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christinebloodwrittings · 2 months

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To hunt or be hunted #5

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Bath time has proving itself to be a revealing process, specially when in company of someone else. Warnings: Angsty stuff, fluffy at the end.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100

Walking around the hallways, now that you could freely do so, helped with your insomnia. You tried to minimize how often you did it, afraid to upset someone with the endless pacing noise.

Mindlessly you ended up in the highest floor. As you turned to walk down the stairs a sound made you stare at the light under one of the doors.

You knocked on it knowing the owner of the room, “Alastor? Are you killing someone or are you in pain?” the demon didn’t answered, worried you opened the door a little, peeked through a small crack as to not interrupt if he was busy.

Your heart raced when you saw the taxidermy hanged on his wall, the warm old ambiance made you feel like you were back to the 1920’s. Just at the end of the room there was this annex, something you didn’t noticed when you dropped his clothes a few months ago.

It was a forest, like the bayou you used to frequent to avoid the police. It had the same swampy smell. The next sound made you jump, it came from the bathroom, like the sound you can make by kicking water.

“Alastor?” your voice caused him such a surprise, that the next you heard was a shriek then a lot of radio static, “I’m not going to open the door, I just…Are you okay?” his shadow creeped out from under the door, pulled you inside the room and closed the main door.

“Yes dear, I’m okay” since you couldn’t exactly tell by his tone, you turned to the shadow, he slowly smiled in return, “Okay, pardon the intrusion” You managed to turn around, but stopped to see the bunch of "No" signs on the door, as if Alastor's shadow didn't want you to leave.

“The stitches got a bit lose” He spoke as the figure on the wall gave you an image of your previous suturing work and how it had come loose and deteriorated, until it was like a badly patched jacket.

“Describe how the wound looks” Alastor made the mistake to move very suddenly, tensing the edges of the scab, he winced before giving you an answer, “Red, it’s mostly scab, but the stitches got lose and teared apart some of the scab”.

“How about you finish there and when you’re a bit decent, I take a look?” the handle loosened allowing the door to move backwards from the frame, “Come in” 'No way! He will be naked in the bathtub, no! But it could be serious, at worst I just keep my eyes on his torso and then turn around' you panicked internally, then took a step forward.

“Don’t be ridiculous, open your eyes, you’re going to hurt yourself!” you had your eyes covered, as you made your way to the bathtub, failing because you knocked your knee against the sink, “You have to remember what kind of upbringing we had; I only saw my ex-husband naked in his entirety” he was embarrassed, but seeing you being in a worse state, kind of reassured him.

Due to the water, parts of his fur stick to the skin and sometimes leave certain marks on the skin visible. In Alastor's case, his cream-colored skin was partially covered with short but spacious scars, since in contrast is a much darker color it made them stand out easier.

The worst thing about those was that they did not have a pattern that could resemble a “professional” torture technique, but it seemed as if they had stoned him, which is something that happened a lot to people whose skin color was darker at the time. The racists used to tie the person to a pole and throw rocks at someone.

A truly sickening activity.

“Oh those are…I didn’t noticed those scars, I’m so sorry” immediately you diverted your eyes, out of respect mostly, “You had seen the…process?” you shook your head, “I used to scare kids that planned it, no one is brave enough when they have an axe against their neck”.

After snapping out of it, you approached him, you thanked him internally for having his knees pressed together and up to the level of his chest, so you wouldn’t see his privates. Two old fashioned mannered persons on a room, or prudes, as Angel would said.

The stitches did got lose, but he was supposed to take them off at a certain time. You assumed you didn’t warned this to him, so that fell on you, “Mmh, I’ll get tweezers and scissors, if I use my claws I might make it worse” mindlessly you pressed your hand near the edge of the wound, it wasn’t hot nor red enough to be an infection.

“Your hand is so warm” he placed his fingers on the top of your hand, “Funny how you don’t shove me away” you were aware of his repulsion of touch, weird enough he was always willing to invade your personal space, like the other day, but he shoved any other person trying to approach him physically, except for Nifty and you.

“I think, if you wanted me dead, I wouldn't have been able to return to the hotel” being playful with life and death matters was a refreshing interaction for you to have with someone, Alastor made it fun.

“Charlie would’ve had my head if you hadn’t” literally.

“You had the chance to kill me three times, if I recall correctly” You had, but that’s not the thing that makes him curious, it lead him to ask an interesting question, “Why didn’t you?”.

“The first time, you were eating someone, it made me gag so I walked away” the image of you being with your axe ready to strike and then waking away repulsed made him laugh, you couldn’t resist a giggle either.

“Down here, when you first arrived, I wanted to level how stupid you were, since you didn’t attacked me, I didn’t either” that was one hell of an intense staring session, in which Alastor walked away first, the implied threat was strong enough, so he moved away from you to continue terrorizing the city.

“And in the rubble, I just wanted to give you a lesson” he made what you could interpret as a pout, twitching his eye and his ear.

“Your hair is dry” You noticed, now that you looked at his ears.

“I haven’t washed it yet” Alastor saw a light in your eyes that meant trouble, leading to a back and forward: “Can I?” “No” “Please?” “No” “Please?” “No” “Please?” “No” “I’ll do whatever you want”.

“Then you’ll join me for my broadcast tomorrow night, you’ve been quite evasive about it”, Since your presence became public knowledge around the hotel, Alastor felt the liberty to approach you more often. The tension from the first interaction dissipated over time. However, he constantly invited you to spend some time in his studio, subject that you’ve been avoiding. Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop asking.

“I´m sorry” you materialized two cotton balls in your hands, then placed them carefully on the insides of his ears, before wetting his hair.

“Have I done something to provoke it?” he was genuinely concerned. He knows himself far too well to know he can be correct and at the same time be offensive, and doesn’t mind the reaction unless it affects him directly.

“No…I keep most of me to myself, force of habit. Also I fear that you may want to talk about past lives” No matter what topic you start the conversation on, he always handles it in such a way that you end up talking about the 1920s and the society or politics of the moment and compare it to the technological advances of the new generation.

It got old very quickly.

“We could talk about other things” it was unusual for you to hear him be genuine, but you weren’t complaining. “Like?” he relaxed once you started massaging the shampoo into his head, “This cotton ball method is genius” his ears rotated as your fingers worked the foam around them, “I had the same issue, until I saw videos of cat owners washing their pets, using cotton balls to protect their ears”.

“Did your husband also enjoyed this kind of attention?” You didn't have saliva to swallow, and even if you did, the knot in your throat wouldn't allow it. “Not with me” he laughed, clearly not reading your clear discomfort, “One of my main victims were men who committed adultery, maybe his body is now rotting in the bayou”.

You decided to swallow your pride and let his unpleasantness pass, “Unlikely, I cracked his skull open” he took your hand off his head and placed a kiss on your knuckles, “Deservedly so” you smiled for a second, before his next statement rose a bitter taste to the back of your mouth.

“Men are often asses, it’s no wonder that woman want them dead. Fortunately, my mother raised me accordingly” you rolled your eyes at his ego, “Remind me to lit a candle for her, she’s most likely in heaven” his heart, as black as it could be, fluttered by the mention of a lovely practice.

“You knew of her?” You were clearly older than him, he had a small hope you could speak of his mother, “No, but the way you talk about her, that’s proof enough”. It took you a few seconds to remember one of your husband’s so lovely gifts, a cookbook, given the fact that – according to him– your meatloaf was dry every time.

“I think I had her cookbook, Amaya Heartfelt, right?” his microphone made a crowd laughing sound before he spoke, “Ah, that’s why your Jambalaya tasted familiar” funny, you thought you saw a grimace when he ate, now that was the reason.

“I make a decent Jambalaya, accept it” rather than being playful, your voice turned to be a bit brazen, not by accident that is. “More than decent, but my mother wins against you by a landslide” you hummed in utter defeat, “Fair enough, mamma’s boy” he scoffed, but did not correct you.

“If we had met properly, we probably would’ve been best of friends” 'Oh Alastor, you're cute and all, but with your urges and my to-do list, we would have had more than one friction, the friction would have caused a fire, and not the good kind' you almost could imagine yourself being his wife at the time, certainly would’ve been better than your actual ex-husband.

“I don’t dwell in what could’ve been” he made a deer-like sound when you scratched behind his ears, “I mean, what’s the point? You can’t go back to do things different” you poured more water on his head to wash away the foam. “Do you regret something?” he spoke after you removed the cotton balls off his ears.

“Not shooting my parents when I had the chance” he visibly tensed, then turned his head around slightly, “How can you say that?” his brow was so closed together in his frown, that it almost seemed one.

“What do you mean?” his eyes shifted colors, his sclera darkened and the dials were bright red, “What could be reason enough to get rid of the people that raised you? The woman that birthed you? People that kept you safe and loved!” his radio filter turned on and off as he spoke, raising his voice as well in utter disbelief, “I have my reasons” shrugging your shoulders unlocked even more anger in him.

“Your parents must’ve had a hard time raising you” your mind fell silent, “That’s an ungrateful thing to say, no reason can be enough to want to do something like that” as you listened to his rant, your hands turned white against the edge of the bathtub, squeezing it tightly.

“Spoke the cannibal” you sillily thought that would put an end to the conversation, “But I had never disrespected the memory of my mother, nor I could ever” you laughed, anger burned the back of your throat, “You are a man, you don’t understand a thing” the radio static in the air and the tension provoked by the argument, was unbearable, blood would be shed if he didn’t stopped that instant.

But he went too far, “Then illuminate me then, what could’ve been so terrible?” his smile was one of mock, his tone sarcastic and his smile challenging. Something snapped inside of you, a bunch of words trapped inside your mind, now set free to burn everything they touched.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath and allowed the poison escape your body, in the shape of the truth, “My father was addicted to the game, he sold my alcoholic mother, my sister and I to the mafia, to repay his gambling debts” you could still remember your mother screaming ‘BASTARD’ repeatedly, after receiving your father’s call about the situation.

“My mom was the first to shoot herself before the men broke the door, I shot my sister before they could take her, but I failed to it myself” they grabbed you and the gun before you could pull the trigger, last thing you saw was your sister last smile before the light left her eyes.

“You were belittled, sure, but you will never understand what it means to be sold and treated like livestock” your voice trembled and broke. Still with your eyes closed the tears burned the insides and leaked a few down your cheek.

You opened your eyes, looking down at him exactly how you would look at your father if you had him in front of you, “Now, Alastor, I believe my parents didn’t do a thing for me to be grateful for”.

“I…overstepped” he blinked a few times, his eyes normal and the static gone, “Indeed” the ceramic made a cracking sound under your hands as you released it. “Let me make it up to you” Alastor tried to grab your hand, “Don’t bother” you cut him off.

When his hand was close to your wrist, you tapped lightly on his skin, that single tap felt as a full slap. A shiver ran though his spine, his stomach burned painfully, “Y/n” he pleaded, he wanted to chase after you, but he was naked, wet, and the thought ‘I shouldn’t have spoken’ shouted inside his ears.

“Cut the strings on one side and pull gently, then apply antiseptic, do not cut in the middle” you then closed the bathroom door behind you, as well as the main door.

🍎📻

Making your way to the stairs, your steps were heavy as well as your efforts to avoid letting more tears come out. Almost blinded by them, and rage, you accidentally knocked against something, or rather, someone.

“Y/n?” Lucifer turned around, embarrassment rose and showed up on your cheeks, while you cleaned the remaining wetness of your face. “Lovely night, isn’t it?” despite your state he smiled, not making fun of you, nor pointing it out.

“Could I ask you for an embarrassing favor?” he was nervous, you even more so, “I don’t think it’s the time–“ he pulled you by your hand and guided you down the hallway on the opposite direction from Alastor’s room.

“I’m shedding, with six wings it’s a huge bother, specially with the ones closer to my back, I lost the stick I use for those and they really itch, could you lend me a hand?” he had this stare only puppies have when they are asking to god himself for you to give them a rub and a treat.

You were weak to that fucking stare, and if you had seen your daughter grow old, she with no doubt would’ve gotten everything out of you just with that stare.

“Uhm, sure” anything to get you away from more suicidal thoughts, “Thank you, you have no idea how much I appreciate this” he was practically skipping as he walked.

He sat on the middle of the massive bed you put together, tossed his coat, vest, all possible garments away, then extended his wings for you.

15 minutes went by.

“Y/n? Your hands are trembling, is everything okay?” the silver carved brush shook along with you, of course he was going to notice.

You could say you were tormented by the memories of your past, that you blurted out the most horrifying seven years of you life to a man that doesn’t give a single shit about you, that you haven’t slept a proper wink in thirty years. That you feel under-fucked and alone, and could make a deal with any wretch that came your way for a bit of love and sympathy. Overall, you have no purpose, no will to live, nothing except the small praises you hear in the four courses of meals is a reason strong enough to get you out of bed in the mornings.

Sure, you could say that and look more pathetic than you already did. Mind the sarcasm.

“Yes, it’s just…I’m a bit overstimulated” again, understatement.

He didn’t understood that word, but he found you almost ripping your eyes out to stop yourself from crying, your hair frizzled and claws out. He had to give you a distraction, something your mind could be busy with.

“This doesn’t hurt, right?” he heard the concern in your voice, “Not at all, I feel a great relief, lighter even” he noticed how close you were to him, your tail was long enough to go pass his thigh, “Either way, let me know” he absentmindedly took it and worked his fingers against the pointy hairs at the end.

“These scars” the distinguish smell of his blood was clear, his milky-colored skin, pure and beautiful, was accompanied by a golden mantle, as if he had millions of freckles that are actually burns on his shoulders down to the lower back.

“They’re horrible, right? I got burned with hellfire during my fall, Lilith always commented how rough my back felt afterwards–” the sole way the was talking about himself made you want to cry, after a few self-loathing words out, your brain muffled his voice away.

Slowly you felt yourself drift, as well as you leaned forward, gently pressing your cheek on his shoulder. His warmth, the sweet smoked apple scent, even the sound of his heartbeat, overwhelmed you.

“Y/n?” the muffle went away; you heard his curious voice loud and clear though his skin. “The pattern reminds me of a swarm of fireflies dancing above the river” you laughed, painfully removing yourself from him, “I said something weird, didn’t I?” you smiled, but it fell as soon as you heard a sniffle.

“Sir, are you…” you tried looking pass his shoulder, but he composed himself faster than how the Dublin wall fell, not that you knew of that of course. “Sorry, that was beautiful, thank you” his smile, ear to ear, everything about him glowed.

“What do I do with the feathers?” you had collected them inside a pillow case, given the lack of plastic bags around, “I usually trash them” there was a big red one that was beautiful compared to the wilted looking ones, you saved it, sending it away with a smoke.

He noticed you saving one of his feathers, it in fact, sent a pleasant shiver up Lucifer’s heart and got him smiling like a teenager.

“How often do you roam around sleepless?” he folded all the clothing items he dismissed earlier, as he asked. You opened the bathroom’s trash can, poured the feathers down as you thought for an answer, but you just couldn’t lie, at all.

“Four to five times a week” he hummed, “So I gathered, nightmares?” you made your way putting the case back on the pillow you took it from, “Memories” you felt a poke on your back, that made you turn around, when you did, his face was almost at the same level as yours, he muttered “Quid pro quo” before a light went through his eyes.

“I know a spell that can help you, in exchange you become my cuddle buddy” he emphasized every damn word, like he was presenting a big opportunity, you were flabbergasted “Huh?” was the only thing you could utter that wasn’t a mental mess.

“Fun, right? Also you get out of that tomb you call a room” You weren't going to compare him to your friend in life Louanne, but the way the devil himself saw through you better than anyone had tried before was terrifying and yet strangely satisfying.

“Did I guessed?” worst thing is that he was right, he knew it, he knew you knew, and your face couldn’t be funnier to him, “You read me in a way I find distasteful” your annoyance was a delight, “I get that a lot” no he didn’t.

“If you do anything weird–“ he cut you off, “You will be allowed to bite me to a breaking point” oddly enough, Charlie’s attitude towards you was the stinking reflection of his father, you couldn’t have guessed it in a million years. “You and your daughter will be my ruin…Fine” for the sake of finally sleeping , you agreed.

“Any specific area you’d like me to avoid?” he took your hand again, just to have your fingers on his palm, “The ones that are obvious, also inner ears and the base of my tail” a serious tone, a warning, regarding your tail, “Just the base?” he asked, puzzled yet loving that you said yes.

“Well it’s connected to my spine, so it hurts a lot when manhandled” he kissed your hand, “Got it, please get comfortable while I dust off my wings, part of the process I’m afraid” he disappeared around the bathroom wall.

Half a second it took you to process what he said, before asking: “You want to start tonight?” your voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Yes, you don’t?” utter disbelief all over again, that man was too straight forward.

“I haven’t slept near anyone for more than a century” walked up to the bathroom door, high voice like when you used to whine about the prices getting too high for everyone’s sake. “Then I’ll try to be gentle, I haven’t slept correctly in seven years, I’m really excited” as fast as he walked in he was out, towel on his hips, wings folded inside somewhere. He then went in the walk in closet, like a diva getting ready for her next show.

“Are you…making fun of me?” that was a strange feeling, you weren’t in control at all, erratic feelings flooded you. “Nope” he made a pop sound, sticked his head out the door and winked with his forked tongue out. How is that the same man that had you nervous for your death in the kitchen the other day?

“I’ll get my nightwear” frustrated already you moved two steps, but he stood in front of you with a bag on his hand, “Already ahead of you, figured a two piece would be more comfortable” your mouth hanged open, speechless.

“You planned this ahead– know what? I don’t wanna know” you took the bag off his hands, in it there was a long sleeved shirt and a pair of shorts, both black with plastic cat images. “Little kittens? How cute, I can keep these right?” he nodded enthusiastically so. “Yes, look! Mine are ducks!” he made a little jump, opening like a starfish, “You look like a child!” you laughed, how long as it been since you did? “Hey don’t be mean, now who’s mocking who?” it was so contagious he ended up laughing too.

After changing, you left your boots and uniform on a chair, then walked to the already tucked in king, sliding down the covers in the space he made for you. You weren’t sure who hugged who, but he answered that for you when he nuzzled under your neck.

“You have a lovely laugh” he purred, hugging your waist, “Thanks, I don’t do it often” the vibration of his voice right in your heart was a weird but delightful thing to have back. Also the warmth of having someone to hug instead of a pillow, which is amazing, “Neither do I, thank you”.

His tail, right you forgot he has one, entwined with yours, that never happened before, but then again it would’ve been weird that your husband had a tail, right? He felt you tense up, so he passed his knee in between yours, then placed a loving kiss on your cheek before nuzzling back in.

“You can stop fighting now” words that worked almost like the spell that poured out of his fingers, “No one will hurt you”, four seconds, knocked out cold for the first time in 30 years.

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Stay tuned ;3

Part 6

#alastor x reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #radio demon #cursed cat alastor #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel fanart #alastor x lucifer #alastor fanart #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #radioapple #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar #hazbin #hotel hazbin #hazbin hotel

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extinctionstories · 10 months

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Regret and hindsight are close companions. There never seem to be half so many solutions to a problem as there are after it becomes unsolvable.

The moment the last of a rare animal dies out, countless theories and suggestions spring up of how it could have been saved, if only some simple step had been taken—larger preserves, hunting embargos, breeding programs, relocation.

Ideas that could have saved them. Once. Maybe. Daydreams, incapable of salving the pain of knowing that we were the ones who failed to act when it still mattered.

Each species that falls is transfigured into a mythologized buried treasure, its loss a crime for which we can only fantasize about making restitution, soothing ourselves with what-ifs, and haunted trail-cams, and visions of bio-technological necromancy.

And I can’t help but think, if only we turned half so much effort towards those who are still within mortal reach. The ones for which our actions can still make a difference.

Why do we imagine that we could have saved the world's lost creatures, when we continue to perpetuate the same fatal pressures against those that remain?

Thousands of species are fading away around us, while humanity contents itself with the lucky few that can be preserved in captivity—building natural history dioramas full of living, breathing taxidermy mounts, while the world outside dies.

This can't be good enough.

The title of this painting is 'Extinct in the Wild'. It was painted in acrylic on 11x14 Bristol board. It was inspired by the iconic Unicorn Tapestries, and the plight of the Spix's Macaw and all other animals whose natural homes have been made unsafe for them. (Note: this blog supports the important conservation services provided by zoos. )

#extinction #spix's macaw #extinct in the wild #conservation #unicorn #extinction stories

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 8 months

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the stars align: linger

ch29

masterlist

-anyway! how r u guys

-8?... chs left idk i failed math

-drew choso bc the choso brain rot is back

-yall ever seen a taxidermied skunk head on a buttplug?

taglist!🧠 (ask 2 b added)

@secretanimesimp @kaitfae @watermelon-online @adhdduckie @tamakigf @mishapcorner @bloombb @midnight-simp @venusinx @qualitygiantshoepsychic @babygurlenthusiast @akii420 @tranzumaki @ynverse @asp7n @nanamiswifes @afatalheat @aeongiies @matique @shookykookie30 @pumpkindudeishere @hana-patata @ohhheymessa @letthewindlead @tdwaterloo @bbysatoruuu @idiopathic @kaininety2 @shojislady @nymphsdomain @slut4kennyomega @ketchupsush1 @iluv-ace @bakugouswh0r3 @jtoddwife @stardusthyuck @basically-an-anime-stan-acct @slowlyholypeanut @wxnderless

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wol-fica · 1 year

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-𝔹𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕤 ℙ𝕋3-

pairings - nessy poopoo x fem!dopey stupido

summary - waking up with the girl of you dreams feels like such a wonderful thing

warnings - FLOOF

an - i’m really glad people are enjoying this series so much, i love writing it too

—————————

Waking up used to be so terrible for you.

You hated having to remove yourself from your bed and leave the warmth it provided just to be productive in a day. Your presence was apparently rEqUiReD in school and Weems deemed it as, “Being awake for a school function is professional!”

But now after you graduated, moved into your own home, and don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn, waking up doesn’t seem so bad.

Oh and you’re married too, what a plus!

Wednesday, your gothic wife, was always a morning person. Never without fail would she arise from her slumbers as precisely 7:00 AM, no more no less. You enjoyed being a night owl, weirdly Wednesday also enjoyed that you were a night owl; she would get to fall asleep on you while you either read to her or just hummed a tune she enjoyed.

Wednesday also enjoyed waking up, she loved the terrible feeling of having to leave her bed, it was such a good practice for every day. But Wednesday also loved being able to just watch you.

When you were asleep, you were relaxed. No stress was etched into your features, no lopsided grin coating your face, no witty remarks passing your lips; just you being absolutely limp.

As of this morning, Wednesday had just woken up for the day. It was a lazy Saturday in June, so birds were chirping their souls away on the windowsill while sunlight beamed in from above. One of the rays had fallen on your face, casting you in a gorgeous golden glow.

Wednesday was in awe, all she could do was stare. The sun highlighted the small nicks on your skin that were previously hidden in the shade, and Wednesday wanted to kiss all of your freckles that you had dusted across your nose.

In her black, soulless eyes, you were perfect. You were a fallen angel sent from the deepest pit of hell and into her lap. You were the thing she craved on a boring Tuesday afternoon after she finished her weekly taxidermy crafts, you were the warm, comforting embrace she desired to settle down her cold, unfortunately beating heart.

You were it for her, the drug she accidentally got herself addicted to. The way you held yourself was so alluring to her, you didn’t have a care if anyone said anything bad about you, you would just smile. Your posture and poise was strong, an attractive trait to Wednesday, and you always had the will to do almost anything.

But here you were, laying down on your shared king-sized bed as Wednesday studied you from above. She was straddled on your waist after sitting up from laying on your body. Her weight and her aroma was always enough for you to fall asleep, and if she was away you would spray a weighted blanket with her perfume just to get some sort of closure that it was her.

Wednesday enjoyed having that effect on you, the control. She liked knowing that you needed her to even do many tasks, i.e. falling asleep, cooking, going for runs without getting mugged, the simple things.

You shifted in your sleep, a small whine of discomfort passing your lips. You were waking up, Wednesday knew that from the lack of her body on yours, so she returned to her previous position of her body hooked over yours. Her legs were around your hips, locking you in place, while her arms went under your back to hold you.

“Sleep, mi amor…” She whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek as she nestled herself even closer to you.

You sighed in response, your brain shifting back into a deep sleep state at the return of your wife’s presence.

Wife. A label Wednesday never thought she would think of someone else. Her life felt to preoccupied for marriage, the devotion of oneself to another person for eternity seemed pointless and a waste of her time.

That being said, Wednesday loved you very very much. After meeting you in botany class her second year at nevermore, she became lovesick for you. She wanted you, she needed you, and now that she was finally graduated and living her long-awaited adult life, she had you.

“Nes…” You murmured int your sleep, your head turning into Wednesday’s collar bone.

“I’m here…” Wednesday cooed, her hands rubbing the back of your neck.

You had turned, your body pushing Wednesday onto her back as you now laid atop her. Your lips were incredibly close to her skin, your warm breath fanning out across her naked shoulder.

Pure bliss is what Wednesday would describe your mornings. It was such a blessing to be able to love and hold you in this peaceful state, when her whole focus was on you.

Mornings were terrible, but they always were the best start of your days.

———————

woke up at 6 and wrote this, then fell back asleep

taglist:

@crystal-lily-101101 @i984 @aahdiieb @rainbow-love4ever @cursedchar @tundra1029 @fall-08 @efectoangel @vorsdany @imhungry-andtired @theafterofnevermore @k1mba @dreaming-of-u @thenextdawn @alexkolax @captainbeat @littlegaybutterflysblog @sayaisrotten

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ellieslittleburrow · 2 months

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Requested by anon : i hope this isn’t too dark but could i request joel with a daughter who’s a recovering addict?? and just how he would deal with that

Warnings : ADDICTION recovery, swearing, a clingy father and a ghostly mention of a blackout.

A/N : i hope you like this, anon.❤❤ Also i have a feeling i conveyed Joel a bit weaker than he usual is??? But in my brain it's the Joel that met up with Tommy again. The exact addiction was also not specified so i tried to make it as neutral as possible. Anyway, enjoy yall! 🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️

------

"Hey" A soft smile phantoms over your dad's face as he enters the room. "How are we feeling this morning?" He attempts enthusiasm but fails. You don't push... At least he tries...That's what you keep saying to yourself.

It's been a few months since your last episode. Call it episode of whatever you want, anger, last straw, the moment you gave yourself another chance...

"We're good..." You awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, timidly swinging your foot forward and backward "Should we...?" You throw your chin forward, motioning towards the door.

"Yeah!"

----

Since that last time, living with Joel has been a blessing and a curse. The heavy silence that sets in the car every time you went somewhere, the weight of knowing what occupied both of your minds and not being able to do anything about it.

There were fights. Like that time he entered your room without knocking, causing you to startle and to to swing your habd behind your back.

He'd ruin the fucking surpr-

"What are you hiding behind your back?" His low tone slaps you like thunder and you realize wht he has in mind.

Your heart stings and you scoff. stupid you for thinking about him, yeah?

You hold out the glass jar, examining its contents one last time. A letter, a pocket watch, a small knife and a monarch butterfly you stupidly taxidermied, thinking it was the thing he loved the most. "Monarch butterflies..creatures guided by an ancient instinct to seek sanctuary in distant lands...Kinda remind me of myself..." He'd always say. So you violently hurl the bottle at the ground, meeting his eyes as the bottle shatters. "Well, it was your gift." You force a smile. "There it goes." And before brushing past him, you make sure to spit on the contents, just in case he ever decided to pick them up after you.

He grips your arm as you walk by. But you yanked it away, throwing him a glare before leaving.

He begs later. More than once, for a few days. "I-I-I'm sorry, I-I" He holds your hand. "I can't imagine how much that hurt..."

There were also other times where tears flowed. Tears being his...least favorite thing.

Like that time your body shut down...Went numb and you found yourself on your knees, hyperventilating as you search for air to breathe. Nothing serious, just pure exhaustion and lack of sleep. On his face of the moon, you fell to the ground and were unable to breathe, your colors washed off and your eyes widened....What's happening to you??? He doesn't know.

He rushes down to the ground and leans close to your face, feeling for..symptoms. "What-w-what is it-what's happening?" He shouts through panicky unsteady breaths. And as you struggle to even utter a word or two, tears stream down his face. "Please tell me what's happening."

Again, nothing serious on your side. Just a bad flashback for him, from back when you blacked out last. When he almost lost you.

That being said, bad moments weren't the only things that shaped your relationship. There were good moments too.

Good moments where words weren't needed for him to show how much he cared for you. He'd -not-so-discreetly watch you eat, from the corner of his eyes. and he'd sometimes lay awake, waiting to comfort you.

he'd also supervise you from time to time (More like spy on you).

You once couldn't deal with it anymore. And your prankster attitude couldn't let it slide easily. So you decided to prank him.

On your stroll through the woods, you stopped in your tracks, whirling around to point your rifle at him.

"Show yourself or i'm shooting your eyeballs off." Stern and threatening, you shout.

He startles, abruptly raising his arms up. "It's me!!!! It's me." Fear laces his voice. "It's just me."

A smirk creeps up on your face. "I know." You snort. "I got ya good." You got him goood.

His shoulders slouch and he breathes out heavily. "You sure did."

"Are you following me?" You ask, still keeping the same distance between the two of you.

"N-no, i'm j-"

"Just following me."

He sighs again. "No, i a-"

"Spying"

"NO! I'm just making sure you're not....Just making sure you're okay."

You debate whether to tell him that's literally spying or to just leave it. So you just shrug. "Okay...sure."

It can be suffocating at times, But you appreciate the effort anyways.

"Go home, dude." You turn on your heels and head away from him.

On your road to full recovery, you find yourself missing things that you promised yourself and the world you'd stay away from. With Joel on your side -and sometimes up your ass- You find yourself wanting to run, but always ending up wanting him back by your side. Because as protective and annoying as he can be, he's also always there whenever you find yourself falling back down, easing the burden of being this new person you're trying to be.

------

"Are you listening?"

You smile at him, thrown off by the sudden come back you had to do. "Yeah. Let's go."

--------

Hiiii! I hope yall enjoyed thiis, even though it's different from the usual style ❤❤🌸🥀🥀

#joel miller x platonic reader #joel miller x daughter!reader #joel miller x daughter #daughter!reader #adoptive father troop #father figure fic #father figure #daughter x father #joel miller #last of us fic #platonic reader #sarah miller

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rozcdust · 2 years

Text

I don’t speak to whores

Pairing: Bonten x AroAce!GN!Reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, whore behaviour, NO ROMANCE, just reader bullying Bonten

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

Was feeding him a PB&J sandwich necessary?

Probably not.

It was fun though.

Just as you were picking up your papers to go to the meeting you had scheduled. Mikey stormed into your office as if God himself was whipping him, slamming his hands on the table with all of his tiny, yet powerful fury.

Now thinking about it, he definitely seemed like the type to be into that shit.

You merely stared at his piercing, void-like eyes, trying to figure out where, when, and most importantly, if you fucked up.

Maybe he figured out you were the one to feed that PB&J sandwich to a severely allergic Ran.

“Is it true you made Ran throw his own flowers in the dumpster?!” Through his breathless, heavy gasps, the sentence came out more as a single word.

You cocked your head.

“Yes? Is that a problem?”

The loud slam of one of his credit card on your desk made you jump.

Who knew something so tiny could move so fast?

Especially something that looked as if it were poorly taxidermied.

“This is your bonus, you are golden, I love you.”

You blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“The card has 10 million yen on it. Do you want more? I can get you more. Actually, now that you mentioned it, you should get more. Let me just-“

Without even giving you a chance to speak, or finishing his own sentence, the small menace rushed put of your office, his mumbles of ‘Needing to go to an ATM’ still audible from down the corridor.

You blinked at the card.

You could swear it blinked back.

“Well, aren’t you truly beautiful.” A voice you can best describe as nails on a particularly moldy chalkboard pierced your ears, unfortunately drawing your attention to a particularly gruesome creature.

He looked like a fucking jellyfish hybrid born out of human hubris and misery, the awful mop of what he probably called ‘hair’ sitting on his head unpleasantly.

Do people consider this attractive?

“Hello.” Stoically, you greeted, disinterested and already tired of everything regarding this damn job.

Mikey made all these men seem like the Boogie Man, a terrifying yet constant presence, inevitable and permanent in their goal to make everyone around them fail.

Mikey was truly giving them more credit than they’re due, because all these bitches were is exhausting.

The fore-mentioned creature flashed a smile, softly taking your hand into his palm and kissing the top of it, his well-manicured nails digging into the sides of your palm.

Is this considered cute?

You’ve seen cockroaches cuter than this.

Suppressing a gag all while smiling a tight, uncomfortable smile, you wrestled your hand out of his ungodly grasp and plopped on one of the free chairs, next to a slim, decently aesthetically pleasing pink-haired man with scars, hoping he will leave you be.

Wrong.

Again.

You should start a Bingo card.

“Hello!” Energetically, he spun towards your direction, the chair producing an ear-piercing squeak as he got way too close to your face, “I’m Sanzu!”

Oh.

The spawn of Satan.

Great.

“Hello to you too.”

“Baby, you’re hot, I just may fall in love.” Beaming a smile your way, he tilted his head, his hand sneaking to rest around your shoulders, making your skin crawl the same way worms will through his rotting flesh if he puts his filthy hands anywhere close to your goddamn body again.

Thank God for rule number three.

Physical violence is encouraged.

And that is just what you did.

As minutes ticked by, incredibly slow if you may add, more people trickled in, all faces unfamiliar but two, one belonging to the slutty little bitch man from a few days ago, and the other to Kakucho, who you have decided to label ‘depression incarnate’, purely off the permanently sour expression on his otherwise pleasant face.

And finally, Mikey.

Just as he opened his mouth to shush his little rodents, you made a mental note to tell him his hair is an abomination.

The meeting was a fucking disaster.

If you had paper-thin patience before, the blond catboy has successfully managed to shave it down to an electron-thin slice of pure rage.

You had one job, one *fucking* job, present your shit, tell them they’re idiots - a Mikey approved method - and be the fuck out of there.

But no.

The capitalistic catboy had to interrupt you constantly, an irritating crescendo of “Sorry, may I just add really quickly-“, “Sorry sweetheart, let me-“, “Sorry, but this chart-“ almost making your ears bleed.

You could feel your blood pressure rising by the milisecond.

Hands crossed, foot tapping with impatience, you tried to finish your report in a polite manner.

“So to conclude your schedules-“

Of course the human embodiment of a Persian cat couldn’t even let you do that.

“Sorry to interrupt, but may I-“

That was it, your patience left you, dead and departed to chase wild buffalo in prairies of some better worlds.

Your face twisted into a sardonic, wrathful smile.

“I am almost done, let me just get this done, and then I’ll leave the podium all up to you.”

He tilted his head, his dead, irisless eyes staring deep into your soul.

Mikey said this was the romantic one?

Mikey clearly has no fucking idea what the hell is he talking about.

To be fair, neither did you, but you knew the definition of the word, and it did not include whatever the fuck this dude was snorting.

“Kokonoi-san, I am almost done.”

“But-“

The electron got split into a fucking particle, and with a perfectly sweet, professional voice, you picked your words carefully.

“Kokonoi-san” You placed your hands on the table, leaning towards him, with a sickly sweet smile, “This is your last warning. When you’ll have to deal with 8 idiots, then you may speak.”

The fucker leaned right back, an even sweeter smile on his stupid, horrifying face.

“You think I am scared of you?”

“Actually, yes, as all of you combined have the time management of a dead gerbil, without someone managing your time as if I were your goddamn mommy, you’d all be swamped and get nothing done in this godforsaken gang. I recommend you shut you mouth, let me talk, and listen. I can see your fucking browser history, you know?”

The flash of horror on his face gave you an incredible amount of satisfaction.

Straightening your back out, your cold gaze passed all of them.

“Any more complaints?”

Silence.

“I asked a question.”

You were met with a unison of muttered no’s.

“Excellent, so to circle back to Rindou’s schedule-“

Two days passed in relative silence.

Only two fucking days.

But you can’t have shit in this goddamn workplace, now can you?

You’ve seen feral hogs better behaved than these motherfuckers.

“Hey, y/n, I brought you these reports.” Blondie barged into your office, without even knocking, naturally, and with a cocky sway in his walk, he laid the papers on your desk, straightening them out meticulously.

You don’t know what it was about him, but you had a bone-deep desire to break his fucking jawbone.

You refused even look up at him, merely nodding instead, as it was your break and you were too busy complaining to your best friend about how annoying your coworkers were to pay the resident catboy cosplayer any mind.

What a fucking joke.

Kokonoi, for whatever godforsaken reason, stood by the damn desk, not moving a muscle, barely even breathing, still waiting on you to pay him a crumb of attention.

Not happening until that damn clock hits noon.

Minutes ticked by.

Your best friend sent their condolences just as the clock at the top of your screen spelled out the end of your break, and with a heavy sigh, and finally giving up, you laid your phone on the desk, glancing in the general direction of Mr. Krabs.

And there was a Burkin bag right on your desk, for whatever reason.

You stared at the bag.

It stared back.

You finally looked up at the man.

“We kinda got off on the wrong foot,” He sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his neck, “I want to give you this. As a peace offering. It’d fit your aesthetic well.” Shrugging, his previous humility was replaced by a smug smile.

Your face didn’t move a muscle.

On one hand, Mikey said to never accept gifts.

On the other…

This was fucking expensive.

And would sell great on e-Bay.

“That is very kind of you. Apology accepted.” Leaning your elbows on the desk as your fingers interlaced, you offered a polite smile, nodding your head.

His smugness only grew.

“I’m glad. I hope we can work together for a long* time.”

“I hope the same, Koko.”

“So would you like to go out to dinner sometime? As coworkers, of course, I’d like to meet you a little better.“

Raising an eyebrow, you looked him up and down, repeating it numerous times over.

“Well I don’t really think that’d be quite professional…”

“Oh come on, my treat, I’m sure we’ll get along great.” He laughed, playfully sticking his tongue out.

Leaning back into the comfort of your chair, you started filing your nails.

“I’m allergic to food.”

“What?” Kokonoi blinked, all of his previous mischief stopping to a halt.

You nodded, looking away, a look of deep sorrow marring your face.

“Yes, it is in fact a very serious condition.”

“Wait, so, how do you stay alive? Like, how aren’t you dead?”

“Photosynthesis.”

🔖Taglist (closed):

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @m0rrax @levistiddies @bxnten @spookygeto @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @gigibobigi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @bontenacious @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @aurel1ia @nahoyas-nymph @one-green-frog @justrandomlypassing @kio-kookie @haikyuu-simps-assemble @arlecchino-n-scara-k @ayhashi @mOrl @tiredlattes @jeagerslutx @hayamirinrin @crown5 @medusalovessnakes @bblyerim @ohnoyouareasimp @sakinotfound @syddisheep @barcelona-sergei @solliver05 @ricecake23 @ayamvirus @vanillaashakee (second tag list in comments. in bold are those who tumblr won’t let me tag. my apologies!)

suggested by: @nahoyas-nymph

#tokyorev #tokyo revengers #bonten #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #manjiro sano #rindou haitani #sanzu akashi #bonten x reader #kokonoi hajime

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