robin-the-enby

[robin-the-enby]

I don't usually like AUs but mafia 141 is just...mmmmm

I love it.

The Assistant

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Lmfao this is my take on the Mafia!141 x reader

this had been sitting in my drafts since February.

WARNING: swearing, violence, later chapters might include NSFW if I decide to continue. afab!reader, f!reader

(I would like to preface this that this is not my original idea, I know that many of these stories have assistant!readers but this idea had been sitting on my head for the longest time)

Dividers by: @cafekitsune

Paying for school was a fucking shit storm. You really should’ve just stuck to STEM but dammit did you fucking hate statistics. That was never your forte.

In desperate need of work, you took up waitressing, bartending, house keeping, even dog sitting.

You came to the conclusion very quickly that while job hopping kept you busy- it’s not something you want to keep doing.

So you found a job offer for an office assistant. Pretty solid. Keep orders of appointments, organize files, print and send files, and send emails.

Shit…it sounds easy it certainly can’t be so?

Well. Call it a hunch. You were right. It was awful.

Your boss was pretty alright at the start, but later on it became such a shit show. He would show up drunk, verbally assault you and another assistant, and constantly throw passes at you.

Not only that. The man you worked for ended up being a fucking scammer. Offered a very dangerous group a ‘great deal’ that ended up turning their plans for the worse. The threats from the clients were scaring off co-workers of yours. Some without notice, which kind of hurt your feelings.

One of them being your friend, Amara. She was a sweet girl, getting married soon. She was so excited to start a new life with her fiancé and her mom. But then she was found dead only a few weeks after she left. Oh you were heart broken.

Her funeral was very difficult to attend.

You noticed that your boss wasn’t around the past few days, and you were anxiously answering furious emails back to back. Some of them threatening to end your life if you couldn’t fix their issues.

You were so close to finishing college with your BA. You needed to save enough for your Masters. How else could you manage?!

There went your goals of becoming something in theatre, yes we know, of all things. Gods…you were so willing to start selling organs to pay off student loans. You knew this job was way too good to be true.

Then *they* came around.

Two gentlemen, a charming male, with brown eyes and a dashing smile had you distracted before he even opened his mouth. The other next to him, a blue-eyed individual with a soft-looking Mohawk and rugged nature, had a contagious laughter that drew you to look up in the first place.

When they got to you, they were very polite.

“Good afternoon, we’re here to see Mr. Seamire.”

Your smile falters and you worry that they might turn nasty if you tell them the truth…but you can’t think of a better lie than the “sorry he’s not in right now” that you’ve been repeating that past few days.

“I’m so sorry, he hasn’t been in for a few days now.” You sheepishly admit. “If you’d like to leave a message or number we can leave it on his desk, if he comes back-“

“Oh that won’t be necessary, hen.” The blue eyed man speaks, a Scottish accent in his words.

“If we can, would you be able to find us some files? Only if you can. We’re pulling out of a…” he huffs a laugh, but there’s no amusement in his eyes, “business, deal.”

You blink and nod your head.

“Sure, I just need a name. I’m so sorry we’ve not satisfied you with our company’s service.”

The brown-eyed gentleman smiles warmly. “Thank you kindly, ma’am. It’s no worries. They’re under a number actually, 141.”

You nod, typing in the number as an aggressive smack on your desk counter sounds right next to the two.

“I wanna speak to Seamire! Now!”

Ah shit.

“I’m sorry sir, he’s not in-“

“You said that shit last time!!”

“Y-Yes- I did-“

The man throws a drink (where the fuck he got that from you don't know) right at you, and you thank god that it was a cold one.

Immediately the two gentlemen wrestle him back a few steps.

“Oi- what the bloody hell is your problem?!”

You take a deep breath, the aggressive stranger still yelling profanities at you as your in the middle of a breathing exercise your therapist from your uni taught you. It’s not really working.

“Cheap whores like her need to learn how to do their fucking jobs-!”

Your eyes snap open in rage. “ENOUGH.”

Everyone in the room stops.

You slam the company telephone on the top of the counter, grabbing the actual phone part and holding it out to him. “Do *you* wanna try calling him? Huh? Wanna give it a fucking go?!”

You shove it off of the counter as he stands there gobsmacked.

“I���m sorry you got fucked over by my boss, but I’m not his fucking keeper. I’m his fucking assistant. He tells me what to do, when to do it, and not even a please or thank you to come with it. The little slimeball hasn’t been here in,”

You yank out a file and slam it down. “three fucking weeks. So if you want to file a complaint-"

You harshly slide the folder over. It's huge, the papers spilling out of the openings. "-JOIN THE FUCKING CLUB. You incompetent prick!”

The Scotsman lets out a huffed laugh, looking back at the stranger. “Think yer not welcomed here, lad.”

He grabs the man by the jacket of his suit and drags him out of the door. You can only see so far which way he takes him.

His friend looks back at you, a sort of worry on his face. “You alright there, miss?”

Immediately you shake your head. “No. I think that might’ve been my sign to quit.” You sigh out. “Uhm…I’m not supposed to do this but since I’m putting in my notice, uh I can use the computer on the managers floor to get those files for you. I can either mail them to you or-“

“I can pick them up myself, I’d rather them not be others hands.”

“Okay,” you pull out a pen and sticky note. “Write down your number or email, and I can let you know when they’re ready to be picked up. I can honestly have them by…”

You need to take a deep breath, the nerves and anxiety still hot in your blood. “…like- tomorrow.”

The man smiles, scribbling down a number, and a name. ‘Kyle’. You presume it’s his, considering he doesn’t correct you when you point at him.

You smile, peeling off the note and sticking it onto the desk. “Okay, Kyle. I’ll let you know as soon as that’s ready. Thank you…for uh…helping me out there.”

‘Kyle’ nods and motions to your outfit. “You’re gonna be alright smelling like coffee all day?”

“Oh, I’ll manage. Might leave after this.”

He leans in with his forearms on the desk.“I don’t blame you.”

There’s a feeling of shyness in your chest as he leans in, and then his friend comes through the door.

“You alright, miss?”

Again, you nod. “Yes! Thank you, I hope that wasn’t trouble-“

He waves his hand in front of him. “It’s no problem for us.”

Kyle raps his knuckles on the desk as he looks at his friend. “Well, she said she’ll let us know when we can get those files. We're clear?”

“Almost,” the Scotsman states. There’s a look between the two, something their communicating with their eyes as Mohawk opens his mouth. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your boss last was?”

Your brows raise up- cause in all honestly no. You didn’t know. Last you heard he just stated he was taking some vacation days. Which you relayed.

“He could be anywhere really, he really likes his beach house though. Never really told us where it was.”

His demeanor perks at the mention of a location. Not a proper one but a house nonetheless. “Thank ye, lass. And yer name was-?”

“Oh I’m (y/n).”

“(Y/n). Such a beautiful name. I’m Johnny.”

“Pleasure.” You can’t help but notice his knuckles. Bruised and cut up, like he fights for a living. Honestly, with his build, you would assume he does so.

“We’ll keep in touch, yeah?”

Kyle throws you a toothy grin before turning and walking out, Johnny right behind him.

——————————

That night, before you left for the day (even though you smelt of coffee), you managed to find those files that Kyle and Johnny were asking for. To your surprise they weren’t blacked out of some of the info that should be blacked out on a managers desk.

You sigh, shaking your head. If anything this proves that this business was failing, as none of the necessary precautions were being used.

As you printed out everything, you decided to put some in a flash drive as well to give to them. And then in the same moment, you downloaded a file that had your name? Which was odd. Cause these were all names of clients and buyers. Your name shouldn’t be on there.

But then you see other names. Familiar names of previous co-workers who just stopped showing up to work. One was Amara. This wasn’t right.

You decided to be nosey, putting like five names that you recognized even Amara’s in the flash drive. You’d just move things around before giving it to Kyle.

When you finish you organize the printed files in order. If it’s named, it’s alphabetical. If it’s dated, it’s numeral. Some are even color-coded.

By the time you make it to your car, you pull out your phone, texting Kyle that his files are ready. And to your surprise, he texts you really fast. Right as you start the car!

Kyle: great! Would you mind if we met up somewhere public? Wouldn’t want to scare you if I asked you to drop them off.

Well, that’s odd. Why the fuck would you be scared. He’s such a nice-looking gentleman.

But anyway, you sent him a location and headed over there.

It was a rather busy street, the place you recommended. Finding parking was easy though you didn’t think to tell Kyle where the good spots were.

You sit in front of a cafe, a coat covering your stained blouse with the file in front of you. Eventually, a familiar voice greets you.

“Why hello again.”

You look up from your phone and grin. “Hi! Here you go, I’m sorry it took so long, something was weird about the files. Uhm, not everything is blacked out but I swear that’s not normal, we usually black out certain info-“ you begin to play with your hands. “Honestly I am really sorry things didn’t work out, a lot of people but a lot of money with this kinda of business.”

Kyle is furrowing his brow at the files before glancing up at you with a hard gaze that softens immediately. “You put this together?”

“Yes?”

“This is…” he raises his brows before thumbing through the pages. “Jesus love,…how long did this take?”

“Like,” you sputter, the name catching you off guard. “Like I don’t know 20 minutes?”

There’s a long pause as he nods his head, looking up at you with a smirk. His eyes are a hypnotic coffee brown. Flakes of gold shimmer from the gold lighting of the window to the cafe. You’re mesmerized before he speaks.

“You’re out of a job now right?”

"Yep."

“You like assisting?”

You give a shrug. “Could be worse.”

Gaz leans in, putting his file on the table. “If I offered you an interview would you be interested?”

It was like a record scratch hit your head. “I…well I mean…it depends really. No offense I barely know you-“

“Yet here we are, face to face again.”

You furrow your brow. “Oh come on, I was being nice and doing a favor.”

“Maybe, but this is a job that pays well. I promise you we can take care of anything you may need. We could do work benefits like dental, medical, or even housing.”

You clicked your tongue, a wide but nervous grin sprouting out. 'Housing?' you thought.

What they were going to keep you nearby? What in a tiny little shack?

You let out a dry laugh. “What is this..."business" you do?"

Kyle licks his lips, and you notice only the tiniest amount of hesitation.

"Call it uh, protection detail."

"Protection? So you're security?"

Oh if only you knew.

“Well," He changes the subject. "I understand this is pushing. Honestly, we could really benefit from your work ethic.” He stands, tucking the file under his arm before shaking your hand. “Text me if you’re interested I'm serious.”

Then just like that. He’s gone in the crowd.

comment and/or reblog! I'd appreciate it! requests are open!

[robin-the-enby]

Awww this was so sweet

Hi! I was wondering if you’d be able to do a Willy Wonka who falls in love at first sight with the shy daughter of the chief of police? With Willy being so eccentric I’d love to see how their relationship would work out! Maybe she saves them from the chocolate cartel? Or in the vat of chocolate at the church? It’s up to you

I hope your having a wonderful day 🫶🏻

Being More Courageous

Willy Wonka x reader

Words: 3520

First off i do apologize cause this turned into less shy reader and more, self-conscious reader idk, this fic kind of drove me crazy cause long fics ALWAYS drive me crazy

The chief of police.

Your dad.

While some might find that job to be respectable, in your eyes it was just like any other job. Except recently your father has been coming home with more and more chocolate which is slightly concerning considering how addicted the man was to it. Nonetheless, he was your father and no matter how embarrassing he was those were the facts.

Now because your father was the chief of police, of course that meant sometimes he was needed on duty unexpectedly. And this was one of those times.

He was driving along with you after picking you up from a late evening out, (in his uniform as always), when he got an unexpected call. You didn’t catch much of the conversation, but all you knew was that it sounded important.

“We have to make a pit stop,” he said once, ending the phone call. Putting on his sirens and driving to a nearby location he stops, parking the car a short distance from a pop up cart.

Although the cart seemed small there was quite a crowd growing around it.

Of course however, once your father strolls up, the crowd disperses and your father begins to discuss with whom you can only presume to be the owner.

You watch the two exchange words, before another familiar officer, Officer Affable, pulls up as well.

Sitting there in that car, with nothing else to do, you can’t help but observe the boy.

The owner looked young. Possibly your age.

He was dressed in a shabby mulberry jacket, and a strange patterned scarf. On his head was placed a worn hat, but underneath that lay bouncy dark curls.

Despite his flavorful fashion, he still appeared well kept and the more you continued to keep your eyes on him, the more you began to recognize how attractive the boy was.

It seemed like he could sense your gaze that was stuck on him because in the next moment, his eyes shifted past your father while they landed on you.

At the sudden contact your flight, fright, or freeze kicked in, and you did the last unable to look away.

In that moment everything else disappeared.

No sounds could be heard, nothing else could be spotted, all your focus was on him.

Still warped in, you watch as the boy slowly raises a hand and his fingers move in a daze like wave, and feeling compelled to do so, you waved back.

It was an odd feeling for you. Most people didn’t pay you much mind. But this? This felt different.

You father, readjusting his attention from Affable to the owner, noticing how disconnected he seemed. Once following his gaze and noticing that it was on you, your father snapped his fingers in front of the boy’s face causing the connection to ultimately break.

You watched your father’s hands thrash about, clearly upset, as he made gestures that looked threatening. You observed from your seat as your father aggressively pointed a finger at the man, then at you, before saying one final thing and making his return back to the vehicle.

Curious, you question, “what was that about?”

“Just some chocolatier wannabe causing trouble.”

Your father turns on the car and begins the journey back home.

“Chocolatier?”

“Yeah, calls himself Willy Wonka.”

“…Willy Wonka,” you repeat, taking a quick glance through the side view mirror. Your father continues on about who knows what, because honestly it all just sounds like background noise to you at this point. All you can think about right now is the chocolatier called Willy Wonka.

After that you genuinely didn’t believe you were going to see the man again. Of course you wanted to, but after the warning your dad had given him, you figured he scared him off, that was until two days later when you were in town.

You were taking a stroll, when you spotted a crowd much like the other day. Suddenly growing nervous at even the possibility of spotting the boy you couldn’t help but gnaw on your bottom lip. Would he recognize you? No, tht’d be ridiculous. But, overcoming the nerves and doubt you mustered the courage to at least watch from the back.

Making your way over and taking your place as just another face in the sea of peoplem you watched as he spoke with customers exchanging his goods for their sovereigns. His eyes glanced around to take the next customer but his eyes stopped on you and once again there was an odd connection between you two just as before.

He quickly looked down, grabbing something you couldn’t exactly see. “Listen one and listen all,” he recited, gaining more attention, “for a new chocolate has gained my all.” He scanned the crowd. “It’s candy made to make your wildest dreams come true. So say, you’ll do?” He stopped, his hand open towards you.

You glance around making sure you’re not being misled as it takes you a moment to realize you’ve been chosen. “Me?”

“Yes. You with the lovely eyes and the beautiful smile.”

Oh god, you did not like this.

Being the center of attention, having everyone’s eyes on you. But pushing forward you move to reach out for the candy…when a loud whistle interrupts your actions. And of course that was your dad along with other officers.

Willy Wonka gives you a short wink, “till next time,” he says before hurriedly closing his shop.

With one final wave he runs off down an alleyway with his pursuers on his tail. The crowd separates returning to their own lives and you notice something interesting.

Someone wheeling Willy Wonka’s shop away. Not in a stealing sort of way, not in a hurried manner, but in a calm sort of setting. And curiosity gaining the best of you, you go after them.

Keeping a safe distance you follow all the way to an unfamiliar location. With a close eye on the presumably worker, you watch as they bend down and lift up a sewer lid.

Legs now moving before your brain you take slow and quiet steps, no longer hidden as you near the whole situation.

After a moment you hear a grunting noise and the same Willy Wonka pops out from underneath. Your jaw drops beginning to put the pieces together. Feet still moving forward, you watch in shock as he places his arms on both sides of the ground. Just as he pushes himself out…crackle. The snow you’ve stepped on suddenly cracked under your foot, revealing your location. Curse Mother Nature who betrayed you at this moment.

You let out a tiny, “eep!” Your shoulders are hiking, now frozen once again while the two pairs of eyes turn to you.

You don’t know what to say, you don’t know what to do, you’re just still, hopin your invisibility skills kick in. But, of course it doesn’t and Willy Wonka’s shocked face eases into one of recognition.

He turns to his partner in crime and says something you’re unable to hear but she nods, packing up the cart and leaving. Willy Wonka makes his way towards you, “I know you.”

You stand, still shocked about the whole situation as your eyes follow his movements that appear curious. He tilts his head at the lack of response, “cat got your tongue?” He asks in a genuine voice.

Snapping yourself out of it you speak, “no I’m just…surprised you remember me.”

He smiles, causing your eyes to avoid his, “of course I remember you, lovely eyes, beautiful smile…it would be hard to forget.”

Your breath hitches for a moment before you relay a nervous smile with a wave of your hand brushing off his words. Motioning to move past but he doesn’t.

“Don’t be so modest, it’s true.”

And at the continuation of his words you laugh, truly unable to hold eye contact with the boy.

“So you followed us here—although I’m delighted you did so, I’m curious what for?” He asks and you look up to see him waiting for an explanation, “are you here to rat us out? Give away our location?”

He walks up with each interrogating question while your face contours upset that he would think that way of you. To be fair though, he didn't know anything about you so the thought was valid. Wanting to say something, anything to deny the accusations you blurt, “no, of course not! I just—I didn’t get to try your chocolate.”

He makes a small ‘oh’ noise before returning to his cart, which wasn’t too far away, and once finding it he returns with the said item. Taking a bite of the chocolate, it’s easily noticeable that the rich flavoring is unlike anything you’ve ever tasted. Still with the chocolate spreading along your taste buds you ask him, “is it true you have a dessert that really helps with being bold?”

“Of course!” He confirms enthusiastically before taking a thought on it, “but what would you need that for?”

What don’t I need it for? You think to yourself recalling the many accounts you wished you had boldness. You didn’t mind being shy and too yourself, but there were always some moments you wished you did things differently.

Instead of dropping that whole bomb on the poor man, you give him a smaller, less important reason. “I don’t know…I hear you go on loads of adventures for your chocolate, that requires boldness and confidence. I wish I could do that. My days are fairly routine.”

“Let’s change that,” he leans close a little closer than you expected, “what is something you’ve always wanted to try?”

Now, you’ve thought of things you’ve wanted to try before but of course, now that someone was asking, nothing came to mind. Well, that plus the fact you couldn’t think all too straight with the short distance that was between you two.

“I don’t know.”

He leans back and you breathe out some air you unconsciously were holding in.

“There has to be something!” He encourages, waiting for an answer. At his ushering and one more, “come on,” from him you finally come up with an answer.

“Okay, okay,. I guess I’ve always wanted to sneak into a place after closing.”

“A place?”

“Yeah, a place. Anywhere, as long as it’s after hours.”

He grins at you mischievously, “easy, peasy.” Willy Wonka reaches down taking your hand and tugging you behind him as he begins to guide you through the streets.

“Wha—Right now?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Willy!”

“Adventure is spontaneous!”

He had a point there. Curious to where he would take you, you caved choosing to follow the boy.

He led you to the town library, a place you were very familiar with.

“Willy how are we going to get in?”

He turns around shaking his head, “that’s for me to worry about. You wait here,” he instructs running to the side of the building disappearing around the corner.

With him gone, it gave you a moment to think for yourself, breaking and entering. Was this really what you wanted to do? It did seem fun but what of the consequences? Was it worth it?

The door handle shifted bringing your attention back to the present before it opened revealing Willy on the other side, “come in.”

You do as told and once inside the nostalgia hits. Now, as mentioned before you’ve visited this library many times, back when you were a child, but it has been awhile.

Your hands brushed some books as you glanced around taking the air in. You didn’t realize how much you missed it. “Hey!” Shouted Willy calling you over. You spent the next hours stacking books, reading them, and acting them out, eventually building a small fort with the few blankets in the lounge area as you read out loud from a child’s book you used to read often.

Once finished you notice him on his back staring up at the ceiling and you lay down mirroring his position.

“You amaze me Willy.” You say comfortably.

“Oh?”

“There’s nothing you can’t do, frankly it both amazes me and annoys me,” you joke.

He lets out a single laugh of his own, “well, that’s not true.”

“Sure seems that way, you’re not afraid of anything or anyone.”

You both stare up in silence, at the blank canvas of the white ceiling.

“I can’t read.”

It takes you a moment to process this new information, and when you do, you sit up, body shifted towards him. “You can’t read?”

He shakes his head with a thin smile.

Instead of prodding which is what your initial response is, you lay back, “that’s alright. Makes me like you more knowing you have a flaw.”

He laughs, the light-hearted sound echoing in the room.

“Well then maybe I should list off some more of my flaws.”

You can feel your cheeks warm a little by his phrasing before you remind yourself to relax, as he’s just teasing. Luckily you don’t have to think of it too much because he brings up another statement, “you did this without the help of my Giraffe Milk Macaroon, and you claim to have no boldness in you.”

“Well yeah this is different.”

“How so? What’s holding you back?”

“Fear,” you answer having thought about this question multiple times.

“Fear? What are you afraid of?”

“People. Saying the wrong thing, being in someone’s way.”

“Hmm,” You hear from beside you, “I don’t think my macarons will help you there. Their effect helps in certain situations, not for a lifetime.”

You let out a little sigh, knowing no magical delicacy is going to fix your feelings.

“But, maybe with the right people, you can gain that desired courage.”

“…Maybe.”

You both spend your time well into the night before Willy has to return and together you return the books back to their rightful places and leave.

Willy walks you close to your residence before saying your goodbyes.

And that night you returned home feeling well, feeling both confident and happy about your decisions.

You were happy.

The next time you end up meeting Willy it’s a casual run in at the fountain. Honesty you were surprised in running into the boy not expecting to see him out and about so late. However, here he was.

You two chatted about simple things really.

“You always mention how you don’t know how to converse but you always do it easily with me,” he mentions after a few minutes of you discussing.

“Well yeah with you it feels simple.”

It was easy talking with him. You didn’t feel like you had to be cautious or hold your breath, everything was natural and he easily matched your energy.

“Well,” he takes a sovereign and tosses it into the well and your jaw drops because times are rough out here, “I’m making a wish here and now that you overcome your fears. And when you’re feeling nervous or anxious take deep breathes and think of this feeling now.”

In that moment you, with the support of his words that lifted you, you felt brave. You felt confident. With no fear stopping you, you stepped forward, pressing your lips against Willy’s.

There’s a slow reaction on his part no doubt due to being caught off guard but soon you separate from the man. And as you do, you realize how much more surprised he seemed than you initially thought.

“I’m sorry, I hope that was okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond when a familiar car pulls up. And once close enough you recognize your father as he gets out.

He looks absolutely furious.

“Dad.”

He plants himself in front of Willy, “go wait in the car, I have to talk to Mr.Wonka privately.”

Although you don't want to, you do, deciding it to be the best for the situation, but not before sharing a look with the chocolatier first.

Once in the car you watch the two talk just as before. At least that’s how it began. It all took a turn once your father grabbed Willy’s head and shoved it into the cold water of the fountain. It was all so sudden, you never expected him to do anything like that.

Thankfully he didn’t keep him under long but it was all such an odd thing to witness. You saw them talk more, or more accurately your father chat more before making his way back to the car.

You couldn’t believe he did that.

Once back in the car your father wastes no time in addressing the elephant in the room. “Really? Him? I thought I raised you better.”

You rolled your eyes at the spiel you expected yet hope you wouldn’t have to hear. “You’re running around with that scoundrel? I really don’t know what happened, but you’ve changed. Don’t go near him, he’s a troublemaker.”

You don’t know if it was the constant noise from your father or the fact he was talking ill about someone you cared about. But you couldn’t take it anymore, “he’s not a troublemaker,” you say with gritted teeth.

“What?”

“He’s not a troublemaker. He’s an honest hearted man, doing honest hearted work in the world and trying to bring people peace of mind. You always said that’s what the world needed more of, but now here it is and it's like you’ve flipped. You don’t know what happened to me, well I don’t know what happened to you?” You finished sinking in your seat and crossing your arms angrily.

You knew you pushed it, no matter your age, no matter how angry you are, you never talk to your father like that, but you couldn’t help it he was so wrong.

Your father drives in silence and you can be sure you get some sort of discipline once you’re home, but you stand by your words.

After that experience you don’t see Willy and you don’t hear of him. You grow upset, because either your father has scared him off, or if not that, you’ve scared him off with that unexpected kiss you practically threw on him.

You cringed at the memory of his expression now regretting being bold in that moment.

Eventually you hear about a mess at the town church. And with you already being in the area you go to investigate the odd story and sure enough there’s a great crowd of no doubt a funeral, (as they’re dressed all in black), standing outside as the doors remain shut.

You watch it all happen as familiar faces come and get the giraffe and it's at that point that you realize something peculiar is happening you just don't know what.

You watch the other towns chocolatiers enter, and then around the side you notice a strange orange looking fellow enter. Deciding you wanted to be apart of whatever was happening you follow him through the side entrance.

Inside you spot the orange man, going into the confessional and you watch through the small holes as he pushes something before the whole confessional descends.

Although a little fearful you follow the man and once the elevator reaches the bottom you jump as the smaller man stands directly across, staring right at you.

“If you wanted to help you could’ve just asked,” he said and you blinked a couple times.

“I’m sorry do we know each other?”

“Do you know me? No. Do I know you? Yes, I am always aware of Willy Wonka’s associates. We could stand here getting to know each other but I’m afraid your associate may need our assistance, and frankly I don’t really want to know you.”

Although initially offended, you listen as the orange man gives instructions and fills you in. Moving to the side, you hide in the long hallway while you wait as the so-called chocolate cartel come out only to walk right by you.

When that happens you put the orange man's plan into action. You do as told following his instructions, turning wheels and pulling levers.

Poking your head in you watch the chocolate drain while the orange man goes towards the exit telling you to follow him.

You do as told and follow him to the center of the floor noticing the chocolate drain as Wily and Noodle initially express surprise then thankfulness as they wave.

Eventually they come out and everything is revealed: the cartel, the chocolate payments, your father, it all comes to light.

It’s a sad sight seeing your father change and get taken away but maybe it’s what had to happen. You glance around noticing the joy in everyone’s faces as they share part in the chocolate fountain.

Wonka steps beside, causing you to say, “guess that's it then, that’s everyone’s happy ending.”

He tilts his head slightly, “not entirely.”

You go to ask him what he means by that, but he cuts you off with a kiss. It was much like yours, short, and unexpected. But unlike before, you reciprocated.

Once he distances himself from you, he recalls, “I hope that was okay.”

“More than okay.”

[robin-the-enby]

[robin-the-enby]

writing reader inserts is so funny because it's like. yeah you would NOT say that but now you do and you're gonna enjoy it. it's inevitably pouring a part of you into this fic. it's describing your dissociative daydreams in overly detail to everyone searching specifically for food to feed their dissociative daydreams. it's coming up with a hundred different scenarios on how to get railed by your favorite 2D man and yeah his dick is always big and he wants you so badly. it's playing barbie with Y/N who is like an universal OC at this point. it's going on silly little adventures in my mind and taking you all with me. reader inserts i love you so much.

[robin-the-enby]

[robin-the-enby]

♡ slashers scenarios | sharing a bed (part two)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda), Hannibal (TV), Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Billy Lenz, Danny Johnson, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; heavily suggestive content, implied smut, unhealthy power dynamics, references to stalking and kidnapping, violence

♡ notes; still kind of figuring out characterization for Jason and Danny tbh

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> mama always taught him that sharing a bed with someone was wrong

> it could so easily lead to sinning! and the woods tended to be humid anyway, so it’d get sticky and sweaty

> but Jason likes keeping you close, very close

> the only time he’s not by your side is when he’s “working”

> and even then he’ll check up on you throughout the evening

> one day you get worried, though

> he’s usually back by the time you’re about to go to sleep- he drinks tea with you and usually cuddles for a bit even though he’s convinced staying would be bad

> on this night, the tea is getting cold, and you’re getting grumpy, so you step outside to call for him

> it’s just a moment- a split second that you feel a hand on your shoulder- too small to be Jason

> then there’s a sickening squelch, a scream, and a couple more wet thumps and groans before silence

> you don’t need to turn to know what happened, instead letting Jason come to you (he doesn’t like seeing you sad from his messes- and you don’t like seeing them period)

> he’s got the blood of the man who touched you splattered all over you but you just frown softly “…it’s bedtime.”

> he wordlessly nods and scoops you up quickly, seeming scared that you were somehow hurt

> you quietly reassure him but he gets you the tea and pets your hair until he’s satisfied you’re okay

> you relish in the affection and get an idea

> “Jason baby? can you sleep in my bed? just tonight?”

> you can tell he mulls it over a long while before he nods

> he looks comically large in your bed, holding your teddy bear for you while you change into pajamas

> you let him be the little spoon, wrapping around him happily

> surely something this comfy can’t be wrong, he decides and falls asleep peacefully

> but when he wakes up, holding your soft, barely clothed form tight against him…he realizes he doesn’t care what’s wrong and right when it comes to you

> because you make him want to do all of the things mama said not to - and he just loves making you happy

Bo Sinclair

> you like your personal space- that’s something you made clear when you started living there

> back then you were still a victim, but the point stands

> so once they trusted you you got your own little room and let you decorate

> and you like your arrangement. you have your bed, your boyfriend has his, and you don’t ever sleep in the other’s on purpose

> why would you want to sleep next to Bo anyways? he snores, he’s always splayed out in weird positions and he sweats like a motherfucker

> maybe it had to do with the way you can always hear him screaming when he wakes up in the middle of the night.

> or how it stings whenever he leaves after you fuck, even though you never really ask him to stay

> okay, fuck it. you love the idiot and you want to sleep next to him.

> that shouldn’t be too hard to say

> except it is, because your stubbornness is almost as legendary as Bo’s

> you’re still actively putting it off when you manage to sprain your ankle in the house

> after thanking Vincent for patching you up, you spend the afternoon in the living room, sulking as you wait for Bo

> you know it’s not his fault you slipped, but you’re irrationally mad at him and getting worse the later that he is

> you can tell Vincent got to him first because he’s already frowning when he walks in to the living room close to midnight

> “what happened to you, little darlin?”

> your anger immediately melts away and you give a pathetic little pout as he hugs you tight, cursing for not checking in

> he babies you throughly and eventually takes you to your room

> he’s giving you a goodnight kiss when you grab his sleeve

> “…stay?”

> he can’t hide his smug smile

> “…you want me to?”

> you grumble but he’s happy to strip to his boxers, whistling

> “what’re you so smug for?”

> “you finally asked me to stay.”

> “…well duh.”

> he falls asleep with your whole body laid on top of him, hand lazily stroking your hair

> for once he doesn’t have any night terrors, and he’s grateful

> so grateful in fact, he’d like to repay you..

Billy Lenz

> you don’t love the idea of billy spending the night

> it’s not that you don’t love him, or being around him. he’s your boyfriend, of course you like his company

> it’s just that the sorority girls don’t have the greatest track record of giving you privacy

> they don’t cross boundaries, or enter without knocking- you lock the door anyways

> but they like you enough that usually they’re knocking on your door by eight, inviting you on a shopping trip or to breakfast or even asking for help studying

> it can be stifling, but it’s sweet, and it’s not like they’ll know you have a guest. they’d be more courteous if you could tell them

> and there’s the second reason, the one you can’t tell Billy

> you know the walls are paper thin, and you know just as well he’d take that as a challenge

> but it’s spring break, and only a couple of students are still about

> so you quite casually ask him if he’d like to stay the night

> you’ve never seen this man smile wider in your entire time with him

> and he’s surprisingly PG as you make plans

> he’s excited to eat popcorn and get his nails done and cuddle - you paint his hails black and get the snacks ready

> you rent a horror movie for the occasion, and he’s giggling the whole way through it

> he thinks it’s just adorable that you get so scared, hiding your face against him

> “Billy’s pretty baby is so silly- maybe he should distract his baby….-“

> luckily, you’re able to turn being as quiet as possible into a game when you mention how sound carries through the house

> and he’s ecstatic when he gets to stay next to you, tangled in the sheets and clinging to you for dear life

Danny Johnson

> you’ve never been to his place

> he started as a stalker, so it seemed natural he’d just keep going over to your apartment

> and since he’s always busy with the paper, and continuing his current murder spree…

> well most nights you just let him go, and when you don’t you wake up alone

> but on a particularly boring evening you decide to reverse the roles just a bit

> you figured out his address some time ago- and you picked up a thing or two about picking locks from dating Danny

> so it’s not a problem getting into his penthouse and making yourself comfortable

> you make sure to send a vague text that you knew he’d be able to figure out

> after all actually being sneaky around Danny was probably dangerous- you’re about the only person he wouldn’t stab on site

> you can’t help your huge grin when he stalks into his bedroom

> he’s acting pissy but you see the way his eyes survey your nearly bare body

> “You little brat…”

> he’s the fun kind of angry

> after a through lesson in asking permission you shower and collapse into bed together

> you cuddle close and fall asleep in his arms as he traces all your new bite marks and bruises

> he seems to get the message about staying - when you wake up it’s to him kissing your neck and purring your name

> apparently he didn’t finish last night’s ‘lesson’…and he’s eager to continue

Hannibal Lecter

> he’s eager for you to spend the night, in all honesty

> he likes being in control, utterly and completely

> if he had it his way, you’d move in within the month

> but even though you’ve brought a bag, and are all pj-ed up, he’s distracted

> maybe the one thing that can distract him from you is work- he’s a perfectionist

> and he doesn’t have to prove himself to you like he does clientele and state boards, and practically everyone else

> “y’know you said ten minutes ten minutes ago.”

> “yes my darling- i’ll be there shortly, just- go lay down-“

> you roll your eyes and instead stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and beginning to kiss his neck

> he tries his damndest to keep focused

> “…if you don’t come soon, i won’t be awake enough to help you…unwind,”

> that gets him up- you 1, work 0

> you’re surprised when after you’ve both gotten nice and relaxed, he pulls you flush

> usually you have to ask for affection

> but he spoons you, face buried in your hair as he dozes off

[robin-the-enby]

@cptn-nash oh you're gonna loooooove this

𝐏𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐒

𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘹 𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘱𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵, 𝘤𝘳𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘪𝘤 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳! 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘺, 𝘪 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘧𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯.

·.·´¯`·.·★·.·´¯`·.·

𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖽𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋, 𝗁𝖺𝗅𝖿-𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍 𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝗉𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗌, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗀𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾’𝗌 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍, 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾! 𝖬𝗒 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗉 𝗇𝗈𝗐,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝗒𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗍𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽-𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋. 𝖠 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌.” 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗍?”

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄, 𝖡𝖾𝗇.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄—𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗄—𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍-𝗈𝗉 𝗍𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.”

“𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽!” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗀𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝖼𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒,” 𝖮𝗁, 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒? 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀?”

“𝖮𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗂𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗌,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇, 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝗈𝗄𝗒𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗀𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾! 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖦𝖾𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖺 𝖢𝗈𝗇𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗌, 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋-𝗈𝖿-𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗍.

“𝖭𝗈, 𝖨 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗌𝗈. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝖸/𝗇,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

𝖰𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.” 𝖭𝗈𝗉𝖾. 𝖭𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾.”

“𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍!” 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗉.” 𝖬𝗒 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗉𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖾. 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖨 𝖽𝗈?”

𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝖾𝖼𝗁𝗈𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝖠 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝗇𝗈 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗌.” 𝖢𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋.”

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗉𝗅𝗒𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖿 𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖼𝗄 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖼𝖺𝗉 𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖨𝗍 𝗂𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗈𝗇, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗌𝗍.

“𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋,” 𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀.” 𝖣𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.”

“𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌𝗄, 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝗈𝗍-𝖼𝗅𝖺𝖽 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗅𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗏𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗇'𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋’𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆.

“𝖬𝖺’𝖺𝗆, 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗅. 𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄, 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆,” 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝗉𝖻𝗈𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗍. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝗇, 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗌, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝖻𝗈𝗐. 𝖲𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝖽-𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾’𝗌. 𝖠𝗅𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁, 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋, 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

“𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝖽𝖽𝗒 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉. 𝖠 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗎𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌.

𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗁𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝗃𝗈𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗎𝗉. 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗒𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗒 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖺 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾. 𝖧𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗐, 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍.

“𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆. 𝖠𝗅𝗅 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍-𝗈𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅, 𝗌𝗈 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾.” 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗎𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗈𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇, 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽.

𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝖦𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍—𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁𝗌—𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

“𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋, 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗀? 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗍.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗂𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇.

“𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.” 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾, 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌.

𝖧𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾. 𝖧𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾, 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗎𝗉, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝖾𝗅𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒.

“𝖧𝗂, 𝖨’𝗆 𝖣𝗋. 𝖫/𝗇. 𝖢𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖮’𝖱𝖾𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗍𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗄,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖤𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁. 𝖨𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖾𝗋—𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗈.

“𝖸𝖾𝗌, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝗌, 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗅𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌.

𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗉 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽.“ 𝖬𝖺𝗒 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋?” 𝖨𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿.” 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈, 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝗉𝖾𝖺,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗈, 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗒 𝖺𝖻𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇.

𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆, 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾, 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄. 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎.” 𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈, 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.”

“𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝗒 𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗈𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗉𝖾—“

“𝖦𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗍, 𝗆𝖺’𝖺𝗆.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗉, 𝖽𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗀 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗎𝗌𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾.” 𝖧𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈.”

“𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝖱𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗋,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐 𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗌𝗁 𝗇𝗎𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁.” 𝖫𝖾𝗍’𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾?”

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗆𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖽, 𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗈, 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾. 𝖫𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗇𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒.

“𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄-𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆, 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗒.

“𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖨 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗎𝖾,” 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗊𝗎𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗅𝗒, 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝖽.” 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍.”

“𝖸𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝗌.” 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝖿 𝖨’𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾.”

“𝖶𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗇’𝗍, 𝖾𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾,” 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆—𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇’𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖪𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖺 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝗂𝖿𝖾, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽, 𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇. 𝖠 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖼 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇.

𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗃𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗆𝗌, 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗐 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗄. 𝖠 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝟦𝟢𝟩𝟩𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌, 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 𝖿𝖺𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖼.

“𝖲𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗍? 𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄𝗒𝖺𝗋𝖽,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌, 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖾𝗇𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝖽 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽?

“𝖭𝖾𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋—𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖿𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇. 𝖶𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝖻𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗍𝗌, 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗐𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺-𝖻𝖺𝗇𝗀.” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁, 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝗈𝗉.

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄. 𝖦𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇.

“𝖮𝗁, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄. 𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗉𝗉𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝗋!” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗆 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝖾.

“𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝖨 𝖺𝗆,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌, 𝗀𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍.” 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗋. 𝖠𝗇𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗋.”

“𝖡𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗇.” 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄?”

𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀—𝖺 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝗆𝖺𝗒 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽—𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒'𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗉𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋. 𝖲𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌, 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀.

“𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗌. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾’𝗌 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖽 𝖻𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁. 𝖠𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖾, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂𝖿 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝗀𝗎𝗂𝗅𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗅𝖼𝖾𝗋. 𝖧𝖾’𝖽 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼.

“𝖠𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀,” 𝖳𝗋𝖺����𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗉𝖾𝗌.” 𝖲𝗁𝖾’𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗎𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍’𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗌. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗍, 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

“𝖳𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗌, 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉. 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗎𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅.” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝖭𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾 𝖦𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗌.

“𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗉𝖺𝗅.” 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗉𝗌 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋.” 𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖾𝗋. 𝖨𝗍’𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗈𝗇’𝗍.”

𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖺 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗎𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗅 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇. 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖽𝖺𝗒, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗐 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽.

𝖨𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗅𝖻𝗈𝗐-𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍’𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖨𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝖿𝖿𝖾𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗎𝗉𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝖼𝖼𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖥𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖬𝗎𝗅𝖼𝖺𝗁𝗒 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉 𝗈𝖿 𝗅𝗈𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖲𝗐𝖺𝗆𝗉.

𝖲𝗈 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋’𝗌 𝖺𝖽𝗏𝗂𝖼𝖾—𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖸𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆. 𝖧𝖾’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖺𝗉𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁, 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖻, 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗌𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿𝖿.

“𝖯𝖾𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌,” 𝖯𝗂𝖾𝗋𝖼𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝗎𝗆, 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖽𝖺𝗋𝗄 𝖼𝗂𝗋𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗓𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗂𝖿𝗍𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗇𝗈 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗇𝗈𝗐.” 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍—𝗐𝖾𝗅𝗅, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐?”

“𝖡𝖾𝗇, 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗍 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗋𝖾-𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗀𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗉 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.

𝖨𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗌 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗋𝗂𝗅 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖳𝗈𝗄𝗒𝗈. 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇 𝗎𝗉𝖽𝗈.

“𝖱𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒.” 𝖧𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝗎𝖼𝗄𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒, 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄���𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽.” 𝖧𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋?”

“𝖠 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗌.” 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀, 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝖾𝗍, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌𝗇’𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁. 𝖧𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌.” 𝖨 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝖾’𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖬𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍. 𝖳𝗁𝖾𝗇, 𝗀𝗈 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗄𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝖭𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖢𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖺. 𝖬𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗆’𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎.”

“𝖶𝖾’𝖽,” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗋𝗌, 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍. 𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗉𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗎𝗉.

“𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗒, 𝖡𝖾𝗇,” 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗃𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗆𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋?

“𝖭𝗈. 𝖭𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝖦𝗈𝖽, 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝗍.” 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗌, 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝖸𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗌𝗁 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗁, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗓𝗓𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌.

𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝖽𝗂𝖿𝖿𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾𝖽. 𝖨𝗍’𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖥𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾, 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗅𝗈𝗐, 𝗒𝖾𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗋, 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌.

𝖠𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝗎𝖼𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗆.” 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖽𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗋, 𝖡𝖾𝗇?”

𝖧𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗌, 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾, 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗆𝗎𝗋𝗌,” 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾.” 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽, 𝗇𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗅𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗇𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖿𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋.

𝖬𝗂𝗇𝗎𝗍𝖾𝗌—𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗋—𝗉𝖺𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗐𝗄𝖾𝗒𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽. 𝖯𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗉𝗌, 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐.” 𝖨 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼, 𝖡𝖾𝗇.”

𝖧𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝗋𝗎𝗀𝗌 𝖺 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗆 𝗌𝗇𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗌𝗍. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗎𝗀, 𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗆.” 𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖨 𝗌𝖺𝗒? 𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖾𝗌𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗏𝗂𝖾 𝗇𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗋𝗎𝖻𝖻𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝖾.”

·.·´¯`·.·★·.·´¯`·.·

[robin-the-enby]

if he wanted to (brutally murder me as an act of love and passion) he would

[robin-the-enby]

"how to tell a better story-"

i do not care. im done trying to make sense. i am embracing incoherence.

[robin-the-enby]

Hi! Your house of wax fanarts are amazing ❤️ waiting to see more cause I love it 😇

And then Bo beat those guys up. The end

[robin-the-enby]

WINGMAN LUCIFER, WINGMAN LUCIFER, WINGMAN LUCIFER, WINGMAN LUCIF-

Ahem.

Sorry for that.

I love this series so fucking much, it's amazing! The way your Alastor story is paralel with the Lucifer one (at least I presume) is awesome! I love all the little details you put into your work amd the characterisation of all the residents and others is so good! Some bits are a teeny bit cliche, but in this case, it only makes the work that much better imo, it's nice to see Alastor so sweet and protective ☺

My Charming Red Savior [4]

・❥ A friend revealed, and warm feelings.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: pronouns are she/her. no use of y/n.

xx: decided to change the saving fem!reader to its AO3 title, so all parts of this fic have been updated for this change as well!

~6.8k words

warnings: depictions of blood/injury

“Did I miss anything?” 

Those were the first words the King of Hell had spoken atop the large patio, as you stood in awe, battered, with dust and debris sticking to your body. You blinked, frozen in place as your eyes scanned over the pearlescent man’s figure, who grinned charmingly across from you. 

He leaned lazily against the gold railing, now partially destroyed from the small explosions that had peppered the front of the hotel. The screams and snarls from below were all but silenced now, except for one or two stragglers who could be seen making a run for it in the distance. But, not before a large, swamp-green tentacle snaked around them, and began beating them into the ground. It wasn’t long before your gaze was back on Lucifer, a million thoughts racing through your head.

It wasn’t until Lucifer’s smile faltered slightly at your silent staring, did he clear his throat, nervously tapping against the apple-tipped cane in his grip. “You look a little shaken up, are you doing good over there?” 

You were about to open your mouth to speak, until your eyes darted to another small, cylindrical object flying right towards Lucifer. You recoiled, throwing your hands in front of your face as it closed in on the fallen angel.

“Watch out!” You cried to him, squeezing your eyes shut as you waited for the familiar boom of the grenade to shake the patio. Lucifer whipped his head around, eyebrows raised as the grenade soared towards him. Lifting his arm, he caught it in his hand before it could hit him in the face, before raising it to get a closer look. 

You splayed your fingers, peeking through the small gap when you realized once more that your heart was still beating. Raising an eyebrow, your face contorted into surprise as your gaze rested on the object in Lucifer’s hand.

The bomb ticked quietly in his palm, slowly increasing in speed as the seconds went by. It vibrated in his grip, and Lucifer only inspected it casually, rolling it between his fingers with interest.

Was he just going to hold it until it exploded? You watched silently with wide eyes, unsure of what exactly was going to happen. If it went off, would the King of Hell even have a scratch on him? Maybe, that was why he seemed so confident holding a bomb in his hands. Watching Lucifer catch it casually in the air a few times only cemented that thought.

The perks of being immortal, you supposed.

“Hm, seems they got the timing off on this one,” Lucifer observed, just as the ticking seemed to increase to every millisecond. Right when you were sure it was about to go off in his palms, Lucifer’s fingers curled around it. It looked like he was squeezing the cylinder like a balloon, as the black, metal surface contorted, shifting from the pressure.

Instead of lighting into a ball of flame, the bomb exploded in a burst of multi-colored confetti. Which sprayed across the patio, a few stray pieces landing on your face as they settled onto the floor. You were silent, in awe at the magical display. Lucifer only grinned at you, a silent boast of his powers as he caught you gawking. He adjusted his collar, still leaning against the railing as he brushed some confetti from his shoulder pads.

Realizing he had noticed your staring, your cheeks began to heat in embarrassment. You lay your eyes for the first time on the most powerful man in Hell and all you can do is stand there and look dumb, get it together! Leaning forward, your head practically hits the cracked tile flooring as you bow.

“Your Majesty, I apologize for my rudeness!” You quickly pipe up, your eyes still locked to the floor as you keep your head down, “Thank you for saving my life, I don’t know if I’d be alive without your intervention.” 

“It was no biggie.” Lucifer shrugged, waving his hand in the air in a sweeping motion, as he brushed off your compliment. He lifted himself from the railing, taking a few steps forward as he began to cross the patio. “Can’t have my daughter’s friends be attacked by a couple of low-life thugs.. again! What kind of a father would that make me?”

You straightened, lifting your head to meet his gaze. Your brows furrowed as the words left his lips, mouth opening slightly as if you were about to question him on his statement.

‘Daughter’. Was he talking about Charlie? Of course, he must be, she looked like a carbon copy of him! But, that would mean… it wasn't an imp that had approached you yesterday morning during your shift. At least, not any normal imp. Does that mean you had been talking to…?

It was in the same instance that Lucifer leaned in closer to you, his eyes squinted in thought as he inspected your face. He placed a finger on his chin in thought, as he regarded you with a curious expression through those soft, yellow eyes of his. 

“Wait a second… do I know you from somewhere?” He questioned finally, raising an eyebrow in anticipation. You smiled as you thought of a response, your hands rubbing together in a soothing motion. Lucifer’s eyes lit up in recognition before you could say anything, and he snapped his finger as connected the dots.

“That's right! You were that sweet worker at the formalwear store yesterday, weren’t you? The one that opened early for me!” He beamed, taking another step closer as your eyes widened at the proximity. 

“Y-yes, that was me, Your Majesty.” You stammered out, cursing yourself so being so godamn nervous. “Except, I wasn’t really aware that you were... well, you?”

“Oh, heh, yeah, my impish disguise. Pretty good, eh?”

Yeah, it was. There wasn’t anything that would have made you guess that imp was actually Lucifer, at least before you had met the man. Except, for the height. That hadn’t seemed to change between the two appearances, as you still had to lower your head to meet his gaze even now.

You took a deep breath, calming your jittering nerves as you again realized who was standing right in front of you. Never once did you think a lowly citizen of Hell like you would be this close to the Lucifer Morningstar! Should you have kneeled instead when you greeted him? What was the proper etiquette for this kind of thing? Alastor would have surely known.

That thought made you lean over slightly to get a peek past the fallen angel’s brimmed hat. Your eyes followed the slender, shadowy forms of tentacles snaking around the last two criminals, who were trying to shoot the large masses.

“Aren’t you, um, going to go help..?” You pointed behind him, and Lucifer turned to follow your finger just as another thug was flung past the large fence that surrounded the hotel. Their squeal of fear faded as they disappeared from view. Static-laced laughter filled the air as the tentacles began to dissipate.

“Nah, I think your… friend down there has it covered.” Lucifer shrugged after a moment, turning back to face you. 

You nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to calm your jittering nerves. Between last night and this, you were about ready to lay in your bed and hibernate for the next three months. Life was exhausting, it seemed. 

“Well, that was fun!” Lucifer smiled, nodding along as he clasped his hands together. “Didn’t think I’d find drug dealers trying to knock down the walls, though. Looks like I really have to up the security around here.”

You nodded along half-heartedly, and watched as he strolled past you towards the door. He only made it a few steps before he halted, and you jumped slightly as he pivoted to face you. He waggled a finger at you, mock suspicion in his gaze as he leaned in. Now that you could get a better look at him, 

“I also was not expecting to find you here, either. Only yesterday, it seemed like you had no idea the hotel even existed. Now, I find you in the raging path of a feral tea table. An odd turn of events, don't you think?”

You smiled, heat creeping onto your cheeks in embarrassment. You probably looked pretty pathetic when Lucifer was saving you, curled in a ball while you accepted your grim fate. You wished you had some kind of badass demon magic, so you didn’t have to be so helpless. Did Alastor ever feel helpless? No, probably not, he seemed so confident in every situation you saw him face.

The way he strolled down the stairs so casually when the thugs had first attacked, made it seem like he had done that kind of thing many times before. But, it seemed like that was true, since you patched up one scuffle on his coat, and were told of his encounter with Sir. Pentious–which you simply couldn't believe would attempt such a thing, now that you’ve met him–a few months prior. 

You wondered what made him and Lucifer struggle to get along, had something happened in the past between them? Maybe, you could get Alastor to budge with that with a little prodding. For now, you were unsure of what to tell the King. How would he react if you said the only reason you were here was because of Alastor? You didn’t want to lose the friendliness you had with Lucifer, it probably wouldn't be fun to be on the King of Hell’s bad side.

Plus, it seemed like Lucifer liked you. Did that have something to do with the fact that he claimed you were a ‘rare gem’ when it came to being a nice person in Hell? He did give you all that money.. which you lost. Maybe, he’d give you some more if you played your cards right.

And, if it was as friends, you wouldn’t mind getting closer to the fallen angel. He was just so funny and charming, you couldn’t imagine the kind of gossip he had to share, and you wouldn't be bothered if he shared it with you.

“Oh, well, beeeecause I was interested in redemption! Ha-ha, yeah. When we talked earlier, your words just struck something in me! So, I took a tour and stayed the night.”

“Really? I inspired you to come to the hotel?” Lucifer asked incredulously, tilting his head thoughtfully at you. He raised an eyebrow, doubt written across his features. 

“That’s right! I mean, you even gave me a bunch of money like it was no big deal. That was very kind of you!” You nodded enthusiastically. That wasn’t exactly a lie, since the conversation with Lucifer yesterday did lead to Alastor revealing more about the hotel, which in turn piqued your interest enough to even consider staying for an extended period.

Slowly, Lucifer's eyes lit at your response, a gleam of happiness that you hadn’t noticed before. He seemed to be standing a little straighter too, as if that was some kind of confidence boost for him. Did Lucifer not… genuinely help people often? Was it something he wished he could do more often?

Seems like ruling a realm full of demons that continually commit the worst atrocities known to mankind would break an angel’s will to want to make a change. 

“I wanted to thank you again for your generosity,” you started, your tone genuine as the glint in Lucifer’s eyes only seemed to grow, “All that money you gave me would have really helped, 

“Would? What happened?” Lucifer inquired, tilting his head curiously.

“Some guy mugged me,” you stated bluntly, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. It felt weird telling people about your most vulnerable moments. You found no enjoyment in retelling any of these scary events, and hopefully, your bad luck would end soon. 

“And they stole everything from you?”

“Yeah…”

Lucifer huffed in annoyance, his teeth baring slightly as he exhaled a hot breath. He couldn’t exactly be surprised, it was Hell. Not to mention, the guy has been neglecting his kingly duties for a while now and has only just started going to meetings for crying out loud.

“Jeez, I���m sorry about that. Here, let me jus–”

“Where did that new girl go? What do you mean you haven’t seen her?” You could hear Vaggie’s voice from downstairs, as the gaping hole in the side of the hotel made it much easier to hear their conversations now.

You heard multiple inaudible responses to the question, before Vaggie’s rose above them with renewed anger.

“She’s still up there?! you’re telling me none of you numbskulls went to get her after that big explosion?”

“₩Ⱨ₳₮?!” You heard a snarl of static at Vaggie’s words.

Tensing, you kept your eyes trained on Lucifer as you strained your ears to eavesdrop on the voices below. It seemed like they were looking for you now, did they even know whether Charlie’s dad was here? 

“Alastor, hold up!” You heard Angel Dust’s call from the bottom of the staircase, which made you pivot to face the closed doors not too far away. Lucifer, who was standing a few steps away from you, looked up curiously as the doors swung open.

Standing there, chest heaving slightly, ears twitching, was Alastor. His eyes instantly landed on you, before quickly scanning over your figure for injuries. Did he just leap up all those stairs? That wasn’t a very short distance by any means. 

His arms were outstretched beside him, as he gripped both doors. Alastor’s claws slightly dug into its wood frame as he observed the smoking, half-burnt balcony with a tight-lipped smile. It wasn’t until his eyes met Lucifer’s–you swore you saw a flicker of surprise cross his gaze–that something seemed to flip like a switch inside the demon, and Alastor straightened instantly, his ears returning to their normal placement as corrected his posture. 

A large, toothy grin appeared on his face, but you didn’t miss the way his gaze darted between you and Lucifer only a few feet apart. His eyelid twitched as Lucifer sent him a deadly grin behind you, the tension in the air thickening to the point where you felt like you’d suffocate even in this open space. 

You only smiled brightly in return, sending Alastor a finger wave as you sidled a step away from the fallen angel beside you. Lucifer, on the other hand, seemed to be having fun as he pivoted slightly to face you. A mischievous glint in his eye as he cocked his head at Alastor, a haughty look on his face.

“Can I help you?” He feigned irritation, an eyebrow quirked as he sent the demon a pointed glance. As if Alastor had just barged in on the two of you deep in discussion, souring the mood. 

Alastor wasn’t able to get a word out when multiple footsteps echoed from behind him, noisily clopping up the long staircase as they bickered amongst themselves. A familiar pink spider popped his head over Alastor’s shoulder, his eyes widening as he caught sight of the pearlescent face beside you. More heads appeared around, their eyes scanning across the balcony as they observed the scene.

“Dad?” Charlie asked, squeezing through the clump of nosy demons, surprise written across her face as she passed Alastor. 

“Honey!” Lucifer beamed, a smile gracing his features as he met his daughter halfway. Charlie extended her arms, ready to accept Lucifer’s large hug as he returned the gesture. He held her for a moment before he released her, backing up a step as the others pushed past Alastor’s figure to get a better place behind the princess.

“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at that art auction?” Charlie questioned, tilting her head at him. 

“That ended last night.” Lucifer nodded, “Now it’s some kind of celebratory artist-only afterparty, which means even the King of Hell cannot attend, unfortunately. So, I thought I’d drop by. Good timing, it seemed, or else your friend here  would not be standing here any longer.”

Lucifer turned to you, gesturing to the dust and debris hanging to your clothes, as you stood there silently with that same awkward smile. 

“Oh, yeah. She’s interested in being a resident of our hotel, for redemption!” Charlie smiled excitedly, proud to be able to show her father that her dream was slowly expanding. You nodded along, your hands clasped together politely as they discussed you.

“Yes, I heard! We’ve been having a nice discussion these past few minutes, her and I. A real doll, this one is, just like when I met her previously.”

“You two... have met before?” Charlie finally asked, confusion laced in her voice as she looked between the two of you. The demons behind you shot curious glances in your direction, silently waiting for more juicy details.

“She was there when I bought your tuxedo! I was in disguise, though, so nobody saw me as.. well, me. She even opened up early for me, just out of the kindness of her soul!” Lucifer scooted beside you, nudging you in the arm playfully as he spoke. “Guess you could say I owed her a rescue after that considerate gesture.”

“Did you throw a party up here, too?” Vaggie piped up from the doorway, kicking away at a few stray pieces of the colorful confetti that was sprinkled across the floor. Charlie’s eyes were glinting as she processed her father’s words, before glancing down at the new red suit that she was wearing. She looked up at you with renewed interest, a blooming on her face.

“That was all His Majesty, actually,” you finally spoke, lifting a hand to your mouth as you giggled, “It was pretty impressive, to be honest, I’ve never seen a party trick like that before. I thought the confetti was kinda funny.”

You purposely avoided looking at Alastor as you spoke, so his reaction to your praise was a mystery. Lucifer only smiled proudly beside you, your words boosting his ego. 

“Well, that’s not the only trick I’m good at,” Lucifer chuckled. Before he sent you a wink, then a playful smirk that he swept across the small crowd. Their eyes were locked on him, captivated with anticipation for the charming angel to display some of his magical talents.

Except, for Alastor, who only smiled widely, his eyes crinkled in annoyance at the theatrics. You didn’t pay him much mind, instead keeping your attention on Lucifer. During your time in Hell, you hadn’t come into contact with many figures that could harness demonic magic so effortlessly, apart from Alastor.

The King of Hell, however, was on a whole different level, he had pure angelic power. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you were not going to miss this for anything. However, it seemed your admiration was a little too evident, as you missed Alastor's squinted gaze analyzing your expression.

Lucifer finally rested his gaze on Alastor, who met his eyes,  just as he tapped his cane against the ground, a flurry of golden sparks igniting from the touch. a vortex of golden eaves began to swirl around his cane, before flooding across the destroyed, cracked floor of the balcony. It was like a small ocean pooling at your feet, and it felt like the ground was shifting underneath you. 

Sticking a finger gun towards the split table, Lucifer shot an explosion of magic against its surface, and it crackled with energy. Before you could blink, the two pieces slid together, attaching like Lego pieces back onto their legs. Fresh color adorned the wood, a lovely shade of peach with matching chairs. It settled onto the ground, with not even a scratch from the abuse it had just received.

He aimed a few more magical-loaded digits towards the broken railing, and the spilled flower pots, making pew pew sound effects with his mouth as he did so. 

The balcony began to shift back into even better condition than it originally was, the broken scenery straightening itself back into form. Slowly, the golden waves against your ankles dispersed and were pulled back into Lucifer’s cane.

The large, white marble tile beneath your feet was perfectly sealed, not a single crack upon its surface as it sparkled with a newfound shine. You lifted your leg, surprised finding your figure to be completely dry.

The demons around you stood mesmerized by the display, their eyes glowing and lips puckered in a small o. Alastor only tapped his claws against his cane impatiently. 

“How is that for a party trick?” Lucifer turned to you, sending you a charming grin. 

You were about to open your mouth before Charlie appeared at your side with a happy squeak. Her blonde hair cascaded down your shoulder, the silky strands like feathers against your skin. 

“Thank you for the help, Dad!” Charlie beamed, squeezing her cheeks as she stared lovingly at her father, “it’s so great to see you make new friends, too!”

“And, new clients!” Lucifer boasted, adjusting his bowtie with a grin “Last time we talked, I told her all about the hotel and what it offered. Seems like my salesmanship charm prevails once more.”

“How funny,” Alastor’s voice crackled with static as he strode up beside Charlie, planting himself into the small group’s discussion with a grin,  “but it appears His Majesty is mistaken, for it was I who persuaded our darling belle here to take a chance at redemption.”

“Pfft! You? Please, you couldn’t even convince an angel to redeem themselves. At least, not with that haircut!” Lucifer laughed, and your mouth dropped open, your gaze flicking to Alastor, who seemed to hesitate for a moment in shock at the bold insult. 

Your eyes darted to Charlie. She returned the look, before slapping a hand over her dad’s mouth.

“Okay, moving on!” She replied cheerfully, pinching her dad’s lips closed as she turned towards the staircase. Vaggie shot a glare toward the rest of the onlookers, who began to sadly shrink away.

“I’m afraid Your Majesty is uninformed!” Alastor ignored Charlie, as he walked closer to stand right beside you. Sweat beaded on your forehead, your heartbeat quickening at the realization you were directly in the middle of the two dueling forces. 

“Of what?” Lucifer questioned.

“Why, of our association, of course,” Alastor said sweetly, grasping your arm gently as he gestured to your figure. Heat crept onto your cheeks, as you let him slide in closer to you.

“You two know each other?” Lucifer asked, doubt laced in his face as he shot you a questioning stare. You only averted your gaze, unsure of how to respond to all of the prying eyes.

“Indeed! I’m sure you’re familiar with a charm like this?” Alastor smiled innocently, before gingerly holding out your hand, gesturing to your ring finger. That golden ring glinted in the sunlight, and the small rose-gold engraving of the letter A was on full display. 

Lucifer’s eyes widened after a moment, and his gaze shot to you, then to Alastor, before landing back on the ring. He seemed to reel back slightly as it finally dawned on him, before his face settled into a look that silently grumbled ‘You gotta be kidding me.’

Charlie gasped, clutching her cheeks as she leaned in closer for a better look. The ecstatic look on her face was a complete inverse to her father, who only averted his gaze at the sight. 

You stood with an awkward smile, heat creeping onto your cheeks as you sidled slightly away from Alastor. You did not expect him to be sprinting it back onto these guys, in front of Lucifer no less.

The King only turned to you, disbelief in his features as he sent you a pointed stare.

“You’re telling me you work at a formalwear store, and you picked a guy with this bad of a wardrobe?” He gestured subtly to Alastor’s suit, a grimace on his face as he eyed the demon’s style with contempt.

Alastor only adjusted his bow tie, throwing his hair back as he straightened. He shot you a pointed look too, prodding you with a ‘Are you really going to agree with him?’ stare.

You said nothing, so Alastor only turned to face Lucifer, clasping his hands with a large smile, “I’d take your fashion advice to heart, Your Majesty, but it seems your taste lies at the bottom of a bargain bin, so I must respectfully disagree.”

“Bargain bin?!” Lucifer gasped, a hand shooting up to his chest as he recoiled. A growl rose from the fallen angel’s throat as he opened his mouth to retort, only for Charlie to grab him from behind and pull him away from Alastor.

“I’ll pay you triple the amount from yesterday if you just take that ring off!” Lucifer begged as Charlie dragged him down the steps. “Do you fancy goat horns? I know of someone in the Wrath Ring that is available!”

The father-daughter duo disappeared from view, their voices muffled as you watched the doors slam shut with a crackle of green energy. Turning to face Alastor, you find a smug grin dancing on his lips. You frowned, did this guy really just insult the King of Hell like the man couldn’t stomp him in a moment?

“Your arrogance knows no bounds,” you chastise the demon, waggling your finger as you spoke, “speaking so comfortably with the King in such a condescending manner. He could smite you for that, you know.” 

“Verbal sparring with the monarchy is a favorite pastime of mine, sweetheart! I’m sure our dear king enjoys it just as much as I.” Alastor shrugged, twisting the cane between his claws as he regarded you with playful eyes.

“You are such a pain in my—”

Your words died in your throat when the outline of a dark-red rose was thrust towards you, Alastor’s fingers gently curled around its stem as he held it up for view. 

“For you.” He smiled, his lips curled in a soft grin. 

“Me? But, where did you get this?”

“Some bumbling oaf down there was going to stomp on it, so I stomped him, instead,” Alastor shrugged, extending the rose closer to you as he spoke, “I thought it would be something you’d find interest in. It… reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, gaze lowering towards the wine-colored flower. It was beautiful, even with its slightly jagged petals, and the much larger thorns that covered the black stem. 

But, for Hell, it was such a relieving sight. To know that something that presented emotions could exist in such an apathetic, pessimistic environment like the realm around you. Honestly, it didn’t have that many similarities in comparison to Earth’s rose, but its mere resemblance made nostalgia pull at your heartstrings.

Old emotions began to boil inside you, and your throat tightened. Even after all the hardships, you still missed the trees and the smell of real, fresh air. The feeling of the sun against your skin, kissing you with a warmth that always stirred a smile onto your lips. Hearing the morning doves in the early spring morning, their gentle coos echoing through the thin veil of fog that settled onto the dew-filled grass. 

Now, you were stuck here. A dark, dirty realm that gave you its fair share of grief too. A lot in the span of two days, even. But, the good in it, was seeing the genuine smile that greeted you every time Alastor drank in your presence. Like this morning, when you agreed to join him on the patio, and the way his ears seemed to stand even taller when you said yes. 

It was also the fact that Alastor was so intent on presenting this lovely gift to you, that he killed someone just so the rose would survive the chaos, that made you feel so warm and giddy inside.

A smile bloomed across your face, and you gently wrapped your fingers around the stem, right above Alastor’s own. The top of your hand grazed against the softer texture of the rose’s petals, but its sharp thorns nicked at the skin on your fingertips, causing you to grimace slightly. You adjusted your grip slowly, the pain ebbing as you found a comfortable hold.

Your hand brushed Alastor’s as he released his grip, pulling his hand towards him, his gaze traveling to your arm lifting as you inspected the rose closer. All the memories of long, forgotten experiences made years prick at your eyes. 

“I.. don’t know what to say. This is so sweet of you,” you replied softly, eyes still locked on the rose and you gently caressed its petals, “thank you, Alastor.” 

Alastor watched the emotion flood across your face, and for the first time, he didn’t know what to say next. The look on your features made him feel.. strange. 

As if, this was a reaction nobody in Hell has ever given him before, excluding Charlie. It was fear and anger that only ever greeted him. Which he preferred, it made him feel strong, made him feel powerful. 

Your soft, sweet smile, however, was something Alastor could get used to. The way the dimples on your cheeks deepened slightly as your lips curled delicately. As if you too were a rose, your petals softly opening for the new day. 

His gaze still rested on you as the tip of your nose inched closer to the petals, before you inhaled a deep breath.

It smelled surprisingly sweet, but also with a warm, earthy scent. A hint of smokiness underneath the layer of the sugared aroma. It reminded you of a wood-burning stove, or the smell of firewood that clung to your shirt after a night in the wilderness.

But, also… the faint metallic tang of blood. 

Brows furrowing, you pull the flower away, your eyes traveling to the barely visible glistening substance coating part of the stem. It almost mirrored the color of the dark-red petals, and you lifted your gaze to Alastor.

When your eyes traveled up his figure, it was the small trails of red liquid that dripped from his fingertips that made you recoil, a hand to your mouth as you gasped.

“Alastor, you’re bleeding!” The worry in your voice was obvious as you stepped closer to him, trying to get a better look at the small gashes on his skin. He regarded it with indifference, as if it was just a simple bother. You frowned at his reaction, there was no way that didn’t hurt!

He was a sinner, just like you, and almost everyone in the hotel. Mortality was still present in his afterlife, including the sensation of pain. No matter how hard he tried to present himself as a powerful being like Lucifer, he was still just a man who felt the same things you did. If not, with a little different... perspective. 

“It is nothing, do not fret about me, my doe,” Alastor brushed off your words, beginning to pull his hand away from your view. You saw a drop of blood leave the tip of his claw, falling onto the cracks below your feet, “they are just feeble scratches, nothing I, the Radio Demon can’t handl–”

Alastor’s words died in his throat, the last of his sentence coming out in pure static as his pupils dilated on your hand wrapping around his wrist. Your grip was firm, preventing him from shielding the wounds from you, as you tugged his hand closer.

This was the boldest move you had made since the two of you had first met. It was usually Alastor who made the first gesture, who took your hand and touched you softly. As if you were a fragile doll that could crack at the teeniest bit of pressure.

The man was so used to control, having complete say in who touched him—which was never, unless you count Angel Dust whenever he tried riling up the demon—and why. If you were some normal face in the crowd making such a move, he’d probably have torn them apart.

But oh, the warmth from your touch that greeted his cool skin had him yearning for more. That blissful feeling that seemed to bloom from inside his bones, that traveled like a river through his veins, filling him up with a strange, yet awfully familiar feeling.

Like, when his mother would sit him down at the table for dinner, a bowl of hot, steaming Jambalaya in her hands that she made just for him. Anytime she noticed he had a hard day, she’d cook his favorite meal.

As a child, he had eagerly scarfed it down, impatient to fill his stomach with such a treat. When he grew older, however, he learned to slow down and savor the explosion of flavors that tickled his taste buds in every bite. 

He remembered the way the delicacy traveled down his throat, and how it felt like a fire was igniting in his belly. The warmth emanating from your skin reminded him so much of that.

And that smile that always graced your features at the sight of him? Alastor remembered that from somewhere too. His mother’s lips always curved into a soft, gentle grin that would make anyone butter up in their presence.

Your lips seemed to curve just the same, and the demon was sure if the two of you would have met before the afterlife. His mother would have loved to meet you. 

Alastor remained deathly silent, his muscles tense as you splayed out his claws, turning his hand over to have his palm face up. There was dried blood across the smooth skin, which meant he had been bleeding for a while now. 

How hard was Alastor holding the rose during the fight that he cut up his hand like this? If it wasn’t for the bickering between him and Lucifer, you surely would have noticed it earlier.

Your fingers gently brushed against the small cuts, blood still slowly seeping from beneath the demon’s skin. You nudged his wound softly, inspecting it with worry. 

“Does that hurt?” You asked softly with furrowed brows.

“Does it matter?” Alastor scoffed, averting your expectant gaze.

“Yes! It does, actually!” You retorted, before your gaze moved to your outfit with a determined look. Quickly, you reached down, taking a fistful of fabric in your grasp before pulling it hard. With some friction, it began to tear away from the rest of your garment.

Now, you had a large piece of cloth in one hand, and Alastor’s wrist in the other. Reaching forward, you began to cover his cuts tightly against the fabric.

“Must you ruin such a pretty outfit for something so insignificant like my hand?” Alastor inquired, exasperation lacing his voice, “You’re treating it like some kind of battle wound, I am fine, my doe.” 

He didn’t pull away from you, however, as you finished patching up his injury. Inspecting his hand closer, you eyed work for a moment, before you shook your head, dissatisfied. 

“I forbid you from doing any activities for the rest of today until you address your wounds,” you declared, crossing your arms sternly. 

“Forbid?” He inquired, quirking a brow in amusement.

“That’s right! If you don’t take care of your injury, or let me do it for you, then I’ll have no choice but to put my foot down.”

Alastor squinted at you for a moment, that grin masking his thoughts as he regarded you. Was he going to argue? Sweat beaded on your forehead as you anticipated his answer. It wasn’t like you could exactly stop the powerful demon from doing what he wanted, but you also couldn't just let him strain his wound further because of pride.

Alastor didn’t argue. Instead, he simply shrugged, a pleased smile gracing his features. He closed his eyes thoughtfully, before holding a limp hand towards you. 

“Well, if you insist,” he hummed, cracking one eye open to watch you expectantly.

“Really..?” You asked in disbelief, regarding his hand with suspicion.  

“If the lady wishes to fuss over my health, I suppose I could heed her demands,” Alastor responded casually, lifting his hand closer towards you, “and, how could I refuse such a generous offer?”

You smiled playfully before slowly wrapping your fingers around the makeshift gauze, trying to get a good grip around his cuts as you held his hand.

“Is there somewhere I could get medical aid inside? Baindaids, alcohol solution… ibuprofen?”

Did Ibuprofen even exist down here? There had to be something similar at least, the Pride Ring was full of mortals that could still feel pain. Was Alastor in a lot of pain? Even if he was, you probably wouldn't get a straight answer from him. 

Now, you understood why Alastor and Lucifer didn’t like each other. They were just fighting for who was really the embodiment of pride.

“Hm..” Alastor tilted his head in thought, before his ears twitched, and a sly smile graced his lips, “I do believe I know just the place!”

Without a word, he returned your grip and pulled you closer to him. Your breath hitched, your chest almost bumping against Alastor’s as he took your other hand. The two of you looked as if you were about to start a waltz, as the demon looked out towards the railing, his chest still facing yours as his smile grew.

“Hang on tight, my dear!” He stated chipperly, and you fastened your grip hastily. The air began to crackle with energy, goosebumps rippling across your skin as static seemed to tickle at your figure. Green smoke pooled at your feet, and that familiar tingling sensation overtook you, just like the first time you were teleported. 

Alastor only pulled you closer right as the smoke blasted up, cold air hitting your face as you were pulled into darkness. The presence of the hand against yours was faint, but at least you weren't alone this time. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, your heart racing as you waited to feel the floor against your feet once more. Then, you felt a thumb brush softly against your knuckles, it circled soothingly across your skin, and you relaxed slightly.

What felt like minutes really only took a couple of seconds, as you felt soft lighting hit your eyelids, and Alastor stir beside you. His hand didn’t leave yours, as he waited for you to join reality.

“Not so bad, hm?” He prodded you slightly, beckoning you back into reality.

Letting your pupils adjust to the light, the familiar wallpaper from the hotel corridor met your vision. Did he really just materialize the two of you across the building? You didn't have any problem walking, but perhaps Alastor was trying to avoid the small crowd that would have met them at the bottom of the patio stairs.

“I feel kind of queasy,” you responded, shaking your head of the fog in the back of your mind.

“After a few times through, it won’t bother you anymore,” Alastor assured.

Trying to get a better estimate of your location, you turned your head to one side of the hall, taking in the sight of a dark, oak door. The familiar numbering made you quirk a brow, tilting your head towards the smiling demon. He met your gaze, a soft, lipped smile on his face.

“We’re going in my room?”

“Not quite..” he hummed, gripping your shoulders and pivoting you to the opposite side. Your eyes widened, gaze locked onto the matching door of Alastor’s room.

You stayed silent, feet frozen in place as you watched him take a few steps, his good hand wrapping around the spherical doorhandle. Slowly, he twisted the knob until it clicked softly. The hinges creaked with age, and the hallway lights began to spill into the darkened room as the crack in the doorway widened.

You couldn’t see anything through the slightly opened entryway, but your heart quickened as the second passed by. Your eyes flicked up to Alastor, who regarded you curiously, his gaze gentle as your nerves began to display on your face. 

“Ladies first!” He beamed, his smile an assurance to your heated skin.

He obviously wanted you to go inside, and part of your brain was nudging you forward with excitement. Alastor was inviting you into his quarters, he was allowing you to take a step inside his world, to get to know him! 

The other part whispered hesitation. What lay behind that door? Surely, more than just medical supplies.

It was as if you wrapped a sheet around the reluctance that was beginning to plague your mind, stuffing it underneath the floorboards of your brain. You weren't going to let your flustered mind get the better of you, and have you miss such an opportunity to get closer to the charming demon.

Exhaling a quiet breath, you banished your nerves into the air. Straightening your back, you sent Alastor a warm smile and took a step forward.

wingman!lucifer anybody? ✋

let me know what you think! ☺️ comments and reblogs are appreciated!

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[robin-the-enby]

My Charming Red Savior [2]

・❥ Two odd visitors and a mugging. Can’t you stay out of trouble?

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: he’s back!! a little longer this time, 8k words. enjoy!

That evening after meeting Alastor, you sat at your friend’s dining table, your mind racing.

Your finger aimlessly twisted that gold ring he had magically placed on your digit, as you explained what happened. The creep harassing you, Alastor swooping in to save you. All of it laid out for your friend to digest. Which she wasn’t taking it very well.

“I mean, I'm glad that demon helped you out of that, but you should have gotten away as soon as possible! Haven’t you heard what he’s done, what kind of deals people have made with him?”

You sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with your friend's skepticism. "Look, I get it, you're worried. But Alastor isn't what everyone makes him out to be. He helped me when I needed it most. Besides, who are we to judge someone solely based on rumors?"

Your friend leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the ring adorning your finger. "What about that? What if it's some sort of trap he set for you?"

You instinctively pulled your hand back, a protective gesture. "Don't be ridiculous. Alastor wouldn't do something like that. He's... different."

"Different? More like dangerous," she countered, reaching out to grab your hand. "Come on, let me see that ring. We can take it to someone to see if it’s been magically altered."

Dangerous? He saved you from someone dangerous! Yes, he was a demon. A sinner, who probably did some bad things, and most likely continues to do bad things. Except, for the fact he didn’t leave you, a defenseless nobody, to be taken off and.. you couldn’t even think about it. 

You jerked your hand away from her hand, the ring glinting in the lamplight. "There’s nothing wrong with the ring, you’re just being paranoid. It’s.. comforting, actually."

Your friend sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Please, at least consider what I'm saying."

You softened, realizing she was only looking out for you. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I’m not a child, I can make my own decisions."

Your friend relented after a moment, sinking back into her chair. She nodded slowly, agreeing with your statement.

At that moment, your friend’s husband had entered the room. A large pot of steaming foodstuff in his oven-mitt protected hands as he walked. 

“I hope you guys are hungry!” He said cheerfully, the tension in the room easing with his upbeat demeanor. You quite liked him, he had some good jokes and cared about those around him.

You smile gratefully, welcoming the distraction from the intense conversation. “Absolutely starving,” you reply, grateful for the opportunity to shift the focus to something more light-hearted.

Your friend’s husband sets the pot on the table, filling the room with the delightful aroma of home-cooked food. “Well, dig in!” he encourages, serving everyone generous portions.

As you take a bite, the flavors dance on your palate, and your eyes light up as you eat. 

“What is this?” You turn to her husband, who looked up from his bowl, face stuffed with food.

“Crawfish Étouffée! A popular dish from New Orleans, back on Earth. Do you like it?”

You nodded vigorously. Is this what Jambalaya tastes like? If so, you really needed to try it. Maybe, you’d see Alastor again, and he could give you that recipe he had mentioned? 

As your thoughts drifted back to the red demon, your finger began to twist the ring around your digit once more. Why did it bring you such comfort? You had no idea. 

Sometimes, if you put your hand to your face, you could smell faint traces of his scent, that you had first memorized when you walked side by side with him. It smelled like an old cologne, something that you couldn’t quite recognize from your days. Maybe, it was back when he was alive? 

Lemony, hay-like and grassy. A whiff of licorice. Something peppery too? You couldn’t quite place it. But every deep inhale sent you into a lull. A trance, almost.

Your finger still mindlessly caressed the golden band a while later, during the early hours of the morning. You had been sweeping the front doors to the formalwear store you worked at, tidying up before it would be opened for customers. 

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, did you get pulled back into reality.

“Pardon me, miss. Are you guys open?” 

Turning around to address the voice, you find no one. It wasn’t until you looked down did you see the demon man. He resembled that of an imp. Dark red skin with thin, striped horns that peaked out of the top of his head. 

He wore a white turtleneck, with long white hair that curled around his chin. His eyes were unreadable, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They were Ray-Burn glasses. You could immediately tell from the bridge, which were curved to resemble a half-circle rather than an oval. 

You also knew how high-end that brand was, and it wasn’t easy getting a pair either. The wait for those was no joke. And, this style was from their newest collection, which meant that he had to be of some importance to get one so soon.

His posture also struck you as odd, especially for an imp. He stood tall, shoulders back, head held high. Despite being a part of one of the lowest social classes in Hell, the demon regarded everyone and everything around him with an air of confidence and assertiveness. 

It was also odd that he was wearing sunglasses so early in the morning, there wasn’t really much light to need protection from. Maybe he had some bat genetics in him?

You smiled at him, but shook your head. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed right now. You’ll have to come back later.”

The imp visibility deflated at your words, a frown etched on his face. You could see his eyes through the shades just enough to show them flicking down the streets. 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I guess. Thanks, I'll just.. have to figure something else out.” 

He backed away, as he scanned the nearby stores again. He muttered to himself, too quiet for you to hear, but his tone sounded scolding. As if he was berating himself. The demon bit his lip, as if he was contemplating something.

A pang of sympathy hit you, as you watched him become more anguished. It seemed like he really needed whatever was inside, and you didn’t have a reason to deny him business other than to follow the official hours of operation. 

Placing the broom against the brick wall, you pulled out a set of keys. The demon turned slightly as he heard its jingle, and you met his shaded gaze. 

“There isn’t really anything else I need to do before opening though, so I suppose it’s not a big issue letting you inside.”

The imp perked, a smile blooming on his lips at your words. You bent to turn the lock with a click. Pulling the door handle, you pulled it behind you, allowing the demon to follow you inside.

“That is so kind of you! Truly, you don’t get to meet many kind and considerate people in this place.”

Well, it was Hell. Being friendly to strangers was not a common occurrence. You just weren’t one of the, well, bad ones. Sure, you had some flaws, you weren’t a resident for no reason. But, you prided yourself in having a reasonable moral code.

“Don’t worry, I know what I need. I’ll be quick!” The imp promised, as he passed through the entryway. The large room was dark, besides the morning light casting through the windows.

You flicked on the lights, and the overhead lamps lit the interior of the store. There were mannequins lining the dark-blue walls, styled in different tuxedos and dress shirts. Next to them were rows of shelves, each specific to a type of garment. There were dress pants, vests, shoes, and smaller accessories like ties and belts. 

As you walked behind the black-granite countertop, the imp had hurried over to a mannequin facing out of a glass display. He reached down near its feet, a small shelf lifted from the floor. A pile of red suits was neatly tucked next to the display. 

Gingerly, he lifted to the top piece, examining it thoroughly. After a few moments, he brought it closer to his chest, before turning to you. Your hands tapped against the display of the digital cash register, readying it for service.

You looked up just as he placed the garment on the counter, your eyes scanning the suit. Strange, he was still wearing those shades. You simply smiled at him, before pulling the item closer to you. Carefully, you unfolded it, examining its form.

It was a beautiful red tuxedo, with golden lapels. Dark-red buttons, with white cuffs. It was a women’s suit, which was rare for you to see, since the store mostly marketed towards men. 

“What a wonderful piece!” You exclaimed, your tone dripping with customer-satisfying professionalism. “Getting this for a special someone?” 

The imp nodded. “For my daughter. She runs a hotel a few blocks away, up the hill. The Hazbin Hotel, if you've heard of it? She needed a new suit, and this was the perfect fit.”

The hotel that was supposed to help sinners with redemption? You’ve heard bits and pieces, mostly when you watched that disastrous interview with Katie Killjoy. You couldn’t recall who ran it, though.

“A little, but you sure do have an eye for style!” You nodded, grabbing the small tag from the sleeve to input the information into the register.

“Well, it was my sweetheart who picked it out first,” the imp gushed, “I can’t take all the credit, I'm not good at these sorts of things, anyway.”

“Do they have a background in fashion?” 

“No, they’re an artist,” the demon beamed, his voice growing softer as he spoke of his lover, “I can promise, you’ve never seen a real painting until you’ve seen theirs. If it were my way, I'd fill every billboard with them, instead of those.. repulsive pornography ads they have downtown.” 

The imp held a look of pride and admiration as he spoke, obviously having full confidence in his claim. You pulled up the item on your screen, and read him the price. It was not a cheap suit, but the demon had no reaction to the total and simply pulled out his wallet. 

“Is business running smoothly at the hotel? Do you guys get a lot of guests?”

The imp contemplated for a moment, before pulling out a large sum of money, placing it gently on the counter. You reached for it, before licking your finger and counting through the bills.

“Not entirely. It just opened recently, and, with the demons it caters to? Hah, there’s not many around here with the mindset of redemption. But, I'm going to be helping her out, supporting her with the work.” 

What a nice father, helping his daughter out like that. If only someone like that had helped you when you were younger, maybe you would be stu-

“Especially when it comes to keeping an eye on some of the.. colorful characters she calls staff. Like that Radio Demon.” As the imp spoke, you could hear the disdain in his tone, as he uttered that name. Your head shot up from the bills in your hand at his words.

Radio demon? Alastor? Alastor was working at the Hazbin Hotel? 

“As in, the tall red guy with deer antlers? Carries a staff around with a microphone on it?” You questioned him, excitement lacing your voice.

“Yes. Do you know him? Word of advice, stay away from that demon. He’s nothing but a self-serving, pompous show-off.” 

That couldn’t be true, could it?

Quickly, you placed the bills into the cash register, pulling out change to hand to the imp. As he took the money in your hand, you found it right to defend Alastor.

“He helped me out of a tough spot awhile ago, practically saved my life, actually.” 

The demon regarded you for a moment, eyebrows raised as he took in your words. He didn’t argue, seemingly trying to leave as fast as possible. Back to the hotel presumably. “Hmph. Well, just be careful, you never know with demons like him.”

You were about to wish him farewell and turn away, before his hand lifted once more. Looking down, he held another stack of money in his hands, you could faintly read ‘100’ on one of the bills alone.

“For your kindness,” the demon stated simply, giving you a wink, “I enjoyed our short chat, there’s not many people down here I'm interested in talking to. Go treat yourself.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. How did he have so much money he could just.. give it away?! You almost wanted to reject his offering. But, money was money, so you took them from his grip. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you! This is very generous of you.” 

He only shrugged, sending you a charming smile. “I am indeed a very generous person. Just don’t spend it on drugs, or anything like that.”

As you handed him the small pink bag, his shaded gaze landed on the ring on your finger, and he leaned in just an inch to get a closer look.

“Boy, that is a fine piece of jewelry you’ve got there! Very nice, was it from a lover? It really makes a statement! Just curious.. do you by any chance know where you got it from?”

You tilted your head, wondering why he wanted to know, was he planning on getting one himself? You just shook your head, you couldn’t really tell him it magically poofed onto your finger by the same demon he held negative feelings for. 

He nodded, muttering something like ‘that’s fine’, before pivoting away from you towards the door. 

“Adios!” He called, a hand in the air in farewell as he strolled to the exit. The bell above the door jingled as it closed behind him, and you saw him step near the curb, away from your view. 

Suddenly, a flash of gold illuminated the small window on the door. Crossing the room, you peeked out the large display window. There was no one on the street, even when you cranked your head to both sides of the street. It’s like he just.. vanished. Strange.

You flipped the large sign on the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ before returning behind the counter. Your fingers still holding the money he gave you, your mind elsewhere as you waited for the day to begin. 

Your thoughts were still on that encounter when the assistant manager walked up to you a few hours later. He was a rather short, plump man with small horns protruding from his head. His skin was a pale blue, his figure resembling that of an ox. Alan was his name. 

You weren’t very fond of him, he always threw flirtatious comments and jokes at you. Always insisting to join you behind the counter, or lean right over your shoulder when you worked. He reminded you too much of that creep from the streets, which made you uncomfortable.

What was up with you always attracting the questionable suitors? Maybe your friend at the cafe was right, you weren’t going to find ‘The One,’ you’d just have to settle for less.

Alan would always try and pry into your personal life, asking if you had a lover, or kids. You’d simply change the conversation as smoothly as possible. If you told him we’re single, he’d no doubt try and court you. Which made you nervous, he didn’t seem like someone who could take a rejection. 

You weren’t able to say, ‘why yes, I have a hubby of my own!’ because you never had proof. Without a ring, and the rest of your co-workers aware of your singlehood, you knew lying to him would have consequences.

Not to mention, he was your boss. He had power, and unless you wanted to end up homeless on the street, you had to keep a friendly facade with him. 

Luckily, he wasn’t around much. Except today your manager had meetings out of town, and he was the substitute. So, for now, you were stuck with him.

“Hey, you still know how to use that sewing machine in the back, right?” He asked you after you had finished assisting a customer near the large display window.

You nodded, curious about his question. In truth, being a tailor sounded much better than working for customer service. You had spent late nights slowly practicing the craft, on that ancient sewing machine in your basement. Maybe, you’d use that money the imp gave you to buy a new one.

“Well, Darlene just called in, which means I got no one as my seamstress. We’ve got a few pieces in need of mending, you think you can handle that?”

“Oh, sure! I can do that, no problem.”

It was then you heard the bell above the front entrance jingle slightly and the creak as the door opened, which caused you to turn sharply to greet the newcomer. Except.. there was no one there.

That was strange. There were other customers milling about, but you were standing in a position that made it impossible to miss anyone exiting the building. 

“Must be having strong winds or something.” Alan remarked, and you turned back to him. As you moved, you noticed the corner next to the doorway was more shaded than usual. As if a large black shadow had taken residence there. Perhaps an overhead light went out? You’d have to check on that later. 

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” Alan started, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he lowered his voice, “I’ve got VIP access to a new club that just opened a few blocks down. I was thinking you and I could get some drinks and have a little fun, whatcha say?” 

You groaned internally. Not this again. How were you going to say no this time? 

“Well, I mean, um- you see the thing is…”

Your eyes went down to the ring on your digit, that little A shimmering in the light. Maybe, you could use this.

“… I’m already taken!” You exclaim, your hand shooting up to give Alan a front row seat at the prize on your person. 

“You are?” He asked incredulously.

“Mhm!” You nod your head vigorously. “As you can see, this is my wedding ring. I eloped not too long ago, hence why it’s not common knowledge.” 

Hopefully, he would buy your lie.

Alan stood there, his eyes flicking from you to the ring. Was he going to try and fight your claim? It seemed like he wanted to. Before you even gave him the chance to, you whipped towards the door being the counter to start mending.

You had only used the machine in the back a handful of times, but you were trying to become more familiar with it. Nodding, you quickly slipped into the back room. The hum of the old sewing machine greeted you like an old friend as you fired it up and began to mend the pieces in need of repair.

The rhythmic clacking of the needle against fabric filled the air as you lost yourself in the task at hand, the radio beside you playing soft old-timey melodies in the background. You continued this calm pace for a few hours, thankful to be away from Alan and the bustling state of the store.

Until a familiar static-laced voice broke through the music. 

“Hello, sir! My, what a hellish morning it is!” 

Your foot instantly moved off the pedal nestled under the table, the vibrations from the machine ceasing as it stilled. You strained your ears, is that who you thought it was?

“Oh, why hello there! How can I assist you today?” You heard the loud, boisterous voice of Alan as he welcomed the newcomer. Quickly, you left your seat, and peaked through the small crack in the doorway. 

Your breath quickened as your eyes landed on the tall, red demon. Alastor. How did he get in here? You didn’t hear the loud bell jingle at his entrance.

He sported his usual red coat, with his staff resting lazily in his grip as he stood before the demon. He had a large smile on his face, but his eyes spoke differently. He looked absolutely bored, disinterested in the man before him and his surroundings.

“I’m simply here to adjust some wear-and-tear on my suit,” he remarked, “as you can see, my sleeve has taken quite the nasty wound.”

He lifted up his arm, displaying a tiny piece of missing fabric from the cuff. It was a clean slice, as if someone had taken a knife and barely nicked it. Nasty wasn’t exactly how you’d describe it, more like itty bitty. 

“If I may..” Alan leaned in slightly, reaching out to inspect the tear. 

Alastor only pulled his arm back, rejecting the gesture with a subtle yet firm movement.

“I prefer to handle my own attire, thank you,” Alastor stated, his voice carrying a hint of disdain as he withdrew his sleeve from Alan’s reach. His smile widened further, as he stared at the demon. 

Your boss recoiled slightly, taken aback by Alastor’s abrupt refusal. “Oh, of course. My apologies,” he stammered, attempting to regain her composure, “but not to worry, sir! We’ve got fabrics that match and a seamstress to do the work. Let me go grab her for you, I'll be right back!”

You saw Alan turn in your direction, and you backed away from the door. Your heart raced as you realized you were going to actually be face to face with Alastor again. How would he react to your presence?

You shot into your seat, spinning around towards the machine. You stepped on the pedal, and the machine hummed to life once more. The door opened, and Alan poked his head in.

“Hey, there’s a customer who needs some assistance. Get out here.”

His head disappeared from view, leaving you alone once more. Exhaling a large breath to ease your nerves, you rose from your seat. Quickly, you walked over to the door and gripped the handle tightly. Another deep breath, and you pulled it open gingerly before taking a step outside. 

Your boss was back beside Alastor, who towered over the man. As you slowly entered the room, Alastor’s eyes moved to you. They lit up with interest, the smile seeming to shrink slightly. The crooked edges on his smile softened too, appearing more genuine as he regarded you.

“Ah, there you are, my dear! I was hoping to find you here.” Alastor called to you. He stepped right past Alan, completely ignoring his presence as he strode up to you. 

As he closed the distance, you became awfully aware of how fast your heart was beating inside your chest. That smell of lemons and licorice hit your nose as he stood before you, and it eased your nerves as you took a quick inhale of breath. 

He turned, allowing Alan to see both of your faces as he slowly reached out to take your hand. His thumb gently grazed against the gold band and it spun slightly. Your breath hitched at his touch.

“It is so nice to be able to visit my dear wife at her place of work,” Alastor started, his gaze shooting to Alan as he spoke, “and, to meet her lovely coworkers! A pleasure indeed.” 

Did he hear you telling Alan about your ring? He couldn’t have, but there seemed to be no other reason for him to bring up the whole marriage farce.

Alastor turned back to you, finger still softly caressing your hand as he turned his attention to his sleeve. 

“It appears I’ve gotten into another miscommunication with an overly confident adversary, similar to what I spoke to you about before. Would you care to assist me, my love?” 

Your eyes momentarily snapped to Alan, who had turned a paler shade as he watched Alastor’s actions. Now, he was finally seeing who your ‘husband’ was. It appeared to be quite a shocker for the demon.

Your gaze flicked back to Alastor, who stood next to you. That grin of his hiding whatever emotions he was feeling as he slowly released your grip, indicating for you to lead him away.

“Thank you for coming to visit, Alastor. I can stitch that up for you, you’ll just need to let me take it for a bit.” You smiled at him, doing your best to play the part with professionality. What, were you supposed to just start calling him pet names like ‘honey’ and ‘babe’?

“I think I'd prefer keeping it on.” Alastor said curtly, adjusting his collar.

He wanted to still be wearing it while you fixed it? That meant you couldn’t use the sewing machine, without risking injury to him. 

“… I suppose you can just follow me, then.” You replied, turning away as you beckoned him towards the back room. 

Alan didn’t follow the two of you, maybe Alastor’s comments threw him off. You hoped they did, you had enough of that guy for one day. 

You opened the dark gray door, pulling it wide so Alastor could follow behind. The back room was a cozy nook from the busy establishment, half of it transformed into a makeshift tailoring nook. A small step stool nestled among tall mirrors allowed a multi-angle look for customers getting a fitting.

Rolls of fabric lined orderly shelves nearby, accompanied by an array of sewing essentials. In the corner, a small table and chair housed the ancient sewing machine. You walked forward, before realizing 

“Oh, i’m sorry, I don’t have another chair. Let me go get one!” You pivoted to go find a spare, but Alastor only lifted his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt.

“Not to worry, my dear! I’ve got it under control.”

He reached a hand forward, gripping the air like he was grabbing the top of the backrest of a chair. He tugged at the air, and a plume of green smoke wafted from his fingertips as he pulled a wooden chair from the smoke.

You stared, mesmerized as he dragged it next to your seat. He gingerly lowered himself, and plopped into the chair. That had to be powerful magic, for him to be able to produce such an object easily from thin air. Just like he did with the seasoning.

Quickly, you gathered the necessary essentials to begin fixing his garment. A couple of needles, some dark red thread, and multiple fabrics that you seemed the closest to his suit’s color. 

While you collected the items in a small bin, Alastor sat comfortably behind you. His nails clicking against his cane rhythmically as the music from the radio filled the room. 

He hummed softly along to the melody, obviously familiar with the tune playing. You had heard it before, a classic rendition of ‘Once In A While’ by Lennie Hayton. It was a softer tune, and an orchestral piece that allowed you to drift into a comfortable lull. 

As you carried the bin back to your seat, you nestled in beside him. There was a small distance between the two of you, your knees a few inches from grazing each other.

“May I?” You asked, holding out your hand to take his sleeve. You thought Alastor was going to react negatively to the gesture, like he did with Alan. Instead, he carefully reached out his arm, allowing you to pull his sleeve down to the surface of the table. 

You tried very hard not to touch his skin, as you adjusted the tear on his cuff to face you. Grabbing a few pieces of fabric, you began to hold them next to his sleeve, attempting to find the perfect match.

“So, what happened this time? Surely, not that snake demon from before.” You spoke, trying to spark conversation with your ‘husband’.

“Ha, I’m glad you do remember our last conversation! I was worried you'd forgotten as the days went by.” Alastor started, sinking deeper into his seat. He placed his cane against the table, 

‘Of course, I'd remember,’ you thought, ‘I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how I try.’

“I had found myself in a rather lively discussion with a particularly vexing imp. Tiny thing, but full of mischief and malice. Managed to get itself tangled in my grip during our little altercation.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I must say, it put up quite the fight for something no larger than a rat. But fear not, I emerged victorious, albeit with a few battle scars.” 

Alastor gestured towards the tear on his sleeve, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smiled at his words, a small chuckle coming from your throat as you pulled another piece of fabric to his cuff.

Finally, you found the color that matched his attire, and you carefully began cutting a large piece from the roll. 

“I’m going to have to hand sew your tear, is that okay?”

“Of course, my dear! Just try not to poke me, hm?” 

You nodded with a smile, before plucking the small needle from the table. 

With nimble fingers, you carefully align the edges of the fabric, pinching them together to ensure a snug fit. Holding the needle firmly between your thumb and forefinger, you begin to weave the thread in and out with practiced precision, creating neat, tiny stitches along the seam.

“I have been meaning to ask, how did the seasoning I gave you fare?” Alastor spoke, his eyes filled with intrigue as he waited for your response.

“Oh! It was fantastic!” You beamed, your mouth watering slightly as you recalled the wonderful dinner from that night. “They made Crawfish Étouffée, and it was very delicious.” 

“Ah! Yes, that dish was a staple back in New Orleans, when I was alive. Folks would gather all over to get a taste of my mother’s own twist on the delicacy. She was quite the cook, and her skill never faltered.” 

As you listened, you realized his voice softened quite more when he spoke of his mother. That static in his tone seemed to disperse as he mentioned her, and you caught a glimpse of his true voice behind that radio overlay. 

“Well, now that I've gotten a glimpse into such an art. I really am interested in trying your Jambalaya.” You spoke genuinely, your fingers still delicately lacing the thread across his sleeve. 

“I am pleased to hear that,” Alastor hummed, “I’ll have to bring you a sample the next time I'm in the area.”

Silence filled the room, other than the music that wafted from the radio’s speaker. You continued to adjust and stitch together his sleeve, very close to finishing the mending work. 

Even though there were no words spoken between the two of you, the silence was not awkward at all. The two of you simply sat comfortably in each other's presence.

Behind you, the slight crack in the door allowed you to hear the loud voice of Alan, as he spoke to another customer. Alastor’s ears twitched slightly as he heard the demon speaking, his body tensing momentarily.

“Has that wretch been bothering you often?” Alastor spoke after a moment, the static in his voice growing thicker as he spoke of Alan. His claws slightly dug into the table, a faint trail embedded in the wood.

“Well, he doesn't treat me like that succubus did. But, he does not drop the subject of us becoming romantically involved. It gets.. uncomfortable, I guess.”

You sighed as the words slipped from your tongue, a frown forming on your lips as you thought of his many attempts to swoon you. Alastor’s head tilted at your words, that smile cracked even wider as you continued to carefully slip the needle through the fabric. 

“Would you like me to ĐɆVØɄⱤ Ⱨł₴ ₴ØɄⱠ?” 

You jerked your head up at his words, surprise etched on your face as you turned to him. His voice had changed, the last bit of his sentence distorting into pure static, and you almost didn’t catch his words.

The room crackled with energy, causing your hair to practically stand on end. It was chilling, and you shivered subconsciously at the feeling. The room seemed to darken as Alastor stared at you, his pupils shrinking to resemble radio dials.

“Excuse me?” You questioned, your tone never faltering from its original octane. Which surprised you, since this powerful demon was looking at you with such murderous intent.

‘It’s not you he wants to murder.’ the voice in your head whispered. Which made your heart flutter, was Alastor wanting to kill for you? That was.. unconventionally sweet. 

Is that what he did to the succubus the other night when you weren’t looking? 

“If the little oaf can’t keep his words to himself, then there is no place for him to continue to sour your mood.” Alastor explained, his eyes taking their original form slowly as he spoke, and the distortion in his tone subsided.

The shadow festering around you slowly shrank away from your seat, illuminating the room once more. That cold feeling that gripped at your shoulders vanished. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling that left you, even if it smelled of darkness and destruction. It felt almost.. comforting to you. Like the shadow was pulling you into a protective hug, the chill cooling your heated skin into a soothing embrace. 

You only shook your head, “He doesn’t need to die for something like that. And, he’s my boss. Without him, the store wouldn’t run as well.”

Alastor only huffed, leaning back into his seat. His claws left the table, and were instead enclosed into a fist, as he rested his chin atop of it. 

“At least the poor bloke ceased in his courting when he realized another had already taken that place.” He shrugged, his eyes glancing down to the gold ring on your hand.

You halted, the needle hanging in the air mid-stitch. How did he know about you and Alan’s conversation? More importantly, what were his feelings about you still wearing the piece of jewelry? 

“Oh, right. Yes, I’m sorry for still wearing it, I know it was just for that moment and it was stupid for me to think I could keep it-”

“Nonsense! Do not fret, my dear.” Alastor interjected, brushing off your worry. “Think of it as a small gift to rectify the situation you were forced into that night.” 

A gift? He wanted you to keep the ring? 

“You could even go as far as to perceive it as a good luck charm, ha-ha. Trouble seems to never escape you, and if this ring can even give you an ounce of protection, why not keep it on to ensure nothing like that night happens again?”

You smiled at him, your eyebrows raised as you listened to his words. A tiny ring, protecting you? You doubted it.

“Well, thank you, Alastor. It is really nice to know someone cares in that way.” 

Alastor hummed softly in response, his toothy grin softening into a lipped smile as he turned his attention back to the music playing softly. 

The thread tightened snuggly between the two fabrics as you finished the final stitch, your other hand reaching to the small scissors next to you. Carefully, you snipped the thread as close to the sleeve as possible, and you leaned back to take a look at your work.

It looked perfect, like the garment had never taken a hit in the first place. Alastor pulled his arm back slightly, turning it over to inspect it thoughtfully.

“I must say, you have such talent with a needle and thread! When you told me you worked as a door girl, I never expected knowledge of tailoring to be in your resume as well!” 

Your cheeks heated as his compliment, and you began to slowly stand from the seat. For a moment, you wished there was something else wrong with his coat that you could fit. If only to keep him here a little longer.

What a selfish thought. You silently reprimanded yourself for such thinking, Alastor had no doubt better things to do than sit here and chit chat with a powerless nobody like you.

Alastor also left his chair, and he adjusted his collar. He gripped his cane, straightening his posture as he turned to you. 

“It seems every time we’re together, our conversations are never dull. Thank you for assisting me, I’d love to continue our talks but it appears I have other business to attend to.” 

“Back at the hotel?” You asked, as you walked with him to the doorway.

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened slightly at your words. He tilted his head at you. “Forgive me, my dear, but I do not remember telling you such a thing. Where did you hear that from?”

Fuck. He never had told you about his place of work, and you writhed slightly under his stare as you tried to come up with an explanation.

“Oh, it’s just an imp had come in this morning, buying a tuxedo for his daughter. He said she ran the Hazbin Hotel. He also said you worked at the hotel too.”

‘And he doesn’t seem to like you.’ you added silently.

Alastor’s grip around his cane tightened, and his smile widened as he thought for a moment. A small chuckle escaped his lips, it sounded dark.

“Are you sure it was an imp, my dear?” He asked slowly.

You nodded, recalling the conversation. “Yes, short with white hair and red skin. Sunglasses too, weirdly. He was quite nice, actually. He gave me some money for helping him, nobody has ever done that for me.” 

“Ha! What a kind soul he must be. Did he say anything else to you, by chance?”

You shook your head, “no, not really.”

“A surprise, really. That imp has a knack for using his charm to bend others to his whim. I'm sure that gesture of his was nothing more than to sweep you off your feet for his antics. I’d keep your distance from demons like him, if I were you.”

Was Alastor.. jealous? He couldn't be. But, it seemed like the feelings between the two were mutual with the way he spoke with disdain. 

The imp seemed like he had someone he cared deeply for, anyway. You were sure his gesture wasn’t anything more than kindness. Although, you didn’t think Alastor would believe you if you told him.

“But, as you previously mentioned, yes,” Alastor changed the conversation, for his sake it seemed, “I do reside at the hotel in exchange for my services. Redeeming sinners is no easy feat, it needs special hands to mold such a dream into reality.”

“Well, I'm sure you’re doing a great job.” You spoke, doing your best to voice your support for him.

Alastor smiled at you, before nodding in agreement. He pulled the door open, and stepped through the doorway. You followed him, stopping at the threshold as he turned back to you. 

He lowered himself slightly, a small curtsy in your direction. As he lifted himself, he leaned closer to you.

“Until we meet again, my wife.” He spoke loudly, most likely for the others in the vicinity to hear. His voice was like honey to your ears as that faint hiss of static dispersed from his tone when his lips settled on wife.

You really did like his voice, and hopefully, you’d hear what it really sounded like more often. His eyes settled on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say more. He didn’t, instead turning towards the register across the room.

Leaning against the doorway, you watched Alastor stroll to the cash register. Alan stood behind the counter, and he seemed to shrink slightly under the taller demon’s gaze.

The sharp edges of Alastor’s smile returned as he watched the demon quickly ready the digital display for check-out. His pupils dilating slightly, eyes narrowed as he waited.

You had watched him leave the store, watched him stroll down the street without a glance at anyone else. That mild boredom taking over his features, like it had when he had first arrived.

For the rest of your shift, as you sewed buttons back into place or trimmed stray threads that stuck out of garments, your thoughts continued to stray to events earlier in the day. To that imp, to the ring on your finger, to Alastor and those fluffy little ears on his head.

You were still deep in thought when you clocked out, your feet carrying you out the door as your path led you to the bus stop a few blocks down.

It was a small blue sign, with the symbol of a bus engraved into it. There was no one around, the empty streets quiet as you plopped onto the bench to wait.

Your hands reached into your bag, pulling out your phone from its pocket. You scrolled through your notifications, before clicking on a message from one of your friends.

You were so deep into the screen in front of you, that you didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approach the bench. You didn’t see the knife pointed directly at your face, or the masked man who’s gaze traveled down your form. 

“Hey, you!” A voice coated with malice addressed you.

Your head shot up, and you reeled back at the large knife right in front of your nose. Your heartbeat quickened as you scrambled off the bench, the man only keeping pace with you as you backed away.

“You seem like a nice young lady, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. Just give me everything you’ve got, and we can go our separate ways.” 

“I don’t really have anything for you to take!” You said breathlessly, your hands shaking as you pulled miniscule items from your bag. He only ripped the entire thing from your grip, throwing it behind him. 

“What about money? Hand everything over, sweet cheeks.”

You grimaced, before pulling the stack of bills the imp had given you from your person. He ripped them from your grip, before stuffing the money down his pocket.

“That’s all I have, I promise! Please let me go.” You begged, your back hitting the wall of an abandoned building behind you.

You prayed for someone to come to your rescue. Alastor graced your mind, that he’d swoop in to save you once more to save you. He was right, trouble never seemed to leave you.

This time, you’d let him tear this guy apart.

“What about jewelry, huh? I see that ring on your finger, it must cost quite a pretty penny.” The thug sleazed.

Instinctively, you brought your hand to your chest, trying to shield the band from his stare. The demon only closed the distance between the two of you, his mask grazing against your chin as he abruptly yanked you forward.

“Don't fight me, you bitch! Just give it to me, don’t make this difficult.”

His rough hand encircled around your wrist. It was harsh against your skin, and you winced in pain.

“Let go of me! I’ve already given you enough, just leave me alone!” You screamed, hoping someone would come to your aid.

He raked his hand down your finger, the ring slowly moving down your digit as he tried to dislodge it.

It was a snug fit against your skin, and it took him a few moments for him to begin pulling it off your finger. Tears pricked at your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your veins, but you dared not to move with the knife slightly pressing into your side.

Another tug, and the ring grazed over your nail as it was pulled harshly. It wasn’t able to make it past before something strange happened. 

The ring ignited in a green flame, and the thug’s hand shot away as he yelled in pain. It licked at the tip of your finger, but you felt no heat from its touch. 

You barely had time to blink, or scream before the ring exploded. It burst into a large cloud of green smoke that engulfed your figure. Shielding you from your surroundings. Energy crackled in the air, paired with a chill that made your breath visible as you gasped.

It felt like someone had reached out and gripped at the collar of your top, and you felt a much gentler tug and you were pulled backwards.

The smoke seemed to vanish, and you were drenched into darkness. You felt your feet lift off the ground, as if you were floating.

The problem, you had no idea where you were. Your heart felt like it was going to burst as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like hours went by, but in truth, it was only a matter of a few seconds that darkness surrounded you.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended, and your closed eyelids were hit with a ray of light. There were voices surrounding you as your feet touched on solid ground, the floor softer this time, like carpet.

The chatter stopped abruptly as you settled in place, and for a moment you felt like curling into a ball and hiding from whatever scene you had been thrusted into.

“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice exclaimed next to you, static dripping from their words. “I was wondering how long it would be until you showed up!” 

Wait a second, was that Alastor speaking? Was he responsible for whatever the hell just happened?

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing a large room covered in dark red wallpaper that cracked with age. Gold framed the edges, and lights mounted on the walls illuminated a few paintings that filled the empty space.

It looked like a lobby. Couches nestled in a corner around a small box tv. Next to that was a small bar, bottles of liquor stacked on shelves behind the counter. 

Your eyes trailed away, before they landed on a small group of demons in front of you. Your breath quickened in fear, as you quickly scanned over their figures. 

There was a woman in a red tuxedo, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. Long platinum-blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail as it traveled down her back. Beside her, a tall snake held a hand to his chest as he leaned back slightly, as if he was more afraid of you than you were of him. 

There were a few others too, but your mind was racing so fast you weren’t able to get a settle on their frames before you eyes were bouncing around for an exit.

It wasn’t until you felt someone’s arm snake around your elbow did you whip your head to the side, Alastor’s large smile greeting you as he laced his arm with yours in comfort, no doubt noticing the way your knees were about to buckle. 

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear!” He exclaimed, as if your arrival was expected and totally-not-strange whatsoever. His eyes were soft, doing his best to calm you with his familiar presence. You opened your mouth to speak, even though you weren’t sure exactly what to say.

“Who the fuck is that?” The fuzzy, pink spider demon piped up from the shocked onlookers. A pair of hands on his hips as he regarded you with confusion. 

Your lips upturned into a faint smile, and you lifted your hand for a half-hearted wave.

“Um, hi..?” 

I hope you enjoyed part 2! Sorry for that cliff hanger 😭 i hate doing that but had to end it somewhere haha

and.. hold up yall…

for real?! i did not expect this my first month on this app, nor at all really 😍 what started as “just this one luci one-shot..” became so much more!

Thank you all for the support and love you’ve given me, lowkey itching to buy a computer just for writing (yes, all my fics have been written with sore thumbs haha)

HUGE thanks to @spoiled-slutt for being my beta reader and helping me brainstorm ideas for this part! They’ve been an amazing help, and you should definitely check out their works if they interest you! <3

have a great day, my swans! 🦢

—

taglist:

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites

#i love this so fucking much

[robin-the-enby]

Omg the reader's so oblivious, it actually makes me frustrated lol XDDD

I am so happy you're back! This first chapter was incredible and I'm honestly really looking forwards to how William is going to up his game, but also about Henry's history with his wife, because that must be super interesting! I can't wait to see what you have planned out <3

Do you need some Vitamin D? (Incubus! William x Oblivious! F! Reader) [Part 1]

~Hi lovelies, I'm aware I have been a shitty author and disappeared for a long time, but I have been trying to get caught up with real life and honestly kinda hyper-fixated on minecraft for a week but I'm determined to write! I want to give you all the lovely things so here is an extremely belated Valentines Day fic about monstrous William Afton~

~Happy Valentines, Galentines, Pal-entines and fork-tines to you all! Today we're doing something a little bit silly and something very sweet in honour of the romantic day....A silly fic of monster William x oblivious reader, because let's face it, we all have at least one moment where flirting has gone straight over our heads and we missed the boat.~

@ruh--roh-raggy

CW: 18+ MINORS DNI. Fluff, age gap (Reader 20's - William Afton 40's(?)), teratophilia, meet-cute, punny pick-up lines, scenes of working out, minor porn-logic, ditzy! reader, could be classed as bimbo! reader?, size-difference, flirting, monster-lover, sexual innuendos, Monster! AU

William Afton ran his tongue over his teeth as he lost himself in thought once again. His silvery eyes watching you behind gold-framed aviators as you chatted with your co-workers, the blaring and beeping arcade lights casting colours against your skin in a way that made the older man suck a breath in through his teeth and click his tongue disapprovingly at himself. William had excellent control over himself both professionally and personally, there were plenty of times where his nature wanted to take hold of the reigns and control his actions but he rarely let them.

You were his little indulgence.

As the type of creature he was, it was hard to control obsessions and indulgences. Where did the lines cross? It had been years since he last let himself slip over the line and it had resulted in some unwanted agreements and commitments, a fact he was constantly reminded of whenever he received a letter from his thankfully former wife demanding reconciliation. She never knew the real him though, and William couldn't ever remember a person beside his best friend and his best friend's wife that had ever seen the real him. Just as he had seen the real them.

But as you turned and glanced at the older man leaning in the doorway into the 'employees only' corridor and gave him a little bright smile like always, he couldn't help his usually stern expression quirking at the corner of his mouth to return the smile slightly. You had that affect on the taller man, even if you were unaware of it or his perhaps less than selfless intentions behind it all.

You'd been working at Freddy Fazbear's pizza for just over two months, and in that time you'd made plenty of friends amongst the various members of staff. The cooks knew your break order and always happened to have an 'accidental' order of your favourite cheesy garlic sticks when you'd had a tough shift, people knew that they could rely on you to cover shifts when sick or that you actually knew where the first aid box was.

In general, people liked you, even if you were keenly aware of your one persistent flaw. You were...naïve, at times, and sometimes jokes and stories flew over your head whilst talking with other staff members. And sure, sometimes you'd had your female co-workers come up to you after some guy had talked to you and walked away looking dejected, only to be told they were flirting with you. But you weren't looking to change those things about yourself necessarily, and nobody ever said it was a bad thing that perhaps somebody who was interested in you would have to try a little harder to grab your attention.

"Afton's staring at you again." Your co-worker tutted, crossing her arms and making you look over towards him despite her hissed protests. Spotting the taller man with greying temples and those thin gold aviators that gave him a much more sophisticated look despite his yellow pin-stripe shirt that was a little baggy on his seemingly broad body. Giving him a friendly smile as he was indeed looking your way, seeing his usual frown twitch slightly as he nodded at you and shoved off from the wall, beginning to wander back into the halls of the pizzeria. "He's such a creep."

"He's not! Mr. Afton's lovely, maybe he's just shy?" You suggested, making the woman in front of you raise her eyebrow sceptically.

"Maybe if he was in high-school, he's a grown ass man, he should say something to you if he wants to say it!"

"Well, he and Mr. Emily do like to stand around and make sure everything is running smoothly. He's probably staring cause we're standing around." Shrugging your shoulders as your colleague shook her head and threw up her hands with an exasperated sigh.

"He's been staring at you for like....a month now? Anybody would think you were being sized up to be eaten or something. Or maybe he wants to fuck you." Wriggling her eyebrows suggestively, you smacked her arm and felt your cheeks heating up as you shook your head.

"Don't be silly! Or rude! Mr. Afton wouldn't think like that towards any of us, we're part of the Fazbear family!"

The young woman looked over at a couple of their co-workers sneaking kisses in the pass, with copious amounts of tongue like teenagers who had just discovered the concept of french-kiss and were delighted with the prospect. Shaking her own head as you wandered off to continue working, not wanting to disappoint your bosses.

"Yeah, perhaps a little more 'incestuous' than you realise though." Muttering under her breath as she trailed behind you, helping with the cleaning chores you both had to complete before the next dinner rush.

Meanwhile, William made his way into the offices at the back and made the man already inside jump slightly at his sudden entrance. His dark, short curls greying slightly and wearing an obnoxiously yellow shirt and brown slacks that made William's stomach turn slightly at how bright his friend was. Henry smiled at him from his desk and turned back to looking at the papers on his desk, allowing William to squeeze past and slip into his desk in the back.

The wooden top was cluttered with sheets of paper in neat stacks and animatronic parts in various spread states of disarray. Afton despised paperwork being out of place, but something that he deemed creative like his animatronics were fine to be in various messy states, art to him was supposed to be chaotic and messy. But his thoughts were distracted by that little smile you'd given him, running his thumb over his index nail repeatedly as he stared at his desk.

Henry noticed his silence and turned around in the swivel chair, facing his friend with a curiously raised eyebrow before scooting closer and forcing William to look up at the sound. Frown on his face as Henry broke out into a grin.

"You went out to look at that employee again didn't you?" Henry teased, making the taller man groan and rub his face under his glasses, jostling them from the comfortable position they had been in and forcing him to adjust them before he glared at Henry.

"None of your fuckin' business."

"Oh you did! And it our business! Do you think you might...pursue?" He asked, leaning on the edge of William's desk, making the other man sigh and shrug his broad shoulders as he averted his eyes back onto the projects on his desk.

"Been a while since I...Think I'm just an old bastard at this point." A slight smirk tugging at his lips as he watched Henry rolling his eyes, a huffing, snorting sound that William recognised as a more annoyed sound.

"Where did all your bravado go? Are you sure your previous wasn't a succubus or something? Sucked all the life out of you."

"Wouldn't that be fucking ironic. Must've been a vampire, drained me dry and not in the nice way either." Henry pulled a face and leaned over to smack William on the shoulder, the firm clap reminding William how strong Henry was despite his more slender frame and growing stomach from his wife's cooking.

Both men sat there for a moment before Henry sighed, running his fingers through his curls and shaking his head to dislodge the soft round ears from ontop of his head. Feeling his face getting slightly more full as his teeth pulled at his gums uncomfortably, blinking up at William who simply blinked back.

"Nearly new moon huh?"

"Yeah, it fucking sucks that I can't really leave the office or the house in case, but that's what I have my best friend and my wife for, huh?"

"Don't let your wife figure out they're separate titles." William chuckled, watching as Henry stretched his jaw and pawed at his face as he tried to encourage his more ursine features back into place.

"No way, I value my life and she will absolutely hand me my ass in silver bullets." Henry laughed and shook his head, looking back onto his own desk and spotting the poster for an upcoming event that made his face light up in an even brighter smile as he turned back to William. "You know what you should do?"

"What?"

"Ask her to the staff Valentine's staff-do!"

"Absolutely fucking not!"

"Come on, why?" He whined and William huffed, curling his lip up to reveal teeth a little too sharp to be human before he cleared his throat and cracked his neck, giving Henry a much more normal smile afterwards.

"It's so stupid, and plus, I need to refresh my skills, that takes time you know."

"Just go with what you've got! In fact, start today! Go out there and get flirting! If you don't have a date to that staff-do, I swear to god William, I'll bite you."

"Can't pass on the ursanthropy to me, Henry. But the thought of you biting me in any form is unpleasant." William sighed and stood up from his desk, watching Henry scooting back to his desk and rolling his eyes as he sighed.

Afton hated things like Valentine's Day, thought about all the overpriced flowers and chocolates that were out and about and the tacky foil decorations that would be used once and then ripped down within a day and never mentioned again. But Henry, annoyingly, was right about the fact that it was an opportune time to ask you out and flex his fingers with the charm a little.

It didn't take him long to find you, carrying piles of flat pizza boxes to make-up for takeout and humming slightly as you headed down the winding corridor, peeking over the top of the stack to see where you were going before a pair of hands reached out and took some of the boxes on the top.

"Let me get some of that for you, sweetheart." He chuckled, easily holding the boxes in his large hands and making you smile appreciatively, adjusting your grip on your own stack and feeling better that you could see where you were going and wouldn't run into anybody.

"Thanks Mr.Afton! I hope this isn't too much trouble." Watching as William shrugged and chewed over his lip, glancing over you briefly.

"It's no trouble, hey! Do you like raisins?" He asked suddenly, making you pause as you mulled over the question.

"I mean...I'm not keen?"

"Then how about a date?" William grinned from ear to ear, watching your expression gleefully as you blinked up at him.

"I mean..I might like them? Haven't tried raisins in years, I might have to try them again. Thanks for helping Mr. Afton!" You smiled, wandering through the corridor and towards the front of the restaurant once again, not aware of the flabbergasted look on her boss' face as he stared after you.

You weren't sure what had changed the next day when you came in for your shift, early as always and humming to yourself when you cleaned up. Henry Emily and William Afton came in through the front door, silence between them as you noticed that Henry had a pair of dark sunglasses on despite the early morning light and William had on a tight black t-shirt and jeans, looking more like a biker with a bit of a dad-bod going on. Blinking in surprise as neither of them were really dressed in the professional attire you were used to them being in.

"Good morning Mr. Emily, Mr. Afton!" You called out, causing both men to stop and turn their attention towards you. Afton looking at you with that stern expression he always had whilst Henry attempted a smile, although it fell quickly and settled back into a slightly pained look, causing your brow to furrow with concern.

"Ah, morning," your name was added quietly onto the end, Henry reaching up and rubbing his hand over his face. Secretly checking himself for any subtle transformations, William glancing at him from the corner of his eye before turning his attention back to you. "How goes set-up?"

"Well Mr. Emily, although...are you okay? You look a little sick and tired today. Maybe you should be at home?" Voice laden with concern and head tilted slightly as you watched Henry, managing to miss William's slight smile at your concern for his friend. Henry shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"Ah, yeah just not been sleeping well. Not sweet enough dreams perhaps." Trying to put some humour back into his voice as William lit up and decided to try out another technique on you, feeling his face settling into a confident smirk once more as he looked you over. Somehow you made even the uniform look cute.

"Not like you, hey sweetheart? You're sweet and a dream." You turned to look at him as the much taller man spoke, the same blank expression on your face for a moment before you laughed and shook your head shyly, averting your gaze from his silvery eyes. Wondering if you had ever been so close to him, other than when he picked up the pizza boxes for you.

"You're too nice Mr. Afton, I really just try to be myself." Shaking your head and not noticing as Henry scowled at William from the side, shaking his own head and rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses. "Well, I better get back to work, please take care of yourself today Mr. Emily, and please look after him Mr. Afton." Giving each of the older men a smile before turning back to your duties and allowing them to move on. Still curious as to why they were dressed less formally.

Henry all but grabbed William and dragged the taller man into the back areas and to their cramped little office. Both men staring down as Henry took off his sunglasses and revealed his more yellowish green eyes, the pupils blown out as he struggled to keep himself full in check as the new moon was only a day away. Holding onto his friend's thick arms for a moment before crossing his against his chest, foot tapping impatiently as he had to look slightly up to see William's face.

"What the actual fuck was that?"

"What was what, Henry?" William asked coyly, smirking as the werebear before him huffed and growled in annoyance. Narrowing his eyes as Henry gestured back out towards the main floor where you were.

"THAT! Was that you flirting?"

"Yeah? Girls love that shit, just cause you get that whole 'mate' thing doesn't mean everybody does buddy." William rolled his eyes and crossed his own thicker arms across his broad chest, staring down at the smaller man as he shook his head. Henry running his fingers through his dark curls for a moment as an exasperated sigh escaped him.

"When did girls like that, the eighteen-hundreds?"

"Watch it, and it was the eighties as you well know."

"Either way, you're an old bastard."

"Shut the fuck up, Emily." William growled, his own teeth changing slightly as his lip curled and revealed sharper canines than before. His own monstrous nature leaking through his carefully held together image before Henry blinked and he was back to normal.

Both men headed off into the offices, Henry still shaking his head and glancing at William with a sense of disbelief. His friend was loosing his touch and honestly, he wasn't sure what he could do to rectify the situation without being blunt and to the point which would entirely ruin William's whole thing.

"You're possibly the world's worst incubus, William Afton." Henry muttered under his breath, making William snort and smirk in return as the office door opened and he allowed his features to shift slightly. Sharp teeth, flatter more squashed nose and nails sharper as greyish brown fur started to creep down the back of his neck and onto his forehead, mixing into where his salt and pepper hair normally was neatly swiped back.

"Says you, I'm just getting started." His features turning back to normal as he shook his head. Cracking his neck and rolling his shoulders as the monster once against became the man.

Your phone buzzed on the bedspread as you sat eating cereal in bed and watching some true-crime programme that had come on when you turned on the TV. Almost missing the soft sound before you reached for it and tapped the screen with your thumb to light it up, pausing as you saw it was a text notification and heart pounding slightly as you saw the name attached to it.

William Afton.

Tapping it open, you wondered if perhaps he was asking you to cover the shift the next day, since you had a couple of days off. Although it was usually Henry who reached out and he never texted, always phoned since it was 'more professional'. He had looked sick earlier, so it wasn't out of the realms of possibility that he was handing over the responsibility to William to try and limit how much stuff Henry himself had to do. You paused as the text loaded after a moment and your eyes instantly landed on a photo of William.

It took you a moment to register. But it looked like it had been taken from around waist height and pointed up his body, his greying hair slicked back and wet like he'd just gotten out of the shower, those gold wire aviators catching the light but still able to see his grey eyes and his greying beard. His broad chest was covered in a tight purple shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the first three buttons undone and letting you see a touch of his dark chest hair that you somehow never realised you knew would be there.

Confused, you looked at the text that came afterwards, your eyes straying back up to the picture occasionally as you tried to figure out what on earth was going on.

'What do you think to the new shirt?' Still confused, you balanced the bowl of cereal on your lap before texting back, thinking on what to reply as you scanned the picture one more time before your fingers moved across the keyboard.

'It's a nice colour on you Mr. Afton. Did you mean to send this to me though?' Turning back to eating cereal and watching the TV for only a moment before your phone buzzed again and you looked at his name popping up on the screen once more, tapping on it to read as you chewed over your next mouthful.

'Shit, really sorry, this was meant for Henry. Thanks for your feedback though.' You tried for a moment to think how your name might end up next to Henry Emily's in his contacts but didn't think too hard about it, popping another spoonful into your mouth before texting back, wanting to reassure the older man that it was a simple mistake.

'It's no problem, I'm not doing anything at the moment anyway. Was just surprised that you texted me.'

A few minutes passed before your phone vibrated again, and you were welcome to the distraction since the programme had become kind of boring and predictable, it was clear who was the murderer and anything was better than the cliche music and dramatic cuts on the screen.

'Not doing anything? A young lady like you should be out and about! I'm curious as to what type of nothing you're up to now though.' The text made you laugh and shake your head, chuckling as you texted back quickly. You weren't sure what it was about the text exchange with William Afton, but it was enjoyable and you couldn't help the involuntary scroll up in the chain of texts to look at the photo again whilst you waited for his reply after your own.

'Sat in bed, eating cereal and watching TV. Really nothing exciting Mr. Afton. I can imagine your evening is more exciting than mine.'

'Well that rather depends on your definition of exciting. What would you be up to if you didn't have the cereal?' A strange question, but you shrugged and replied in the only way that came to mind. Totally unaware that William Afton was across town and laid in his own bed as soon as you mentioned being in yours, a small smirk on his face with one hand tucked up behind his head as he thought it was genius to potentially lure you into a salacious conversation.

'Get up and get cereal :p'

Your reply left his blinking at his screen and he turned his head to look at the floor length mirror across the room, seeing his more monstrous face staring back at him. Soft bunny ears folded back across his head and covered in a fine layer of salt and pepper fur. His large figure spread out across the bed, his clawed fingers running over his head and flatter face, nose twitching as his eyes eyes stared back behind his glasses. The bedding up to his waist hiding most of his transformations, tucking his knees up and curling up his lip to reveal his sharp teeth as his foot stamped in annoyance against the mattress. Feeling the small vestigial wings against his broad back flutter once and curl slightly around his arms in a motion of self comfort. The lagomorphic incubus was beginning to doubt his own abilities and he didn't like that.

What was it about you that resisted him so easily? He wasn't entirely sure, but he thought it might have something to do with the fact you had always seemed to have a few things...go over your head, to put it politely. Chewing on his lip as he looked at himself once again in the mirror before he closed his eyes and tapped his head back against the headboard, frustrated that it wasn't going exactly to plan.

Unaware of your boss' frustration, you gave up waiting for him to say something back, glancing at the clock and wondering if perhaps he had simply fallen asleep. But you had a small smile that he had talked to you for so long, and wondered if he had enjoyed the conversation too. Putting the dirty bowl on your nightstand to be cleaned up in the morning and sighing as you settled back into bed.

Scrolling back up, you couldn't help one last look at the picture he had sent, cheeks flushing with heat as you shook your head, tossing the device to one side as you rubbed your face. Wondering what on earth had gotten into you that you kept going back to look at your boss and admire the little features of his face.

[robin-the-enby]

Lazy morning with Leonardo

Words: 400

Tags: scenario; morning cuddles; fluffy; established relationship; no pronouns specified for reader; I changed his pet name to “amore mio”.

The sunlight sneaks through a gap in the curtain, waking you up in the morning. You scrunch up your nose in a grimace and try to bury your face in the pillow, but it fails to protect you from the offending light. You’ll have to properly close the curtain, then.

Sighing, you try to move softly so you don’t wake Leonardo up. Frowning, you realize you couldn’t move even an inch; you’re still in the same position, lying on your stomach. Smiling, it dawns on you that Leonardo’s body is almost completely draped over yours, his chest pressing against your back, his legs intertwined with yours, and his arms locked around your torso, his fingers laced with yours.

It’s astounding how you hadn’t realized before just how trapped you were.

Gently, you try to free your fingers, but his grip tightens. As you attempt to move your legs, you feel his intertwining with yours, keeping you in place.

“Where do you think you’re going, amore mio?” His husky voice sounds close to your ear as you feel him nuzzling his face into your hair.

“The sun is hitting my face,” you pout.

Your frustration must have dripped into your voice because Leonardo softly lifts his head from the pillow to look at your face, then at the crack in the curtain. He smiles and flops back down, his grip tightening on you.

“I got you,” he says mischievously.

“What—” You’re interrupted by your own yelp.

He pulls you closer and rolls his body, causing you to pass over him and land safely on the mattress on the other side of him.

“There,” he smiles lazily. “Safe and sound from the sun now.”

“Leonardo!” you try to scold, turning to look at him. But you find it hard not to smile too, soon laughing. “Honestly…”

“No excuses to leave me now,” he says as he brushes your hair to the side and kisses your forehead.

“I still have to get up for work soon.”

“We have time,” he murmurs. “Until then…” He gently kisses your eyelids, coaxing them to close. “Have a good sleep.”

You settle comfortably in his arms, nuzzling your face against his chest, and he embraces you again. You can hear his heart beating steadily, smell the soothing scent of his cigarillos, and feel his fingers ghostly caressing your shoulder and back.

And soon, you’re back to sleep.

Taglist: @bicayaya @silverbladexyz @koco-coko @yamarireads @judejazza @echoes-in-the-forest @chevcore @fang-and-feather

Masterlists

#awwwww

[robin-the-enby]

I'm just saying if alastor bit me I would not be upset

[robin-the-enby]

% 1 ━ Yours Deerly, A .

#chapters : [ previous | next ] #cw : your unique soul that piqued the great alastor's interest; he decided to write letters just for you until you finally reach hell. alastor x gn reader. may include adult themes and mild swearing. #note : quick thank you to @sea-bunniii for helping me with the fic title :3 this is the series I talked about, lmk if you'd like to be tagged! enjoy.

there is nothing around you but darkness for as long as you can remember now.

you never really understood what was happening; you tried pulling yourself out of this pitch-black surrounding but failed. you tried to speak but can't seem to utter a word from your parted lips. you rely on your hearing to keep track of your surroundings, but there's something in particular to note after quite some time. there were times when a strange, muffled radio static voice rang through your ears, words never clear enough for you to comprehend what it was trying to say. times when you'd see a blurred figure standing before you, but never clear enough for even a rough appearance, let alone a name.

millions of possibilities would run through your mind endlessly about them. is this a message for you, or are you just gradually losing your mind and hallucinating? you often try your best to push those thoughts aside while listening to the people around you who talk about your condition. but that, too, didn't bring you any good news. every day you would hear about how your life is merely hanging by a thin thread, that they might lose you any minute as they speak.

you mentally sigh, hoping that death would just swallow you up whole now instead of taking its sweet time. maybe by then, you'll finally gain your freedom back.

"hm." the radio demon squints his eyes slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the thin cane he holds. yet another failed attempt. he lifts a hand from the cane and opens his palm, an eerily green glow appears on top until it forms a certain line of words. "looks like this little soul is back in the human world for the time being."

it has been a month since alastor took notice of your soul. your soul that affected him ever so slightly whenever you traveled from the human world and back; it felt like something was lurking in his surroundings when your soul arrived at hell. he ignored it for a couple days, brushing it off as something uninteresting until it lasted for more than a week. with curiosity, he tries his best to wrap his aura around this thing he has been feeling.

noting that it was your soul he was observing, his curiosity grew. your soul would arrive in hell without being in an actual body and find its way to return to the human world. there was not a single effect cast on it, as if it's just a normal travel through countries and cities. nothing like this has ever happened in the underworld, not to alastor's knowledge at least.

as an overload who claims multiple souls, he naturally tried to claim yours as well after seeing the potential of it benefitting him. he tried to insert his voice and appearance into your soul and communicate with you once it returns to your body in the human world, but he failed every time. no matter how many times he improvised his ways, your soul rejects him without struggle.

annoyance started fueling him, yet it is also the sole reason why he has grown more interested in your unique soul. never has he ever struggled this much to obtain a mere soul; usually it could be done with just a snap of his fingers, yet all he could do to your soul is observe and know the place it's in through the aura that he managed to wrap it in.

keeping his head upright, he opens the door of the room that he claimed as his. closing the door behind him, alastor smoothes out his coat while walking down the dimly lit hallway of the hotel. the heel of his shoes thud against the carpet he walks on, chattering gradually growing louder from afar. the light grew brighter down the hallway he passed by until he reached the staircase, now able to view everyone at the main compartment of the hotel from above.

he takes his time walking down the steps, the sound of his heels catches the attention of the blond woman - charlie. her smile grew at the sight of alastor, hurriedly grabbing a small stack of papers from the long table and jogging toward him. alastor widens his smile, tapping on his cane while standing in place.

"why hello there, my friend! you seem busy, what could you possibly be working on?" he watches as charlie clumsily flips through the papers, a slight frown scrunched on her forehead until she finds the paper she needs. she smoothes the paper, turning it to alastor so he's able to read the contents clearly. she clears her throat before speaking.

"alastor, hi! well, you see, is it alright if i ask you for a small, tiny favor?" she seems hesitant to ask judging from her tone.

"why of course! ask away and i shall consider."

"great!" charlie returns to her usual bubbly self, quickly scanning the paper to look for the specific content she needs to show the radio demon. "here, take a look at this. it says here that it's required to write a letter for the request of a big stock sent to our location. and i'm, well.." her hand stretches to scratch the back of her neck nervously, an awkward smile on her face.

"i'm not so good with letters." she tries to relieve her own awkwardness with a chuckle, but it seems it did nothing but made it worse. "i was wondering if you could.. help out with the letters? just this once! I've heard how good you are with words when it comes to letters. please? i don't really have anyone else to ask." charlie gazes at alastor, her eyes shining with hope as her hands clutch tightly onto the papers.

alastor laughs. "i would love to, my dear! it is but mere letters, nothing i can't handle." he extends an arm towards charlie, his fingers stretched out with his palm facing upwards; a gesture to accept the papers and help. the woman excitedly places the papers onto his hand, his fingers now folded to hold the papers firmly. his eyes briefly look through the documents with a small nod of his head. "consider it done. fear not! I'll be able to finish this by dinner."

"thank you so much, alastor!" charlie flashes him a grateful smile before jogging off, feeling relieved without having to worry about finishing something she's not particularly good at. alastor's gaze fall onto the papers he holds, something molding and forming in his head; an idea. he hums to himself as he dives into deep thought, paying no mind to his surrounding for the time being.

if he, the great alastor isn't able to physically reach out to your little soul, there ought to have nothing else that will be able to achieve that as well. though, leaving messages until you physically arrive in hell may help him accomplish his goal. as one first falls into hell, they often get hit by a strong sense of confusion and even panic. if he takes advantage of the emotion you may hold, luring you in with a false sense of security, things will certainly go smoothly and result in success.

his thoughts abruptly got interrupted by vaggie's voice yelling from the kitchen, demanding for everyone to have lunch now that it's all prepared. instead of walking forward, alastor turns around and starts walking up the very same stairs he just walked down minutes ago. he rarely joins them for any group activity; it's only common to see him joining them if the event will benefit him in any way.

a small tune is audible from him humming as he walks, the papers that were once held by him vanish in a split second, leaving behind small traces of dark green sparkles around the area. the chattering grows soft once again the further he walks from the stairs, now walking down the hallway until the familiar door is in his range of view. using the very same aura to push the door open, he enters his room as the door shuts itself behind him.

walking towards his neat working desk, alastor's heart pounds against his chest from the clear idea he has in his head. he sets his cane aside carefully, allowing it to lean against the desk before pulling the plush chair from the elegantly carved table. he sits on the chair, papers and calligraphy pen appearing with a simple snap of his clawed fingers. paying no mind to the letter he should be working on for charlie, the pen straightens from the table by itself and starts scribbling words onto the blank sheet of paper.

he completely sets his focus on the letter he plans to write for you. it's been a while since he picked up his favorite pen to handwrite a letter for someone, the feeling stirs something in his chest. is it excitement? or is it nervousness? even alastor doesn't understand himself. brushing the thought aside, he lowers the pen until the tip comes in contact with the paper lying flat on the surface of the desk. the paper he chose is a special one; it's vintage, like an old paper that has been left sitting in the drawer for years.

it has a sense of familiarity in it, providing comfort in an odd way to alastor. it almost felt like he was writing love letters for someone he doesn't know at all. ink flows from the pen and onto the paper, the small glob of black ink weakly reflecting light from the desk lamp he has. cautiously, he glides the pen across the paper; every stroke and every curve of the words gradually form a sentence, and then a whole paragraph.

he would pause from time to time, digging for the correct words to write in his brain. it was unexpected to even the demon himself, to think that someone like him would spend this much effort for a mere letter. it took almost half an hour for him to finish his first letter to you, signing his name at the bottom with a content heart.

his eyes scan through every word he wrote, reading everything all over again until he confirms that it has no mistake. his fingers reach out to grab the envelope beside him, sliding the neatly folded paper into it. feeling satisfied with his work, alastor seals the letter with wax that has the shape of a radio pressed onto the top.

he holds the letter; it has a color of deep shade red along with a couple of drawn-on flowers. he pulls the drawer that's seated on the lower left of the desk open, revealing an empty compartment. alastor places the sealed letter in the drawer, pushing it back in until there's a click signaling that the drawer is fully closed. he glances at the letter he promised to finish for charlie, finding it now neatly lying on the desk without a single movement.

alastor exhales lightly from his mouth, allowing his back to lean against the chair with his head tilted back. he feels his muscles relax despite never realizing they were tensed before this, eyelids falling, shutting until he sees nothing but darkness.

"ah.. such troubles i need to go through for this little soul."

© silas ( @silasours ). all rights reserved. every work posted on this account belongs to me, and only me. please refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, translating, or reproducing my work in any form possible.

[robin-the-enby]

It’s gotten bad