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strangersteddierthings · 10 months

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What's Eight Plus Seven?

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five

Alright y'all. We had the hurt, let's get some comfort started.

Steve leans against his door, expecting Eddie to follow him upstairs to continue their argument because Eddie's never been one to back down from an argument as far as Steve can tell, so he's using his weight to keep the door shut. It takes about five minutes of just leaning against the door before he hears a few light knocks on the door. He pretends he didn't hear them and soon starts to hear Eddie monologue-ing on the other side. He thinks he hears a 'sorry' and an 'I fucked up' but he doesn't really tune in until Eddie says something about cancelling Hellfire.

Spinning quickly, he yanks the door open and says, "You better not fucking cancel!"

"What? Don't you, like, want me out of your house?" Eddie looks startled and sounds confused.

"What I want is for the kids to get to play Dungeons and Dorks for an afternoon, just getting to be kids and fight against monsters that can't actually kill them," Steve says as he goes to put his hands on his hips (a move that Robin calls his Bitch Stance) but realizes he can't while still holding a book, so instead he folds his arms across his chest, cradling the book to his body.

He waits for Eddie to call him out for saying dorks instead of dragons, but Eddie just blinks at him, quiet for a moment before he says, "Oh. Uh, okay then. I'll just, uhh, I'll be back closer to noon, then. For the game."

"Don't you have prep to do?" Steve knows he's trying to pick a fight now but he's angry, and sad, and hurt underneath it all. Also, he doesn't understand the change in Eddie suddenly. Ten-ish minutes ago Eddie had shouted back I wasn’t exactly wrong, was I? You were a jock, a bully even! Where is that anger now?

"No. Not, uh, not really," Eddie says, avoiding meeting Steve's gaze, face turning a very light pink. "I was- I mean, yes, there was prep, but I did a majority of that already and what's left will take maybe three minutes so..."

Steve's confused now, still trying to cling to his anger. "But you called and asked if it was okay to come early specifically for that reason."

Eddie doesn't respond right away. He turns around to walk to the wall opposite Steve's door and thump his forehead against it. Steve is perplexed by the behavior (but he's been perplexed by Eddie since finding him at Reefer Rick's) so he just watches in silence as Eddie heaves a sigh and turns around to slump against the wall, facing Steve once again. He runs a hand through his hair, then drags that hand back forward and down his face. "Yeah. I did do that."

"So, what, you lied? Why?"

"I just wanted to hang out," Eddie whispers, like it almost hurts him to say out loud, which is such a weird thing to hear because it makes Eddie seem small in a way Steve's never seen him. Even during spring break Eddie was never small or quiet; his fear manifested as shouting, for fuck's sake. It chips away at the last of Steve's anger. He's long past the days of kicking someone when they're down.

"You... wanted to hang out," Steve repeats before heaving a sigh of his own, long-suffering man that he is. Maybe it is time to bury the hatchet and actual deal with this. If nothing else, it'll result in Steve being less defensive around Eddie when everyone hangs out, like for movie night or BBQs. Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to so he says, "Listen, I think we've got some shit to hash out, or whatever, so that should probably be done or, like, things are going to be weird when we all hang out, but I can't do that right now, man. So, stay or go, just make that game happen at noon. I'm going to stay up here."

Eddie nods, weirdly sullen and quiet again, as he says, "Yeah. Umm, maybe after the game? If you're feeling up to it."

"Sure. After."

Eddie raps his knuckles against the wall behind him twice before pushing off and heading back towards the stairs. He pauses to look over his shoulder and say, "If you wanna watch, or listen in, or something, I don't think anyone will mind." And then he's heading down the stairs.

Retreating back to his room, Steve tosses the book onto his bed before flopping face first next to it. He groans into his comforter before reaching for the book. He props himself up on his elbows and stares down at the cover before opening it to see Christopher's handwriting on the inside cover.

It's been years since he thought about Christopher and even longer since he's laid eyes on the books. He was so sure his mom had just gotten rid of them. All this time, they'd been right where he left them, shoved just far enough back to be out of sight on the shelf. His last link to Christopher.

That's not true, Steve scolds himself. His cousins, Amber and Robert, are still alive and in Washington. His grandparents still live on that farm in Michigan. Steve just hasn't seen them since the funeral.

He hadn't gone back to the farm the summer after freshman year, or any year since. His parents thought he was old enough to stay home for a whole month in the summer alone now, instead of paying to ship him off to his grandparents. Steve's old enough now to know that was why he'd spent a month every year out on the farm; so his parents could go off on longer work trips. Once they'd decided Steve was old enough to stay alone for the summer, that quickly reached other seasons and by the time Steve was a junior, the were gone more than they were home.

He doesn't even remember when he last spoke to them in person. He thinks the last phone call was right after Starcourt. It was just to make sure Steve got to job hunting, since his place of employment had burned down and the bills wouldn't pay themselves. Which is true. He doesn't have to pay rent, but all the utilities are in his name now.

Jesus, he doesn't want to be thinking about them.

He goes back to the book, flipping through the pages absently. Halfway through the book he finds a couple folded pieces of paper tucked close to the spine. He doesn't have to open them to know exactly what they are.

It's the character sheets he'd made.

He closes the book back atop them and rolls over to face his ceiling. He wants to call Robin, but the phones are downstairs and he doesn't want to go down there just yet. He also kinda wants to cry. To get rid of all these emotions about Christopher, and Freshman First Day, and Eddie.

Fucking Eddie. Who haunts Steve's thoughts more than he'd like because despite the grudge Steve has been holding, Eddie has been fun to be around and so good with the kids, especially Dustin. Fuck, after having watched Dustin break down when they thought he was dead- but he'd had a pulse. It was weak but it was there.

After Eddie'd been cleared of the charges and the months rolled on into summer, they'd spent lots of time together as a group. Steve will admit he tried to avoid Eddie as best he could (he knows he's petty, okay) but could still see how he blended smoothly into their group.

If this Eddie had been the one he met on Freshman First Day, instead of the dick that mocked him, they might very well be friends now.

That's the crux of it all, Steve thinks. That he wouldn't mind being friends with Eddie if not for that bottled up grudge he'd been holding onto. He can't bring himself to let it go and Steve's not even sure why. Thoughts and feelings aren't something Steve processes quickly, and it usually helps to talk it out with Robin. She lets him stumble through his thoughts, and doesn't mock him for messing up, or mixing up, words.

Goddammit, if he's really going to try talking this out with Eddie, he's going to have be open and honest and maybe a little vulnerable and he doesn't know if he can do that.

But he'll have to. For better or worse, he can't just keep Eddie at arms length. They need to either come to the conclusion that they can be friends, or not, and then go from there. (Also, he knows that Dustin will never let him know another day of peace once he learns that Eddie and Steve don't get along as well as he wants them to.)

In the end, Steve's not sure how long he just stares up at the ceiling but a sudden shout breaks him from his trance. It sounded like Dustin. Hellfire must have started.

Steve leaves his room to go lean against the half wall of the hallway, so he could look down to the dining table where everyone has gathered to play. No one notices him, so Steve sinks to the floor and turns, so he can lean against the wall, closes his eyes, and listens in.

The room below is filled with noise. Shouts of excitement, and groans of pain, and sighs of relief. Dustin yells at his dice when it rolls a Nat 1. Mike curses up a storm over a barely missed perception check that makes the party fall into a surprise round. He hears Lucas whoop happily and then what sounds like him taking several victory laps around the table.

He used to be an imaginative kid, able to easily conjure castle, and knights, and dragons in his mind's eye. Listening to Eddie describe a new location, or NPC, or monster makes it easy to bring that part of himself back. Eddie is descriptive and uses so many voices that Steve would be embarrassed to even attempt. But because Eddie is being descriptive, so is everyone else at the table. Erica has adopted an accent of some sort for her character. Dustin and Will go into great detail describing what they want their character to do. The older members of Hellfire do the same, and one of them is using an Irish accent that if he used while talking to Steve, he'd would think it was his first language.

Steve's not sure how long he sat there, long enough that they've taken a snack break and are back at it again, before he decides he might as well watch, too. He gets up and goes downstairs. There's a pause at the table when he wonders in and plops down on the couch. He makes eye contact with Eddie and offers a small half smile. Eddie grins back, and starts back into the game, pulling everyone's focus.

Watching is interesting. He gets to see the Party jab at each other, or lean over and whisper about something. It's nice, to see them being kids. Having fun.

They end around five and Steve is surprised at how quickly five hours had passed.

"So, Steve, how was watching your first DnD game?" Dustin asks, pausing on his way to the door to do so.

Steve considers teasing him, but he goes for honesty instead. "Pretty interesting. It might not be my last time observing. I gotta see you get killed sometime, right?"

"Rude, Steve. Rude," Dustin is grinning though.

"Tell your mom hi for me, and let me know when she's making pork chops again. I'd like to crash that dinner."

Dustin rolls his eyes and shakes his head but he hugs Steve before leaving. Between all the older Hellfire members, they all have rides home that aren't Steve or Eddie.

Speaking of the latter, he's slowly packing things away at the table. Clearly killing time so it won't look like he's intentionally staying after everyone's gone.

Soon, the house is empty again.

"So, I'm not sure... how to start this conversation," Eddie admits to the silence. He's still at the table, standing behind where he was previously sitting, fiddling with a die. "But, I'm sorry. For that day. You were right, you know? When you said I was lashing out at you first."

"Thanks. For the apology," Steve stands from the couch and moves to the table, toying with the tablecloth instead of looking at Eddie. "I, uhh, I'm not sure where to go from here, either? I spent such a long time angry at you. For pointing out all the things I'm bad at in front of everyone there. For making me feel like an idiot."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Now Steve looks up at Eddie. "You say that, but like, why? Are you sorry because what you did was shitty, or because you want to be my friend now?"

Eddie blinks, apparently thrown by Steve's question.

"Because, like, you were pretty dismissive of Lucas before Spring Break and he helped save your life. So, it's like, are you okay with being shitty if the people you hurt aren't people you like? 'Cause I used to be that way, and I'm not going to be friends with someone who is."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Eddie nods. "For all that I scream about conformity, and how stupid it is, I've been rather quick to dismiss everyone outside my own... group. I held rather close to that nerds verses jocks crap for too long. Lucas is a jock, but he's also a nerd, and so very loyal to his friends. And you- you're really fucking awesome."

"I am," Steve interrupts with a cheeky grin.

"Ass. But yeah, you're pretty awesome, and I've been feeling all fucked up today because, we could have been friends, couldn't we? In high school. If I'd just let you take the damn flier and kept my mouth shut."

"Hey, that's not all on you," Steve says. "I would have still joined the basketball team, and the swim team. And, like, I was so desperate for any shred of attention from my parents that I would never have picked Hellfire over sports meetups. I could have joined and still ended up a bully by sophomore year."

"Well, I didn't help-"

"I made those choices, Eddie. And it doesn't matter because it's in the past. So, like, we can just move forward. Start over, or whatever."

Eddie looks him up and down before giving one sharp nod, then breaking out into a wide grin, sticking his hand out for a handshake. "Hi. Name's Eddie Munson."

Steve laughs, reaching out to shake Eddie's hand. "Steve Harrington."

"Great, pleasure to meet you. Do you wanna hang out? We can play 20 questions. Get to know each other."

"Sure," Steve chuckles, extracting his hand from Eddie's. "Let me order some pizza first."

First time hanging out with Eddie alone. Guess they'll find out if they can be friends after all.

#steddie #my fic #what's eight plus seven?#just one more part #not fully edited because im at work so apologies for that

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systemadministratorclu · 4 months

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Y'all, I just HAD to share this, because holy shit.

A little background first:

I run the drive-thru cash register window at a fast food joint. One of the shittiest jobs there is because some of the rudest/stupidest people on the planet come through the drive-thru, and one must have near superhuman patience to deal with it. That said, there are customers who come regularly and are not hard to deal with at all. And then there are some-very few and far between-that restore your faith in humanity a little every time they come.

This is about one such customer.

This guy comes every day at about the same time with his grandson (6 years old when this started, recently turned 7) and gets the exact same thing every time. To the point where now either I see their car or I hear the guy say his name (whichever happens first) and I'm already ringing them up. Because of this, the kid now thinks I have weirdly specific psychic powers, and has said he prefers coming to the place when I'm there. He's also decided I'm the best employee this place has. The granddad talks to me like I'm a human, they're always smiling and happy to see me (which means a lot in this line of work, let me tell you) and even on my shittiest days, they've managed to make me smile. I genuinely look forward to seeing these people every day.

Recently, grandson was hella excited to tell me he had a birthday coming up. Reminded me every day "my birthday's coming!" as most 6yo kids do.

Maybe I was feeling a little holiday spirit or something, but one day after work, I went to the Dollar Tree near the restaurant. I picked out a kid's birthday card and a Christmas card. I wrote a message in the Christmas one about what I just explained above, thanking them for bringing some joy to my days, because y'know what? People need to hear that shit. Especially in today's world. And I wanted them to know how much this meant to me. I wrote a little joke in the birthday card about not forgetting the day. Then I looked in my wallet, saw I had a $10 and a $1, and stuck the $10 in the birthday card. Addressed the birthday card to the kid and the Christmas one to kid and grandpa. I give the cards to them on their normal drive-thru visit. They are of course surprised (kid starts yelling "thank you" even though he hasn't gotten to open it yet) but thankful. Then the line moves on.

Fast forward to today.

I see the car come in but I don't start ringing the order up, because it's WAY early for them. I give my usual greeting, then I hear a woman's voice, so I think it's someone in the same kind of car. But when she asks "is this Hal?" I then realize it's the kid's mother, whom he has told all about me and who has come through with him before.

I say yes, and she tells me she's not here to order anything, just to see me, since kid and granddad are sick. I tell her to come on to the window, she does, and hands me a card and a nicely wrapped gift. I asked her to tell them hi for me, she said she would and then the line moved.

I got off on lunch break and opened card and gift.

I was not prepared. At all.

This is the gift...

...the card (no writing on the front).....

.....and the typed note inside the card that actually brought tears to my eyes.

......I'm still not over this. I will be thinking about how this went on for OVER HALF A FUCKING YEAR and I had no idea.

This is the kind of stuff that makes this shitty job worth it. People like this....We need more of in this world. I'm going to hold onto that note so when I feel like shit or I don't matter, I can look at it and know there's a kid out there who I am so important to that he got his dad to write a whole-ass letter, to some random stranger he only knows through his son, inviting me to their fucking house. I'm tearing up again as I write this, just thinking about it.

If that doesn't say "you matter", idk what does.

(And yes, I will go at some point, because how can I not? I'm not gonna dash this kid's hopes and make myself look like an enormous asshole. This is the RL version of being handed a toy phone and told it's ringing)

#I'm crying and so are you.#ooc

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pinievsev · 1 year

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Request: Hey I was wondering if you could do an Ajax x reader fic where Y/N can speak to animals and when she walks past Ajax she can hear the snakes talking about and admiring her so she starts to talk to them and Ajax is like wtf ofc they end up together but still it would be a funny one shot, like for example when they're taking a test next to each-other the snakes just tell her it answers. You don't have to make one but it would be greatly appreciated if you do could <3.

I absolutely love this! I've wanted to write something including his snakes- but I didn't know what! So! Let's go! (P.s. I have a lot of requests and alot of things to focus on and it's pretty hard so I'm sorry if these take along time)

SNAKE TALK!

Pairing: Ajax Petropolus x fem!reader. (Because the request specifically uses she/her <3)

Synopsis: in which, a certain Gorgon's snakes take a liking to Enid's best friend ;)

The reader is a Zoolinguist.

Zoolinguism: ability of communicating with animals. (Had to do some deep research on this)

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You had been Enid's best friend for the past semester, it's only been a month since you started this one, and everything is going great except for one thing. Sometimes when walking around the campus, mainly the quad, you hear mumbling in really high pitched hushed voices, if that makes sense. You've told Enid but she has absolutely no idea what it could be, you knew animals weren't usually aloud in school.

You were sitting at the quad with Enid breaking your heads trying to figure out what it could be. Suddenly, you heard mumbling again, this time, detriment to find out what it was, you go focused on it. "Ohhh look! Look there she is!" "She's pretty!" "Come on!! Go closer!!",were some of the things you heard along with what sounded like hissing. Wait! Hissing?!.

"Enid!" You said shaking your head "what animal makes some type of hissing sound?" she narrowed her eyes "cats?" You shook your head "can't be.." just then the bell rang, oh god you had a test in astronomy (I'm too lazy to find out a name myself, sorry not sorry j.k.r <3) "sorry Enid, gotta run! We'll talk later" she nodded as you sped walked off.

You knew, nothing. "Damnit" you mumbled Staring at the paperwork Infront of you. It was like the latters didn't form words, it was a disaster. You looked to your side, seeing your crush and friend Ajax, the way his nose scrunched when he didn't know something was adorable to you. Turning back you blinked rapidly trying to make sense of the question, then you heard it again, mumbling and decided to focus once more "4! The answers 4!" You heard the voices. You filled in number 4. This went on untill you finished your test. You didn't know who or what they were but you sure were thankful. Walking out of class you mumbled a "thanks" hoping they heard and walked off, leaving Ajax confused, and distressed trying to get his snakes to stay in his beanie. They've been acting weirdly lately. And he didn't know why.

You walked into your dorm, full speed "Enid! Guess what!" She jumped, turning off her music "yeah? Do tell!" She jumped on her bed Patting the spot Infront of her for you to sit, and you did "I had a test in astronomy, and I knew nothing right?" She nodded "and then I heard them again, the voices" her eyes widened "and?! Come on!!" "They were telling me the answers!" You smiled wide eyed and you both started laughing "seriously?!" You nodded frantically trying to catch your breath "yes! Seriously!" She thought for a second "so you said, they are alot of voices together right?" You nodded "and they are high pitched?" "Yup!" "Hm, maybe the animals are small" "most likely yeah." "And they make hissing sounds?" "Yes what are you trying to say?" She shrugged.

You were, once again, in the quad. When Ajax walked up to you "Hey! Y/n!" You looked up "hi!" He sat down next to you "are you alright? You've been acting kind of weird lately... And so have my snakes" he whispered the last part but you heard and your eyes went wide "your snakes?!" He nodded "oh my god- that's it!" You laughed rubbing your face "what's it?!" And then they started mumbling again, it sounded like Laughing so you laughed along "you scared me" you said to them breathing out "how did i-? What?" Ajax said "no you your snakes!" Just them two of them popped out of his beanie"hi!" They said and you waved "wait what-?" Ajax looked up and his eyes went wide "have they been..." "Talking about and to me? Yeah, they even told me the answers yesterday" Ajax put on a fake betrayed face "you traitors" you shook your head "what can I say, they love me" "they're not the only ones" he mumbled "what?" "What?" "What did you just say?.." he gulped "nothing, I said nothing" "no you did" you looked up at the snakes still poking out of the beanie "he said he loves you" your eyes went wide "you... What?" He sighed "traitors.." I said- I love you" you nodded breathing heavily "I... Me too, I love you too" he smiled "good! That good" you giggled at his awkwardness "now kiss!" You heard the snakes again "fine fine" "what-" you cut him off, kissing him, smiling into his lips as they cheered.

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Thank you so much to @iamonewiththebitches for the request <3!

Taglist: @snickerdodles , @111cherry , @luv4petersteele , @kxxvvxxi , @sidneysprit , @poppet05 , @marvelsimps , @i-wish-this-was-me , @wonderlandco , @day-dream1231 , @ke1ramar1e , @georgi-salva , @arson-the-royal , @falleni0-hq , @mindflay3r , @rottenstyx , @alice0blog , @nova-lov3su , @elduster , @countsmoon , @biggestsimponhere , @andreeasancheez , @justmanu , @whitewingsh , @hwrtsiren

#wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday oneshots #ajax petropolus #ajax petropolus x reader #wednesday x reader

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oracle-of-dream · 1 month

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Submissive and huh?

Minors DNI

Summary: Your friend Taerae recently learned a new term and wants your thoughts. Explaining it might help him understand properly, but do you have the strength to tell him.

Warnings: Male Reader, Idol Taerae, Student Reader, Lewd faces/Ahegao, Mention of arousal and breeding

Wordcount: 1.2k

Math classes had been kicking your ass all semester and tutoring from the professor wasn't working out. You'd ended up being assigned a study partner. The program was meant for students struggling with the class to help each other. That's how you met Taerae.

He didn't originally introduce himself as an idol, especially since it was an online class. No one had seen his face. But when you met up with him for the first time to study together, you instantly recognized him from TV. You hit it off over a shared hate for math and spent more time together outside class.

He'd complain about his idol life issues and you'd give him any notes from class he'd missed.

You'd just gotten home from a late-night study session at the library. As if it knew, your phone lit up with a text as you sat on your bed.

TR: Yo! Y/N, I met some fans while out with the members today!

YN: Cool. Don't you meet fans wherever you go?

TR: Well these stuck out!

YN: How?

TR: Well, I noticed them, a bunch of guys, giggling in the convenience store and pointing at me and Hao while we were shopping. I didn't want to embarrass them so I just played it cool and ignored them. But then they came up to me!

YN: Okay, some brave fans? That's it?

TR: Just wait a sec!

TR: They came to me and told me they were fans. But more specifically, MY fans! Of course, I was happy to hear, but they were foreigners because they used a term I didn’t know.

YN: What term?

TR: Submissive and Breedable?

TR: I know what submissive means, they mean I'm not an aggressive person. That's not entirely true, but I'm submissive at times.

You looked at your phone, blinking a few times. Some "fans" dared to say that!?

TR: I can't find anything when I look it up, it's probably slang, right?

Maybe telling him that his fans want to breed him wasn't the best thing to tell your friend. He was just too wholesome for that.

YN: Yeah, it is, but it's not something cool. No one says it really, it's not the trend anymore.

TR: Really? I know trends, I'm not old, but I haven’t heard of that.

YN: See? There's no reason to worry, just fans being weird.

TR: Well, the photo they wanted was also...off.

YN: Off how?

TR: They wanted me to stick my tongue out and look up at the camera, which was super high above me. To be honest–it felt a little embarrassing to pose like that.

You shook your head trying not to imagine his cute self making lewd faces for a group of boys, but it was hard. And so were you.

YN: You should be more careful, they could use photos like that weirdly.

TR: What do you mean?

YN: Let's drop it. Subject change, what are you doing now?

TR: I'm getting ready for bed, I just got under the covers.

You looked at the clock, midnight was on its face.

YN: Oh shit, I didn't even realize. You should sleep!

TR: No, no, I'm pretty awake. Plus, it's nice talking to you. Did you want to video call while you get ready for bed?

You’d done it before, talking on video call into the night, but it was always a little like Taerae just wanted to see you.

YN: Sure, I'll call you.

You pressed the video call button on your phone. It showed your reflection as you waited, automatically you straightened your hair a little and kicked some stuff on the floor out of frame.

Taerae answered the phone with a smile, the camera close to his face.

You laughed as you set your phone on your desk, "Well hello to you too, why so close?"

"No reason, I just want to see you closely."

"Well, I can see you so closely I can count your pores," You scoffed as you went into your closet to find pajamas for the night.

"Is it weird I'm holding it so close?"

"A little, but it's no big deal. If you don't wanna show yourself then why'd you wanna video call?"

Taerae didn't answer.

"Are you still thinking about what those guys said?"

He shuffled in bed, "Mmhm."

"I promise it's nothing bad."

"Then why don't you just tell me?"

You sighed, "Okay, fine, I'll spill."

Taerae's eyes peered curiously at the camera as he waited for you to come out of your closet. You settled on wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and shorts. You returned to find Taerae's eyes filled with impatience.

You swallowed awkwardly, "You already know what the submissive part means, but the other part..."

"Breedable," Taerae reminded you.

"Yeah–It means," You struggled to find a good way to break it to him with that look in his eyes. So full of trust and purity. "It means, they wanna do it with you."

Taerae's expression dropped into surprise, "Oh, that's it? I read about that kind of stuff of fans wanting me to have sex with them. That's not so bad."

"Well, breedable means, specifically where you'd be the one getting fucked. Likely by a man. Who wants to... finish in you."

You couldn't bring yourself to look at the screen to see his expression. He'd fallen silent, thinking of a response. It felt like ten minutes passed until he broke the silence.

Taerae's voice was deep and serious, "Y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Look at the screen." You looked at the screen to see Taerae in bed, holding the camera above him to show off his shirtless torso that was mostly covered by the bed sheet except for his collarbone and neck. "Am I breedable right now?"

You felt warm in your face as you answered, "Yeah, I-I guess."

"Submissive, too?"

"Sure," You said as you looked down at your hands.

"Yes or no! Sure isn't good enough, and look at me!"

You complied, looking at him. He smiled before making a face; his eyes looking up at the camera as he stuck out his tongue and held up a peace sign with his other hand.

"Jesus, Taerae!" You looked away quickly. Your heart was in your ears, pounding as the image of sweet Taerae's lewd face was plastered behind your eyelids.

He laughed loudly. "I am, aren't I? Submissive and breedable. I take it as a compliment, they like me that much! To be honest, you look all shy... You look a little submissive too."

You moved your phone so he couldn't see you anymore.

"I was kidding! Don't hide from me!" Taerae's muffled voice shouted from the speaker of your phone.

After you calmed down, you turned your phone back over to see him still there. Still shirtless, and holding his phone at the same seductive angle.

"You're so weird!" You yelled at Taerae, who just giggled.

"And you still like me anyway. Even with all my breedable energy."

"I'm going to hang up–"

"What!? We gotta see you do the pose too, what if you're more breedable than me, we should test how–"

You cut him off as you pressed the red dial button. You turned your phone off before he could call you again. You lay in bed, alone in the dark, thinking about Taerae's face.

And in the privacy of your home, you test if you can also feel submissive and breedable, making Taerae's new iconic look. A secret he'll never know about... As if you didn't already have a big secret.

#oracle of dreams #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #x reader #x male reader #x male y/n #male reader #kpop male idol #kpop male reader #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 taerae #kim taerae #taerae x reader #zerobaseone taerae #taerae smut

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cheekinpermission · 23 days

Text

I wanna talk about the scene in the museum with Azul...

(SPOILERS FOR BOOK 3 AHEAD. ALSO LOTS OF RAMBLING! :D)

During Ch. 38 of Book 3, Azul and Yuu have a short conversation post-overblot in the underwater museum place. I always felt that this bit of dialogue was weirdly charged? The whole scene felt very intimate to me (and the soft music in the background doesn't help lmao), but I never knew WHY since nothing said was inherently romantic.

So, I went back and re-read through every post-overblot and realized that Azul is the only who who has a one-on-one conversation with Yuu after their overblot??

It's rare enough to have one-on-one conversations between Yuu and another character, but then Azul goes a step further. He's the only one to open up to Yuu about his problems:

Some of the other overblot boys talk about their problems, but not to Yuu specifically. It's more of a declaration than confiding in someone, you know? (E.g. Riddle talking about how he prefers milk tea even though the rules stipulate lemon tea)

We, the players, are shown flashbacks of the overblot boys to explain how they reached this point but I can't recall if Yuu is privy to this information as well. (It's theoretically possible since Yuu already has visions / dreams of the Great Seven, but no one ever mentions it so who knows. I'm personally on the side of Yuu NOT knowing because it feels a bit invasive that they'd have this knowledge of people who weren't ready to share it.)

Regardless of whether Yuu can or cannot see those flashbacks, Azul is the only one to willingly talk about his motivations to Yuu. For Azul, this is especially important as he's so protective of his image as a clever and upstanding housewarden, and yet here he openly admits to Yuu that he was a bit of a loser as a kid (his words not mine!).

I guess you could argue that he felt there was no reason to hide it anymore since Yuu already saw him as a chubby octopus baby, but he didn't have to talk about it at all if he didn't want to. But he did. On his own. With no prompting. (Really, though. Yuu can either say they want to make sure he puts the photo back or that they're worried about him, and either way he drops his lore on them lol) And then Yuu tries to help him feel better??

To my knowledge, Yuu doesn't do this with any of the other overblot boys, either. I could have missed it during my research, but if they did it wasn't nearly to the same extent as with Azul.

I still don't know why Azul felt like opening up to Yuu. He didn't have to, but maybe he wanted to? Maybe he wanted to try his hand at being genuine for once and felt Yuu was the least intimidating person to do it with (the magicless human that they are). Who knows? I wish there were more scenes like this. It makes Yuu feel more included in the story. I also think it shows a lot of growth on Azul's end to open up about his problems to Yuu of his own volition.

I'm not sure what I wanted to say with this post, only that I wanted to get my thoughts out there about this scene because it always stood out to me. I felt there was always an undercurrent of something and I think it's because this was the only post-overblot private conversation we got with Yuu and an overblot boy, plus the added encouragement from Yuu at the end.

I'm curious to know if anyone felt the same way about this scene or if I'm just imagining things. I'm also interested in hearing any theories why Azul suddenly felt the urge to open up to Yuu, if you've got them!

Thanks for enduring my rambling!

Bonus!

Azul's so funny for trying to play it off all cool like he isn't doing flips and princess twirls in his head rn. Yuu laid it on THICK. We all know he's freaking out internally.

#i do have a theory for why only azul got this one-on-one with yuu post-overblot but that's a whole other long winded post lol #azul x yuu shippers win this one i s2g #this is just a really cute scene okay i wanted to mention it #i LOVE analysis btw #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst #twisted wonderland #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #twst book 3 #cheekinrambles

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writingforstraykids · 26 days

Text

I owe you a kiss - Pt.7

Pairing: Minchan x femReader

Word Count: 3592

Summary: The more time you spend with them, the more you realize you're not the only one struggling. Chan and you try to sort things out, making sure Minho feels safe at home as well.

Warnings/Tags: fluff, angst, domestic bullshit, sick!whiny!chan, anxious!min, cuddles

A/N: Sooo...I guess there's still some potential for more. If you have any wishes or thoughts, feel free to share them below the post. in an ask, or send me a message🤭🖤

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

You left early this morning to surprise your husbands with breakfast. Chan told you he'd have the next two days off and stay home with you two. Minho was due for a photoshoot tomorrow so it would be only you and Chan. He's still been keeping his distance beside the kisses anywhere but your lips, the long hugs, and the fondling of your hair. Minho has been more openly showing his love and you were thankful for him. You know you'd have to talk to Channie about it but you could tell he was hesitant about pushing you into something. You quietly lock the front door and put the bags down on the table. The shower upstairs is running, which means at least one of them is up, so you start preparing everything.

Minho joins you downstairs a little later and gives you a loving kiss. “Good morning, honey,” he smiles sweetly.

“Morning, darling,” you smile into the kiss. “Channie's still sleeping?” you ask.

“Am I not enough?” he teases lovingly.

“Minnie,” you giggle, and his hands wander down your sides.

“He said something about a bad headache,” he tells you and fondles your back soothingly. “I don't know, maybe he's stressed, maybe it's the weather.”

“Oh,” you nod gently. “Did you give him some painkillers?”

“No,” Minho shakes his head, tilting his head at you. “I thought you could. He usually loves cuddling you when he's in pain.”

“I..uh,” you blink at him, watching his face grow soft.

“Channie and you really need to talk once he's better,” he says and gently caresses your head. “You know he loves you, right?”

“I try to,” you nod, chewing on your lower lip. “I miss him,” you admit quietly, feeling tears burn in your eyes.

“I know,” Minho pulls you into a warm hug and kisses your head. “It's a bit more difficult for the two of you because he left off when he wasn't feeling much, struggling to tell you he loves you and more. He doesn't want to force himself onto you, scared that he'll hurt you,” he says. “He…he also feels like you need me more at the moment and feel more safe around me.”

“Oh,” you say quietly.

“I don’t blame any of you, I think you two should just talk, hm?” he suggests. “Now come on, baby, Channie needs you.”

“What about you?” you ask, confused.

“I have to leave for the shoot in a bit,” he says, seeing your face fall, knowing you must’ve forgotten.

“I thought that’s tomorrow,” you admit, a little embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Min.”

“No, don’t be sorry, honey,” he smiles at you reassuringly. “That only means we can all spend some time together tomorrow. That’s even better now that Channie isn’t feeling so well today,” he tells you.

You chuckle softly, cupping his face and kissing his forehead. It all feels so easy with Minho, easing out every little thing you forget so smoothly. “Make sure to eat something first, okay? Or at least take something with you.”

“I will,” he promises, unable to hide the soft blush coloring his ears at your gentle gesture. He peeks into the bag on the table, and a wide smile covers his face. “You got some pudding as well?”

“Mhm,” you hum, smiling softly as he takes it out and stares at the package before spinning back around to you.

“Wait, that’s my new favorite…how would you-?” his eyes widen with excitement as you nod gently.

“Seeing it I had the feeling you love that one,” you nod. “Like not…a specific memory, but I felt weirdly sure about it,” you tell him, heart warming at the way he beams at you happily.

“I hope you know how great you’re doing,” he says so softly it tugs at your heartstrings. “That first breakthrough was only a week ago, and here you are,” he giggles.

You exhale softly, nodding. “I’m glad because that means there’s an actual chance I’ll start remembering more,” you smile, laughing, surprised as he kisses you fiercely. Minho doesn’t pull away, hands pulling you in as close as he can. Your hand automatically wanders up into his hair, your other resting on his arm as you kiss back. Two steps and your back hits the counter. Minho reaches down, hands wrapping around the back of your thighs, and lifts you up onto the counter effortlessly without breaking the kiss apart. His fingers dig into your thighs as he deepens the kiss with a low hum, and you can tell he has trouble holding himself back. “Minho,” you whisper against his lips. “Min, stop,” you say gently, and he does immediately.

He searches your eyes, a hint of anxiety in the pure need coating his orbs. “Sorry,” he pants softly, reddened lips parted and glistening from the heavy kisses. “I-I should’ve asked first.”

You cup his face, soothingly rubbing his thumbs across his cheeks. “My dear Min,” you say softly. “I’m your wife, and I appreciate you asking, but right now, there’s really no need to,” you assure him, and he visibly relaxes. “You’re gonna be late.”

“Is that all?” he asks mischievously.

“Min,” you snort.

“Is that the only reason I can’t have you for breakfast instead?” he asks again.

“Yes, that’s the only reason,” you giggle, gently shoving his chest. “Now fuck off, Min.”

He smirks, gently squeezing your thighs, and takes a step back. “You owe me tons of kisses later,” he announces giddily.

You laugh, hop back down, and kiss him once more. “Stay safe, okay?”

“I have to,” he says gently. “I really want that kiss,” easing both of your worries hidden beneath this small exchange.

“I’ll go check on Chan now,” you tell him, and he hums agreeingly.

Only a little later, you carefully open the door to your bedroom, trying to close it as quietly as possible. “Channie?” you whisper, and he hums groggily in response. “I brought you some painkillers and water. Do you think you can sit up for a moment?”

Chan groans in response before pushing himself up. He squints at you sleepily, trying to ignore the pulsing pain shooting through his head at sitting up. You sit down at the edge of the bed next to him, handing him the pill. Chan drowsily takes it and lets you bring the glass to his lips, taking a few sips.

“You’re hungry?” you ask, still keeping your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he mumbles, eyes already falling closed again. “Feel sick.”

“Oh, poor baby,” you say softly, and Chan blindly reaches out for you.

“Stay?” he asks pleadingly.

“If you want me to,” you say gently.

Chan nods before contorting his face. “Ow,” he whines softly, scrunching up his nose adorably. “I think I’m dying.”

You bite back a soft chuckle and climb back into bed, getting comfortable next to him. “Come here, you big baby,” you tell him, and he doesn’t need a second invitation to curl up in your arms.

“M’not a baby,” he mumbles softly into your chest, burying his face in your comforting warmth.

“You really wanna argue now?” you tease him lovingly. “I thought you were dying.”

“Fuck you,” he giggles weakly, pulling you closer. “It really hurts, Y/nnie,” he whines after a moment of silence.

You forget sometimes how needy he gets when he’s in pain. “What hurts, baby?”

“My stomach,” he groans softly.

“Let me get you a heat-” you start and sit up, but he pulls you back down.

“Don’t go,” he pleads, looking at you with those big brown puppy eyes you couldn’t say no to.

“Channie, angel, I’m trying to help,” you giggle softly.

“You are,” he says timidly. “Hold me, please? I…I really missed that. I missed you.”

Oh. “I’m here,” you tell him softly, welcoming him back into your arms. You gently run your hand through his hair, and he melts into you with a soft sound. “Is that okay?” you ask as you carefully start massaging his scalp.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. “Feels good.”

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?” you ask gently, and he hums. The tension in his body lessens a little the longer you massage his scalp, running your fingers through his messy curls. You don't know how long you stay like this with him, but you have the feeling he's asleep after a while, his breathing growing calm. His head is tucked in safely beneath yours, his hand slipped beneath your sweater resting against your lower back. It almost feels normal again if there weren't that stupid little voice in the back of your head telling you differently.

Chan turns in his sleep, scooting back as he misses your warmth. “Baby,” he whines sweetly, reaching back for your hand. He pulls your arm forward so you're hugging him and cuddles back into you.

You chuckle softly and scoot closer, planting a tiny kiss on the back of his neck. “I'm here, Channie, I'm here,” you promise quietly.

“Still hurts,” he mumbles, only half awake.

You gently slip your hand beneath his shirt, resting it on his tummy. “Here, baby?” you ask gently, and he hums in response. You start rubbing soothing circles over his tummy, trying to ease him a little.

Chan exhales, relieved, sinking back into his slumber. You bury your nose in his shoulder, closing your eyes as your senses are flooded with him. His skin feels warm beneath your fingertips, his soft breathing lulls you in, and his scent surrounds you. “I love you so much,” you whisper, and he doesn't stir one bit, finally fully asleep.

Minho gets home later to the sight of you two cuddled up in bed. Chan's head is resting on your chest now as he sleeps on top of you. You have your arms wrapped around him lazily, looking peaceful in your sleep. He smiles softly and leans down, lovingly fondling your head and brushing back Chan's curls. He doesn't want to wake you two up yet, but glancing at his watch, he knows he should. Neither of you would be able to sleep tonight otherwise. “Hey, my loves,” he tries gently, rubbing Chan's back and your arm to get you to wake up.

“No,” Chan protests sleepily.

“Come on, Channie. You won't be able to sleep tonight,” he tells him, and Chan groans softly. “Y/nnie, wake up, honey,” he says gently, and a shiver runs down his spine as you’re too deep asleep to react. “Y/n?” he asks again, and Chan looks up at his tone.

“Kitten,” he says soothingly and sits up, rubbing his face. “She's okay,” he promises. Minho glances at you worriedly until Chan gently grabs his chin and turns his head to face him. “Breathe.” He reaches out for you, tickling your side.

“Ey, fucker!” you curse sleepily, swatting his hand away.

Minho blinks at you for a moment before a weak laugh falls from his lips. “Fucks sake,” he whispers to himself. “I'm such an idiot,” he mutters and gets up, grabbing his keys from the nightstand. “Come down once you're ready, yeah? I brought lunch.”

Chan watches him thoughtfully as he leaves and glances back down at you. “Come on, pretty,” he giggles softly.

“Ugh, fine,” you groan and sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “How's your head?”

“A lot better,” he tells you, grabbing a sweater from his closet.

“Your stomach?”

“All good,” he smiles gently. “Thank you, baby girl.”

“Of course,” you mirror his smile, but you see the worry lacing his features. “What's wrong?”

“I don't know, something's off with Min,” he says. “You didn't react when he tried to wake you, and I think he got scared for a second.”

“Oh,” you nod gently and tilt your head at Chan. “Maybe that's it. I'm sure he'll be fine. If not, we're there.” Chan nods agreeingly and offers you his hand, helping you out of bed.

Chan exchanges a look with you as a loud thunder ripples through the air. “You know what that means?”

“More cuddles and a movie?” you smirk back.

“Exactly,” he grins, pulling you downstairs with him.

Minho already sets the table and smiles tiredly as you join him downstairs. Another thunder makes him flinch, barely noticeable, and he takes a deep breath. “Just rain,” he tells himself quietly.

“You need help with anything?” you ask him.

“No, it's okay, you guys can sit down,” he tells you and grabs you all some glasses from the cabinet. Chan and you continue talking as Minho pours you all something to drink. The rain outside picks up, hammering against the roof.

“I think we should turn on the light, it's getting darker every minute,” Chan says, getting up to do so.

“Yeah, that's a lot better and-,” you break off as the next thunder makes Minho flinch so hard he's pouring the lemonade all over your lap.

“Oh shit, I'm so sorry,” he apologizes immediately, putting it down and grabbing some tissues. You watch him cautiously as he tries to clean the mess up as well as he can and notice his hands shaking heavily.

“Min?” you ask gently and exchange a look with Chan. Something is very wrong. “Min, look at me.” He does, and there's fear in his eyes, looking like he's about to zone out. “Minnie, what's -.”

Outside, a car suddenly hits the brakes, an ugly screeching sound rippling through your ears. Minho covers his ears with his hands in horror and presses his eyes closed, exhaling shakily. “It's okay, everything is okay,” he whispers, and the sight breaks your heart as you connect the dots.

Chan seems to pick up on it as well, as you both move at the same time. Chan pulls Minho against his chest, wrapping his arms around him from behind. He soothingly rubs his chest and meets your eyes as you step in front of them. You gently take Minho's hands and pull them from his ears. “Minho, darling, look at me,” you say gently, and Minho does, gasping softly. “We're okay. It's just bad weather, but we're safe, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods quickly and tries to focus back on you. You cup his face, and he covers your hands with his own, taking a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Remember what you told me this morning?” you ask, and Minho chuckles weakly.

“You owe me at least one kiss,” he says, slowly relaxing in Chan's hold combined with the sound of your voice.

“Yeah,” you giggle softly. “We're okay, hm?”

Minho nods before dropping his head onto your shoulder with a soft sound. “I'm sorry,” he says and wraps one arm around you, his other hand finding Chan's on his chest.

“Don't be,” Chan tells him gently.

“It's okay,” you assure him.

“I love you two so much,” he sighs softly, and you both squeeze him gently.

“We love you too, kitten,” Chan answers for the both of you.

You stay there for a while until Minho giggles softly. “You can let go now.”

“You're sure?” Chan smirks.

“Very sure,” Minho snorts.

“You already have enough of our love?” you chime in teasingly.

“Never,” he giggles.

“Then what's the rush, huh?” Chan chuckles, covering the back of his neck with tiny kisses as you do the same to his face.

“Oh, for fucks sake,” he laughs happily. Chan and you exchange a fond gaze at the so beloved sound, knowing he's okay. “I can't reheat lunch again.”

“Fine,” you giggle, letting go of him again.

The movie’s long finished as you're still all on the sofa. Minho's stretched out on the sofa, his head resting in your lap, legs thrown over Chan's. He's asleep by now, exhausted from his day. You mindlessly play with his hair, drawing patterns on his face in awe. Chan absentmindedly fondles his thighs, head back against the headrest as he stares at the ceiling. You glance at him, gently running your hand through his hair. “How's your head?” you ask as his eyes flutter close at your touch.

“Much better,” he assures you gently, turning a little to face you. Looking into his eyes, you can see the many questions in them, mirroring your own. “Y/nnie?” he asks, barely audible.

“Mhm?” you hum, still playing with his curls.

“Do you…Do you still love me? Actually love me?” he asks so timidly your breath hitches in shock.

“I-,” you stare at him, almost confused. Wasn't that supposed to be your question?

Chan takes your silence the wrong way and nods, turning away from you. “Okay…fuck,” he whispers, his throat tightening. He's up before you know it, leaving the two of you as tears fill his eyes, and he feels like he can't breathe.

You need a moment to process what's happening before quickly getting up, resting Minho's head on a pillow, and covering him with a blanket.

Chan's upstairs in the bathroom, bracing himself on the sink so firmly that his knuckles turn white. His head hangs low, but you know the way his body’s trembling; he's holding back sobs. You slip underneath his arm so you're trapped between his body and the sink. “Channie,” you whisper, helplessly cupping his face. Your hands meet his wet skin, and you try to wipe his tears away. “Channie, my dear boy.”

“I'm sorry I messed it all up,” he whimpers. “I shouldn't have pushed you away back then, and I shouldn't have now. I swear I'll make it up to you. Please just give me a chance,” his voice cracks at the last bit.

“Okay, okay, come here,” you say, pulling him into your arms. He buries his face in your shoulder, shaking in your arms. “Listen closely now, yeah?” you ask, waiting for his nod. “I will never stop loving you. Min told me how rough those months before the accident were for you, and I won't judge you for that. I know how hard you try to make Min and me comfortable, don't think I don't see that,” you tell him gently, soothingly rubbing his back as he grows calmer in your hold. “I'm scared I'm not the woman you love anymore because, well, I forgot a lot, and I carry a lot of baggage around now. And seeing you keeping your distance, I only felt like I was right about that…but maybe we're scared of the same thing about ourselves?”

Chan pulls back and smiles at you with teary eyes. “Y/nnie, you don't mean anything less to me than when we met. Fuck, you mean so much more to me by now. I just…Now that I got it back it feels like I don't know where to put all that love I have for you two and..I try bottling it up before scaring you off.”

“Please don't,” you tell him gently. “You've always been so loving, don't try to hide that. I really miss that, angel.”

Chan leans his forehead against yours in defeat and takes a shuddery breath. “So we're okay?” he asks timidly.

“We're okay,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?” you ask and Chan's body automatically searches yours, fingers digging deep into the fabric of your sweater.

“Please,” he breathes out. Your lips meet, pulling a soft sound from him. “Missed you so much,” he whispers into the kiss, hands cupping your face so delicately as if you were made of glass.

You only pull back once you feel he's ready and wrap your arms around his neck, cuddling into him. “I love you, Channie. So, so much. Never forget that.”

“I love you too,” he smiles softly. “I'll do better.”

You shake your head and soothingly run your hand through his hair. “Channie…I think sometimes we forget we interrupted your healing process with that stunt we pulled.”

“Don't call that a stunt,” he laughs in protest.

“Okay,” you giggle, amused. “But like…you were working things out and coming back…Min told me how fucked up he was. I know that fight we had and what happened today is only a small glimpse of what you dealt with. So, you didn't really have time to get back home.”

“I suppose not,” he nods gently, frowning a little.

“I can't change the fact that I need to be patient for my memories to come back…even if it's just partially,” you say and gently kiss his head. “But I will try my best to help you two feel comfortable around me and make sure you have a loving home.” Chan doesn't say anything, but the way he clings to you tells you everything you need to know. “Let's go get Minnie, I think we could all use the extra hours of sleep today.”

“Mhm, okay,” he hums softly, not quite ready to let go of you.

“We can cuddle, angel,” you promise, and he pulls back with the sweetest smile on his lips.

Chan gently picks up Minho from the sofa who protests with a soft whine. “Shh, it's okay, just taking you to bed,” he says fondly.

Minho wraps his arms around him sleepily. “You two are okay?” he asks softly, having noticed your sudden absence.

“Yeah, we're okay,” Chan nods.

“That's good,” Minho smiles sweetly, kissing his neck sleepily.

He doesn't protest much as Chan lowers him into bed and cuddles into you contently. Chan climbs into bed on your other side, doing the same. You fall asleep much more at peace than usual. You'd take care of your boys now.

PART SIX | PART EIGHT

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

If your name is marked red I couldn't tag you for some reason.

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @kailee08 @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ontito0icongirls @furiousheartpoetry @bluesiebirdie @scarlet789 @ziipzeepzop-eez @lost-in-avoidance @dprkbyn @bear8585 @lee-knows-cats @mintchip17 @zdgx1 @zerefdragn33l @chansducky10 @melanctton @0325tiny @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @daisyjihannie @felixs-brownies78 @moonchild9350 @weareapackofstrays @roriiror

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

aita for calling my roommate crazy?

I (28f) live with 2 other people, a former college roommate who I’m pretty close with (29f) and 2nd roommate (28nb) who we both met when we moved in together 2 years ago.

Let me start this out by saying, this isn’t a fandom aita, it’s going to sound a bit weird at first, but bear with me.

I have a medical condition (relevant later) which stopped most of my bones from maturing past puberty (growth plates closing, cartilage not hardening into bones, ect.), so my skeleton is basically stuck somewhere between 13-19, (I look about 17-19, but the last time I tried to buy hard cider, the cashier thought I was 14, so that’s how young I can look). I also have very pale skin (unrelated to my disorder, just a ginger), and (related to my disorder) lack some liver enzymes so I need eat meat or I get sick (the same reason why cats need to eat meat), I ended up in the ER when I lived with my vegan sister for a week and ate the same veggie diet as her.

Trouble is, Roommate 2 is really into conspiracy theories and other fringe stuff. Nothing alt-right or anything, just like, (for example) they fully bought into that Mermaids: the body found show, and wouldn’t be dissuaded, even when Roommate 1 googled it and showed them solid proof that it was fictional. Wholeheartedly believes the US government preformed 9/11, does alternative medicine (homeopathy, ect), wishes there were ‘all natural’ vaccines (still isn’t an anti-vaccer though, just needs to be persuaded that Bill Gates didn’t put microchips in them).

Anyway, Roommate 1 and I have a recurring joke that I’m a vampire because of the meat thing and the pale thing and the not aging thing. Roommate 2 overheard us and laughed, but weirdly. She kinda joked along with us, but she seemed...odd. About a week later, they start asking me stuff about being a vampire. But they seemed friendly and not nervous then and I was hoping they were just joking and I also sincerely thought they were just asking me about how vampires work on one of my shows (I’m a big fan of Carmilla and the Originals), so I tried to explain, but I cited each show when I’m explaining a thing. This continued for several weeks, but getting worse and more weird every time, eventually culminating about 2 and a half months later into them asking me more stuff about life as a vampire and I really realised that they were serious. Bear in mind, Roommate 1 and I were trying to be very clear that we don’t believe in vampires this whole time because we both know how Roommate 2 is about this. As a result, this was the first time I really registered that they seriously seemed to genuinely believe I was a vampire. I firmly told them that I am not a vampire and that vampires aren’t real, they’re fun to joke about, but they aren’t real. They implored me ‘to be straight with them about being a vampire,’ and that ‘I could trust them,’ and I’m ashamed to say, I kinda freaked out at this point, cuz I was afraid that they would be scared of me and maybe try to hurt me, since they seemed kinda unstable because of this.

This is where I think I was an asshole, I am usually very sensitive to mental health issues. I have some c-PTSD myself and there are a lot of mental health issues in my family (unfortunately, I think some history with my own mentally ill father may have made me react this way, since he has very similar issues to Roommate 2 (vaccines, alternate medicines, specifically involving me in his delusions) and I had a very bad experience in my early teens where he thought I was a demon and ‘sent to destroy him’). Anyway, I got very upset and I yelled at them, I told them they were completely crazy and needed to get mental help and said I thought Roommate 1 and I needed to move out because they might try to stake my heart or something. I feel really bad for calling them crazy, especially because Roommate 2 has some very mental health issues and words like crazy make light of and stigmatise that and I’m very big into not blaming people for their mental health problems, but this was very triggering and in this moment I was very distresssed.

So, aita, all things considered here? I’m still gonna feel like the asshole no matter what, since mental health problems aren’t to be taken lightly or blamed on the person, but I’m curious what the internet thinks.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thegnomelord · 4 months

Note

Ahhh! The Harpy Gaz fic was so cute. But that section at the beginning has me thinking about Ghost, who is interested in reader hybrid that has a very unusual courting ritual(s).

Like, apparently, pandas have a weird hostage situation. The female runs and hides in trees while male competitors fight for her. They will follow her around and try to steal her away until she's ready to mate. It's theorized that this little battle actually stimulates the mating cycle. Similarly, female ferrets don't ovulate unless they're being mauled half to death. (Doesn't sound pleasant to me, but to each their own) my thought here would be more like Ghost's total confusion as to why you seem to like fighting him so much.

Or one of my personal favorites, certain birds and pufferfish (and probably many others that idk yet) have taken to terraforming. They'll create intricate designs and illusions with sand, rocks, sticks, bones, whatever you can think of to attract a mate. The structure they create doubles as a sort of nest. Bowerbirds are particularly keen on displaying an assortment of blue things specifically.

Ooh or shrikes, imagine Ghost's reaction to seeing his favorite food impaled on a sharp object (maybe a combat knife). Tbh, that would be a little threatening. Opening the fridge and seeing a steak or something stabbed with a combat knife and a little note saying, "For Ghost, I hope you enjoy 😁❤️"

Sorry for the little rant, I have an unnecessary amount of knowledge about animal mating rituals.

- 👑 anon

No, no, as a fellow animal nerd I find this stuff so interesting!

I think Ghost would be weirdly into the knife being impaled in his food. Especially if you attempt to feed him with the knife, like sticking small chunks on the tip and expecting him to eat off the knife. And while he acts aloof he's hard in his pants because there's something hot about you using a dangerous object so tenderly with him (also weapon kink idk)

I really love the idea of reader being some deep sea monster or of some species that has a "fuck or die" mentality. Like some anglerfish or spider sexual dimorphism thing where if you were to court your own kind they'd be like 4-5 times your size and wouldn't hesitate to eat you. So you're very crafty and your courting rituals are weird as fuck.

Like Ghost is reading up on your species mating habits and seeing you tie up your mate and if they can't get out you fuck? And if they can you die? Should he be worried? And like he's rethinking every enemy takedown simulation you two had when you needed to tie him up like; were you courting him? was he courting you? what?

Or an especially powerful monster that has a tendency to make nests out of bones, to show how strong they are. So Ghost just walks into your room to see it covered from floor to ceiling in bones of all kinds of creatures with you looking at him like a puppy lol

Or or some kind of mercreature monster reader having a ritual where they pull their mate down to the depths away from competitors, because if it's not dark and cold and you're not drowning your mate won't want to fuck, and Simon's wondering if he needs to buy scuba gear?

#gnome's tea break #cod mw2 #gnome correspondence #x reader #👑 anon #simon ghost riley x reader #monster cod au #monster 141 au

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penaltyboxboxbox · 4 months

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whats stopping you from posting your omegaverse headcanons my king……do it

truly what is stopping me....ok my omegaverse assignments under the damn cut and honestly thank you to @wewentcarracing my fellow scholar who's own research has DEFINITELY influenced my own

Charles: this bitch is an omega. everyone is in love with him and he smells so good and is distracting to everyone in the damn room. we're going to question his abilities because of it too he will face anti-omega media bias despite the achievements of other omega drivers all of charles mishaps are blamed on the fact hes an omega

Carlos: alpha idc what you contradictory parties wanna say hes a big hairy alpha and hes proud of it. but hes like pretty well managed and likes to act like hes a lot more...idk wild during his ruts and stuff but like in all reality he keeps it together very well but just uses being an alpha as an excuse to hoe around.............is not mated to charles but like wants to be soooooo badly and like the way charles plays around it constantly makes him insanely whipped . as he fucking said it himself he wants to bite charles and has to control himself. ok.

Pierre: i cant decide honestly like sometimes i want him to be an alpha who has no self control and sometimes i want him to be a very ashamed omega. depends on the day and also what i'm assigning for esteban....

Esteban: He is either a beta or a really lame alpha..............i like him being an alpha making him super protective of lance but like THEY DONT LIKE EACH OTHER THAT WAY but like. maybe a little a esteban just too polite to lance to say anything. teehee. omega pierre x beta esteban is goated also. just saying.

Lance: OMEGA.............uses this as an excuse to always be laying down and being sweet and asking people to do things for him :) and they always do. also he has the most sweaty disheveled unwell heats ever and just generally reeks of maple syrup and pancakes

Fernando: alpha and he wont let you forget it. he stank. hes freaky. yeah. talks about it TOO openly. everyones had a taste too like can you blame them. guy who is also like slobbering all over lances neck in public theyre gross about it

George: I loooove George as an alpha who really dislikes the loss of control aspect of alphadom. As the wise sadie one said, george thinks being an alpha is terribly gauche. at the same time has his own cockiness about the fact he IS an alpha like he has his moments there......using his alpha privilege when it suits him but hating it when its not something he can use to his advantage or that might make him act a fool

Lewis: Beta who lets people believe he's an Alpha whos just so mentally in the zone and turbo vegan that he is able to remain in complete control of his urges and emotions. Gets testy when questioned about it its NONE of their business. Definitely does in fact really really want to be an alpha. (nico an omega btw just add this to my brocedes narrative)

Yuki: Alpha and proud of it. He's like writing alpha specific instagram captions.

Daniel: This man is THE beta ok. used to be self deprecating about it but now just embraces it. hes the beta they brought into the enclosure to keep max from becoming insane.

Max: an omega but like. weirdly ravenous one. he is breaking down omega stereotypes but like he's not even trying he's just a weirdo.

Checo: also an omega but hes like a tragically lame one when in heat. like this man is the king of the pathetic heat he wants to be led around by the hand and makes everyone around him feel bad for him. smells like orchids and carnations.

Valtteri: beta who is literally just chilling

Guanyu: reverse lewis, alpha who everyone thinks is a beta and he just lets them, doesn't want people prying into that part of his life. does not have a complex about being an alpha though and being around val keeps him w a cool head yk

Alex: Alpha.......knows he's a good one too like too aware that he'll get the job done and WELL definitely more than a little cocky about it and thinks he generally like. deals with himself well doesn't THINK he lets it get to his head as much as it does. HUGE flirt w like any omega.

Logan: Omega like what do you want me to say he spends every moment wiggling and whimpering and blushing like......hes an omega. he smells like he smells like fresh cut citrus and seawater 🫶😔

Lando: he's an omega but he smells offputting he smells like burnt sugar and monster energy. was like convinced mind body and soul he and carlos were a THING until the chussy lured carlos away and now lando is stuck being a little weird about it for all time he cant quite click w someone else and hes a weird mean little tease because of it

Oscar: Alpha who is soooooooooo incredibly chill about it. You wanna hop on my dick? ah. ok i guess. have at it. like this guy is not pressed about any of this shit

KMag: alpha but i have no strong opinion here i just think hes normal

Nico: alpha who smells terrible to every omega ever and can never find a rut partner and yearns for the hole but he just cant win

bonus seb cause i can: seb is an alpha..obvs w charles duh but ALSO was a freakish little alpha in his younger days who got off on being gross and contradictory + wonderful truly paired with beta mark with his absolutely massive complex about being a beta and snaps at anyone who tries to bring it up in regards to his behavior etc etc etc hotheaded beta and evil twink alpha who goads him about oh fuck me all you want youll never be MEEEEE oh i need it actually. anyways

THANKS FOR READING 🫶

#ask

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quixtrix · 5 months

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rayman, eden's feel good american dream story; an analysis

guess who's back with taking ubisoft's silly guys and cutting them open. yknow, if you strip rayman of his personality, of all the behind the scenes we get of him, we get a run of the mill news reporter that is an immigrant, who by face alone serves as a shining ray of hope. he's easily something that by all means, can be classified as a diversity hire. immigrant, nonhuman (which in the world of clh can be considered to be equated with poc irl), and notably the only one in his work environment. don't believe me?

we rarely ever see anyone other than rayman on the show in the form of a coworker. the only time we do see other eden affiliated people, they are both white. "but you can't see red's face!!" there is a reason his dialogue makes you think of more right leaning people with their claims of 'wokeness is destroying everything' under something like april from tmnt being black and not ginger. he's a caricature meant to represent a specific group of people under fascism; those who have successfully consumed the fearmongering and have let it turn from fear of those that they are told are beneath them into hatred for them. there is also the fact that on live tv he throws up a middle finger, refers to an implied group of immigrant people as 'filthy interdimensional alien scum,' and seemingly gains no backlash for it. yes, the other reporter does try to give red a chance to go back on his words, but he sticks to it. and despite all of this, we get no indication that neither red nor the niji 6 had to apologise or received punishment for this. in fact, red is possibly given more chances by eden due to him being weirdly in charge of bullfrog's containment in a way? (i'm not entirely sure WHY he was there, but as he is one of eden's tv personalities, he's at a possibly televised trial of a terrorist.) now if you compare this to rayman, who also acted inappropriately on tv by literally saying fuck, you'd come to realise that rayman was treated so much more harshly. he was IMMEDIATELY replaced by a clone of himself, with no warning nor any indication that eden would do such a thing. it's very likely this was one of, if not the first time that rayman has slipped up like this on live tv. maybe it's a repeat offence considering his personality, but then you could argue that red is a repeat offender of the same shit and then you have to wonder why a soldier like red was not easily replaced but someone who is the literal face and voice of eden was with ease. it's because rayman made himself more than jus a story, he humanised himself by showing a peek of his raw feelings. remember that cute little exposition of the rayman kids show about hybrids? where we see all of these hybrids working as society's grunts and the kids are told to be thankful for hybrids? it's very sweet and gives a good message! now the rayman kids show is a product of eden propaganda, but rayman very much has a hand in it, most likely as a writer. he uses his platform to speak on issues that has happened and affected him. this can be seen in his biopic.

jus sit with this image for a moment. you ever think about why rayman is specifically made as an alien? why he's specifically an immigrant? in real life news reports and speeches, there is a difference in implications when people use immigrants and not aliens. you wanna know why?

as someone apart of an immigrant family myself, i live in a community of other immigrants. majority of them are hispanic, and while i myself am not hispanic, i am very aware of how hispanic immigrants were referred to and treated by politicians under trump's presidency. how couldn't i? even as children in middle school and elementary, we had discussions about what trump was saying because it directly targets my friends and their families. they are people targeted by a man who specifically uses derogatory terms to dehumanise them, to make it easier to justify in the average american mind that the government is doing the right thing by keeping out and protecting america from these so-called 'invading animals.' makes what red was saying earlier feel very on the nose, right? adi shankar, the showrunner for captain laserhawk, is also an immigrant man. immigrated from india, which by the way, did you know has a lot of people immigrating for the purpose of having a better life? that's a common sentiment that can be found in every single immigrant family's story. i've asked my filipino mother why she took an opportunity to live and work in america, and she told me it's because she wanted to give her children a better life than what we would have had in the philippines. hell, i bet if you share a similar background to me, you can ask your own parents the same thing and get the exact same answer, regardless if you came from latin america or africa, or asia. it's because of the concept of the american dream. everyone who has ever engaged with any degree of immigrant discussion has heard of the american dream. it's a concept that seems to be consistently proven via word of mouth, with the biggest examples being celebrities. they will always, without fail, eventually speak about the american dream within their backstories. and typically, they will use their platforms to further empower others within their community. it's why people from specific ethnicities tend to group together, why people make art meant as something akin to a homage to their people. it provides hope to the masses, makes you relate to the person on the screen, and believe that this society is truly a gracious one by providing opportunity. because yeah, it may be bad, but it could be worse. i mean we appreciate you! just look!

dont mind the fact that the majority of opportunities allotted to you is grunt work, the work where you at the base of the pyramid, with the harder jobs and the jobs no one wants to do. dont mind the fact you will be actively dehumanised, forced to work for hours in conditions we wouldn't put anyone else in, but hey. we appreciate you. we thank you. and yknow, you can become more than what you are. yknow, we let someone just like you be more than what you are! nevermind the fact that if they slip up, they'll be met with MUCH harsher criticism in comparison to someone who isn't you! aren't we so gracious? i probably sound a bit like matpat's insane out of context real world examples, but this show is filled with political imagery, so let me be. anyways, let's get back to eden and rayman. rayman, despite being specifically from dimension x as an alien, keeps hybrids in mind when he's doing his work.

people of colour tend to share solidarity with one another due to the fact that surface wise, we share similar struggles. to grossly oversimplify things, we all face discrimination through our appearances and are oppressed by the rules of a society created by our white oppressors. again, hybrids and dimension x immigrants can be equated to irl poc, and despite being different from each other, there is still community. rayman keeps them in mind, hoping to make things better for the overall nonhuman and nonnative (native as in naturally born) population of eden. but, rayman is not what he believes he is. because despite everything he has worked for, despite what he has tried to do, he is still a facilitator of the fascist regime that has an active hand in the perpetual oppression of his own people. one of the core concepts within fascism is us versus them. it's an easy way to instill fear (which is very much needed in fascism to make it easier to lie to the masses) and it's used in multiple layers, beginning with a large group (ex. us versus ussr, capitalism vs communism), then progressively sizing down (ex. saying all eastern europeans are communist, then going smaller and say all those affiliated with eastern europeans are communist) with the goal being to put people against each other and break up community since if you put your minds together, you'll start to realise that the fascist system is bullshit. what i've personally come to find is that in order to hide the fact that there is fascism lurking is that someone that can be considered a 'them,' an other, will be given a seat at the table. it's so they can be used as an excuse, a human shield, when they inevitably slip up and can be paraded to the masses as proof that the other is not as smart or powerful as 'us.' the 'other' within the 'us' is used as something to look down at, while also justifying to oneself that they have a place, that they are not being oppressed. they have an opportunity as much as anyone else! so long as they don't mess up. rayman messes up, and is shunned from 'us.' hes a mistake, impure, clearly not like 'us,' 'us' who had been so gracious to give this 'other' a place. he's cut out and discarded because he has well worn his purpose, and clearly, they can just get another little puppet. they'll dress him up and make him worthy of being one of 'us,' and make sure that this one won't fall to the fault of his little ideas. which is exactly what leads to rayman's transformation of ramon. being forcibly forced out and discarded by eden because he showed his true ideas makes him realise that there was no real place for him within the system. because what good is his work if it leads to what he tried not to create? it's worthless, just as the system it attempts to thrive in is.

tl;dr, rayman is a representation of the american dream, specifically celebrities. he tries to do what he can with his platform, but the fact is that within a fascist system, his impact is not entirely felt in the way he wants it to. that is why he becomes ramon.

anyways if you reached the end of THIS LONG ASS PIECE GOOD LORD thank you!! always open to discuss this and take criticism, my ask box is open in the lil 'who's asking' :^]

#this was a fucking long one my bad #this is inspired by saji sharma's video on mindy kailing #in the sense that it made a few things click nd well here we are #i'm on my fourth rewatch and yeah #yeah i had to say smth bc i dont think anyone has said shit abt this?#i blame the fact that i believe theres not that many poc doing the lil insane analysis thing i do #which is fine btw #also sorry if i got anything wrong !!#im slightly going off of my own memory sooo #captain laserhawk #rayman #clh rayman #captain laserhawk rayman #all the rayman tags bc idk what to do #character analysis

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tipsyleaf · 12 days

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okay but like what if Leon is the famous one in the relationship. The whole RE universe is a movie or show and he’s popular. You’re out here devouring his fanfics. Then he found out….or u writing one —then what 🧍‍♀️

I weirdly see Leon as a mom vlogger. He’s one of those😭

(If you ever call Leon a mommy vlogger again it's curtain calls for anon. I will not rest until I find you)

(this is a joke pls don't come for me...)

I'm thinkiiiiing...

Actor! Leon x Assistant! Reader (Post Damnation era)

BUT YOU READING HIS FANFICTION!!!

He knew his fans read and wrote this stuff. Draw him, write about him. Character and him alike. The screenwriters literally wrote everyone's characters based off of who they actually were. So in a way his RE character is an extension of himself but everyone can still differentiate between the two. So he doesn't mind anyone doing this.

He's gotten fanmail with art, copies of fanfiction and even just fan accounts constantly interacting with his social media posts. But one particular account seems to interact with him a lot, R4Kennedy.

No idea who it is but whatever.

Eventually he starts getting a lot of offers from different companies for commercials, brand deals, appearances, ect. He starts getting a bit overwhelmed with things so he hands off some responsibilities to his lovely assistant, you. You get to do most of his social media stuff. But he still likes scrolling around, liking things, retweeting/reblogging stuff and making his own posts life update posts on occasion. But he'd notice the lack of interaction from that one account on posts he specifically didn't make. But the second he'd personally post something he gets responses from R4Kennedy.

Super weird...

He'd accidentally found out by having to use your laptop to check a few things because his computer was having issues. You two know each other well, you've worked for him for years now, practically live together. So you don't even think to close out your open tabs... Tabs to your social accounts...

Leon is too nosy curious for his own good so he ends up opening the tabs.

You're R4Kennedy... He starts looking through the fics you've liked, everything you've said about him, even the things you've written.

You're a good writer, he'll give you that. A lot more brave online versus your usual mousey demeanor on the clock. Maybe you were interested in him and we're just shy? The thought crosses his mind constantly.

But he keeps this information for himself for a while.

Eventually he uses it. A day you're looking particularly good. He's been attracted to you for a while but was scared of scaring you off with his abrasive nature.

But you're making a coffee for yourself in his kitchen and he ends up saying your account name. You tense up immediately and just look back at the massive grin on his face. He says nothing else before he walks out.

He knows. And now you know he knows. And he's definitely going to hold this over your head for a while...

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes #resident evil x reader

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thewinchestah · 2 months

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Strawberry Fields (sonhei com campos de morango) - Alastor X Reader fic

Summary: On a dreadful night, Alastor goes to collect one of his contracts. Something goes terribly wrong. He finds you.

Warnings: fem!reader, Human!reader, smut, 18+, period sex, overstimulation, light cannibalism, blood, A LOT OF BLOOD, general creeppiness, Alastor is in hell for a reason, oral sex, alastor kind of hunts reader down, possessive!Alastor

A/N: Soooo!! This was a long time coming but here it is. This idea has been on my mind for a long time now and I wanted to test the waters before i commit to a long fic. I hope you guys like it, i'm kinda on the fence about it. I'm working on the requests and they should be out soon I PROMISEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Also I got a little carried away, i'm sorry. Hope you guys enjoy it. It's always a pleasure to write for you. The visuals and the title for this fic are heavily inspire by this music video. Not the lyrics tho, i always felt like the singer did a poor job with this concept and i wanted to do it justice.

Taglist: @markster666@jyoongim@stygianoir @pepperycookie@fraspent @aether-th3-enby @lady-valtieri @karolinda007-blog @jesi-pinkman@polytheatrix If the tags aren’t working or you wanna be tagged, let me know.

You curse when another sharp stone cuts your feet.

You regret it a second later when you hear the ominous sounds that reverberate through the trees. They are closing in on you.

You don’t know how you got here, you just know now you are running for your life inside these woods now. The only guiding light, a full moon that looks weirdly otherworldly.

Adrenaline burns inside your bloodstream, the forest seems devoid of any living thing. It’s only you and whoever is chasing you. You wish you could hear gunshots, you wish you could hear screams. Anything besides the occasional twig snap or wind caressing the pine trees’ leaves. The eerie silence is deafening, and worse: the eerie silence makes you even more aware of your situation.

It’s incredible how everything gets clearer when you’re about to die.

Maybe you shouldn’t have traveled alone, maybe you shouldn’t have decided to go somewhere where the closest thing to civilization is the village’s old-yet-charming dinner.

You just wanted a little bit of quiet, a place that made introspection inviting. Next time you should go for a beach vacation.

Next time? why does next time sound so… far away? Somehow your feet carry you away from the forest’s well marked path and deeper into the thick vegetation, hiding behind a large tree. You gained a few minutes on them by taking a detour.

Breathe. Remember to breathe.

Right, your mind remembers. You’re being hunted down like prey in the creepy horror film woods, time to focus on surviving again. You can overthink later.

You assess your options: you can keep going into the woods, a deadly game of hide and seek. Zig-zag through the trees, keep them guessing. There’s a good chance you will find wildlife as you go deeper. This could be a problem, it’s too dark to make anything out, an encounter could cause enough of a distraction, you could take advantage of that. Or you could end up mauled. Plus, you are absolutely positive there are bear traps somewhere. If you're gonna die, make your death less dumb. Quite an embarrassing topic of discussion in the afterlife, saying that you died like horror film pretty girls making dumb decisions that you clearly would never make in a situation like that. You just know they are incredible hunters, you need to take them out of their element, expose them.

So yeah, going deeper isn't an option.

Something catches your eye, there’s a big opening in the thick vegetation, there’s a clearing ahead and… sparks? You definitely see a light. You were told by the locals how the population is scattered across acres and acres of practically untouched wilderness, there’s also the park’s rangers stationed on specific places that grant them a visual advantage in case of emergencies. A big clearing is perfect for that. Maybe, just maybe there’s hope.

Of course bolting there will make you terribly exposed, they will know your position all the time, and they can still hunt you hidden by the edge of the trail. Besides there’s no guarantee of what awaits you when you reach the promised land, they could have a partner waiting, there could be nothing at all there. Taking this risk for nothing sounds worse than being lured into a trap. You just have this gut feeling that’s where you should go. Your brain starts to pick the plan apart, this doesn’t sound good. Hesitation can be fatal. But you are all adrenaline and primal flight intistic -

The decision was made for you, you start running again. Taking advantage of the final stretch of cover you still have until you hit the trail again, you take several deep breaths. Oxygen needs to keep coming, so you can make decisions, so your limbs can respond quickly. Your peripheral catches something that’s also running. It’s a stag.

He’s also prey. He’s an omen. He’s your cue.

You leap across some fallen branches and your scratched feet land on the main trial. As soon as you complete your first step you hear movement and hurried voices. They are onto you. “What do we say to the good of death? Not today” you give yourself a pep-talk as you keep running. Maybe thinking this is all fiction will help you survive this, detach yourself from the situation, don’t think about the consequences, just act.

And like that, you don’t stop running. You sing your abcs to focus and stop spiraling. Evolution is truly amazing, the cuts you suffered don’t hurt anymore, precious shooting adrenaline, adrenaline that makes you tunnel vision towards your objective. By now you know where to step, when to dodge, when to slow down and when to go faster. Millennia of sheer force of survival catching up to you.

breathe, remember to breathe.

You inhale a good chunk of oxygen and look ahead. There’s a man on the edge of the tree line and a few meters left. Your mind wants to sing in victory, but you refrain from that, you know better than that it only ends when it’s over-

You’re positively sprinting towards the man right now, like he is your assured salvation. Something inside you screams louder and louder guiding you to him and you follow the sound.

You hear gunshots.

So noooooow they bring out the guns? That’s low.

But that’s a good thing right? If they are shooting they are getting out of time. A single gunshot can take you down and they can smoothly and swiftly carry you away, like it’s a normal hunt. No one will question shooting something they didn’t see getting shot so deep into these woods. But shooting a girl in front of a witness? that’s for amateurs right? So, the man is not a partner you decide.

remember to breathe, you are not breathing.

You are so close now, you see an outstretched hand coming your way only a few more steps

breathe.

You don’t, instead you leap towards your loosely established finish line and take the hand an-

Dirt greets your face as you fall face first into the trail, and you crawl like a zombie that just rose from its grave. You have a collection of new cuts and scrapes now, it hurts and you can’t bite your lip to suppress the pain. Still, you intertwine your fingers with his, your other arm aggressively seeking for leverage, clinging to your flesh lifeline. You blur out a bunch of incoherent things as he effortlessly lifts you up in one swift motion.

“Get behind me, my dear.” he asks. He has a weird voice almost like it leaves something in the air that caresses your skin, an inviting voice nonetheless. You hide yourself inside the crook of his arm, giving you the ability to witness just a little bit of the action there’s about to happen. You never let go of his hand. Your prince charming feels awfully cold.

Alastor waits, rather impatiently, for his clients to arrive. Making a deal with a human is his ticket topside and Hell is still terribly boring, even with the hotel. The Radio Demon was no stranger to contracts with humans, they were a win-win situation. Those who seek him always have a taste for the wicked and deranged, so it’s easy to figure out what they want and twist it for his own benefit. When they inevitably die, be it death by old age or death by occupational hazard, Alastor gets useful men from the moment they manifest in Hell. They always know exactly where they are and why, they are not confused sinners, petty crime or moral crime sinners. They are, most times, skilled killers who take no trouble doing Alastor’s bidding. An accomplished killer in life makes an even better prolific hellish soldier, someone who will continue indulging in their desires without the constraints of society, but eternally tied down by Alastor’s constraints. With the right incentive, they can rise in the ranks and become treasured resources for the overlord. Plus, the camaraderie isn’t all bad. Takes one to know one, they say.

However, humans these days are getting careless, sloppy. This entire display is proof of that, they should be over to kill and cover their tracks alone. The basics, for hell’s sake.

Alastor only takes care of the details. Tampering with some evidence here, getting a victim on the right place at the right time there. The occasional final encouragement to give into the darkness and finally kill, some advice. A self respecting killer should be able to kill and get away with it without the demon’s aid. He’s there for consulting and making sure there are no loose ends.

But never this. Having to intervene in the middle of a kill because his client made a very very big mess that screams “you’re getting caught!” is below him. Amateurs are not worth Alastor's time.

The two men approach the tree line, clearly worked up from the hunt and shocked to see him there. If Alastor is withholding a victim, something went very, very wrong.

“Good night my good fellows!” the greeting leaves his lips in an overly-chirpy tone. Is that static in his voice? Radio static? Is that what’s leaving goosebumps on your skin? The stress and the adrenaline are making you imagine things. You took the “pretend this is all a fantasy and you the main character” too seriously. Because now you are hiding behind Darth Vader’s skirts. That’s impossible, right? right?

“Great.” you can see the sarcasm dripping from one of your aggressors. “You’re here to watch?” the question asked all passive aggressive with an edgy tone. That’s definitely a teenager. What the fuck? you were being chased by a high school kid? This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, how can a teen pull this off? And you almost died? What? Your mind starts spirling.

Alastor ignores the son, is the father he cares about. They’ve known each other for years now, and he’s underperforming to say the least. He waits for the father to address him, it’s his mess after all. The older man gives his son a stern look and finally breaks the silence.

“Goodnight. We didn’t expect to see you here tonight, to be honest.’”

The second voice is much older. That doesn’t quiet your thoughts at all. Is this a cult initiation thing? Hunting girls down like they are prey? WHY DID YOU TRAVEL TO THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE IN THE FIRST PLACE??? OF COURSE THERE WOULD BE CULTS HERE, DUUUUH. IF I WAS IN A CULT THIS WOULD BE THE PERFECT PLACE TO HIDE. There are so many voices screaming inside your head now, you are shivering. With anger, anticipation, fear. Your inner monologue overrides your brain and you are not sure you can cope with everything that’s going on. The voices, all the voices, sound wrong. They land weirdly inside your ear and you need to think hard to understand the words, you know how crucial every piece of information is. They could make all the difference when you talk to the police. They could help a conviction when you are on the stand, giving your official statement. You are surviving this. You are going to watch these fuckers get life in prision or worse. You are surviving this right? There’s so much you haven’t thought through. Whose hand are you holding again?

“Oh please. Don’t act all coy now, it doesn’t suit you old friend” Alastor is starting to cross the line from nuisance to anger. He twirls his microphone in annoyance, and makes sure to sink it deep into the moist ground. “Let me remind you about the terms of our agreement. For each 2 kills you make, one soul is mine to take. Or am I wrong?”

“No. You aren’t”. The father answers through gritted teeth. “But I never thought you would want to collec-” Alastor tilts his head, his grin widens and he snaps “Never thought what? That I would claim what I am owed at my leisure? That I would stop waiting patiently for you, acting at your whim? You earned the privilege of killing unbothered by my vigilance. Because you always delivered your side of the bargain with excellence. I can revoke said privilege whenever I want. Especially after this pitiful performance.” The seasoned killer seems to slightly cower at Alastor’s words. Good. He always regarded the demon without fear or trepidation. His work was meticulous, spotless, basically perfect. And that gave him the justifiable confidence for going toe to toe with the Radio Demon during conversations, a bargaining chip during dealings of his contracts. Few could say that.

You feel nauseous. Reality is crashing down at you hard and fast. How many people have these people killed? They are trading lives like it is the stock market, and yet you can’t let go of your prince charming’s hand. There’s no rational thought to justify it, actually rational thought is also being slaughtered like a sacrificial lamb tonight, because despite the gigantic red flags you are not letting go of this man’s hands. Everything about him screams danger, everything about him screams your safety. He’s the type of paradoxical that messes with your primal senses, that makes a moth go to the lights that will kill it.

From the crook of his arm you finally gather the courage to open your eyes. You try to look up to your prince charming, but his face is concealed by the shadows of the night. Actually, everything of importance seems to be conveniently hidden from you. Your aggressor’s faces look distorted, recognizable traits melting together like watercolor painted by 100 shades of darkness, voices and words fuse together creating only cacophony. You hear things, you see things, but you can’t discern them. The three men keep going back and forth, but their conversation seems to dissipate into the air. Everything about this feels like a dream.

Of course you can’t register anything of importance. Alastor makes sure of it. You are a potential victim after all. A liability, capable of making a positive identification. It’s wishful thinking that someone would take your account of what’s happening on this dreadful night seriously.

Alastor has no shame in using the prejudices of your world to his advantage. If you were to tell, everyone would make the assumption that you are “just another hysterical woman, thinking too much about folktales”. You had too much to drink, partied too hard. Hallucinogens are a common party drug and this is the result of a bad trip. At worst, “someone tried to spike your drink, but nothing happened. You should be thankful, not getting in the way of important police work”. Alastor also knows that injustice is no real crime, and yet he decided to spare you. It doesn’t feel fair for you to perish in such crude ways, a practice run for a post pubescent, obnoxious serial killer in training. A precious thing like you should be honored, savored. In the odd chance that your voice was heard, the Radio Demon guarantees that no reliable information will come out of your mouth. His clients might be lacking, but in the dealmaking business your words are your worth and Alastor has a silvertongue. Surely that pretty mouth of yours won’t be a problem.

“I’m afraid I have to insist, my good friend. The pair of you caused enough damage already with these sloppy, impetuous spree killings. Your law enforcement is already on your scent, tracking the pattern and by the looks of it tonight’s mess will send quite a message. A message that I will have to make sure is delivered faultlessly. I will uphold my hand of the bargain, you will uphold yours. The girl will be spared. There’s plenty of prey out there, plus her death would only act as an aggravation, she’s not your type, and trust me, they will know you made a mistake, you will be exposed.” The Radio Demon’s patience is wearing thin. He shouldn’t have to justify his actions to humans. There’s no compromise to be found here, they went to him and the deal is always on his terms. You squeeze his hand really tight during the discussion of your scheduled demise, like a reminder that you are still there. Still afraid.

How cute. Alastor thinks. Your adrenaline is starting to wear off, dissipating into the cool forest breeze and opening space for a strong sense of false security, equally as inebriating. The smell of your sweet fear laced blood is unmistakable, assaulting your savior’s nostrils. Your knees buckle, and you struggle to keep yourself on your feet, clinging to prince charming’s hand for dear life. “Breathe darling, you are forgetting to breathe” He turns quickly towards you, his voice impossibly soft, shooting. You try to look up at charming’s face again, the only new discovery made is that he's awfully tall, and his face is still hidden by opaque darkness. You work really hard on breathing normally again, but you want to keep looking. Their faces are a monstrous distortion, vacant eyes that seem to cry blood. Your entire body tingles, you feel weird goosebumps. It takes all of your willpower to keep standing. You won’t lay yourself at their feat, defeated, like the corpse they would drag from these woods. But you just can’t keep looking, so you shut your eyes and grip the hand that has become your lifeline even tighter.

“You won’t even truly use the bitch, she’s no use for you” The entitled brat opens his mouth again. That’s the trigger.

The Radio Demon grows as tall as the native pine trees, his antlers furiously expanding and casting a shadow so dark over the two serial killers that the moon is completely obstructed. The only source of light in the forest now is the burning red dials of his eyes. The father sees the burning inferno of Alastor’s eyes and for the first time he is speechless. Maybe the realization of where destiny is sending him finally happens. The son sees raw, untamed power for the first time in his life and cowers like a scared puppy. Pathetic.

“Now let’s get something clear here. I’m only tolerating your insolence because of my decade long relationship with your father.” You shut your eyes harder, your eyelids a shield from whatever is about to happen. Foreboding making the forest air too thick for you to breathe. You finally break down and start crying, too fucking much. Alastor’s face meets the son on eye level. His teeth are bared, static picks up around the group to the point both men are struggling to breathe. A clawed hand traps the father’s face, a trail of blood dripping from the older serial killer’s cheek.“He’s as close to a professional as our kind gets. Shame the same thing can’t be said about you. This juvenile outburst does not make you more feared nor does it assert your dominance. It displays how weak you are, inept to succeed on this because you can’t keep your entitled demeanor in check. You are not owed anything in this lifestyle, if you want something you need to prove you’re worthy of it by taking it yourself. Whining like a petulant child won’t get you anywhere” You feel dizzy, the earth beneath your feet quakes, whoever, whatever is holding your hand is sheeting with rage so consuming the ground shakes with the intensity of their emotions.

Alastor’s attention is now focused on the father, the red inferno from his eyes making the man feel genuine fear for the first time in his long, violence-filled life. “Teach your spawn some manners and proper work, otherwise get him out of my sight. This was a courtesy. Fulfillment failings lead to contract termination, and contract termination means a lot of details appearing. You do not wish to make an enemy of me” Alastor delivers his last threat with a snarl. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up at the intensity of his words, you feel a powerful rush of wind, leaves ruffling, hurried steps and suddenly the world is at a standstill. The forest seems devoid of life excluding you, your mysterious prince charming and your two aggressors. All of your senses are assaulted with an overwhelming feeling of wrongness… darkness. Darkness that feels like the most luxurious silky dress on your skin, the most intense look of a passionate lover. It feels dangerously alluring and your will power is being gladly tempted by it.

You feel like you’ve been holding your breath for hours, the rollercoaster of adrenaline inducing hyperventilation and conscious calming breaths making your brain enter some sort of high. Is that what people felt after a battle in ancient times? Is that what It means to stare death in the face and come out victorious? You don’t understand what you are feeling, but when oxygen finally feels normal again, tall, dark and handsome is escorting you deeper into the woods and you don’t even care.

You’ve just slayed the dragon with your bare hands. You don’t care. You just want to bask on the feeling. To fucking feel. To remind yourself that you are still alive.

Alastor is drunk on something that he rarely indulges in. Desire. Pure, raw carnality that makes him antagonize one of his greatests clients. Someone Alastor awaited his inevitable death with anxiety and hopefulness, someone he could actually call more than a partner in crime when in hell. A friend. A friendship born from blood and gore but bathed in kinship and inexplicable understanding of one’s dark nature. And the Radio Demon almost killed the man and his useless spawn and fucked everything up because when he saw your running for your life something ignited inside him. When you squeezed his hand so tightly, with such abandon and trust, like he was an Angel sent from heaven to protect you when reality was the most wicked antonym.

Alastor spared you because you were prey. Beautiful, delicious prey that defied your destiny by accepting the nature of your condition. You didn’t dare to fight, you didn’t dare to think you could stand a chance against your hunters. You just fled. You fled and was perfectly lured into another trap, you doubled the bet when you held his hand and didn’t let go, serving all of your vulnerability on a silver platter to someone you deep down knew was way worse than any serial killer.

Prey, that will chew its own leg to get out of a trap. Prey, that will offer herself to the most ungodly creature around if it means she can survive a few more moments, just to spite those who started the chase. Prey, that now holds his hand completely carefree and all giggles while she is led to a much more final and insidious type of slaughter. Prey that he was now going to claim.

Your wounded feet start to land on soft squishy things, a familiar scent invades your nostris. From the scent of sweat, blood and gore now to the scent of juicy, plump strawberries.

“Hey, are we on a strawberry field?” it’s the first time you addressed him directly. You trail behind him, hurried steps crushing the strawberries on your way. You look up and for the first time you can see open skies. “You don’t need to worry my dear, you are perfectly safe now”

Are you?

You decide that he doesn’t sound like Darth Vader anymore, his voice is impossibly staticy, it prickles your skin and it feels like goosebumps that accompany butterflies on your stomach. He sounds like someone you would meet at a ball and have a cinderella moment with. The blanket of stars that illuminates the clearing you ferociously fought for grants you a better vision of his figure: scarlet red, snug tailcoat, perfectly tailored. Long legs and trousers that fit like skinny jeans. He dresses like the lead singer from a classic emo band. You can’t say you are complaining, you always loved the idea of a tall dark and handsome prince charming.

“So, you have some weird friends don’t you?” you ask him. You can hear him chuckle, it is a very pleasant sound. Suddenly the twirls you, a fucking disney princess’ musical number twirl, and you find yourself in front of very big bed.

With impeccable white sheets, you mind adds. Must be really hard to maintain white sheets in the middle of a strawberry field. Wait, what is a king size bed doing in the middle of th-

“Ah, I don’t really do friends, more like reluctant colleagues” bootleg brandon urie is the melancholic type, then.

Alastor finally takes a good look at you when you take your seat on the bed with a contented sigh. You look marvelous. Your hair is messy and wild, your cheeks and neck flushed red from the effort. Your eyes big and pliant, waiting for his answers. You look so human, so deliciously alive. He desperately wants to be the cause of your disarray, to make the blood rush to your face under his materfully wicked touch. To feel your pulse fluttering when he touches your neck.

You still can’t see all of him though. There’s stars, a big full moon whose light outstretches far, bathing the clearing in ethereal silver. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows, your savior is always in the shadows.

By now you know he is purposefully hiding his identity from you, but you always liked a game. Plus you don’t really have anything to lose now, you just want to forget everything that happened to you tonight, you just want to inebriate yourself, and charming really looks like someone who could show you a good time.

Either that or you are having a psychotic break after enduring life threatening stress.

Anyway, you decide to bite. One possible psychotic murder, funny, charming murderer is better than two lukewarm ones.

“Do you always take random women to a creepy bed with impeccable white sheets in the middle of the woods or am I just special?” not a chuckle now, a laugh. A beautiful, full laugh. The residual static on your skin making you shiver.

Alastor completely understands what you are trying to do, and it’s truly hilarious. Your petulance and sarcasm towards him means to an end. You’re so precious, talking to him like this, thinking you could take him at his own game. What a beauty! Seeing you think you are succeeding in this only for him to take that conviction away from you at the last minute is going to be so entertaining. He wants you to dig your own grave, lay yourself at his feet.

He doesn’t indulge you, instead he takes a thick, silky strand of your hair and inhales deeply. You smell like sweet innocence and summer. It makes Alastor euphoric.

His head tilts down as he smells your hair. You don’t that’s creepy, it looks creepy, it sounds creepy, but you feel reverence in his action.

And then out of the shadows comes a revelation, you see his horns. You suspected his unhumanity, but the confirmation of it knocks the wind out of you. Your eyes widen, you simply cannot make sense of this night, everything feels too surreal and raw reality at the same time, it’s giving you whiplash.

“Are you the devil?” you ask him without much consideration of the weight of this question. You do your best to keep your voice from failing but it’s impossible. You never dropped his hand, in fact you feel like you are permanently attached to him, like a marble statue. Your fingers open and interlock again and again, reflecting your anxiety, but you don’t let go.

You can’t see it, but Alastor’s grin is as big as a cheshire cat’s.

“Do you seek the devil?” answering a question with a question. Smoke and mirrors. Alastor waits for you to answer, but you don’t. You don’t know what to answer, you try to contemplate if enganding further could mean eternal damnation, or if you are already damned. Is he going to make you an offer you can’t refuse? an offer you aren’t allowed to refuse? Alastor will blame it on lack of patience, but the fact is he can’t wait anymore to taste you, there’s a burning desire inside him, that only gets more and more ferocious as he tastes the inebriating smell of your fear blessing the air he breathes again.

He removes your interlocking fingers, his hand quickly trapping your tiny wrist inside. You hear heavy breathing.

“Or do you seek a taste of the forbidden fruit?” The demon licks the long cut across our open palm. His tongue is sensual and cold, the sensation of it slowly dragging across your wounded skin a soothing balm. You moan, he growls. “Forbidden fruit it is.” he announces, delivered like a sentence.

You are completely free of his touch for the first time since it all began, but it feels like you just suffered an enormous loss. You feel taunted, like someone just dangled a shiny new thing in front of you and took it away. It’s like your entire being has become tunnel vision and you need to get to the bottom of this, whatever this is. Consequences be damned.

You watch closely as your paranormal paramour moves towards the bed, he is completely concealed by the darkness. Darkness deep and palpable, he morphs within it. The visuals are beautiful, it looks like one of the art’s greatest masters is painting a watercolor in front of you. Darkness from absence of light floating and mixing with otherworldly opaque darkness, flowing like a river. You wonder if it would run through your fingers like water if you touch it.

Antlers. He has antlers, not horns.

The not-devil settles himself behind you, back against the headboard. He quickly maneuvers you onto his lap, grabbing you by the waist. You squeal in surprise as more of him touches you, now pressed flush against his hard chest you feel something you shouldn’t be feeling, nonetheless resistance is futile, you spread your legs giving him more access. He has barely touched you, and yet you are completely surrendered to him.

Alastor wasn’t joking when he established that a woman like you should be savored, slowly consumed so he can extract everything you have to offer. He knows your mind is exhausting itself trying to discern what is happening, how the body and the spirit get more susceptible to succumb to desire after surviving imminent death, and he intends to take full advantage of it. Alastor wants to see you writhe under his touch, pain and pleasure. He wants to torment you and make you pay for existing near him, for making him careless. For making him indulge in carnality and arousal. But mainly, he wants to punish you, because you battled so hard for your survival against them. When you should fear him.

The Radio Demon touches your neck, exactly where your pulse is, where he can feel your beating heart, full of life pulsing. Life that taunts him and seduces him. The thump thump thump of your heart beneath his fingers like a moth going directly to the light that will kill it. He holds your entire life, your entire existence under his clawed finger, it makes him delirious.

You feel a sharp sting on your neck, fangs that break your skin and spill your blood, red and ready for his taking. Holding your breath while he sucks the life out of you, your head swims, and you drown on the feelings. You feel pleasure, forbidden pleasure from having something hurting and feasting on you.

“If you are not the devil, are you a vampire?” It might be a dumb question, but it’s the logical one. Sometimes the obvious needs to be said. He laughs again, a full deep laugh,mockery dripping from it.

“Why? If I were a vampire would it make you feel better about spilling your blood for me?” he dodges the question again. Bait and switch. He’s feeding on you and you are enjoying it.. You don’t know what he is, you don’t know his name. It only spurs the burning desire in the pit on your stomach.

Alastor licks the entire length of your neck, his other hand applying light pressure on your pulse point. He bites down on you again, harder, going deeper. You roll your eyes and moan obscenely as he sucks on it. This is going to leave a mark for sure, but you don’t care, because whatever he’s doing to you feels delirious, it’s the best thing you’ve ever felt.

Your blood is dripping from Alastor’s lips, he licks it not wanting to waste a drop. He can taste your eagerness, your fear, your essence, your soul. The red liquid is solid proof of how alive and defenseless you are, completely at his mercy. You keep moaning and melting on his lap at his ministrations, a finger starts tracing your arm, feather light touch that leaves you shivering in anticipation.

He’s gently scratching, teasingly. It’s a claw, you realize. Another part of his unhumanity making you scared and deliciously trembling in anticipation. It’s Alastor’s turn to moan now, his clawed finger comes to torment your clothed nipple, he makes sure to do it tantalizing slow to give you just a taste of what it could be. He wants to hear you ask for it, beg even.

“I’m afraid I’m way worse than the Devil, little doe” his low, threatening tone makes you close your legs together and rub, desperately seeking friction, some relief.

“Re–really? You don’t sound that bad” A lie. You just want to say something back.

Your paramour laughs again, he takes your hand in his and starts making his way downwards.

“How precious are you, lying like that to me” He stops both of your hands on your lower belly, threatening to cross the point of no return. You squeal and struggle on a desperate attempt to raise your hips and get something more, anything.

Delighted in seeing you writhe this badly when he has not even properly touched you, Alastor squeezes your neck tighter, inflicting just enough pain and pressure to make you sing. The Radio Demon finally makes the decision and drops any pretense of moderation, hastily dropping the band of your panties and guiding your joined hands to your slit. “I can taste the fear in your blood, how your sense of pleasure has been forever skewed”.

The two digits tease your entrance that is coated with arousal and something more, his touch is masterful, like he knows the ways of the human body the same way a talented musician knows their way around an instrument. He makes you moan, he makes you sing with only the possibility of his actions. The idea of being taken by something unholy.

At last, Alastor finally enters your tight wet pussy, his finger guides yours as he undoes you in ways that should not be allowed. He pumps your cunt mercilessly, gone are the careful, calculated touches, he wants to make you crash and burn as quick as possible, he wants to make you understand that you crossed the most important line of your life. There’s no going back now, your pretty mortal body is forever tainted by unholiness, by his darkness.

“You spread yourself like this for me, a wanton little thing while I choke and feast on your blood”. Alastor curls the fingers inside you repeatedly making you move your hips in the maniac rhythm he has set. You ride your joined digits, moaning like a whore while your lover’s grip on your throat tightens and releases making your brain short circuits in pure unknown carnal feeling. “You are not the demure, feisty thing like you desperately tried to prove earlier. It only takes the slight touch of something forbidden to make you moan like a common whore” he adds another one of his huge fingers and starts scissoring inside you, the combination of two of his digits and your little one only adds insult to injury. You will never be able to replicate these ministrations, the feeling of being this full and stretched, you had a taste of the forbidden fruit, you are high on it and you will never get another hit on your own.

Alastor alternates between choking you and curling the fingers inside you, your lightheadedness combined with the assaulting pleasure making you feel feverishly delirious. Your body is hot from desire and adrenaline combined, a starking contrast to your mysterious lover’s touch, ice cold. The two of you distinct seasons, distinct stages of existence mixing together, life and death tethering each other, blurring the lines of worlds that shouldn’t exist together.

Orgasm building quickly, you grip the white sheets tighter and tighter and tighter but your fingers feel wet, you look down to see a mess of redness leaking from your core.

Oh fuck, you are on your period. You completely forgot about it. In normal circumstances you would feel mortified about being fingered like this while bleeding, but right now it makes things even more erotic, you’ve learned that your lover may not be a vampire, but he definitely has a thing for blood and something inside you ignites at the idea of letting him feast on your blood, eat you out while you bleed for him.

Your pussy flutters with the fantasy of that tongue working your pussy and with a particularly harsh pinch on your clit you are off. Waves of pleasure spread across your entire body like wildfire, he chokes you merciless making the urge to scream to the universe how fucking good you feel impossible. You want to scream his name, but you don’t know who he is, what he is. You just want more.

While you ride the waves of your orgasm unbothered Alastor takes the opportunity to take fingers from your pussy to his mouth, red with blood and slick with arousal, he moans audibly as he tastes you, the most intimate parts of you. Only a little bit of it inebriates him, this is better than 70% of what he does in Hell. This feels better than closing a new deal, watching the princess of Hell fail miserably at rehabilitating sinners. You taste so sweet, so alive and afraid. He’s hard with the conviction of how scared you are, of how he has permanently tainted something so innocent and pure. How you stupidly threw yourself to his mercy. Perishing at the hand of those serial killers is more merciful than him. And now you will know.

You must have babbled something while you came, about wanting to scream his name and not knowing it, because now you find yourself completely lying down, the bed feels soft like a cloud and you are sprawled like an angel, and he finally reveals something about him of his own volition.

“The name is Alastor, my dear. It has definitely been a pleasure meeting you.” Alastor, now you know, settles himself between your thighs and the pooling redness from your core. You feel him running his claws across the impossibly soft flesh of your inner thighs, you cover your face with your arm.

“Alastor I’ve never… No one has ever…” you trail off, you shouldn’t be embarrassed at this point, but nevertheless you feel your cheeks burning. Is he really going to eat your bloody pussy? fuck.

Alastor’s name on your lips sounds so soft, so pure. He wants to ruin it. He wants to destroy the careful constructed cognitive dissonance that makes you feel safe and comfortable around him. He wants you to be completely afraid and craving being scared of him, disrupting your sense of pleasure so he can ruin you completely, getting you hooked on him and delirious for more, willing to do anything for another taste of the forbidden fruit.

So, he makes you look.

“Look at me” you don’t want to. You feel a lot of things right now, but mainly you feel as if you really take a look at your dark lover tragedy is going to happen. Eros and psyche all over again, but bloodier.

He claws your thighs, you hiss at the delicious pain, but still disobey him.

“Look. At. Me” he snarls, definitely a threat. You feel yourself getting wetter.

Alastor slaps your ass, hard. He’s losing patience, his temper turning quick at the realization that you not knowing who he is isn’t a perfect plan.

You moan from the pain, from the sting. It feels wickedly erotic. You almost want him to hit you again. Since when pain felt so fucking good?

So you do, you finally look at him.

Red. The first thing that your brain fixates on is how much red there is. Scarlet red hair, red blood running down your core and staining the white sheets. Red claws that pierce your skin.

Red eyes. Burning red eyes that entrap you. It’s like you can see the blazing fire that tortures the damned inside those eyes.

If this is why people fall from grace, you totally understand the appeal now.

The second thing, the thing that makes you transfixed at the sight of him is how wrong he looks. His antlers are beautiful, growing from his scarlet hair beautifully adorning ears that look extremely soft, non-threatening, like a crown. His eyes are big and sharp, close together

while he stares at your soul, eyes of a predator in the middle of softness of prey. His grin is completely predatory, dangerous, sharp teeth that hurt and maul, but at the same time bite you just the right way to make you moan in raw carnality. The skin is pale, not in a michael-jackson-thriller-way but in an ethereal way. His voice is static that seems to tickle your skin, sometimes more than others. He’s paradoxical, everything you should be afraid of and the comfort you should seek at the same time. A force you shouldn’t meddle with. Primal and raw.

You may not know what exactly he is, but one thing is certain: he’s dangerously alluring, and you completely fell into his trap. But it hardly matters anymore, because he is about to drink blood from your pussy with that marvelous silvertongue of his.

“Fucking beautiful” you blur out, not realising he’s going to hear you.

One of Alastor’s eyebrows shoots up. He’s not regarded as beautiful often. Alluring, maybe.

He wants to make you pay for all the soft ideas you have about him.

You soon learn how hard it is to hold the gaze of your lover’s eyes, his burning red irises entrap you. It's impossible to look away but overwhelming to stare into.

“If all the mortal men you’ve been with are weak and pathetic enough to decline the dark gift of your bleeding cunt, then I’m honored to be your first” and without much more warning you feel a delicious cold tongue licking your entrance and you are off

Alastor isn’t eating you out, he’s feasting on you like you are his last chance of salvation. His face is completely buried deep in between your legs as his tongue assaults you at a merciless pace. He makes sure not to waste a drop of anything your gushing pussy gives him. His tongue enters you and the contrast between your tight heat and his coldness makes you delirious. Exquisite carnal pleasure, you could cum from it alone.

Alastor is having a hard time navigating this double edged knife: you don’t know who he is what is capable of, which means your aren’t near as scared of being this vulnerable with him as you should be, a literal cannibal delighting in your soft flesh, drinking the warmth of your sacred blood. You must taste delicious terrified. But the silver lining is that the fear he inspires would make any woman who knows more compliant to this, even offering this to him freely. You have no idea about his exploits, he can and he will tarnish you with all of his unholy darkness, wrecking your world during the eleventh hour when you realize what you’ve done, who you’ve so easily corrupted your morals and your spirit for. You’re so beautiful, so naive, so trusting, so alive. You moan “Alastor, Alastor, Alastor” soft ohhhs and aaaahs as he polishes your cunt, every sound you make, every twitch of your legs and roll of your lips reminding your ungodly lover of how delicate and rare you are, aiding him on his mission. Gripping the sheets isn’t enough anymore, you instinctively place your hands on his antlers, the texture indescribable. Again, the contradiction of the softness of his velvet and the sharpness of his teeth, wickedness of his tongue giving you whiplash. You start rubbing them furiously, trying to mirror his ministries on your swollen folds. It definitely is doing something to him because he drags his teeth along your inner tie, breaking more skin, drawing more blood, hissing. You scream at the heavenly pain mixed with unholy pleasure.

Normally, Alastor wouldn’t let anyone near his antlers, arguably the most sensitive part of his body. If worked right, the sensations take him to another level of desire, insane carnality. But you taste so sweet, rich blood mixed with erotic arousal on a soft flesh platter, he consumes your innocence as he coaxes another orgasm from you. You hold on to dear life on his antlers, his velvet shedding and bloodying your hands, running through adding to the painting of reds that connects you two. Something ignites on you and it’s the most intense orgasm of your life, you feel every nerve burning from everlasting fire, that transforms and transforms until it explodes in a supernova. You don’t have the strength to scream, so you whisper Alastor’s name like a filthy prayer.

He looks up grinning like a devil. Something makes you open your eyes as you ride out the waves of pleasure. There’s so much blood, blood dripping from his lips, blood on his nose, blood cascading down his bewitching face mixing in a flowing current of red, it ends in a glistening red pool where you meet each other in immoral sin, so inviting you could jump in. It’s like what would happen if the killers had caught you, but twisted into wicked, ungodly pleasure, it’s almost worse. Because well, if you’re killed you’d be dead and would never have experienced this, but now you have and the ephemerality of this night crashes on you and you feel conned, betrayed.

He licks his lips and stares right at you, a doe caught in the headlights of his eyes, you almost cum again.

Alastor feels delirious from the bloody mess in front of him, carnality so powerful it makes him insane, he needs to finish this. He needs to sink his cook deep into your slick cunt. Pushing himself up, he starts to position his cock on your entrance. He’s so tall, the shadows of his bloodied antlers cover you and hide the welcoming silver lighting of the moon. The stars look so different today, and the welcoming sight of a full moon looks merciless, devoid of warmth and hope.

“Women like you are not meant for mortal men. They cannot honor you, they cannot savor you, they cannot satisfy you. Once you take a bite of the forbidden fruit you understand your place. Pliant and submissive beneath me. To be ravished and tamed by something beyond puny mortality. You are made to me fucked, to be owned by the better man who defied destiny and transcended what the hands of fate enforced on him. You are Helen of Troy, tailor made to fit my cock, satisfy my thirst”

He teases your entrance with just the tip, making you greedly roll your hips towards him, a primal response to the ravishing words. Alastor laughs mockling at you attempt of getting him to fuck you on your terms, your time. You may not be aware of everything but by now you know you can’t outfox and fox on his own game.

“please. please. PLEASE” you scream the last word, you can’t take it anymore. A second without him touching your body feels like an eternity.

“Tsk. You look so pretty when you beg” the condescending compliment lands like music on your ears and he finally enters you. Inch after inch he spreads your tight walls open, practically breaking you. You understand now why people in times before yours had sex after battle. It’s the most rare and coveted feeling in existence, to greet imminent death, escape her fatal calling and then do the thing that undoubtedly proves you are alive. Only to meet her again at the finish line of carnal sensations and no rational thought. Primal need to feel, to live.

Alastor finally bottoms out with an animalistic growl, making your shiver under him. He fucks you at a merciless pace, he fucks you with haste, with urgency and abandon. He knows what he needs and he is going to take it.

“Hoooooly FUCK Alastor” you scream.

“There’s nothing holy here. Everything that’s holy has abandoned you. There’s only me, your wicked god who has you completely at his mercy, to fuck, to break” he takes it all out and enters you at once. You try so bad to look at him, to hold his piercing gaze with adamantine conviction but you can’t. It’s too much, overstimulation creeps on you and everything hurts. You shut your eyes.

“Look at me. Fucking look at me or I will stop” it’s not an order, it’s a threat. You should be scared, you feel scared, but tonight fear is diesel to your desire, and the pain makes you enter a mind numbing stage. The lines of torture and relief blurring together until you can’t discern a thing, you feel.

You do as you’re told. You look at him as he fucks you, thrusting like a mad man, obscene sounds reverberating throughout, you are being so loud you are sure they can hear you back on the village. The village, your cabin. You had a life before tonight. Will there be life after tonight?

You don’t have time to have an existential crisis because what Alastor does next gets your undivided attention.

“You will look at the demon who is ruining you, fucking you. You are no immaculate maiden anymore. You are a common whore for the Radio Demon” your eyes widen at the revelation. He is not a vampire, he’s not the devil. The fact that he is a demon and not satan makes you even more mortified, like you’ve settled for less. Just a little demon is what it takes to completely undo you.

Alastor keeps thrusting at a breakneck pace, feeling vindicated. He did exactly what he said he would do, he took the last fiber of comfort, of dignity away from you. He can see your entire world shattering on your beautiful doe eyes, making you finally feel the right amount of horror on the edge of a rapturous orgasm.

You feel true terror now, there was still a slimmer hope that he wasn’ evil incarnated, that he had a redeeming quality. After all, he saved you. Didn’t he save you? Or did you start something you are not even close to understanding? You feel terrified because there’s a demon fucking you, biting you, feasting on your blood and you fucking love it, you want it every night. You really took a bite from the forbidden fruit and ruined yourself.

“It’s too much, Alastor I can’t” the words leave your lips and feel like confession, like somehow if you admit your complete surrender it will absolve you of something.

“Too. Bad.” Alastor punctuates his point with delicious sharp trust after each word. He finally tainted you with his darkness and made you aware of it. He feels delirious, he feels like victory incarnated. Your moans grow louder and louder, now pleasure means pain, hell means rapture. Things that should not exist together making you feel the best you have ever felt. Tears spill from your eyes, the overstimulation something you’ve never felt before, mind numbing and life-altering.

In an act of paradoxical mercy, your demon lover rubs your clit and you’re out like a light. Your walls tighten around Alastor’s cock, and white hot pain, blinding red pleasure overcomes you. You feel like falling, you feel your literal fall from grace as your body tingles and burns with ineffable, forbidden pleasure. Alastor howls and cums inside you.

You land on silky, comfortable, alluring darkness.

The cool forest breeze greets your abused skin, it stings but feels soothing at the same time. Paradoxical, like everything from this night. Alastor holds you tight, cradling your head on his chest, petting your hair. He draws lazy circles on your hip bone, featherlight touch, careful and coy. You turn on your side to face him.

“Can you see it now? It’s beautiful, he’s so beautiful” your mind asks you. You agree.

You start giggling, laughing. It is also so funny.

“What’s so funny, little doe?” Alastor asks you, genuinely amused. He feels elated from this night. He feels satiated, contented. It’s a very rare feeling for him.

“For a while I seriously considered you are an alien” you tell him, you can’t contain your laughter now. You are so silly. Alastor’s eyebrow shoots up, quizzical. He chuckles and indulges you. “Alien, is so mundane. You could never be an Alien, it’s way too easy”. What your giddy minds means is that now you know Alastor is anything but easy, actually there’s nothing like him. He’s something else. Something entirely different, a delicious mystery that creeps inside your heart, haunts you forever.

You stop laughing when realization hits you.

“Will I ever see you again, Alastor?” you ask him, your voice failing, nothing more than a whisper. You feel the ephemerality of this night, you feel daylight closing, ruthless sun rising that ends this everlasting dream.

Alastor stares deeply into your eyes, he sees your wanton desire, your trepidant expectations. “That depends entirely on you, my dear doe. It’s time to make a decision.” his voice is so soft it fucking hurts.

You look at the fading moon on the horizon, the distant stars judge you, the earliest of birds sing for you.

Yet from those starts, no light but rather, darkness visible.

You open your eyes, you feel impossibly rested. Your bed feels soft and you want to visit dreamland again, but the noise stops you.

Songbirds and blazing sirens mix together a cacophony of urgency. You get up fast, trying to remember little bits and pieces of the crazy dream you had and run to the big window across the room.

You look down, you see ambulances, police cars, lab coats and tall guys in FBI jackets.

Something definitely happened here last night.

That explains it then, the nature of your murderous dreams. The sirens creeped their way into your subconscious making that murderous, dreadful dream. You take a quick look and your hands and see nothing. Perfect, unblemished skin.

It felt so real. Strawberry fields and blood.

Your neighbor from across the street gestures manically at you from her window.

Fuck, it must have been really bad. There’s a lot of people at your doorstep.

Hurrying to put your robe on, you fly down the stairs towards the bustling crowd outside.

You are dying to know what happened. You were always a vivid dreamer.

You reach the hall and open the door, a polite officer starts talking to you.

You don’t notice the old radio on your vanity, or the opaque darkness that followed you from the corner of your room to the world outside.

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