stop with the rib stuff, there are long hands on his sides as soon as his shirt is tossed away. When he looks down, Dream’s eyes are half lidded and dark, fully fixed with stark hunger on Hob’s exposed torso. 

There's a scrape of claw, smoother than before, and the bright line over his side goes right to his prick. It is…so tempting…to change his mind and tell Dream to have at it. Just to see what would happen, to see how it would feel to get torn apart by something that loves him so much. Except there's a little tense pinching at Dreams mouth, even as his eyes darken further and his hands spread over Hob's ribs to feel them expand with each breath.

“Hands to yourself.” Hob decides for both their sakes. He taps a finger between Dream’s eyes in chastisement, and nearly loses that finger when teeth snap up towards it. Dream is fast, but he's used to getting away with things, so there's only a surprised hitch of sound when Hob grabs under his jaw and shoves his head back.

“My way.” Hob reminds him, surprised at how low and rough his own voice comes out.

FULL FIC ON AO3

#dreamling #my fic #dom gadling is here to be the gentlest mildest service top #dream is a weird eldritch cat

[futurebird]

Please, if possible, add alt text to your images. (Describe every image, please.)

I've seen people post before about how every image posted, ideally ought to have an image description. They generally get a lot of support from people already doing it, but also some objections, questions and even anger.

So let me first say: I understand that not everyone can add image descriptions for a variety of reasons. But, if i grab 100 random posts with images here it's lucky if one or two have a description. Now I know that not that many of you have some serious reason why you can't describe the damn images.

This simply isn't the case on other social platforms I frequent. Mastodon would be well above 60% described. Even twitter (before I left that hell-hole) had like 20% of the images described. Now both of these platforms have popular tools that will remind you if you forget a description, and frankly it's easier to edit descriptions there... so some of this is Tumblr's Fault. Tumblr make image descriptions easier and make a reminder!

But it's also about user culture. People here just don't think image descriptions matter. But they do!

I WILL NOT reblog posts if they don't have image descriptions. So I end up adding them myself, and frankly I pass over MANY posts that I would have quickly reblogged but I don't have the time to be everyone's mom and describe everything. So, I just do that for the really great posts I can't pass up. But having a description will make more people share your work since you aren't making work for us if we want to share it.

Why do I need to describe images? Because many people use screen readers and if a post makes no sense unless you know what's in the image your post is useless to all of those people.

Why do I need to describe art? Because people who are blind, and people with vision impairments also like art. My brother's kid loves my ant drawings. They're legally blind, but they can see if they enlarge an image and look close up, the description give them the context they need to understand what they are looking at. Frankly, I read image descriptions all the time myself when I find a post confusing, so it's helpful to... literal minded people too. And it just makes your post seem more complete and exciting. Why miss out on putting a neat description.

I don't know what to write! Imagine you are reading the post over the phone to a friend. What would you say "And then there is that meme with the guys in the hot tub, sitting five feet apart" put that. Even something short is better than nothing. Just explain the post for everyone. Since it's YOUR post you know best what matters most about the image. When I add descriptions after the fact they can get a little long since it's not my post and I don't know what matters most. OP's description in the alt text is the best description.

If you have other questions you can ask me. I'll find out if I don't know.

(Did you know you can add alt text to your images by clicking the "…" symbol in the lower-left corner of an image when writing a post? Having the description attached to the image is the best way and only the OP can do this, but I also often add descriptions in brackets [ ] when I reblog cool art, cats and ant stuff. So, if you can't add a description yourself, it's OK, there are people who will help.)

#alt text #described #image described #image descriptions #tumblr #artists on tumblr #art descriptions

[lovebeinaprincessworld]

Rough passion - Four

(Felix Volturi x reader)

Masterlist

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5

Another part of this slowly updating series, but as I said before they all have a happy ending so it can be read without all parts being finished!

Description: Felix and you finally try.

Warnings: smut, p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), cum, bruises and broken beds

3788 words

It had only been a few hours after you two got “married” and you were kind of worked up now, thinking about that this could possibly mean he decided to try and have sex with you. But he hadn’t said anything yet, and you weren’t sure how to bring it up. You were laying on the couch again, some movie playing in the background, but you were just playing with your fingers mindlessly.

“Felix”, you finally got your throat to start working with you, having worked up the courage over the last hour or so. “Mhm”, he hummed, his hand on your waist encouragingly squeezing a little. “Remember like a month ago?”, you were talking like an idiot, how was he supposed to know what you meant. “You have to be a little more specific than that mia cara”, he chuckled and kissed your temple with his cold lips.

“I mean…uhm…when you said we would try…and now that we’re technically married…”, you let the rest of the sentence hang in the air, but going by the smirk on your mates face, he knew what you meant. “Try what?”, he feigned innocence and hummed when you blushed. “Don’t be mean!”, you whined, averting you gaze from his fiery one.

“Sorry love, I just love to see you blush”, he smiled and pulled you a little closer, your body not being able to do anything but relent. “We will try, but before that I will need to hunt tomorrow”, he explained and took your cheek into his hand softly, pulling your still blushing face towards him. The way he smiled down at you already made you want to rub your legs together, but you kept yourself from doing it. You didn’t want to come across as that desperate.

“So tomorrow evening?”, you mumbled, his lips already closing in on yours. He just nodded before sealing your lips with a kiss.

————————

Felix had left early, he told you he needed to hunt a few towns over to not rouse suspicion and it would take him until it was dark to come back. He wanted to make sure he drank enough, trying to do everything to make this easier. You were actually glad for the time so you could eat breakfast in peace and then right after lunch, you started to get ready.

That included showering, shaving (really neatly too, he could probably see and feel everything and you wouldn’t feel comfortable - eventhough he probably wouldn’t care if you would’t shave as it was a relatively modern concept), brushing your teeth, light makeup, moisturizing and styling your hair and then picking out your prettiest underwear. You made sure not to use anything heavily scented as he didn’t like when he couldn’t smell you.

You were still in the bathroom, a short dress thrown over your lingerie and brushing your hair one last time, when there was gust of wind and suddenly a large presence draped its arms around you from behind. You shrieked, your brush falling into the sink with a clatter and you heartrate was through the roof. “Felix!”, you scolded him, but when he littered kisses all over your neck you were struggling to remember why you even were angry.

“Sorry my love”, he mumbled against your neck, and he could hear your heartbeat calm down a little. “You look so pretty amore mio”, he was really looking forward to trying and seeing how you dolled yourself up had him hard in seconds. He had fed more than needed, just to make sure his thirst was down as much as possible, so he could concentrate on ruling in his strength and not both his strength and his thirst.

You met his eyes in the mirror, and the next second you were on your back on the spacious canopy bed with your muscly mate on top of you. “I told you we would try, but I can’t promise you anything”, Felix looked down at you with his bright red eyes, and you should’ve felt scared with such a dangerous predator on top of you, but it only made your small panties wet. “I know, let’s just try okay?”, you smiled gently and your hands found their way behind his neck.

He nodded and his lips feverishly pressed onto yours, cold but still pleasant and when his tongue softly slipped inside your mouth, you sighed happily, the thought of finally being so close to him making you rub your legs together. Since you were already wearing so little clothes, you started unbuttoning his shirt, glad that he wasn’t wearing anything else underneath. He shook it off once it was open and purred lowly when your small hands started to roam his perfectly sculpted chest and abs.

God, he already had trouble keeping his cool when he felt your warm hands on his body. You were so much smaller than him, and on one hand it turned him on unbelievably but on the other he was scared of hurting you. So he pulled back from the kiss and took a deep unnecessary breath before taking in your slightly panting and disheveled form. You looked like an angel, and his hands seemed to have a mind of their own, wandering up your thighs and waist and pushing your dress up in the process.

You could see his pupils blowing the moment your dress was high enough to show your panties, the lingerie making the tall male speechless and you giggled a little. “Fuck”, he mumbled, completely disregarding your amusement and hastily pulling of the whole dress, throwing it whereever.

His hands were gripping the mattress next to your body so hard he could feel the fabric give in, but the lingerie you decided to wear distracted him so he didn’t really care. This bed would be broken by the end of the night anyway. “Do you like it?”, you were blushing under his intense stare, and he could have cum in his pants at the innocent look you gave him. “Do I…love, you have no idea”, he chuckled, his gaze taking on a more predatory way.

His lips were on your neck in a second, sucking and kissing all the way down to your breasts that were perfectly pushed up by your bra. “All mine, my mate”, he growled against your hot skin, his coldness a stimulating contrast and his possessive words made the slick between your legs grow. His big hand snuck behind your arched back and your bra was gone just as fast as his mouth was on your nipple. You gasped at his sudden and speedy moves, your body reacting violently to your mate claiming you.

He switched to your other nipple, your hand gripping his hair which elicited a groan from him that vibrates against your skin, a shiver running through your whole body. “I’m way more undressed than you”, you panted, he was still wearing his black dress pants and you wanted them off. He didn’t seem to hear you so you pushed at his head with a whine, and he pulled back with a growl, making you shrink a little.

But your instincts seemed to find that primal possessive behaviour hot, and when you got even wetter you could see him inhale and close his eyes in pleasure. “Mia cara you smell so good, can’t wait to bury myself in your tight little pussy”, he looked feral, and you choked on your breath at the dirty words leaving his mouth.

“Please”, was all you could whimper, and he tried to distract himself from pouncing on you by getting rid of his pants like you asked him to. He could see the small wet patch on your panties from where he was kneeling between your legs and he shuffled down so he was laying between them, his face near your pussy. “Can I?”, he was practically vibrating with the need to satisfy his mate, and he couldn’t wait to taste you.

“Yes, yes please”, you were breathless, and his patience was thin, so he ripped the skimpy panties and threw them away, his eyes curiously glancing at your shaved pussy. His fingers glided over the soft skin in wonder. “Did you shave?”, he asked, the neediness slightly dimming down in favor of his curiosity. “Yes, yes it’s a modern thing”, you were growing needy and he snapped out of it when you opened your legs further, your pussy opening up for him and he growled.

He didn’t waste a second, his lips on you before you could even be self conscious about him seeing you like this for the first time. His tongue was cold like the rest of his body, and the feeling of the icy wet muscle sliding against your most sensitive part was making you moan loudly, you were glad there weren’t any neighbors. Your reaction had him gripping your thighs and pulling you even closer to his mouth, not having the need to breathe made him feel like he could just stay between your legs forever.

He was circling your clit with his tongue, the familiar warmth building inside your belly, but never before had it felt this good and this intense - not when you had done it yourself and especially not when previous boyfriends had touched you clumsily. He started sucking on your clit making you twitch slightly and when he took one hand of your thigh and pushed his cold digits into your slick and hot pussy you were a whimpering and moaning mess.

His hand on your thigh was gripping so tightly that you were sure there was going to be a handprint tomorrow, but you didn’t dare complain, he would most certainly stop if you did. His fingers thrusted inside of you relentlessly, curling every now and then and hitting that one spongey spot inside of you and the coil inside of you was on the verge of snapping.

“F-Felix I’m going to-“, you stuttered between harsh breaths and moans and when he growled against you and when you looked down to see that tall and strong man between your legs, his eyes looking up at you completely blacked out, you were pushed over the edge, a sharp cry leaving your mouth and you were clenching around him, your release drenching his fingers.

He was helping you through your high, completely feral and focused on your taste on his tongue, surprisingly the thirst wasn’t bothering him at all, but it was getting harder and harder to rule in his strength. When you were twitching around his fingers, your tight pussy still squeezing him, you whined from the overstimulation and pushed at his head, making him finally pull his fingers out and sit back on his knees.

The sight of his muscles moving underneath his porcelain skin while he was licking his fingers clean, got you all worked up again. What did you do right to have this perfect man about to fuck you. “Please babe, need you”, you were still panting slightly, but some primal instinct was begging to be filled by him and you couldn’t wait anymore.

His eyes widened at your words, his underwear gone in half a second and your eyes were widening slightly at his cock. He was caging you in with his arms and the veiny long dick was rubbing his precum on your lower stomach, it was cold too and the feeling was weirdly erotic. You anticipated him being big, but now that you saw him you were a little worried about it fitting.

Your hands reached out to touch him, but you heard fabric tearing were his hand was gripping the pillow tightly and his other hand shot out to stop yours. He took a deep breath, his eyes almost black now. “If you touch me now, I won’t be able to be gentle mia cara”, his jaw was flexing and he realeased the tight grip he had on your wrist, surely that would be another bruise. Somehow the idea of his marks all over your body made you clench around nothing.

You just nodded in response to his previous statement and instead cupped his cheek gently, pulling him down to kiss him slowly, hoping to calm him down a little. Felix appreciated the kiss, he knew he needed to take a moment before attempting to fuck you, his instincts were on the verge of taking over, the need to fill up his mate nearly forcing him to mount you right away.

When you needed to breathe he pulled back, his eyes softer now, and he pressed his forehead to yours. “You ready?”, he kissed your nose and you had to smile, your hands gripping his large biceps and holding on. “Yeah”, you confirmed and then you felt the head of his cock slipping between your folds, one of his hands gripping your thigh and pulling it up around his waist, the other leg following automatically.

When his dick caught your still sensitive clit your breath hitched, but the he slipped the head inside of you, and his coldness almost immediately soothes the slight sting his size caused in your virgin pussy. That was convenient, you thought in the back of your mind. Both your and his eyes were screwed shut, just taking in the feeling of him slipping deeper inside of you, splitting you open. When his heavy balls finally rested against your ass and he bottomed out, you realeased a breath you didn’t know you were holding. God, this felt so so good.

Felix on the other hand felt like he was going insane, your pussy was so hot around him, sucking him in and squeezing him like a vice. He gripped the headboard, but his hand went right through and it landed on the stone wall behind the bed instead, wood and a bit of stone tumbling to the floor. You gasped, your eyes opening and taking in the vampire on top and inside of you.

You pulled his head down into your neck, and held it there, stroking his hair softly to ground him. “Sorry”, he mumbled against your jaw, his lips brushing against it, making you clench around him. He groaned and you winced. “Sorry”, you repeated him, the irony not lost on both of you and you chuckled.

He braced himself on top of you again after a few more moments, basically mounting you more securely, and you laced your hands behind his neck. His first thrust was tentatively, but your breathless whimper seemed to encourage him, and so he picked up his pace, thrusting into you fast (for your standards - slow for his).

Felix couldn’t believe he went without this perfect pussy for over two millennia, he couldn’t even imagine living without you again, the thought alone making his hips snap harder into you, a gasp leaving your mouth when he brushed your cervix. “Fuck, you’re mine, aren’t you love?”, he growled above you and you nodded desperately. “Say it!”, he barked, lost in his pleasure, and you whimpered quietly.

“I’m yours, I’m yours!”, you sobbed, he adjusted his position and your eyes almost rolled back when he slipped even deeper inside of you, his head catching onto that one spot with every thrust. And damn his thrusts were fast, you were so going to be limping tomorrow.

He was losing it, he could feel you approach your high and he was close to, his control slipping with every thrust. He grabbed onto the post of the bed to ground himself in the moment, but he couldn’t rule in his strength in that movement and the wood splintered, the pole tumbling down to the floor with a loud crash but he didn’t even acknowledge it, his hand just gripping the mattress instead that immediately ripped.

You were too lost in your pleasure to really realize the bed slowly falling to your mates mercy, his body shielding your from any debris. You were so close, his balls slapping against your ass with every thrust, drenched in a mix of your slick and his precum. Felix sensed you needed a little push to cum, and his hand snuck between you, circling your clit roughly, his cock relentlessly abusing your cunt. “Cum for me amore mio, cum for your mate”, he growled, a desperate moan leaving your mouth and after few more thrusts you reached your high, clenching around him and cumming with a sob.

The feeling of you convulsing around him so violently, sucking him in desperately made him snap too, a few more harsh thrusts and he buried himself as deep as you would take him, his balls tightening and his cum spilling deep inside of you. Neither of you noticed the bed giving in underneath you from his harsh thrusts, the mattresses right corner now on the floor.

You were still riding out your high and his cold seed flooding your pussy prolonged it significantly. You were surprised he could spill into you at all, but it felt too good to be claimed by this strong man to question anything.

When you two finally stilled, you were panting and your face felt incredibly flushed, but the vampire on top of you buried his face in your neck and was still. He obviously wasn’t out of breath. Your breath evened out after a minute and your hands started stroking his hair softly, making him basically purr. “Did I hurt you?”, he mumbled and you rolled your eyes with a smile. “No, No you didn’t”, you said with a satisfied smile on your lips.

“I love you”, his deep voice against your neck made you clench around him once more, another groan leaving his lips at that. “I love you”, you whispered and sighed contently.

————————

You had fallen asleep almost instantly from the exhaustion, only barely noticing Felix pulling out and cleaning you up. The fireplace had already been burning low then, so neither of you saw the extent of the bruises that started to cover your body. But damn we’re you glad Felix seemed to be outside when you woke up, because when you sat up, the sheet falling off of you, there were fingertipshaped bruises on your arms. And you knew if he had seen them, he would have felt so guilty and probably horrified he ‘hurt’ you.

So you rushed into the bathroom (and almost fell because of your wobbly legs) with the sheet wrapped around you and new clothes in hand before he could see anything. You took a shower before throwing on your clothes, the cardigan covering your arms and your pants covering the bruises on your legs and waist. This should work, at least if he didn’t want to fuck you again, then you’d have to turn of the light and pray his enhanced sight didn’t pick it up.

You two had been spending your day in the snow outside and curled up infront of the fireplace, but it was getting late and as you were yawning for the tenth time already, Felix chuckled and picked you up. “Let’s get you to bed”, he smirked and you didn’t complain, you were half asleep in his arms, an agreeing hum leaving your lips.

The bedroom was dark and he sat you down on the edge of the now fixed up bed, speeding to the dresser and back and handing you your pajamas. Your brain was running on low energy, so you’d blame what happened next on that. You stood up yawning, pulling your cardigan and shirt off, and your pants and socks came off next. You were about to unclasp your bra to put the pajama top on, when you felt the atmosphere shift so violently that you were shaken out of your half sleep.

When your eyes were fully open, they immediately zoned in on the bruises on your skin and then snapped up to the terrified look on your mates face. Shit, if you could see them, he could see them even clearer. “Felix”, you reached out for him, trying to comfort him but he pulled back quickly, his body rigid and frozen.

“I am so sorry (Y/N)”, he whispered and you almost didn’t hear him, but the heartbroken look on his face made you panic. This was bad. “Don’t be, please its not that bad!”, you tried to diffuse the situation, but he scoffed angrily. “Not that bad? Not that bad! There are bruises all over your body, god I should’ve never even tried to-“, he was rambling furiously and his muscles were flexing underneath his shirt.

“Felix please”, you tried again, quickly pulling your pajamas on before stepping towards him. “-even attempted this, I knew I’m too strong, I can’t believe I hurt you I-“, he didn’t even listen to you and you decided to take more drastic measures. “FELIX!”, you shouted, your loud voice breaking through his guilt and anger and he shut up immediately. Never before had you raised your voice in his presence, you were always the calm and gentle center in his world.

“Sit”, you basically ordered and sat down on the mattress yourself. You were kind of surprised that the giant and agitated vampire actually did what you told him to, but you guessed it was the shock. He sat next to you, careful to keep some distance between you two. You had none of that, taking his cold hands into yours and scooting closer, a serious look on your face.

“I want you to listen to me carefully okay?”, you were talking softly, trying to catch his eyes but he was looking at your hands instead, so you sighed quietly. “Felix, these are only a few bruises, even sex between humans results in bruises if they’re rough. You trust me don’t you?”, you asked, and finally he met your eyes, his red ones still full of guilt, but at least he had calmed down. “Of course”, he answered right away, making you smile hopefully.

“Then trust me to tell you if you hurt me”, you told him, “because you didn’t hurt me yesterday. Okay? You didn’t, everything was perfect.” He took an unnecessary deep breath, and nodded, making a smile light up your face. Crisis averted. “Also”, you giggled a little and his eyebrow quirked up in curiosity, you scooched closer to him and whispered, “I think it’s kind of hot to have your marks all over me.”

Felix couldn’t help but let out a shocked laugh, his little innocent mate having such dirty and possessive thoughts made him feel better about the situation immediately. “Let’s get you to bed mia cara”, he smirked and pulled you into his arms.

—————————

Hope you liked this filth, leave some love for my underrated boy!! I appreciate all your sweet comments so so much! <3

#x reader #fluff #angst #smut #volturi #volturi x reader #felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #twilight #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #twilight x reader #demetri volturi #jane volturi #alec volturi #marcus volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi

[steddiealltheway]

Steve confesses to Robin that he has a crush on Eddie. She has a minor shut down moment and asks under her breath, “Why do all the gays flock together?” - having had both Max and Will come out to her recently.

She’s hesitant about Steve’s crush because… the bandana. And Steve isn’t dumb, he knows when Robin isn’t saying something she wants to. So, when he asks what’s wrong with Eddie, she asks Steve, “Have you heard of the hanky code?”

Steve shakes his head.

“It’s… it’s a gay code. Like people put a certain color handkerchief in a certain back pocket to flag others about what type of sex they want,” Robin explains, knowing her description isn’t as in-depth as the code, but hoping that will make Steve get the point.

“Okay?” Steve says as he doesn’t connect the dots.

“Steve… have you noticed the black bandana in Eddie’s back left pocket?”

“Yeah, of course,” Steve says. Robin gives him a look. “Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh’ is right.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrow together. “So what does it mean?”

Robin links her fingers together and takes a deep breath. “I’m not one hundred percent sure. Just about ninety-nine point nine nine percent sure. Plus, I did some research with Nancy who also noticed. And we’ve come to a conclusion. Granted… it may not be the correct one but-”

Steve puts his hand on Robin’s wrist and pleads, “Robin.”

“It’s for sadism and masochism top,” Robin finally blurts out. Steve freezes. “Please tell me you know that means because I really really don’t want to explain it to you.”

Steve scoffs, “Of course I know what that means.” His eyes widen. “Not like… I know it like that,” he clarifies.

Robin nods as Steve processes the information. She hesitates before saying, “I just… thought you should know before you said anything to him. That doesn’t seem like… you. Especially after the whole Russians and getting a plate smashed over your head-”

“Yeah, Rob. I got it,” Steve says. He runs a hand through his hair. “And you’re right. Thank you for telling me.”

“Of course,” Robin replies sincerely before launching into a full monologue about her time spent researching with Nancy.

-:-:-:-:-:-

Steve finds himself staring at Eddie while hanging out with him - specifically at the black bandana. And truly, he can’t see how Eddie could have that side to him. He’s not kink shaming, but Eddie’s just so… sweet and caring.

Plus, when Eddie had been recovering from the bat bites, he had confessed that he felt kind of bad for killing and hurting the bats. Even though they had been eating him alive. “Some metal things we have to leave to the heroes,” Eddie had explained, ignoring when Steve insisted he was a hero too.

Steve snaps out of the memory when Eddie waves his hand in front of his face. “I was starting to worried that maybe Vecna was back,” Eddie jokes. Steve’s learned that’s one of his coping mechanisms as Nancy calls it.

“Just lost in thought,” Steve replies.

“About what?”

Steve stares at Eddie. What an unintentionally loaded question. “You,” he replies without thinking.

“Steve Harrington, what could you possibly be thinking about me? Pray tell,” Eddie says with the widest grin.

Well, he asked for it. So here goes nothing. “I like you,” Steve states, watching Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Like, I really like you. And I was going to tell you, but Robin implied something that I didn’t know how to bring up.”

Eddie nods his head, eyebrows furrowed, but his expression remains frozen, processing what Steve has said. He does this for a few seconds and suddenly snaps out of it. “Wait, what did Robin say?”

Steve swallows. “You know that black bandana you wear?”

Eddie nods in response.

“Well, Robin explained it to me. And while that’s cool and everything. It’s just… not me. You know, after the whole getting tortured by Russians thing-”

“The what?”

“I don’t think I’m ready for any of… that. But hey, it’s cool that you’re so open about that. Plus, it must be fun to talk in code. I mean, who knew a black bandana in your left pocket could mean being a S&M top.”

“It means what?!” Eddie yells, standing up, face in full shock.

“You know, sadism and masochism… but why am I explaining that to you?” Steve says with a huff of laughter.

Eddie stares down at Steve in horror.

“Wait…” Steve trails off. “You didn’t know it meant that?”

Eddie throws his hands up and begins pacing. “I just thought it made me look cool! Jesus H. Christ! I’ve been wearing that bandana for months and-” He abruptly stops and looks at Steve. “Did you say you liked me?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie sits down and puts his head in his hands. “Hold on. Let me process everything you’ve told me.”

Steve patiently waits, staring as Eddie seems to go through a mini crisis for a few minutes. Steve checks his watch a couple of times, wondering if he should ask Eddie if he’s okay or leave him to his inner turmoil.

As Steve checks his watch for the fifteenth time, Eddie sits up and sighs. “I think I’m okay now.” He looks at Steve and says, “Nope, I’m definitely not.”

“What’s wrong?” Steve asks.

Eddie leans forward poking Steve’s chest. “You like me?” Eddie finishes the thought, poking his own chest.

Steve nods.

Eddie continues staring.

Steve offers him an awkward smile.

Eddie stares harder and nods. “Cool. Cool. That’s cool…” he trails off. “And you’re sure about that?”

Steve laughs. “Yes, Eddie.”

A thought crosses Eddie’s mind. He asks, “Will you kiss me, if I promise I’m not a S&M top?”

Steve laughs again and replies, “Yes.”

Eddie dramatically whips the bandana out of his back pocket and drops it on the ground, immediately rushing forward to meet Steve who was already leaning in for a sickeningly sweet kiss.

#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie ficlet #I love the hanky code #but I also love the idea of eddie having no idea what it means #hence the idea

[writingquestionsanswered]

When I write I find myself simply narrating things that are happening, i.e. this person said this, they went there, they did this, with descriptions of places sprinkled in.. exactly like a movie. How do I stop doing this and narrate a story for a book and not a movie? What is the difference between writing down everything that happens in a movie (that plays in your head) vs. writing a novel?

Thank you

"Laundry List Narration" vs Exposition

First, I want to say the ability to see a story play like a movie in your mind can be a helpful one, but I do think it can also be a pitfall for what is sometimes called "laundry list narration," where instead of a balance of exposition, action, and dialogue, the story becomes a long list of items (aka a "laundry list") of what people are doing, thinking, and saying. I'm going to take the first paragraph of The Hunger Games and turn it into laundry list narration so you can see what it looks like:

I wake up. The other side of the bed is cold. There is only the rough canvas cover of the mattress where Prim's warmth should be. Prim must have had bad dreams. She probably climbed into bed with our mother. Today is reaping day.

(*** Again, that is not the actual first paragraph of The Hunger Games. I have re-written them to a "laundry list" style.)

Each sentence could be its own line item:

-- I wake up. -- The other side of the bed is cold. -- There is only the rough canvas mattress cover where Prim's warmth should be. -- Prim must have had bad dreams. -- She probably climbed into bed with our mother. -- Today is reaping day.

It really does feel like an observer translating what's happening for someone who can't see it. There's no emotion, no action, no dialogue. It's austere and staccato, like a robot telling a story.

The sentences in laundry list narration usually begin in one of the following ways:

-- pronouns (he/she/they/I/we) -- names -- articles (a, an, the) -- time adverbs like today, tomorrow, yesterday, now, suddenly -- place adverbs like there, nearby, inside, outside, upstairs, downstairs

Laundry list narration also tends to "tell" rather than "show"...

Telling: Sally was mad.

Showing: Sally's nostrils flared as she clenched her fists and gritted her teeth.

Now, let's look at how the first paragraph of The Hunger Games is actually written:

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress. She must have had bad dreams and climbed in with our mother. Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.

It's much harder to put that into individual line items because it all flows together. It's not a staccato list of things happening. There is some telling (the other side of the bed is cold), but showing, too (my fingers stretch out, seeking Prim's warmth, but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress.) There's thought and emotion (Of course, she did. This is the day of the reaping.) There's no dialogue, but there's action (my fingers stretch out...)

Unfortunately, there's not a quick fix to this in your writing. It's just something you need to be aware of as you write and try to avoid doing it. Also: keep it in mind as you edit so you can revise.

Remember to lean on showing vs telling when possible (unless it makes more sense to "tell" which it sometimes does.) And also remember to maintain a relative balance of exposition (explaining, describing things), action (things happening), and dialogue (people talking.)

You can have a look at my Description master list of posts for further help on these topics.

Happy writing!

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I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

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