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jessejaredstories · 9 months

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One Last Adventure

“Did you find anyone yet?”

“Not yet babe, I’m still looking.”

I flipped through the pages of my old high school yearbook while my boyfriend Jack was pacing around our bedroom. He was supposed to be searching through Grindr and Tinder for potential targets, but I knew he was getting frustrated and decided not to push it. My boyfriend has always been the impatient type, but I could understand why he was getting extra antsy tonight.

About a month ago, my boyfriend and I made a deal with a witch. In exchange for five years off of each of our lifespans, the witch would grant us the supernatural ability to take over other people’s bodies. As you can imagine, Jack and I have been generously using our new powers ever since we got them. We’ve been using them to do whatever we want as whoever we want! Getting easy access to anything we want, getting payback on anyone who’s wronged us, and probably the most fun, fucking as whoever we want. Pretty sweet ability right?

But of course, an extraordinary power like this doesn’t come without its cost. On top of paying the witch with literal years off of our lives, there were also two conditions we needed to follow. The first condition was the time limit. We got exactly 30 days before our powers expire. Once time’s up, that’s it. No more body hopping fun. The second condition was more of a restriction than anything else. The witch said that we couldn’t just take over anyone’s body. We could only choose people both Jack and I have met in-person before. That condition really limited our options, but even so, that didn’t stop us from having as much fun as possible.

“Hey, what about these two?” I handed Jack the yearbook with an open page. Unfortunately though, it took him less than a second to shake his head no.

“No good. I knew them but I never actually met them.”

I sighed as I took back the yearbook. Not gonna lie, I was starting to get frustrated too. We just couldn’t find any new bodies to possess! Normally, we wouldn’t get so worked over it, but tonight was different. It was our last day before our powers expired for good. Obviously we couldn’t just let our powers die out without one last body hopping escapade! But after hours of searching, it was not looking good for us…

Or so I thought. I started half-assedly looking through all the faces of our former high school classmates. It was then that two faces stuck out to me. Akshay Khan and Kabir Patel.

“How about these two? Remember them? The Indian bros?” I asked Jack.

“Oh yeah, I remember them. Can’t say I remember much though,”

“Neither can I.”

Akshay and Kabir were known for being inseparable best friends, but that was it really. They never got involved in any school activities. That’s why they each only had one photo in the yearbook. Easy to miss, but they were still an option nonetheless.

“C’mon, let’s check out what they’ve been up to,” I said as I pulled out my phone.

Jack joined me on the couch. He laid against me as I typed in Akshay’s name. Luckily that was all I needed to get a hit on Instagram. His profile came up and surely enough, it was him. He had recently posted on his story too. I clicked on it and up came a picture of him and Kabir working out at some gym together.

“Whoa, they’ve really glowed up since high school. The gym’s been kind to them!” Jack let out a fox whistle when he saw the picture. I turned my head slightly to watch him checking out the goods. I could tell by the hungry look in his eyes that we just found our next targets.

“What do you say bro?” I said while lowering my voice. “You down to hit the showers after we hit this last set?” I caught Jack off guard with my bad Akshay impression, but he caught on right away. We exchanged a knowing look, then proceeded to get ready for the takeover.

We both laid down on the ground and took deep breaths. We had body possession down to a science with how many times we’ve done it. All that was left to do was to go through steps again. I cleared my mind of all thoughts then I focused on imagining my soul leaving my body, all while maintaining my breathing. Soon enough, I could feel myself becoming lighter as my soul left my physical body. Once I was no longer a slave to the laws of physics, I flew straight to the gym where Akshay and Kabir were. They made the big mistake of tagging their location on social media, which made Jack and I’s job a whole lot easier!

Thanks to my spirit form, I made it to their location within minutes. I phased through the walls and looked around for the bros. The gym was pretty empty that night for some reason. After some searching, I found Akshay in the locker room area checking himself out in the mirror. He was by himself in there. I crept up behind him, ready to strike while he was distracted!

“Nrghh… What the fuck?” Akshay exclaimed. He hunched over while holding his stomach. I hesitated jumping into him, then abandoned the idea altogether when I realized what was happening. Jack had beaten me to the punch, he had already begun possessing Akshay.

I decided to stay back a moment and watch as my boyfriend possessed the gym rat. Akshay was groaning loudly. He tried keeping his balance but ended up falling to the ground on all fours. Sweat beads were forming on his face as he began breathing heavily. He then swung his head back with his mouth wide open. I could see his eyes roll back to the back of his head until I only saw the veiny whites of his eyeballs. Akshay then let out a loud, eerie groan. His cheeks and chest puffed up as Jack's soul slithered down his throat. I could see Akshay's Adam's apple bob up and down too! This lasted for a few seconds, then Akshay swallowed the last of Jack's essence in one final gulp. Once it was done, Akshay's eyes went back to normal and he stood up with a cocky grin on his face.

"Ahh yeahhh... That's the good stuff..." Akshay said while caressing his massive pecs and rock hard abs. Except I knew that wasn't Akshay anymore, that was my loving boyfriend checking out his new body in the mirror.

I watched as my boyfriend admired his newly obtained muscles in front of the mirror. I couldn't help but smile as Jack flexed his cannons for arms and made his pecs pop. To be honest, I was slightly jealous of him. Akshay was jacked! I wanted to have that body for myself, but no matter, there was still another body up for grabs anyway.

I turned around and began searching for Kabir. I looked throughout the gym and eventually found him near the dumbbells. Kabir was busy putting some weights back on the rack. He wasn't perfectly alone like Akshay was, but the sight of his plump butt sticking out as he was bent over was too tempting to ignore. I just had to take the risk and dive right in!

I steadied my aim first and then charged in as fast as I could. Thanks to my spirit form, I was able to phase right through his gym shorts and go straight into his asshole.

"Ow!! What the fuck!?" Kabir yelped out, presumably from me penetrating him by surprise. The impact of me entering him made Kabir fall onto the ground on his stomach. He grabbed onto his ass cheeks while squirming around on the ground. Unfortunately I wasn't able to possess him in one smooth motion, but it didn't matter. I was already halfway in, and there was nothing Kabir could do to stop a pro like me.

I started wiggling my way up his ass. The deeper I went inside him, the more I could feel through his body as the body takeover process started.

"Aaargh fuckk!! Ahh!!"

Kabir was moaning and thrashing around like a madman! I couldn't blame him though, I could feel the stimulation I was giving him by entering through his ass. I bet I was hitting all the right pleasure spots as I slithered up him!

"Mmmm... yeahh that's the spot..." I purred using Kabir's voice. I was in full control now, and hearing his accent come out of my mouth was making me hard! I stood up and brushed off any dirt on me. I took a moment to admire my newly possessed body. Jack might have gotten the more muscular body, but Kabir was taller and with a well-toned physique too. He was hot— No, I was hot!

“Hey bro, you good?”

I felt a hand pat me on the shoulder. Shit! Someone must’ve spotted Kabir thrashing around on the floor! I slowly turned around, but thankfully my worries were for nothing. It was just Jack.

“Yeah man, I’m chilling, all good here,” I answered. Jack shook his head.

“You sure, Kabir? Looked like you had a pretty ass cramp just now… You don’t need a massage to help ease the pain?”

Getting called “Kabir” threw me off for a moment. Although I quickly caught on when I saw “Akshay” wink at me.

“Actually, you’re right, I could use a massage right now! Think you can lend me a hand bro?” I replied with a smirk. Akshay returned my gesture with a grin. It was moments like this that made me love taking over other people’s bodies with my boyfriend. Nobody but us knew that these two gym rats just got possessed by two other men, and that secret just made it even more fun.

Akshay and I wasted no time in getting to the locker rooms. Luckily for us, there was still nobody back there. We took off our clothes and hopped into one of the shower stalls together. Akshay turned on the water, and then proceeded to pin me to the wall behind me. He planted a big fat kiss on my lips. It was aggressive, but I loved it!

We made out in the stall with our tongues fighting for dominance while the running water helped cover up our loud kisses and moans. Naturally, our dicks got hard while we kissed. I could feel Akshay’s dick rub against me as we pressed and interlocked our wet bodies against one another. It was strange. Normally when we possess straight men, we could feel their dormant souls try to resist against us having fun with their bodies. I expected Kabir and Akshay to do the same, but they never did! It was almost as if their bodies were enthusiastic about us having our fun. Perhaps, they’ve already done what we were doing?

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. All that mattered was that Akshay had a hand around my neck, choking me while keeping me pressed against the shower wall. I opened my mouth and Akshay spit in my mouth. I swallowed it like a good boy, then I jumped onto Akshay. He held me up while we resumed kissing. Then, while our lips were locked together, he began to lower me down onto his cock. I could feel his dick tap against my hole, then it slid right in.

“OHH FUCKK!!!” I couldn’t hold back my moans. The pleasure of having Akshay’s whole length inside me… My hole expanding to accommodate his girth was too much to hold back!

“You like that? You want this big, brown cock inside you?”

“Fuck yeah! Fuck me!!”

“Beg for it then.” He started teasing me by thrusting himself into me slowly.

“Please bro! Please fuck me hard!! I want you… I need you… Arghh!!”

Akshay started picking up the pace of his thrusts. I thought I saw stars with every deep stroke he gave me. We were probably making a lot of noise between my moans and his grunts, but we didn’t care. We fucked like animals with our new jock bodies and we weren’t ashamed of it!

It only took us another few minutes of fucking before we were both close. Akshay pulled out and let me down to the ground. We then started tugging our dicks together until we covered both ourselves and the shower stall with our cum. We were both panting as we shot load after load of our sweet spunk out. We then made out again one last time while we were still covered with each other’s cum before the shower washed it away. It was hot, and it was definitely the last body hopping adventure we needed before our powers expired for good.

Once we finished having our fun, Jack and I were ready to leave. We never bothered cleaning up, we just depossessed the bodies and let them take care of it. Jack and I shared one last loving look as Akshay and Kabir before leaving. However, when we tried forcing our souls out of their bodies, we couldn’t! No matter how hard or how much we tried, we just couldn’t leave! We ended up having to clean up after ourselves for once. We did that quickly, then got dressed and left the gym as fast as we could. We had no idea what was going on! But then I caught a glimpse of the time. It was already 1:30AM! It was already the next day! It was supposed to be a quickie, but I guess Jack and I got a little carried away…

All this happened two years ago. We’ve been living as Akshay and Kabir ever since then. Even to this day, neither of us know what could’ve happened that we’d end up trapped in these bodies. If I had to take a guess, I’d wager that when the witch said that our powers would expire permanently, she meant it way more seriously than Jack and I expected. Without those powers, we couldn’t even return to our original bodies! I don’t know, but honestly, I don’t care anymore. If anything, we’ve been blessed to have Akshay and Kabir’s lives as our own. Sure, Akshay’s new family is super traditional and they’re already setting him up for a bride, but that doesn’t matter to us. We still meet up in secret when nobody’s around. No matter who we are, we are lovers and nothing will ever take that away from us.

We’re not sure how exactly we’re gonna get past an arranged family, but as long as Akshay is by my side, we can overcome anything.

#male possession

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delfiore · 9 months

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (3/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: without ona, you find other ways to fill the hole in your heart, as the consequences of your own actions come back to haunt you.

word count: 7.0k

a/n: holy shit is this one long. some more cameos for the plot who are all good bros to our dumbasses in love 👍

PART I, PART II, PART IV, PART V

2018, 5 years ago.

You always hated it when your hands shake after adrenaline rushes. It felt debilitating, like you weren’t able to make rational decisions because all you could think about was trying to hide your trembling hands.

When your coach called you into his office, you were still cradling your right hand, the other pressing an ice pack to the bruise starting to form on your right knuckles. The way he pointed with his head for you to follow him—doing so without a word—reaffirmed that you were definitely in trouble.

It was a warm day in May, and yet you had two training sessions to complete. You were drenched in sweat afterwards, your body warm and buzzing like a furnace. Definitely not a good day to be pissed off.

Coach Dennis sat in his chair behind his desk, his hands folded in front of him. His lips were curling and jutting out like they always did whenever he was concentrating or trying to look angry. It made him look like a fish.

A silence followed, and then he spoke. “Are you aware of what you did?”

You clenched your jaw to stop yourself from blurting out something sarcastic. “I punched a teammate, Coach.”

“You’re aware that that could get you released, don’t you, Y/N?” He asked. “NYCFC has zero tolerance for violence within the first team, much less the youth academy.”

You lowered your head. Your hands were shaking much less now.

“May I ask why you did it?” Coach pressed further when he didn’t receive an answer.

So you told him. There was a group of girls that had been picking on you for years now. You were never the biggest or strongest, so you used your techniques to weave the ball through defenders, to make you stand out, and it pissed them off.

“So you punched one of them.”

“They were cornering me.” You said simply, looking up at him for the first time since the meeting started.

The man sighed and covered his nose and mouth with his palms. You might have reduced his lifespan by a decade right then.

“Y/N, I know you. I know you will stand up for yourself, and I expect nothing less from you, but this kind of behavior will not and cannot fly here. That’s why I’m telling you this, because I know you’ll be special one day.”

“Those girls are bullies, Coach. They don’t deserve to be here. You should be punishing them!”

“They will get their punishment in due time, but you still punched a teammate,” he said firmly. “You did what you thought was right, but violence is never the answer. You can’t punch your way out of everything.”

“Are you kicking me out?” You asked, trying to remain stoic, yet you were fiddling with your fingers.

“No. I’m blocking your Dallas offer.”

FC Dallas had been one of the top scouts that have had their eyes on you, and you had been working extra hard to impress them. This was your chance to break into their first team, and it was gone.

“You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can.” He pressed.

“Coach, please—”

“Thank you, Y/N.” He cut you off. “You may leave.”

Leaving Dennis’ office, and walking down the hallway, your eyes caught Sara—the girl you punched—sitting in the infirmary, her face tear-stained, red, and blotchy. She had always looked at you with disdain, but now there was a fear in her gaze as she caught yours from far away. When she did, you got a better look at the damage you’d done to her face. You suddenly felt that shame you should have felt back in the office.

“Yo, Y/N,” you heard someone call when you were outside. “I heard about what happened.”

“You’re gonna lecture me, Gio? ‘Cause Dennis already did.”

“No, man. I was gonna say how badass that was,” he grinned.

A slow grin spread on your face. You shook your head, as Gio put his arm around your shoulder and you walked to the cafeteria.

You met Giovanni Reyna a few years ago when you first joined the academy. In a training session where both the boys and girls participated, you were paired with him for finishing drills. With a hard tackle, he’d almost put you in the hospital. Ever since then, you had been stuck to the hip. He was the first friend you made and the longest friend you’d ever had.

You’d stay another year at NYCFC, honing your skills, and avoiding another run-in with your bullies until the transfer window was near. You were still waiting for FC Dallas to call back, as you had for a year now. It was the only place you wanted, and while you knew it was risky to do so, it was your gateway to Europe through their partnership with Bayern Munich.

“Sara is going to the Red Stars, did you hear?”

“Dylan’s going to Orlando Pride.”

“I heard Hope and Mary-Anne are going to Roma and Lyon!”

You had tried to block out the gossip in the cafeteria, but it made you doubt yourself. What did they have that you didn’t? Yes, you weren’t the tallest or strongest, but neither were Messi, Xavi, or Aguëro. But maybe that was just it; you were not Messi, Xavi, or Aguëro, and you would never be.

Gio was leaving too, there had never been any doubt about that; his dad was a U.S. legend, and it was only natural that he’d give the best to his son. Besides, Gio might have been the next best thing after Christian Pulisic skyrocketed to fame within the past few years. The boy’s move to Borussia Dortmund was almost imminent, and people had been whispering about it for weeks, but you were the one he told first.

“When do you leave?” You asked, picking at the food on your tray. Gio and you were sitting outside having lunch.

“Beginning of June,” he said.

“I’m happy for you,” you muttered, voice cracking quietly, but a small smile remained on your face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Don’t be sorry. This is a good thing,” you smiled, nodding as you grabbed his hand over the table. “I’ll just miss you a ton.”

“Hey,” Gio searched for your eyes. “I have no doubt that you’ll be scouted soon. I know it. I know you have what it takes to be at the top, whether it’s in Europe, or here.”

Your best friend left less than a month later. You had wrapped your arms around him so tightly and hid your face in his neck, afraid you might bawl like a baby the last time you saw him on the training ground. But you didn’t cry then.

You did cry, though, when Coach Dennis called you into his office again a week later. This time, instead of expressing his disappointment in you, he hugged you tight, congratulated you, and let you read the email that Portland Thorns FC sent to request a transfer for you to their first team.

2023, present.

“You ever thought about what you’d be doing if you weren’t playing football?”

You had just drifted off a bit when the voice next to you spoke. Furrowing your eyebrows, you wondered how she wasn’t absolutely battered.

“Don’t know. Never had a plan B. Didn’t want to.”

“Right. But I feel like, I go to training, I kick the ball, people come and watch me, and then when I go home after, I don’t know who I am. It’s like . . . I’m nothing without the footballer.”

You didn’t expect your hookup to be opening up to you like this. You’d only just met her a few hours ago at a club. You had played against her a few times in the league but had never spoken to her face-to-face. Though not the best on the dance floor, she made an excellent dance partner in bed.

“Well, having a personality is overrated nowadays anyway.” You replied, closing your eyes again. “Nobody cares who you are until you fuck up on the pitch, so just don’t fuck up on the pitch.”

“Easy for you to say,” she huffed. “You have your starter place at City guaranteed.”

You ignored her and turned to the other side. A few minutes later, you heard the sheets shuffling, then the sound of a zipper. “This was fun,” she whispered before you heard your bedroom door opening and closing.

No barks, it meant Bratwurst was asleep, luckily for your ears. Most people you had been bringing home he had been barking at. You wanted to think it was him being protective over you, but he would bark at your teammates too when they would come over, except for one person.

Ever since you came back from the World Cup much earlier than you had anticipated, you liked to find company at clubs and parties. In your time of need, you’d found that you preferred sporadic ones, fewer complications, and headaches.

You were also invited to events; award shows, the British Grand Prix, and a few fashion shows. Those you never really bothered with, but they were chances for your stylist to go crazy with the outfits (which you never complained).

The only good thing to come out of those, however, was seeing Gio again at Paris Fashion Week. The moment you saw him, you gladly accepted it when he brought you into a tight hug, feeling like that 13-year-old again when you first met. You kept in touch over the years, but your schedules were always too different to ever meet up. But it was as if no time had passed, and the only thing that kept you both from talking till morning was that Gio needed rest for his rehabilitation training the next day.

“I’m going on a trip to Ibiza soon with a few friends. You should come,” he said.

“I don’t know, G. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“You wouldn’t. I want you to come. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Just because you have a girlfriend now doesn't mean you’re allowed to set me up,” you smirked and shoved him.

“I’ve seen the stuff that came out about you, Y/N,” he sighed. “Is it true?”

“I’m not doing anything illegal if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s not what I meant. About you being seen at clubs day in and day out. What is this really about, Y/N?”

You know Gio wanted the best for you, even though sometimes he was too stubborn to admit it. You were too, but you loved him to bits. Maybe that’s why you two fit together so well.

“I let someone close to my heart, and it fucked me over.”

Gio nodded softly. “Well then. Just consider it a vacation. She’ll still be there though.”

“And you won’t make me go out with her?”

“As if I can make you do anything.”

Unless you were legally prohibited or physically unable to, you would never turn down a proper party. So there you were, on a yacht in Ibiza with your best friend and several other people in his entourage. Gio, that little shit, though having promised not to set you up, was elbowing you at a woman the moment she set foot on the yacht. Anyone with eyes would say that she was beautiful; curly hair, plump lips, and soulful eyes you could get lost in.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. It didn’t hurt to try.

You went over to the bar where she stood and ordered a drink. Glancing behind your shoulder, you noticed Gio sending you a big thumbs-up.

“So, you are the one Gio keeps raving on about,” said the woman next to you. Her eyes were really pretty.

“I guess so. That’s me,” you let out a laugh, albeit shakily. “Am I everything you dreamed of and more?”

It was her turn to laugh. “He definitely mentioned your confidence, yes.”

“Well, then I’ll definitely keep you around for sure. But just so you know, I do other things besides kick a football around and look pretty doing it.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out for yourself,” you smirked. “I’m Y/N,” you extended a hand.

“Leena,” she took your hand in a firm handshake and raised her drink to you.

You took a sip, and watched her behind the glass, only to notice that she was looking back at you as well. “So, how did you know Gio?”

“I worked with him on a couple of photoshoots. I’m a photographer,” leaning against the bar with her drink, she smiled and pushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “He was really nervous, said he didn’t like getting his picture taken. Luckily, I used to work with kids and animals back home in Finland, so making a full-grown man laugh for his headshots wasn’t too hard.”

“You’re from Finland?”

“Mmhm. I go back and forth between London and Manchester now, though.”

“Interesting,” you nodded inconspicuously. “I play in Manchester. Nice city.”

Before you knew it, the sun had started to go down, and it was time to drive the yacht back to port. As you all made your way to the exit to disembark, you waited for Leena before offering your hand to help her down the ramp.

Your group was to head into town, and have some dinner before going to a local music festival to finish the night off. It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, and you wasted no time in immersing yourself in the music. Gio and the others were long forgotten, and you found yourself enjoying your time with Leena much more than you had anticipated.

You told her about your job, and she asked about the World Cup. As much as you hated to talk about it, having declined several interviews and podcast appearances in which mentions of the tournament were inevitable, you told her everything she wanted to know.

She was so attentive and listened, even though you knew she didn’t follow the sport, and for that you were thankful. It has been a while since you talked to someone about how you felt and have them listen so wholeheartedly.

“Do you ever miss home?” You asked once the both of you had taken a break from dancing.

“Sometimes, but right now my wanderlust is bigger than my homesickness. I want to see everything the world has to offer.”

You swirled your martini on the standing table. “I’ve been away from home for so long, I don’t really know where home is anymore.”

“Well, I think home is where you make it.” She lay a hand on your bare arm, caressing it slowly. “If you’ve already made a home at this age, what else is there to do?”

Your eyes trailed along her arm up to her face. Your heart slowed, and the music seemed to have faded in the background. Despite the chaos of the festival, several drunk people dancing next to you, and your friends have already disappeared somewhere, you suddenly had an overwhelming urge to kiss Leena.

But it wasn’t her that you wanted to kiss, not really. You wanted to kiss her because it reminded you of familiar feelings, to have someone in your corner that you didn’t have to pretend to. But of course that was all based on a lie.

As she reached into your martini to pick up the olive pick and held it out for you, you bit down gently on the fruit and let her pull the pick away. You smiled bashfully.

“I’ll go get us some more drinks,” you cleared your throat. “Do you want some fries too?”

You needed to get out of there before you did something you regret and ruin a good thing, again.

The bartender was off once you’d given him your order. Whilst waiting for the drinks, you looked around for familiar faces and spotted Gio and a couple of his friends “dancing” to the music in one corner, clearly quite inebriated.

“Y/N.”

You turned around and wished that you didn’t. It was Ona, looking at you like you were some sort of alien.

“Ona,” you breathed.

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“I’m here with friends.” Now would be a good time for those drinks, bartender.

She nodded. “How are you?”

“Fine,” you said too quickly. “Congratulations by the way, on winning.”

“Oh, thanks.”

“You guys deserved it. No matter who’s trying to take it away from you, you did, and you should celebrate it,” you meant it and tried to force a smile that adequately expressed your sentiments. Needless to say, it would be easier to be saying this to one of her teammates, anyone but her.

You remembered the night she broke your heart, the night when you left your heart by the sidewalk as you trekked all the way home on foot.

That was three months ago, and with all the distractions you’ve indulged yourself in, somehow it still ached.

The bartender handed you your drinks just then, and you were off.

“Y/N, wait.” You closed your eyes. “I’m sorry . . . for what I said, how I said it.”

“No, I think you made your point very clear, Ona. Have a good rest of your trip.”

“Y/N, I did feel something too! I did!”

Ona felt like biting her tongue at the look you gave her when you turned around, the two glasses of Negronis dangling in your fingers by your side. She had almost regretted it when your lips trembled, and your chest rose and fell as if an implosion was imminent.

You took a large step towards her and exhaled. “You don’t get to do that. Not after I’ve tried to do everything to forget you. You can’t do that.”

Ona opened her mouth to say something, but she knew anything she said would only add to your fury.

“I hope you’re happy by the way.” You said mockingly. “Seeing that you got what you wanted. Winning the World Cup, moving back to Barcelona. Hope you’re happy. Bye, Ona.”

She watched unmovingly as you walked away from her, back to a table where a woman was waiting, and pulled her towards the crowd to dance. She found herself returning to her group, not being able to get the image of you swaying behind the woman with your arm around her neck out of her mind.

What kind of sick joke was the universe playing to make her see you right when she was supposed to be enjoying her days off? Maybe it was her punishment, having broken your heart then practically fleeing the country immediately after.

“Where’s the drink, Ona? You were supposed to get us some,” Lucy questioned her when she came back.

“Oh, sorry. I thought I saw someone.”

“Oi, is that Y/N? Y/N!”

“No, please don’t.” Ona grabbed Lucy’s arm, and quickly pulled it down.

Realizing Lucy didn’t know about it, she knew she was going to have to tell her one way or another. Surprisingly, Lucy didn’t laugh or tease her about it after hearing the entire story. They were back at their hotel, with another bottle of wine passed between them, and Ona told her new teammate everything.

“You were under our noses the whole time, and we didn’t even realize,” Lucy snickered with a shake of her head.

“Yeah,” the night had taken a toll on her, and Ona started to feel the effect of the alcohol as she lay staring at the ceiling. “Have I made a huge mistake? Letting myself be involved in all this.”

“Obviously, but the heart wants what it wants. Trust me,” the brunette took another sip from the bottle. “It is a hard situation, but she needs space, as much as you can give her so she can heal.”

“Sounds like you’ve been through it before,” Ona smirked and poked her with her elbows.

The older woman only laughed. “Something like that.”

As hard as it was to accept the truth, Ona had to move on. She didn’t have a lot of time to mope around, however, before she knew it, the season had already begun. Barcelona had always been a place to return to, and the team needed someone who had Barcelona in her DNA to complete the defense.

It was all going swimmingly, too much so even. The season started out slow, but they grabbed the wins when they needed them. Then it was time for the Champions League draw. Barcelona had been drawn into a group with RSC Anderlecht, AS Roma, and Manchester City.

Just her luck. She’d have to see you twice before the year ended. Barcelona would be going to Manchester first.

With her chance encounter with you in Ibiza still fresh on her mind, she joined the queue for warm-up, looking up every once in a while in case she spotted you. When she did, you were standing by the sideline talking animatedly to your other former teammate Keira. She tore her eyes away before you could notice her, and swallowed that uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Longing for your American girl?” Mapi said with a smirk.

“Shut up,” Ona mumbled, jogging away to do stretches. “I knew Lucy would blab.”

“So Lucy knows? I was just making an educated guess from the way you keep making those sad puppy eyes at her.”

“At who?” Ingrid appeared from behind.

“Y/L/N,” Mapi raised her eyebrows at her girlfriend with a smirk, and Ingrid gasped excitedly.

“Oh my god, Y/N Y/L/N?! You guys would be so cute together!”

“Guys, come on. We have a match to play,” Ona groaned and begrudgingly jogged away. Just before she started her sprints though, she snuck one last glance at you, when you briefly looked back. As if having been burnt just by a look, you quickly said goodbye to Keira and went back to your half to continue warming up.

“Do you think they were already together?” Ingrid whispered at Mapi.

Mapi sighed, “Definitely.”

Ona started that match on the left, as Lucy also started and occupied her usual right side. You were playing on the right this time to allow Lauren Hemp to be on the left wing. It meant there would be none of her usual duels with you.

Ever since Lucy’s slip-up in the World Cup final, Ona knew she had been more cautious in defense and stayed back most of the time. It gave her the opportunity to set up passes deeper whilst also keeping you at bay, the tactic Ona herself used at United and one she knew you absolutely despised.

Sure enough, you stupidly went up against only one of the best fullbacks in the world. Your dribbling and speed were to your advantage, and Lucy—with all her experience and knowledge of your play—easily controlled you at the flanks. So you tried inverting inside, and Lucy followed you too, if not Irene did.

Man City was pressing high, giving the offense plenty of opportunities in the box, but Barcelona was better in defense. It was only when a precise lofted ball was sent past the back line, that Lucy was trailing after you. You went down just outside of the box. As everyone was getting ready for the free kick, you were still on the ground. Your ankle had been stomped on by Irene during the struggle.

Ona quickly jogged over and put her hand over your shoulder, “Y/N, are you okay?”

“Don’t put your hands on me,” you seethed, swatting her hand away, just as the physios came over and sprayed your ankle. Just moments later, you were able to stand up, but you never spared her another glance.

As much as it stung, she clenched her jaw to stop the tears and got ready for the free kick.

Barcelona ended up winning 2-0, a stellar start to their UWCL campaign. While Ona went to shake hands with several players from the opposition, she looked for you, seeing you walk towards the stands. You took pictures and signed for some people, even gave a little kid your shirt, but she saw the way you lit up when talking to someone in the crowd. Upon closer look, it was the woman you were with in Ibiza.

Your smile was blinding as Leena was led down the pitch towards you. “Hi,” you breathed. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“Of course I did. You gave me tickets, remember?” She brought you in for a hug. “I’m sorry you lost, but it was very entertaining. I took lots of pictures.”

“Of me, I hope?” You smirked.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Keep dreaming, Y/L/N.”

Smiling slightly, you brought her in for a side hug. “Thank you for coming,” you kissed Leena’s cheek. “Means a lot.”

Ona was watching the entire interaction, fuming on the inside. Lucy and Mapi knew to steer clear of her path once they returned to the dressing room by the glower on her usually affable face.

SportsPro Media: Y/N Y/L/N Seen ‘Smiling’ After Man City Lost to Barcelona in Women’s Champions League Group Stage “Fans have taken to social media to criticize the winger, 21, after she was seen smiling and conversing with fans at the stands after a 2-0 loss to reigning champions Barcelona. The criticism came after several of Y/L/N’s teammates on the USWNT were also condemned for their overt optimism after barely making it out of their group in the Women’s World Cup this summer. Among the critics was former USWNT international Carli Lloyd. Y/L/N was also seen getting more than friendly with her rumored girlfriend, whom the winger was spotted on holiday with in Ibiza alongside U.S. men’s team’s Gio Reyna after a shockingly early World Cup exit. […]”

When the second round of the group stage came around, you were much better prepared. Though you were playing away in Barcelona, Man City were preparing to win. You were definitely training to do so, so when the starting XI lineup was posted on the door in the dressing room, you were stunned when your name wasn’t on the list. You had been benched before—it was all part of the game—but only during less important games or for your own recovery, but never during an important game like this.

“Gareth, can I speak to you, please?” You said, gritting your teeth when the gaffer opened the door in his office.

“Of course,” he gestured for you to follow inside. “Take a seat.”

You remained standing. “Why am I not starting for the Barcelona game?”

“I’m doing what I think will be best for the team, Y/N.”

“By benching me? You need me!”

“Easy, Y/L/N. No one is above the club, and I don’t appreciate your tone,” Gareth’s tone was despicably calm, yet no less menacing.

You took a deep breath to compose yourself. “I want to know why, in an important game such as this one.”

“It seems . . . that you might have a personal reason as to why you want to start this game, but I have to rotate the squad and—”

“Wait, wait, wait. What do you mean? What personal reason?”

Gareth sighed. “I’ve been informed that you’ve had a personal relationship with one of Barcelona’s players that didn’t end too well.”

“So? What does that have to do with anything?” You all but yelled.

“I’m making a decision that I deem best for the club, and you and every other player will listen because I am in charge!” Gareth had never yelled, not like this. It made you flinch. “I will not have my players’ private life bleed into the performance of the team. Now, you can either support my decision or I will have you removed from the squad traveling to Barcelona, and replace you with someone else who will put the team above their own interest.”

Your mouth is sewn shut, just by the sheer shock at what the manager had just said. You stormed out of his office without another word, slamming the door open to mask what you were truly feeling inside. It wasn’t fury—you were beyond that—it has turned into fear of being replaced; fear of being left behind.

Man City drew that match, and it was just enough to send the team to the quarterfinals, having done it entirely without you. Gareth had made up a bullshit excuse to the press to make you stay home.

Your agent, Toni, was much more furious for you, saying what he did breach the contract you signed and that you should be taking action. In the five years they have been your agent, you have never had to endure that much legal talk over a club issue before. You’d be amused at their passionate rambling if you weren’t already nursing a headache.

“I think you should leave, Y/N,” they finally said after getting off the phone.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But where would I even go? I don’t have any offers yet.”

“You will, once the news comes out that you’re looking to leave the club. You only have one year left on your contract anyway, plenty would seek to employ you.”

You had been through this before. The waiting after letting it be known that you wanted to leave was the worst, but you weren’t just a nobody anymore. You were Y/N Y/L/N, and you would have it your way one way or another.

“Alright, then.” You nodded firmly. “Let’s have a talk with Gareth. I’m not gonna scurry out of this club like a rat.”

Goal.com: Y/N Y/L/N Looking for Man City Exit After Tension With Boss Gareth Taylor “Sources within Man City are saying the American winger could be on her way out of Manchester this summer. The player has reportedly ‘fallen out of favor’ with City gaffer Gareth Taylor after ‘expressing her vexation over lack of playing time’. The 22-year-old was left out of the squad traveling to Barcelona for the 4th group stage match of the Women’s Champions League altogether and has since featured in significantly fewer matches for the Citizens. Several European clubs are reportedly keen to sign Y/L/N, but she could also be making a return to the NWSL for what could be a record signing in the women’s game yet. […]

Though you were scared, it was much easier to let go of a burden that you have been carrying around for so long.

Which was why you had agreed to come to a concert with Leena when she had asked you. You would let yourself have fun and connect with someone without being scared anymore because what Ona did to you had nothing with who you were, and you sure as hell weren’t going to pay the price for it.

Needless to say, you and Leena had a great time. You were been walking back to your car in the parking lot when you saw a flash. You sighed and walked Leena towards the passenger side.

“Get in the car. Don’t come out, okay?” You told her with a smile, which was quickly wiped off once you saw the photographers approaching.

“Y/N, are you leaving City? Where do you think you’re going next?”

“Did you have a fight with Gareth?”

“Y/N, are you going to Barcelona?”

You entered the car with an exasperated sigh. Your breathing became heavy as you attempted to start the car, and your hand started to tremble.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Leena spoke softly. “Don’t let them get to you.”

She placed a hand over yours and squeezed it softly. Finding her eyes, you nodded gratefully, and drove away, trying your very best not to run those imbeciles over.

You went back to her apartment where you both ordered some takeout. Over a movie, you talked about anything and everything.

It was like that with Leena. Somehow, she has made you feel okay with pouring your entire heart out in front of her, her caring eyes and encouraging silence taking away your doubts about looking like an emotional fool in front of her.

But the moment you saw her eyes dart back and forth between yours, then down to your lips and leaned in, you froze. You wanted this, only because it would be good for you, but you couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry, Leena. I-I—” Jumping out of the couch, you stuttered like a broken record. Of course, she would have read it like that, you couldn’t blame her. You didn’t quite know what you wanted, but all you could think about was how different it was to kiss Leena than it was to kiss Ona.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t try to stop you. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all. She might as well have been just as shell-shocked as you were by your reaction. You bolted out of there as quickly as you can, like a coward.

Unsurprisingly, Leena hasn’t tried to contact you. You couldn’t blame her, you’d be pissed at yourself too. It seemed everyone was pissed at you these days.

Chloe approached you once in the weight room to ask if you were leaving. You could only offer her an apology, but she brought you in for a hug. You would miss her the most.

Meanwhile, Toni was working tirelessly on your next move, and all you could do was train and be the best footballer you could be while you waited. Even if Gareth didn’t deserve your effort, your teammates did, and you owed it to them to give it your all until the day you left the training ground for the last time.

There was only one destination you had in mind, but going there would mean having to confront your serial one-night stand that you were possibly in love with, who also didn’t share your feelings.

You couldn’t let that deter you from ascending the football hierarchy, though. You couldn’t, and you won’t. You would do it one way or another because it was where you deserved to be. You would show Gareth that he was wrong about you.

“I can’t believe you’re going to Lyon! That’s crazy, Y/N!” Gio said over the phone. He was the first person you told and was ecstatic when you did.

“They still haven’t sent anything official yet, but it’s looking like it, yeah.”

“Well, what happened to the Barcelona deal?”

“My agent was flipping out when I said no, but then this deal came two days later and now they’re flipping out again but for a good reason.”

“That’s awesome, dude! I’m happy for you!”

“I don’t know, I just—I feel like I’m not there yet or something. Lyon wants me, but they’re freakin’ Lyon!”

“Hey, I know all about imposter syndrome, alright? But you can’t let that keep you from playing at one of the best clubs in the world.”

“Don’t let Dortmund hear you say that,” you smirked.

“Eh, we know where we are. That’s why we sold Erling and Jude,” Gio spoke. “Point is, they want you. They clearly see how good of a player you are. So get your ass over to France and show them that!”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You’re right.”

“Alright, gotta go. But hey, let’s go for a drink next time you’re in town. Hopefully, by then, you’re a Lyon player.”

You ended the call and got up to go take a shower. Just before you went to the bathroom, though, your phone rang again.

Grinning, you picked up again, “Look, if you’re telling me you’re gonna set me up again, I swear to god, Gio.”

But you didn’t hear Gio’s voice or teasing laugh. Instead, there was a shaky sniffle on the other side.

You checked the caller ID, and it was an unknown number. From Barcelona.

“Hello?” You said, unsure.

“Hey, Y/N. I just . . . just needed to hear your voice.”

You sighed because you knew exactly who it was. You had etched the cadence and tone of her voice into your memories during the many nights you’ve spent together.

“It’s Ona, by the way.”

“I know,” you nodded. You didn’t quite know how else to carry on this conversation. “I heard Barcelona’s beautiful this time of year.”

“Yeah, it is,” she said, sniffling again. “You should see the beach at sunset. It’s great. I go and sit there almost every night.”

“Are you drunk, Ona?”

“No, no. Maybe a little bit. Just a little bit though. I had two glasses of wine. Or else I wouldn’t have the courage to be doing this. Just like I didn’t have the courage to tell you that I had feelings for you too. Have, I still do.”

You closed your eyes and shut off the water. Then she said it again, “I have feelings for you, Y/N. I think about you all the time. And I know you might be with someone now, but I just can’t . . .”

She started crying again. “I can’t go on without telling you anymore.”

“This is incredibly selfish, what you’re doing, Ona.” You were close to tears too, hearing how much this hurt her.

“I know. I’m sorry I fucked it all up. I’m sorry for hurting you. If I could take back everything I said, I would. I’m so, so sorry.”

You took a deep breath and sat back down on your bed. “I forgive you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I was selfish too,” you said quietly. “You should go to sleep. You have a Champions League final to play tomorrow.”

You ended the call before you or she could say anything else.

“Shit,” you mumbled and threw yourself back onto the bed. This was exactly why you had to say no to Barcelona, even though it was your dream to play for them. Alas, it started to feel like a mistake.

You dialed Toni. “Hey, um, please don’t kill me for asking this, but could you reach back out to Barcelona and tell them I’m very interested?”

“I knew you’d pull some shit like this so I’ve stalled them. They don’t know we’re negotiating with Lyon, and would probably be fine with setting up a call soon. It’d be a headache to handle Lyon, though.”

“That’s why you’re the best agent in the world, right?” You smiled sheepishly.

“We’ll see, Y/N. We’ve got some leverage for now, but it’s not guaranteed that Barça won’t say no.”

“Thank you, Toni!” You hung up the phone.

ESPN: Barcelona Completes Signing of Y/N Y/L/N from Manchester City on World Record Transfer Fee “Manchester City W.F.C. has agreed to sell USWNT winger Y/N Y/L/N to Barcelona on a £485,000 record fee. This transfer surpasses Keira Walsh’s own move to Barcelona from the Sky Blues in 2022 with a fee of around £400,000. The signing of the summer was finally completed after several clubs have been reported to enter the race. Olympique Lyon was also close to acquiring the 22-year-old’s signature, but the deal broke down in late June when the player repeatedly expressed her interest in joining the Catalan giants. A technically gifted forward, Y/L/N can play on either side as a winger, and occasionally as an attacking midfielder for the national team. Her impending arrival at La Blaugrana would provide a boost in attacking power to an already impressive Barcelona side. […]”

“Jesus, you look like someone murdered your mother or something. Liven up, please.” Mapi smacked her Ona on the shoulder.

“I’m just a little nervous to see her again,” the younger girl muttered, fiddling with her fingers.

She could hear voices outside the dressing room getting closer. At the sound of your voice, her ears trained. She remained facing her locker, trying to occupy herself until you came in. She really felt like throwing up.

You greeted Aitana first with a quick hug, Marta too, then Lucy brought you in for a spin and released you for Keira to go in for the hug.

You said hello to Mapi and Ingrid, both of whom hugged you tightly.

Then you were in front of her. She had expected you to not even look at her, after what she had said over the phone. But you smiled a genuine smile, the one you used to give her whenever the world was a little too hard to bear.

Ona remembered everything. From the sheer hatred and resentment to the lust and sleepless nights under the sheets, to the longing and heartache she endured away from you.

“Welcome,” she whispered quietly, afraid you might not reciprocate her greeting.

Instead, you pulled her into you and held her tightly.

a/n: i’ve decided to add some lore for our y/n, lmk if you like it, if you don’t like it, if you think it’s too long and you just wanna get straight to the smooching :)) there’s more to come but now the stakes 😌☝️ are higher now that we have some info on what makes y/n ticks. i’m going back to college this week so updates might come later but yeah pls let me know what you think!!

#ona batlle #ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle angst #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #gio reyna x reader #woso #lucy bronze #mapi leon #ingrid engen

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slowlymyavenue · 3 months

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THE BIMBO BOUNCE

As the title suggests, this will be a bit of a departure from my usual fare.

I am, as always, very interested in feedback on this piece (and any other.)

Alliteration is a useful hypnotic tool. It gives sentences a bit of extra potency, makes mantras easier to remember, and improves the lifespan of a suggestion pretty considerably. That's the operating theory, anyway. Shall we explore?

Bounce for me; that's simple enough to start things off.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

The phrase sticks, somehow, even though it sounds a little silly. Something seems to make it linger in your head. It has a unique feel to it, a quality you can't quite put your finger on. The syllables seem to echo: bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

But how does a bubbly brain behave? Like a bubble, as you'd expect, with something creating a volume of empty space inside while thoughts slide smoothly across the expanding surface, oily and slick. At first, it feels like your thoughts have more area across which to spread. Your thoughts shift slightly, glistening and growing ever more thin. At least, until the bubble pops.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

And burst it must. Bubbles are ephemeral entities, aren't they? It's alright; you'll scarcely notice. When the bubble pops, your thoughts that are currently floating on the surface will splash to the floor. The empty space inside will rush rapidly outward, turning you into a bit of an airhead. Seems fitting, doesn't it?

Bursting bubbly brains blow pink

Bounce, and pop.

You'll feel the splash like a sudden surge of lust and arousal coursing through your body. The rush of air inside your head might cause you to get light-headed, so you'll spread your legs to steady yourself. Of course that's what you're doing, isn't it? Steadying yourself, not putting yourself on display. Right.

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly.

Bubbly brains are bound to burst.

Burst bubbly brains blew pink

Bimbos brainlessly bounce.

As you begin to bounce to a silent rhythm, it occurs to you that some bubbles have a kaleidoscopic sheen when you look at them, but others have a very solid color within. Your brain-bubble was bubblegum pink, now that you think about it.

Well, as much as you can presently think about anything. That pop did more than just fill your head with empty air. You can feel your intelligence leaking into the space around you, escaping...your absent brain can't contain it any longer.

Bimbos bounce their brains away.

If your brain was still intact, you might think to stop bouncing so you'd be better able to think. But your brain exploded in a flash of pink and wet, and now you're as blank as a bouncing bimbo should be. You're able to understand my words out of some remnant of intuition, but if you pause to try and think them through, everything just goes pink and pops again.

Blank bimbos bounce brainlessly

That seems sensible enough, especially since bouncing feels pretty good. The splash of wet pink thoughts from the pop made your body more sensitive, perhaps by providing you with better things on which to focus. You certainly feel blank, and you are bouncing. Are you a bimbo, though?

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

A side effect of the bubbly brain from before is that you're finding all of this pretty amusing. Certain bits of sentences make you want to giggle and smile, even when you can barely understand them. Might've let too much of your intelligence leak away, but it's all just so silly, isn't it?

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

If you were a bimbo, would you be able to tell? Would you find the situation you're in far more amusing than you should? Would your body be becoming progressively more sensitive as your empty head adjusts to having no thoughts to contain and feeds all that focus to your hungry nerves? Would the bouncing be this arousing all by itself?

That depends primarily on what sort of bimbo you've become, but the answer should be clear by now. Each bounce produces a wave of pleasure, each wave pushes more of the remnants of your brains into the air. The less brains left in your head, the more you smile and giggle. The giggles produce flashes of pink that remind you how very silly and simple this is. All you did was bounce.

Bouncing blank bubbly bimbos are brainwashed

Bounces can take all sorts of forms. You can bounce bits of your body with your hands, bounce up and down in a chair, bounce with the aid of the springs below the bed...all to the same end. Everything is turning pink and wet and silly for you.

This leaves you with only two options: You could let yourself settle, riding the high of the blank bubbly brainwashed bimbo until your brain somewhat reluctantly returns to your head. I won't stop you, you'd simply wake after a few minutes of coming back down.

Or the blank bouncing brainwashed bimbo could shift the energy from bouncing just a little and satisfy that lust your body is feeling. The only real hazard is that your head is already full of air, and cumming your brains out when they've already mostly evaporated could leave you pretty dumb before it's all said and done.

But you've already made a choice, or it's already been made for you. My words could be passing by almost invisibly as the bouncing subsides, or you may already be excitedly picking a toy to bounce on or a rhythm to use while you stroke yourself senseless.

Either way, everything will fade into a yummy pink haze before much longer. I wonder how much bimbo brain you'd need to bounce away before the condition became a bit stuck...

Bouncing your body makes your brain bubbly

Bubbly brains are bound to burst

Burst bubbly brains blow pink bubbles

Blank brainless bimbos bounce

Bouncing brainwashes blank bimbos

Blank bouncing bimbos are brainwashed

Brainwashed blank bimbos bounce

Go on, up and down, bouncing yourself all brainless and bubbly. You'll drift awake awhile after you've finished following my instructions.

Do let me know how silly, brainless, or dumb you felt...if you are comfortable expressing it, of course.

A message:

Hello yes I’m back, I took a break but now I’m here, please follow reblog and share, dms are open x

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chuthulhu-reads · 11 months

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[ID: A panel from Trigun Maximum. It's a close-up of Vash's face, looking exhausted and sweating heavily. Enough of his shoulder scars are visible to show that he's shirtless. His odd posture is because, as revealed in a previous page, he's being forced into a one-armed handstand by Legato. Vash is saying, "Believe me, Knives, I have seen the dead plants. All of them had the black hair. They weren't the bodies of plants who had lived their natural lifespan. They were the bodies of plants who had been abused and pushed past their limits." End ID.]

Knives saw one plant die and went on a mass-murder tantrum; the feeling is understandable, if not the actions. To him, I wonder if this sounds like Vash not giving a shit about their sisters, because he's found multiple dead plants before, knows what the black hair means, and hasn't done any murders about it.

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum. In the first, Vash is looking down, his expression is entirely shadowed aside from his gritted teeth as he says, "...There is no other way for humans to live on this barren desert planet. They are forced... to rely on plants... on us." The second panel shows Knives, though mostly obscured by Vash's dialogue, so we can't see his reaction to Vash's words. End ID.]

However, we can tell from Vash's expressions and from knowing who Vash is as a person that it hurt, finding dead plants. He's grieved for every single one; given that we've seen him take the time to respectfully bury people who were trying to kill him, he's definitely given funeral rites to the dead plants. The difference between him and Knives is that he has the emotional maturity to experience anger/hurt and also coherent thought at the same time, and he's aware that humans don't kill plants out of malice. Many of them love and revere plants; even the coldest know that it's outright stupid to kill plants, who are essential to human life on Gunsmoke. The necessity of a Last Run is questionable, but it's undeniable that they feel they have no other choice, and Vash is aware of that. He's aware that, given better circumstances, humans wouldn't be killing plants. (I think Vash would love The Good Place, seeing as it's all about unpacking the many forces that drive people to do bad things and explores the potential people have for goodness, if only given the opportunity.)

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows Knives frowning slightly as Vash says, "You're quick to forget, Knives... that you caused all of this." The second panel shows Vash, still in his forced handstand but managing to hold his head up enough to glare at Knives with absolute fury as he says, "The reason for all of this... the one thing that started this... was the Big Fall!" End ID.]

And, knowing that humans have been forced into a position with very limited choices, Vash is feeling just as much rage as Knives... but it's all pointed at the person whose choices put them all here in the first place.

Just because Vash isn't throwing murder tantrums doesn't mean he isn't angry, and god I love it when kind characters are allowed to be furious. The emotions are not contradictory. Rage isn't the opposite of compassion; often, it's a direct result. Vash simply has the emotional maturity to hold onto the anger, simmer it into wrath, and direct it where it's deserved.

#Trigun #do not patronize this man by robbing him of his wrath #also I'm always mixed on the translation of 'Big Fall'#Like on the one hand it almost sounds... kinda silly?#Like 'The Great Fall' would be more serious #but I also wonder if that wouldn't undercut the way people on Gunsmoke think of it #like it's somehow grandiose or majestic #folks on Gunsmoke seem a little more like #'sure was a big fuckin' fall back then huh'#'sure was'#'welp them tomases ain't gonna muck themselves out'#I'm continually back and forth on it

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arvandus · 3 months

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Daily Drabble #6 - Longing

Diavolo x GN!Reader

Warnings: None; just fluff <3

NOTE: WHILE THIS WRITING IS SFW, THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, DNI/FOLLOW OR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

Diavolo has wanted to kiss you for forever.

But he doesn’t. He can’t bring himself to do it.

It’s not about what others will think.

It’s not about his position as prince and you being a human.

It’s not even about you being mortal, your lifespan a fraction of his.

It’s not about any of those things. None of those reasons matter. Not a single one would hold any weight or importance so long as you loved him back. He’d already accomplished the unexpected more than once; taking in fallen angels, creating an exchange program to broker peace between the three realms... what would one more miracle be?

No, it was because even if he kissed you... even if your lips reciprocated... he wouldn’t be able to entirely trust that it was real. That you felt for him the way he felt for you.

It was an unavoidable risk that came with being the prince. So many times, he’d watched as others bent themselves backwards for him. How they catered to his desires, eager to please and gain favor, or on the opposite end, avoid punishment.

Not that he ever punished unnecessarily. He was a fair ruler; he knew that much.

But millennia of others attempting to anticipate his needs, accommodate him, manipulate him...

He was fortunate that he could tell when others lied.

Which was why he would never ask you. Not outright; he couldn’t bring himself to watch you lie to him, to hear your voice say one answer while your soul shimmered something different.

He couldn’t kiss you without permission, and he was far too cowardly to ask for it.

Which was why he was utterly stunned when you kissed him first.

It was quiet, private. Just the two of you in his library, late at night as you poured over ancient texts looking for a solution to the latest Devildom dilemma (they were never-ending, after all...). You spoke together in hushed whispers, despite the empty space and the sleeping castle. But then a soft silence fell over the two of you, and you looked up at him, your gaze holding his. Your hands rested side by side on the table, pinkies barely brushing.

You sucked in a breath for bravery and then leaned forward and kissed him.

It was soft, but quick. Diavolo hardly had time to react, his eyes widening before you pulled away, your head ducked bashfully.

“S-Sorry...” you whispered.

Diavolo blinked as heat made his neck and cheeks burn.

“You kissed me,” he said dumbly.

“Uh, yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... you know...”

Now he was confused because you weren’t lying. You were genuinely sorry, as if you regretted it. His brow furrowed. “Was it an accident?”

“Wha...?” your eyes widened and you shook your head slightly. “I mean, no, but...”

“But you’re apologizing. Did you not want to kiss me?”

Now it was your turn to feel hot, and you felt yourself bristle defensively. “Of course I did!”

Also a truth. Diavolo’s confusion deepened. Humans were so weird...

“But you apologized. Why?” he persisted.

“I-I don’t know! I guess... “ you mumbled low, but Diavolo’s superior hearing caught every word, “I thought you didn’t like it--”

Diavolo’s lips interrupted your words, your face suddenly cupped in his large hands as he kissed you gently. He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, your face still in his hands.

“I liked it,” he whispered.

A great sigh of relief escaped your lips. “Good. Because I was about to die on the spot of embarrassment.”

Diavolo chuckled and kissed you again, and this time you leaned into it, a content hum purring from your chest.

He pulled away again slightly, and your mouth tried to follow him, but he held you still, his brow creased. “Forgive me, but I have to ask.... why did you kiss me?”

Your embarrassment returned full force, defenses up. “Why do you think??”

There was a hesitance in him. “Humor me. Please.”

You stared at him for a long moment, recognizing his need, understanding why. Still, the fact that you had to say it out loud when you’d kept it silent for so very long...

“Because I love you,” you whispered.

A soft breath of relief left his lungs and he smiled, his eyes shining like gemstones. “And it’s not because I’m the future king of the Devildom?” he teased.

It was a half-joke, a bitter pill of doubt and worry wrapped in the sweet sugar of humor to make it more palatable.

You gave a soft laugh. “It’d make this a lot easier if you weren’t the prince of hell...” Your expression sobered to one of gentle affection and you cupped his face with your hand. “I kissed you, Diavolo, because I love you. I love you, and I want you to be mine.”

Your thumb stroked his cheekbone as your eyes took in the features of his face, his hair...

“My Diavolo...” you whispered, your words a promise and a blessing.

The lingering fear in his eyes faded, giving way to rich, warm longing. He covered your hand with his and turned his face to kiss the inside of your palm.

“I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours.”

#Diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc #diavolo #obey me diavolo #diavolo obey me #om diavolo #diavolo om #obey me #obey me nightbringer #omswd #omnb

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starjaeyun · 11 months

Text

MINE : you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter !

— dating hanma shuji was the best reckless decision you have ever made

includes! hanma shuji x fem! reader

warnings! smoking, verbal abuse & mentions of it, mentions of a controlling father, toxic parent (father), use of pet names (baby doll)

note! speak now (tv) is out now‼️ i absolutely had to write this w/ hanma bc i remembered him n came up w/ this scenario while listening to mine (tv) 😞

being the daughter of one of the top lawyers in tokyo, you'd say your 'perfect' life was practically scripted. from your words, expressions, mannerism, everything! literally, every single thing you did had to be criticized and changed by your father. you had to be careful of everything you say or do as your father paraded you as his 'perfect daughter' when he didn't even treat you as his

you were the typical rich girl who had everything but love and freedom. clearly, your father cared more about his name than you, his daughter.

you've accepted long ago that this is how you were going to spend the rest of your life until your father's death and you were secretly wishing for his lifespan to shorten every time he insulted you for the slightest mistakes, sometimes you didn't even make a mistake he just thinks you're not perfect enough to be walking around and being called his daughter

naturally, it hurt you. but you've gotten used to it and have learned to ignore him

as much as you didn't want anything to do with him and his filthy money, he wouldn't allow you to move out as "it would not look good to the public for a lawyer like me to allow my daughter to move out and for all i know, you could just run around and throw dirt on my name" you could still vision the disgusted look on his face as he spat those venom laced words

though he was right, you did want to throw a little bit of dirt on his name. and what better way to do that than by dating a delinquent from shibuya?

"doesn't it scare you?" hanma asked as he gave you the cigarette in between his fingers and made himself feel at home, sitting on your bed with his back against the headboard and an arm slung around your shoulder

"what's there to be scared of?"

"maybe how your father is a top lawyer in tokyo and how a delinquent is climbing to your balcony every night since two months ago? doesn't it scare you how we could easily get caught? for all i know one of your neighbors could just spot me tryna climb the tree next to your window"

your eyes met his, a lazy smile painting your face as you gave the cigarette back to him, "but that's what makes it exciting" hanma blinked in surprise but soon enough a playful smirk painted his features, "you're so much more than what i thought you were, baby doll" he says, arm leaving your shoulder and going down to your waist as he guided you to sit on his lap

"how so?"

"hmm..thought you were a rebellious little girl tryna get revenge on her controlling daddy"

"but it was your doing"

hanma raised a brow, "how so?" this time it was him who asked the question

a shy and out of character smile spread across your lips, "never had the guts to really do stuff like this..always had to be prim n proper, had to be careful with my words n actions ya know what i mean, but the thing is before i met you all those thoughts were just...thoughts"

hanma pulled your body closer to his own, "made daddy's careful little girl a little rebel hmm?" he spoke with that arrogant tone he used whenever he won a fight so easily as he littered your face with kisses

"mhm..you're indeed the best thing that's ever been mine"

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justanotherfanartist · 2 months

Text

taps mic. ahem.

help a student write a dumb rvb research paper? pretty please?? for funsies???

This is exactly what it sounds like.

My current final of the year for my language composition class is a massive synthesis + argumentative research paper on any topic of our choosing, and Roosterteeth + RVB has too much messy junk going on that I’m knee-deep invested in mentally at this point to pass up the opportunity to write about it.

And yknow, I see a ton of media analysis posts coming out of the fandom all the time and I’ve always loved seeing it and reading into it and sharing ideas and whatnot and this feels like my way of doing that too.

Essentially what I’m reaching out for is for you guys to help me crowdsource resources and share your ideas with me to include in my term paper*.

things that would be wizard cool of you to send me are:

any interviews or behind the scenes with the cast and creators you happen to know of

your own analysis or hot takes of the characters or the show as a whole

what the show has meant to you

any clips of old Roosterteeth expos

for the older fans, a rough idea of what the release timeline looked like for the episodes and what the buildup and fan reaction was for each one

any commentary or hot takes on how the fandom has changed since you joined/that you know of

what Roosterteeth did wrong (writing wise and irl)

what Roosterteeth did right (writing wise and irl)

tropes within the show you noticed whether originated by the show or not

tropes within the fandom, things like similar portrayals or bad/good takes on characters or face canons that span artists

literally anything you can give me, media, commentary, or opinion wise

(not to say I can’t find things on my own, I already have, but this is also about varying opinions and the general outlook of the fandom as a whole and measuring the broader impact of a show like RvB and it would be incredibly cool of you to help me out even with just crumbs of character opinions)

The idea is to get evidence together from clips, personal anecdotes, and opinions so I can present an accurate read on the fandom, especially when it comes to fan interpretation of RVB vs Roosterteeth’s intentions for the show (and behavior as a company) and explore what the show was supposed to be, what it literally is, how people see it, what its impact has been, and a general overview of the it’s legacy and lifespan, that sort of thing.

My thesis is most likely going to end up something in the ballpark of “How Roosterteeth exemplifies the Franchisation of Indie Media” or “Why RvB is one of the most complicated/misunderstood/divisive shows in modern media” or “How Fandoms interpret and recontextualize media”

I’m going to guess that I likely won’t be able to post the finished paper up online without a solid buffer window to avoid the two mortifying scenarios that are (a) being accused of creative plagiarism and (b) having to tell my instructor that the tumblr account with a 100% match to my course final is, in fact, my tumblr account, are two things I desperately want to avoid.

However if I can, simply for the sake of contributing to the fandom and creating something for us to all contribute to and discuss and crediting various peoples’ help and input would be ideal and, if at all possible, that would be the end goal.

so yeah. if you’re up for it I’d love for you to dm me your thoughts or (more conveniently for the both of us) fill out this Google form down here!

*im not gonna, like, repost your detailed character analysis as my own or something. I’m just trying to find some good quotes, general opinions, and ideas from the fandom so that I can accurately represent them and do our little corner of the internet Justice. And also because the audience of a work is a massive factor in media analysis lmfao. and also to create a community sourced Fun Thing™️ we can all look at and bite the corners off of instead of watching Roosterteeth crash and burn in the backgroun

#rvb #red vs blue #roosterteeth #research #me and my dumb little projects #rvb paper

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safination · 2 months

Text

Partners in Death...And Life

Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You: Part i

|Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-Host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| |Part 5: Gimpse of me and you: Part ii| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Pairings: Alastor x wife! Reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationships, Asexual! Alastor, Reader is in hell for a reason Warning: Blood and dead bodies <3| A little bit suggestive Series summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping...*checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Now, I know what you must be thinking. Part 1? Yeah…this chapter is supposed to actually be much longer, but the second part of the fic isn’t complete yet and I have like two more exams. And biochemistry isn’t something to laugh about. I am slowly losing my mind. I close my eyes and I see aldehydes and hemiketals. Anyway, part two of this will be posted in like two or three days. It’s already drafted, just need to edit it. So here’s a bite size chapter. It contains marriage years 1930 and 1931. 1932 isn't complete yet, sadly. It was quite long, so part 2 will just be 1932.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1930

That blasted car is too far.

With each step, the tip of your heels scrape the pavement. Shoe maintenance tells you that dragging the rubber tip shortens its lifespan, but your toes pinch when you lift your shoe. Alastor takes long strides, walking with the pace of a man with his ass on fire. Pick a struggle. One either walks fast but takes short strides, or walks slow but takes long strides. It’s unethical to have both.

Streetlamps illuminate the sidewalk. The dried leaves scattered around catch on your shoe, and the city’s smog particles stick on your skin.

The city sucks ass.

Alastor will have to drag you by the hair to force you to take another step on this cockroach infested streets. One taste of that fresh air surrounding your shared home, and suddenly, you’ve gone soft. Gone are the days where second-hand smoke reminded you of home. Now, home is the radio’s volume turned up in ungodly hours.

Alastor tightens his arm around yours, pulling you closer to him.

He’s wearing his favorite bowtie tonight. Everything from the shine of his shoes to the way he combed his hair screams fancy…except for that bowtie. It’s not something meant for exquisite dinners with your wife. You didn’t understand his instance. It was something you picked up on your way home one day, a measly scrap of fabric you purchased back when you didn’t know what good quality bow ties were. Alastor should know of its poor quality, yet he calls it his favorite.

Alastor lowers closer to your ear. “Is this your way of telling me you wish to visit the city’s zoo?”

“Zoo…?” you echo. These shoes are going straight in the garbage bin once you get home. “Why would I want to go there?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “I thought you were doing a penguin impression. It's a rather fabulous one, might I add.”

“Ha…Ha…Ha. It’s because I’m walking like a penguin. Not your best one, dearest,” you say, patting his biceps. They’re firmer than they look. “That’s a little bit on the nose. Is it an off night for you?”

“Your feet are hurting,” Alastor tells you like you don’t feel the way your toes slowly lose blood circulation. “I wonder…. Will you deny it? Or are you willing to humble yourself before me, and ask for a seat? There’s still a few more blocks until we reach the car.”

Now, there’s absolutely no way you are going to tell Alastor how your feet pinch and your ankle wobble. With a bright smile, and sheer acting, you continue walking. “Did you do this on purpose?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “You were the one who insisted on accompanying me.”

“Well, my feet feel perfectly normal,” you say as your toes buzz. “This is nothing. You should see how long I’m on my feet during work.”

“Yes, because that is a perfectly acceptable thing to happen in workplaces, dearest.” Alastor tightens his arm once more. His thumb brushes up and down your arm. “I would say it pains me to say this, but we both know that would be a lie. I told you so.”

“You did not, actually,” you say, shaking your foot to dislodge the leaves sticking to the bottom of your shoe. “You barely took one glance and said, ‘Those look lovely, dear!’.”

Alastor pauses his steps, and turns to you with a smile. The night does little to dull how bright his brown eyes shine like stardust to you.

He reaches out towards you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He tugs on your ear, and you slap his hand away. Alastor massages his hand. “That hurt, you know,” he says. “But I meant about waiting. You should still be enjoying your drink.”

“And leaves my dearest, darling husband out here? Alone?” you snort, pulling him to continue walking. “I think I remember someone telling me that thieves don’t dissolve in the sun. Imagine them in the dark!”

“And what would be your plan if we both get robbed?”

You show Alastor your biggest smile. “It’s a good thing I have such a big and scary husband to protect me …. .You…You would protect me, right?”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the air. It’s breathy and light and absolutely everything to you.

Alastor grabs your hand and intertwine his fingers around yours. He leads you further into the streets. Soon, smooth pavements replace the pot holes. Leaves replace the scattered beer cans. Grass replace the asphalt roads. Treen replace the buildings. Alastor pulls you deeper into some tiny park where the streetlamps are brighter, and the air smells closer to home.

You follow him, squeezing his hand.

Alastor squeezes back.

At the corner of this park, a children’s playground stands.

The dark does little to dull the bright colors of the seesaw and monkey bars. In the middle, a pirate-shim themed deck connects to a slide. The swing sways lazily with the nudge of the night’s breeze. There’s not a single living soul except for you and him. It’s eerie to see such a place empty when it should be filled to the brim with the life of children’s laughter.

Alastor’s strides become longer, and his pace even faster as he pulls you closer to the playground’s swing.

He releases his grip, and suddenly, your hand belongs to you once more. Alastor brushes the sand off the swing, and offers you a seat with a bow and outstretched arms.

You take the seat. The pressure lifts from your buzzing toes. It’s almost heavenly.

Alastor slides his coat off his shoulders. With soft giggles and a stupid smile, you watch him pull his arm out. Sleeve garters are worn for practical uses, but as a fashion piece….Hmmm, it’s a great look on him. It’s a shame Alastor often hides how those garters compliment his biceps with a coat. How long would it take to hide every single coat he owns?

Alastor slides his eyes to you. It lingers. “Stop that.”

You offer him your most innocent smile as a reply.

Alastor inches close enough for you to inhale his scent. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, pulling on the lapels to secure it around your shoulders.

You press your lips on the corner of his mouth. “Thank you.”

Alastor kneels on the ground. He pulls your ankle towards him, sliding off your heel. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

You kiss his cheek. “Was there something else I needed to say?” you ask. “That seemed like a proper response.”

He glides his thumb over the reddened parts of your skin, massaging your foot. “Exactly….It was a proper response,” he tells you. “Aren’t you going to question me? Demand to know if I’m going to kill you?”

“I think what you’re doing is rather obvious.”

Alastor stores your shoes to the side, and leaves your feet hanging out in the air. He circles behind you, hovering close enough to feel his presence, even with the coat. He wraps his hands around the metal chain connected to the swing, and sways you back and forth. “Did you enjoy the restaurant? A co-worker recommended it to me.”

“And in the off chance I don’t, will I be seeing that co-worker lying in the middle of our basement?”

Alastor smiles at you. “That depends,” he says. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

You tilt your head backwards to catch his eyes. “Is this a trick question? Am I supposed to say that nothing can compare to your cooking, or something along those lines?”

Alastor shakes the chains, jerking the swing. “You’re supposed to give me an actual answer,” he says, rolling his eyes. “We can come back if you liked it.”

You lean on Alastor’s leg, using it as a backrest. “Every meal is enjoyable when I am in your company, my love” you say. “But that crab was something else. It looked expensive.…We’re, uh, not suddenly going to become poor, right?”

Alastor stares at you. “I’m going to push you off.”

You wrap your hands around Alastor’s, keeping his hold around the chains firm. “What did I do this time?”

Alastor sighs, and swings you gently. “I can afford nice dinners with you.”

“Just me?”

“Only you.”

Alastor pulls you to your feet. Sand pools around your toes. You pull his coat closer around your shoulders as he drags you closer to the pirate-ship themed deck. He releases his hold on your hand, and your fingers brush against each other.

He walks to the platform. The entrance was made for children, so Alastor has to crawl and duck underneath to access the slide.

You fiddle with the lapels of his coat. “What are you doing?”

Alastor glances back at you, smiling as he crawls underneath the entrance. His ass sticks out when he does. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“If your ass gets stuck,” you begin, crossing your arms, “I’m going to leave you here.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, shimmying further into the entrance. “How lucky then that it’s, apparently, horrendously flat,” he says. “There’s nothing there to get stuck.”

“There’s nothing horrendous about it,” you say with a smile. “I see you’re wearing the pants I like.”

Alastor snorts. “Oh, shut up.”

“Not a chance.” Your smile twists brighter.

Alastor grabs the railing, and pulls himself up. His biceps contract when he does. Sleeve garters and railing are for practical uses, but the only thing echoing through your mind were impractical uses right now. Un-practical but exciting....You need to get it together.

“…Flirting,” Alastor says, pulling your mind from wherever it wandered off to. “Really?”

“That was hardly flirting, dearest.”

Alastor ducks into the slide. His ass lands on the sand, and he curses into the air. You cough to stifle a laugh.

He hops to his feet, brushing the sand off his pants. His lips twist and his eyebrows furrow as he cringes in pain. “This is a hazard,” he says, glaring at the slide. He turns to you and smiles. “You should try it.”

“How brave of you to risk a shattered tailbone for me,” you say. “But I’m not sliding down that thing when you just called it a hazard.”

“You are an incredibly boring person,” he tells you. “Is it not a fad nowadays to be loose and goofy against these depressing times of economic downfall?”

Your raise your eyebrow.” You want me to crawl up there and slide down in this outfit?”

Alastor leans on the side of the slide. “I don’t see any good reason not to.”

“If you wish to ogle my undergarments, there’s no need to concoct such a scheme,” you say, smiling at him. “You merely need to ask.”

Alastor’s lips twist. “I’m not—”

“Oh, calm down, I’m just pulling your leg,” you say, snorting. “You would need to think of someone besides yourself to do such a thing. So, there’s no need to get your perfect little head into such a fuss.”

“Stop it.”

You smile innocently. “No.”

Alastor walks closer to you. “And you wonder why no one wanted to play with you as a child.”

You take steps to walk closer to him as well, meeting him halfway. “Everyone wanted to play with me,” you say. “I’ll have you know that I was quite the delight.”

You stand before each other, inches apart.

Alastor stares at you. What do those eyes tell him as he watches you stand before him, buried into his coat? He leans closer to you. “I doubt that.”

You take a step closer and slide your arms around him to bury yourself into his hold.

“How rude,” you say with a smile. You look up at him to hold his gaze, propping your chin on his chest. His arms tighten around your back. “I was such a delightful child that I would have played with you, even when no other kid wanted to do so.”

Alastor leans down, pecking your lips. You inch upwards to chase his lips, but self-control takes over. “You are and always will be a nerd,” he says. “You were probably the type to read during the afternoon.”

You tighten your hug on him. “What an incredible assumption to make.”

Alastor places a hand on your head. “Am I wrong?”

“I’m not telling you that,” you say, leaning your head into his chest.

Alastor pulls away from the hug, grabbing your hand to drag you to the monkey bars.

He climbs to the very top, and swings his legs to sit between the bars. He offers his hand, and you take it. His thumb brushes over your fingers and you climb up the steps and onto the bars. It’s difficult to maneuver with such a fancy outfit. Alastor keeps a steady hand on you, and the other goes on your waist as you slide to sit next to him.

The whole playground can be seen from the top of the monkey bars.

“If you weren’t a nerd,” Alastor begins, bumping your shoulder with his, “then you were probably a bully.”

You grip the bar, leaning back to stare. His hair brushes over his eyes. Alastor runs a hand over the strands to push it back. You reach out and push his glasses up his nose. “What makes you say that?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You’re a pretty little thing who works in healthcare. Isn’t there a stereotype for that?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, cheeks flushed and tingling. Heat trails up your skin, and you have to turn away to hide from his gaze. “You think I’m pretty?” you ask rather idiotically. Deep breaths are needed to calm yourself. “Look…look who’s flirting now.”

Alastor hooks his legs on the bar, and swings backwards. He hangs in the air, the force of his legs the only thing keeping him from falling.

“Don’t do that,” you say, hissing. “You could break your neck.”

Alastor catches your eye with a wild smile. “I won’t.”

“And I’ll be sure to tell that to my next husband as we’re spending all your money,” you tell him. “Now get down from there before you make me a widow!”

Alastor releases his legs from the bar, and his body smacks on the ground. He lies motionless on the sand.

With a sigh, you carefully climb down the monkey bars. You nudge Alastor’s bicep with your foot when you reach him. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

Silence.

You fold the skirt of your dress, and sit across him. You slam your head onto him, using his chest as a pillow.

“Oof!” Alastor curls into you a bit, eyes twitching. He drapes an arm over your stomach, and draws spirals with his finger.

“I think we could have been friends when we were children,” you say, smiling as you feel the way his chest rises up and down with each breath he takes.

Alastor studies the sky. There are no stars to look at here in the city. It’s covered by the lights and the smog. “We wouldn’t. I probably would have hated you.”

“You—Hate me? Impossible!” you say with a laugh. “You think I’m pretty.”

“Ha. Ha,” he says. “You think you’re so clever.”

You intertwine your fingers with his, tracing the ring on his finger. “Sadly, I think I’ll have to agree,” you say. “I probably would have hated you as well.”

“I’m impossible to hate.”

“I'm sure I, of all people, could find a way,” you say with a smile. “Kids can be mean. And you were probably a really weird one.”

Alastor raises his hand to the air, studying his ring against the dark sky. You do the same. Both rings shimmer in the night. “Yet…,” he starts, “here we are, married.”

“I can’t believe we actually got married.”

“I can.”

“Is this where you’ll tell me all about how you fell in love with me at first sight?” your snort. “That my smile and incredible stitching told you I was the woman you were going to wash dishes with for the rest of your life.”

Alastor laughs and his chest rises and falls. “Well, it wasn't flirting.”

“I did not flirt with you.”

“You did.”

“I didn’t.”

“On our third meeting, you told me we walked to the wrong house, just to spend four hours with me in the rain,” Alastor says, and you see the smile creeping on his lips. “You were so entrapped by my very being that you couldn’t bear to spend another second without me. You looked like you wanted to kis—”

You slam your head down into his chest. “Oh, shut up.”

Alastor glances at you. “Not a chance.”

“Okay then, well I remember two people underneath that umbrella,” you say with a huff. “You accepted my invitation.”

“I did,” he says. “Although, I had the excuse of needing to gather information on such a suspicious person. That was purely professional.”

“And you decided that an additional four hours of walking was necessary,” you say. “You could have stopped entertaining me in the first hour or even the second, but you spent all four hours getting your shoulders wet.”

“I did, indeed.”

Laughter rings into the air. With each and every of Alastor’s laugh, your head bounces up and down. You bury your face deeper into his chest, laughing against it.

“We’ve been married for more than a year,” you say. “How has it been for you?”

“Nothing much has changed, surprisingly,” Alastor says, shrugging his shoulders. “The only thing that’s different is I get to say the most ridiculous thing like how completing it is to be able to just exist with you.”

You take his hand, bringing it closer to your mouth to brush a soft kiss. “There’s nothing ridiculous about it, my love. I enjoy how completing it is to be able to just exist when you are with me,” you say, and Alastor caresses your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers down your skin. “Shall we head home?”

There’s a brightness in Alastor’s eyes when he smiles. “Not yet,” he says. “Let’s stay like this for a moment.”

Maybe the city isn’t so awful. Alastor could ask you to stay in this park forever, and you would happily breathe in the smog. Later, you will have to stand and grab your shoes, and finally head home to prepare for the next day. But that’s later. This is now.

You giggle against his chest. “You think I’m pretty.”

Alastor groans, placing a hand over his eyes.

There will be a lifetime of moments like this waiting for you in a world where you both just exist.

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1931

The needle pierces through the fabric. You tug on it, pulling the blue thread up and then around to create a simple back stitch. The cat’s outline pieces together. Later, you’ll fill the cloth with grass and flowers, and a little butterfly to give the cat a friend. Should you gift this to Alastor? Well, either way, he’ll find a way to display it around the house sooner or later.

The radio crackles, and music fades into the background.

Soft taps sound on the speaker. “Before I leave for the night,” Alastor’s voice rings from the radio, “I would like to call any attention to any wives out there, especially the one married to me.”

It doesn’t matter that Alastor is all the way at work, miles away, you still roll your eyes at him…but you turn the volume up, listening closely to what he has to say.

“I know my voice can get, oh, so, entrapping,” he says, and you swear you can hear him smile. “Thus, this is a gentle encouragement to complete any tasks you are putting off. For example, you could take out the trash like what was agreed upon.”

You glare at the radio, flicking its wood. “Oh, I hate you,” you mutter. “I hate you so much.”

“Now, now, dearest, we both know that is a lie,” Alastor says. “Don’t wait up!”

The music fades back in, and the broadcast ends for the night.

He likes to think he’s so clever. Let’s see how clever he’ll be when you kill him in his sleep. It will be easy, barely an inconvenience. You’ll drop a pillow right over that handsome face of his, and laugh as he chokes on his own ego.

However,…with a sigh…you take out the trash…like what was agreed upon.

The air is cold at this time of night. The moon looks beautiful tonight, it’s light illuminating the garden. It would be a shame to waste such a breathtaking sight. A part of you wishes to share this with Alastor, that he could be here, right now, and stare at the moon next to you. And the two of you will exist in each other’s company.

You grab the unfinished art piece, and continue on the rocking chair, stitching and listening to the crickets.

It takes hours of stitching and sore fingers, but Alastor’s car finally pulls up the driveway. The engine dies, and he hops out of the car, circling to the trunk and popping it open.

You drop your things, and take a seat on the porch steps to watch him, the moon no longer being the most breathtaking sight.

Alastor’s still wearing his favorite bowtie. It’s too dark to see clearly, but you think he’s pulling out a body from the car’s trunk. He grabs the straps of the obviously filled cadaver bag, letting it drag across the floor.

A good wife would help their husbands carry a very heavy and very dead body. But…if it means being able to sit and stare at your husband hauling a very, very dead person, then maybe, being a good wife is overrated.

Alastor pauses when he sees you, dropping the straps of the cadaver bag. “What are—Is something wrong?”

You smile at the urgency in his voice. “No, not one bit,” you say, leaning on your head on your hand. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“You should be in bed,” he says, crossing his arms. “I told you not to wait for me.”

Your huff, blowing strands of your hair off your face. “Did you? This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

“I did,” Alastor tells you. “Did you not catch tonight’s broadcast?”

“It was a rather busy day. I had things to do, people to see, and all that.”

Even in the dark, you see the way Alastor’s grin widens. He steps towards the garbage bin, opening the lid to check its content. “You are such a horrible liar,” he says, snorting. “I see you got my message.”

Alastor steps into the light.

Part of his hair slicks back. It’s different from its usually neat look. His sleeves are pulled up, folded until his elbow. There are several red stains on him. It’s on his hair, stains his clothes, and paints his face. His eyes have never looked so brown before. How does Alastor manage to make murder…into…into…. You clear your throat a bit, already counting the day until the next time he goes on his hunts.

“Why, hello there, stranger,” you say, not bothering to fight the smile on your lips. “It’s rather cold tonight. Would you mind keeping a lady company?”

Alastor rolls his eyes, brushing back his hair. “I’m a mess.”

“Red��s a great look,” you say. “The seat next to me is empty.”

“Flirting, really?” he says, but he sits next to you. “You’re getting shameless these days.”

You press your lips on his cheek. “For you?” Another kiss. “Always.”

Alastor takes off his coat. The fabric pools around his broad shoulders and down his back before he pulls out his arms. He throws it at your face, smacking you with it. “I hope you don’t go around saying stuff like that to every man you see,” he says, smiling at you. “I might get jealous.”

You peel off his coat from your face, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Only the one married to me,” you tell him. “You should see how I flirt with my husband.”

Alastor props an arm on the steps, leaning back to meet your eyes. “How disappointing to hear you’re married.”

“Don’t be! This current one won’t be alive for very long, so there’s going to be an open spot,” you say, waving your hands. “Are you interested in taking his place? I hope you are—you’re much more handsome than he is.”

Alastor flicks your nose. “Funny.”

You rub your nose a bit. “So…,” you begin, propping your legs across Alastor’s lap, “what is a charming thing like you doing in these woods?”

A strong breeze sways his hair into his eyes. Alastor pushes the strands away, smiling at you like he always does. “What an honor it is to be called charming by you.”

“Oh, not just charming!” you say, clutching your heart as you swoon. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?”

Alastor laughs, and his glasses slide down his nose. You push it up for him. “Not nearly enough,” he says. “Maybe I should take your husband’s open spot, afterall. My wife never compliments me as much as you do.”

He traces circles on the skin of your legs. You give him a little kick for what he said. “Maybe she would say it more if your ego didn’t inflate every time,” you say. “I would go as far as to say she’s doing God’s work by keeping you humble.”

Alastor pushes your legs off his lap.

He reaches into his pocket and takes out his handkerchief. Your eyes catch on the little design embroidered on the fabric. “Since you insist on keeping me here, you should at least help clean me up,” he says, offering the cloth to you. “I would do it myself, but there’s no mirror here.”

“Why clean such a masterpiece?” you say, but accept the handkerchief anyway. “May I?”

Alastor nods, inching close enough for the smell of rusted copper and iron to hit your nose. Intoxicating. It was just plainly and simply…divine. Like a rose that fell straight from heaven’s garden.

You wipe blood off his face. Some of the streaks had already dried. There’s a stubborn spot right on his jaw. You brush the back of your fingers down his cheek, trailing it down until you hook it right under his chin.

How does your face look right now for Alastor to stare at you with wide eyes?

The smudge line of blood that paints his jaw isn’t clearing. It’s too dry. You inch your face closer, brushing your nose on his skin as you inhale the dangerous combination of Alastor mixing with the strong undertones of iron. Soft exhales land on his skin. Your lips part, giving way to moisten that dried spot with your tongue, trailing it up his jaw.

The hints of metal tingle against your tongue. It was sweet and salty, and it combined with Alastor to create something akin to aged fine wine. But not even the most expensive wine could be as intoxicating as this.

Alastor grabs your face, pulling you to meet his eyes. He squishes your cheeks. “That’s unsanitary!” he says, hissing. “You don’t know what type of bacteria mixed in it.”

You pull your face away from his hold, giving him your most innocent smile.

Hopping to your feet, you circle around the dead body that lies in a very dead position on the ground. You kneel, heart thumping, and pull the zipper down.

“Oh…,” you say, taking in the violence this man experienced, “…wow.”

Alastor was not kind to this man, for this one died screaming.

Alastor leans his arms on his knees, smiling at you. “ I got a little carried away,” he says. “Will you still be able to use him?”

“I think he’ll agree that got more than a little carried away,” you say, snorting as you zip the body back into its bag. “Shall I fetch the bone saw?”

“It’s that bad?”

You walk over to where Alastor sits on the steps, climbing to hover on top of him. The only thing keeping you from crashing down on his chest are the way your hands grip the wood behind him. Inches of space separate your bodies. How far will Alastor entertain you?

You smile down at him, trapping him on the steps between your arms. “I can have this one in pieces by sunrise,” you say, voice barely a whisper. “You can grab the spare, and we can call it a date.”

Alastor tilts his chin up to meet your eyes as he smiles at you. “And tell me,” he begins, voice just as soft as yours. He settles his hands on your waist to steady you above him, “how do you plan on achieving his?”

You trace his shoulder, trailing your fingers up his clavicle bone. “It’s like cutting a chicken,” you say. “All I need to do is take my knife and pound the edge across the joints to disconnect his limbs in one swift motion. Smaller pieces would require the saw.”

Alastor pushes himself upwards, and presses a kiss on your cheek. “And you would spend all night cutting this man for me?”

You hum with delight. “Only for you.”

Alastor tugs your waist, and you come crashing on top of him. You curse as your hands slip, and your face lands on his chest. Alastor hugs you, his laughter ringing in the air, breathy and light and so full of delight. “You are the most ridiculous person to be able to exist with.”

You laugh, accepting how Alastor is the one doing the trapping now. “I’m honored you think so.”

“I think that was the most romantic thing I have ever heard in my life,” he says. “I think I could kiss you right now.”

“Don’t let your wife catch you saying that.” You snake your arms around Alastor’s back, tightening the hug he shares with you. “I hear she gets extremely jealous, and it’s never a smart idea to cross a woman who owns a bone saw.”

Alastor’s back digs into the edges of the porch steps. If your added weight lodges the wood deeper into his back, then he makes no complaints. “That’s truly an idiotic thing to do.”

You press yourself deeper into his hold. It’s quite ridiculous. Hugging you on top of the steps must be uncomfortable, but Alastor does so anyway.

In the end, it’s you who pulls away first, but only to save him from an aching back.

Grasping the steps, you climb higher and press your lips on his forehead. You take the seat next to him. Alastor reaches for you, adjusting his coat around your shoulders to secure you from the night’s cold breeze.

“Bad day at work?” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder.

Alastor leans his head on top of yours. “I’m better now.”

You press deeper into him, laughing against his dress shirt. It’s stained with blood, but you don’t mind. “So, tell me, who is this unfortunate fellow that was on the receiving end of your stress,” you say. “And should I be jealous?”

“I don’t know if I should answer that—Do you happen to own a bone saw?”

You swat his arm, rolling your eyes as you do.

Alastor presses his body closer against yours. “I would love to hear you guess.”

“Hmmm….Well, this is Larry, and he comes from humble beginnings,” you tell him. “He’s a self-made man who met this pretty little thing.”

Alastor takes your hand, thumbing the ring on your finger. “You’re getting better at this.”

There are too many stains on Alastor’s shirt. It’s beyond saving. You’ll have to burn his whole outfit. “Larry met this most darling belle. They were happy until tragedy struck.”

Alastor pulls off his gloves, intertwining his bare fingers with yours. “I do love a tragedy.”

“They fell in love.”

“That’s not tragic,” he says, snorting.

“Then you are a fool, dearest. Love can kill in a way no one has ever been able to describe. Not even the greatest poets can describe the true depths of loss,” you tell him, squeezing his hand. “Homes have been burned in its name.”

Alastor kisses your cheek. “And how did Larry suffer?”

“His darling got taken away from him, in more ways than one,” you say. “Even on her deathbed, she could not recognize him.”

Alastor clutches his heart. “How truly heartbreak!”

You glance up at Alastor. He’s looking at the moon. “Yet, here you are smiling.”

“That’s because you are the most fantastic story teller.”

You pull away to stand, and your fingers brush as it slips out of his.

The porch stairs creak with every step. You reach for the radio on the windowsill, turning the knob until a faint click. Alastor’s lips twist when you change his pre-set station for softer melodies. That man and his radios—Always so particular.

You offer a hand to Alastor, giving him a small bow. “Dance with me?”

“I’m not exactly dressed for the occasion,” Alastor tells you, yet he takes your hand in his.

“There’s no need to worry about such trifling things,” you say. “I think you look divine, like a rose straight from heaven made just for me.”

Alastor wraps his hand around your own, and settles the other on your waist. Dancing can barely describe what you’re doing, not when the both of you only had the energy to sway to the music. But nevertheless, Alastor takes the lead on this dance.

He raises his arm, twirling you underneath. Your eyes lock together when you face him. “Hi.”

You smile at him. “Hi.”

“I’ve been wondering…How did you know work was stressing me?” he says, as you dance to the radio’s music. “Why say work specifically?”

You tilt your head, motioning to the window behind you. “That radio over there,” you say. “The one you keep by your chair. You were listening to it this morning when I gave you coffee.”

You hum the lyrics of the song that plays on the radio. It’s quite nice. Maybe you’ll ask Alastor to play it during his broadcast as a dedication to you. But knowing him, he’ll take this opportunity to become a nuisance made for you, and find something to poke fun about.

His eyebrows furrow. “I don’t understand.”

“You listen to that specific radio when you’re happy,” you say. Those brown eyes of his shift to you. In your most humble opinion, they shine brighter than the stars. “You were fine when you left but somewhere between leaving and coming home to me, your mood turned sour.”

Alastor presses a kiss on your fingers, brushing his lips over your skin with each word. “I would love to hear more about this.”

“The one in the kitchen, that’s for when you’re tired,” you say, chuckling. “The one in the office is for when you’re bored. You listen to the one on our nightstand when you’re thinking or upset.”

“Then what about the radio in the basement?” he asks with a smile that could rival the moon. “Tell me when I listen to that one.”

“That one is for me. You leave it there so I have something to keep me company,” you say. “The saxophone, on the other hand, is for when you’re frustrated.”

“And now, you’re just a master of what I’m feeling.”

“Not at all,” you say with a shrug. “I don’t know how you feel right now.”

Alastor inches closer, leaning down to meet your eyes. “Would you like to know?”

“Sure.”

Alastor places a hand on your cheek, caressing you with his thumb. You lean into how gently he traces your face. He leans closer, nudging his nose against your own. Alastor brushes his lips over you, and the cracks on his lip prick you. Why he decided to torture you with soft touches and hovering inches away exceeds your understanding.

The strong scent of copper and iron on his skin intoxicate every molecule that makes up your body. He’s unfair. Too unfair of him to hold such power over you. Alastor would love to know how he makes your skin buzz with each and every glance of those too brown eyes that shine brighter than starlight. This is a fact you will take to your grave.

Your eyes flutter to a close. Alastor decides to show you mercy, finally kissing your lips.

Open!

The demand drums across your mind.

Your eyelids stay shut as you kiss him back. The need to look at Alastor’s too brown eyes shout at you. What face is Alastor making right now? How does he look? What do those eyes see?

But he kisses you gently. Oh…so…gently. Alastor kisses you like he had something to say. There are words being whispered across your skin as your lips move together. His thumb brushes your skin, and you can’t open your eyes.

Kissing him makes you wish you spent your youth studying poems and soft metaphors instead of the role of hexokinase in turning Glucose into Glucose-6-phosphate. This wish comes suddenly and out of nowhere. Not once have you ever wished for a different pursuit. But you would forfeit all your knowledge to be able to describe the way Alastor’s lips strike you to your very soul.

That thought disappears quickly, mind too preoccupied with the overwhelming sensation of soft lips placing kiss after kiss. The arm around your waist pulls you close, your body pressing against his own as if it was the most natural thing to place you there, as if the Seraphim creating your bodies carved you to belong.

Alastor pulls away with a soft smile.

It takes every ounce of your self-control not to chase after his lips and pull him back to you. Heat flushes your face. You can’t find the strength to open your eyes, not with how much he makes your cheeks tingle.

“You’ve been observing me.” Alastor brushes your eyelids with his thumb. “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes flutter, heeding to his demand. There it is, your favorite sight looking straight at you, holding a beauty that the moon cannot compete against—his eyes. “Hi.”

Alastor’s smile widens. “Hi.”

There are words that bubble on your lips. Words that are begging to be said. Three words that could very well make this man run when he understands just how deep those words mean for him.

And there it is again, that wish to become a poet because those three words can never truly describe what is imprinted on your soul’s very essence. Those three words are not enough for a man who deserves poems full of soft metaphors and sweet analogies.

“That’s because I…I…,” you trail off, hiding your face in his chest. “I think that’s just called marriage, and I always was weak to such radiant beauty.”

Coward…You are a coward.

That’s okay.

You don’t mind the word being shouted to you by your heart, not when it means you can guard it with walls.

It’s okay to be a coward, because it means there will always be a tomorrow. There will always be another chance, another moment, another day to be brave. Another tomorrow. Another next week. Another next month. Another next year.

There’s no need to tell Alastor the word your soul desperately wants him to understand. Not right now, at least.

Not when the evidence is already there: You and him.

There will be a lifetime of moments like this waiting for you in a world where you are his.

Next Part: |Glimpse of Me and You: Part 2| Don't be shy to talk to me. I don't bite at all! I would love to hear your thoughts on the chapter. And all comments really motivate me to work <3. 1932 will be posted in a few days. 1933 on the other hand….Well, let’s just say that such a grand year needs its own chapter. As I was writing this, I kept going back to the idea that Reader can flirt, but can't handle being flirted back. It was too funny not to add. And like I swear heart appears in my eyes, as well as Reaader's eyes everytime Alastor does anything just slightly unhinged. That too was too funny not to add. Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @alastorssimp @aestheticgals-blog @slaggylemon @reikamasama @obessivlyonline @okay-babe @lyralibra @holymusicalmothman @amoraneuro @tobyisher3

#alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #Alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin imagines #hazbin hotel headcanon

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themadlu · 4 months

Text

Do Not Open That Door

Astarion is sure his leader's unflinching morals will lead him to another unwanted grave. He is also sure she is putting on an act because people like her do not exist, clearly. He decides to test his assumptions.

TW: None I think

WC: ~3000 words

Tagging: @spacebarbarianweird for the encouragement!

Astarion is livid. Well, maybe livid was an overstatement—he is annoyed. Annoyed and confused. Such feelings are still a vast improvement over the fear and shame he's been accustomed to, but they make him restless nonetheless.

Especially because their cause is walking steadily next to him without a care in the world for his inner turmoil.

Zélie, their oh so great leader, has managed to spoil what could have been a perfectly enjoyable afternoon on multiple fronts. First, she decides to talk to the goblins ambushing them instead of treating them like the savages they are.

(“We don’t know how many of them are in this village Astarion. What if there’s a little army and we’re outnumbered?”)

After confirmation that there were, in fact, quite a few goblins (and a couple orcs to boot), she managed to get free passage through the village by leveraging their wriggly alien parasite. He isn’t happy about it. Not at all.

He has to begrudgingly admit hers was a wise call after witnessing just how large and hungry those orcs were. And of course they even agree to help a fellow true soul in need. Just what he needs to undermine what little influence he has on her.

(Her blood is in his body after all.)

In the last tendays she had made it her mission to remind him how despicable murder is, under most circumstances, aside from self-defence. This beautifully idiotic mindset of hers almost got her killed twice in front of his very eyes.

(She doesn’t know he has taken to finish off the enemies she leaves unconscious while she isn’t watching.)

When he had pointed out the suicidal flaw in her morals, she had given him her signature scolding look, crossed her arms, and started breathing in that funny way of hers.

In, hold, out.

(She says she is not trained as a monk, but he’ll be even more damned than he already is if that is true. The way she fights and holds herself—and those sickening ideals she has—tell a different story.)

“Honestly, darling,” he hisses at her as they walk through the village, squinty eyes trained on their every move. “I thought we agreed that benevolence and honour,” he spits the words out like a curse, “get you nowhere but to an early grave.”

“Astarion,” she always says his name when she speaks to him—even in annoyance— and he hates his constant surprise at hearing it. His elven name had been replaced with other titles over time, more befitting of his status—boy, spawn, whore, slut, beautiful, toy, love…

Truly, it’s a small miracle he managed to hold on to his name. It’s one of the few things left that are truly his, yet hearing it spoken from that solemn woman's lips makes something in his chest preen.

“I thought we agreed to disagree on that front. No, don’t give me that look. Killing someone is never justifiable. No matter what we tell ourselves, we are taking away something that wasn’t ours to begin with. Something irreplaceable. Even—” she held up her hand as he started to complain, “in self-defence, even then, I will make sure to exhaust all alternatives, and even then, it will be a failure on my part.”

You moron.

“Too bad the rest of the world doesn’t think like you, darling,” he snapped. Hers was an act. There was no way in the hells anyone could survive to their…whatever age she was, he was never good with human lifespans, with that mindset. It was ridiculous, because if she actually was like that—if two–hundred years of shit didn’t teach him better—she should either be dead in a ditch or have ascended to godhood on her saintly behaviour alone. The only explanation he has for her standing close to him is that the mask she wears is as fake as his own. That, or she is a child of Ilmater. He bets on the former, given her complete ignorance of any deity on Toril.

“But you lied,” he counters, snapping his fingers. “You said we are here on Absolute business. Doesn’t that go against your precious code of honour?” he singsongs in her ear.

“I didn’t lie. My tadpole reacted to theirs, and they drew their own conclusions. Technically, we are going to their camp on Absolute business too, if you count removing these,” she tapped her index to her temple.

He smirks, victorious. “Circumstantial. One day, the tadpole won’t do the work for us and you’ll break your own code or doom us to death. For one, I’d rather not repeat the experience,” he says in a quiet voice, pointing at his chest.

Their companions are still unaware of his condition—another occasion his holy leader conveniently withheld information.

(“It’s your secret, it’s your decision.” Hypocrite.)

“Astarion, I know you take me for a fool, and I would normally pay more respect to a man—elf—my senior by centuries, but really. I can be practical and have a moral compass, and that means that when the choice is between lying and killing, I will pick lying any day, even if I don’t like it.”

Enough.

Her words incense him, annoyance suddenly turns into rage and something else—what’s that, envy?—he pivots on his left heel and closes the distance between them so fast she has no time to react. Zélie is left pinned to the wall, their bodies a breath away from touching, and he internally celebrates the surprised look on her face.

He stares at her down his nose, ducking his head and planting a slender hand on the wall beside her head.

Astarion has to make her stop before he tears her self-righteousness out of her throat. Before she realises how useless it all is—how useless and tainted he is—and either stakes him or banishes him. Because even her sickly, do-gooding self, fake or real it be, must have limits. If he pushes hard enough, they’ll crumble, and then he’ll be proven right. She is not what she says she is because creatures like that aren’t real.

“Let’s make one thing clear, darling,” he growls, nostrils flaring, “you may be our great leader, but you should get off your high horse before someone shoots you off it. I don’t know what perfect little corner of the universe you grew up in, but you know nothing of this world and its dangers.”

He flashes his fangs at her to drive his point across. The others are out of sight, looking for supplies in some ruin or cellar. Gods, he misses the city.

Zélie is staring back at him, bristling, but lets him continue. She never interrupts any of them, not even him.

“I thought humans were all about developing and living fast, but you, my dear, are as ignorant as a babe. I am trying to make sure we keep our collective hides safe and do not get sidetracked by other pitiful creatures on our path.”

He realises just how close he is to her when she straightens up again and their noses almost touch.

Pale eyes go darker with a flash of anger.

There. Come at me. Prove me right.

“Spoken like a true man of the law, lord magistrate.”

Why the hells is her tone so collected when she has a literal vampire at her throat?!

“You seem forgetful, so I’ll remind you that it was my ignorance that stopped Shadowheart from connecting her mace with your head. And it was my stupidity that convinced her you could join us, and that we should give you a chance at trust.”

She makes no move to get closer, but he recoils as if scorched by fire.

“And it is the same trust I placed in you yesterday when I let you bite me, even though it’s not how I envisioned a night of rest to go. I trusted you to stop, I trusted you to keep your word and not leave me a corpse.”

There it is. Reminding him of what he owes her. Of his debts. They say the quiet ones are the most depraved, and she is the strong and silent type. But he is nothing if not an expert in the art of subservience at this point, and if it gets her to keep giving him blood and protection—

“I trust you.”

Then you’re doomed.

She says it as if it were a challenge. Her gaze is unwavering and he is left speechless yet again. Cazador would admire this quality of hers.

“I hope you can trust me in return.”

Impossible woman.

“Well, I suppose you’re not wholly incompetent,” he manages to croak out. His nonchalant mask is harder to slip on this time.

She huffs a breath of a laugh, a tiny thing, but it’s enough to transform her whole face. The weight she carries on her deceivingly flimsy shoulders seems to lift, leaving behind a young woman smiling softly at a…well, a monster. Talk about inexperience.

Happiness suits you, little leader.

The fact it’s his prattling that caused this marvel of a transformation stokes something in chest and in the pit of his stomach that he promptly pushes down.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Zélie says. She moves away and he is left staring at the crusty wall. Her body never touched his own during their exchange.

Wait. That’s wrong. He was meant to make her see the reason in his ways, not the other way around. So why is he at her heels like a lost puppy the minute she walks away?

(“You are nothing by yourself boy. You owe everything to me.”)

He is weak. So weak he has leashed himself to a human who can barely read common, fuck's sake.

His temper rises again once he catches up with Zélie. He doesn’t need her condescension, nor her chiding (she doesn’t even know his full story yet, nor she ever will unless absolutely necessary, so pity isn’t there yet). He’ll show the wretched woman how wrong she is.

Karlach and Lae’zel jog behind them as they reach a barn with a door locked shut. Zélie thinks nothing of it at first, but Astarion can smell what’s inside.

(His senses born anew from her blood.)

He smells the ogre and bugbear and their horrid affair before the rest of his companions hear the grunts and noises.

“Oh God, someone’s fighting!” exclaims Zélie.

Fighting, you say?

An idea strikes him.

See what your misplaced goodness gets you when you try to help an ogre.

“I don’t know soldier, they don’t sound like fight noises to me,” says Karlach leaning towards the barn, but even she seems unsure. Astarion’s talents may be limited to a specific area, but in this case it works in his favour. He is very familiar with what those sounds mean. The half-ogres that fucked him into the bed so hard he bled were not so different.

(He still remembers how much it hurt, how he was left in a puddle of mixed releases, sweat, and what little blood he had).

“Well, even if they are fighting, it is clearly not our problem. I say we leave them to it and focus on what’s really important,” he says, using his annoyance as a hook. Zélie may be the most restrained person he’s come across, but he knows how to read people, and he knows she will do the opposite of whatever he says when it concerns morals.

She falls for it. His smile is harder to suppress.

“Astarion! We’ve just talked about this!”

Her voice raises a bit, but it’s almost eclipsed by another loud grunt from inside the barn.

“So long as my blade can be sharpened on my enemies’ bones, I am ready.” Lae’zel is almost as ignorant as Zélie when it comes to their world, which is usually a hindrance, but now it’s the push their little leader needs to run to the rescue.

Zélie tries to open the barn door (after cutting another withering look at the vampire lazily strolling at her back), finding it jammed.

The crescendo of grunts and bangs coming from inside is extremely loud now.

Gods, they must be disgusting.

“Hello?! Help is on the way, hang on!” the little human shouts as she frantically tries to get the door unstuck.

“Oh hells, let me do it, darling, before we turn into tentacled freaks,” Astarion says in mock-annoyance. She eyes him suspiciously and he shoots her a winning smile. His nimble hands make quick work of the lock, and he pushes the door open.

He needs just a peek to know his assumption about what was happening in the barn is correct, and turns to face his now horror-stricken companion.

“Gods, they are disgusting,” he comments with his lips crooked in a satisfied smile.

Zélie scrambles to compose herself and turns her back from the scene (the prudish) as she fails to find words to explain herself. “I—I am, I apologise, we thought—”

Oh, she’s in a state. Her cheeks flush redder than rubies (he can practically hear her delicious blood pooling there), whilst the rest of her is paler than after Astarion’s feeding. She opens and shuts her eyes as if trying to physically erase what she just witnessed.

The bugbear slides his now soft cock out of the ogre, and looks at them in rage.

“W–what the hells are you doing?!”

Oh, Astarion is thrilled. He doesn’t remember when last had such fun. He hears Lae’zel’s tsk’ and Karlach’s gags behind him, and he closely watches Zélie fumbling as he didn’t think was possible.

“Apologies! I, you—you were making a lot of noise and I, we, thought you needed help,” she holds her hands in front of her in a peace offering. “I apologise for the intrusion! We’ll leave now—”

“Ruined! SMASH. I’ll smash you!”

Oh. Astarion didn’t expect that. He just wanted to show Zélie how ungrateful the world is to idiots like her, not have her turn into orc food.

Before he can think, he is tackling the woman to the ground, the orc’s club crashing a few spaces to his left. Karlach and Lae’zel’s throw themselves at the aggressor, and the fight starts in earnest. Astarion is more a stalker than a fighter, but he had his first fill of human blood only hours before, and his senses have never been that sharp, so he doesn’t miss the bugbear rushing towards their prone form.

Daggers at hand, he braces to parry the onslaught (this may hurt) when his worldview shifts, his back in on the ground, and chilly afternoon air replaces the heat of his leader on his chest.

What just happened?

He turns his head to see the bugbear crashing to the ground, Zélie crouched on one leg and tripping him with her other. “Go help the others! I’ve got this!” she shouts, as she wraps her limbs around the assailant in a tight bind. “Wait! It was an honest mistake—”

He doesn’t want to hear her voice now. Doesn’t want to think how the little moron literally threw him away from danger. Even worse, he will refute the idea he protected her from an angry orc till his last breath. He only got his body back recently. That’s it. He still is unsure of how to use it.

And she's dinner.

He doesn’t want to dwell on what happened, so he nods and throws himself at the female orc while she is distracted by his companions.

The fight doesn’t last too long after that, and something takes a hold of his insides when he looks at Zélie. She is silent, staring at the large corpse on the ground, bugbear knocked out at her feet.

“Darling?” He moves towards her and the sadness in her eyes almost makes him apologise. Gods, what has he done? He didn’t think this was going to happen. And why does he care?! This was his intent, this and seeing the real her behind the strong, polite facade.

“I just wanted to help.”

“I know, darling. I—”

See now, how impossible it is to keep your ideals in this world?

“You knew,” she says, and while he words his excuses (the only real one being he didn’t think they were going to be attacked) her shoulders drop and a defeated huff leaves her mouth. A far cry from her happy smile earlier.

Astarion can’t wrap his head around how he caused both reactions in such a short span of time. But this look on her, this, he knows. He has seen far worse in the eyes and screams of those fools he lured back to his master, once they had his way with him and realised a bit too late they were as trapped as he was.

He expects her to shout, to berate him, kick him, punch him, stab him, banish him—but none of that comes. Zélie studies him intently, and something in her demeanour lights up, an internal judgement made.

“I still trust you.”

No. No no no, he’s not going to let her fool him into believing this—no!

Her face is suddenly level with Astarion’s knees, the now-awake bugbear readying a strike.

Astarion doesn’t need to think—he falls forward and sinks his dagger into the wretch’s neck. Blood spurts out, but after tasting Zélie’s Astarion has no interest in it; mud compared to a clear sky.

“Soldier!” shouts Karlach, ever the helpful friend. Zélie pants as the dead attacker slides off of her, eye to eye with Astarion again. He can feel her light breath on his face. Karlach pulls her up; he is cleaning his dagger on the bugbear’s clothes when an outstretched hand enters his vision. Hers.

“Come on,” she says, tired but steady again. “Let’s get back to camp.”

Astarion flinches from the hand as if it were a trap (it is always a trap), but Zélie is new territory for him, that much he begrudgingly accepts. She is apparently above the rules of their miserable world because she chooses to trust him, a vampire, a lying one, again.

He takes her hand, bracing for what may come his way, but she just helps him up.

“Thank you, by the way. For saving my life before.”

It’s a trick. It’s a trick. Don’t fall for—

She wraps her hand around his so delicately he thinks he may break, and shakes it. His thoughts and words are silenced yet again.

“Thank you.”

Fuck.

#bg3 #astarion x oc #astarion x tav #oc: zélie #tav oc #astarion #astarion fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 fanfiction #human tav #I still feel bad for the orc and bugbear

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underfart-snas · 10 months

Text

i’m going to preface this by saying this will be hard to read. for those who have had to deal with a lot of familial trauma, csa, and various other things really. you’re being warned now.

it is not anything fun, light, or happy. i will not answer questions from anyone. i will not stop people from their comments or tags but i will not look at opinions or attempt to change them. good or bad, i’m too tired to change anyone’s minds or matters on the subject. while i am regretful and sorry for many things, i know this won’t change much.

i’m not looking for forgiveness. i'm looking for closure.

i will not argue on how i’m a good person, or how any behavior in the past was justifiable or right. it was wrong. i still fuck up to this day trying to be human. at this point, all i want is to speak up about what i had to go through and why things ended the way they did with hopefully a more clear sense of perspective as to why i made what i did. and then i would like to move on.

flowerfell ended in disaster from all sides. a story i, the friends i made along with it and worked deeply with during it all, held very dear for our own reasons. be it to express the hardship of survival, to cope with the progression of loss, or having hope in finding small things to live for and learning to find love in friendships, family or otherwise that we couldn’t have in life. it was a big story for everyone, and i understand not everyone got the message. people have not been kind. i’ve seen equal sides of good and bad come from it.

i won’t argue about the shipping aspects. people are right in believing i liked what i liked, and whether or not they hated that was up to them. i had my personal reasons and i never intended for it to be a malicious thing, but i understand people’s headstrong thoughts on the canons or otherwise. I didn't like to go out of my way to shove it in people's faces, which is why i scrapped later stories that were pressured to be frans related and instead made them into personal characters.

it’s fucked up seeing people get chased and hurt over fictional things. things that aren’t physically harming anyone, at least when they’re contained properly. things you shouldn’t be actively looking for if you don’t like it. things that people may actually be doing to cope with their own trauma. i watch so many people looking for hate, or reasons to be angry. i think that adds to much sadness overall. i can’t say much for those who don’t go about tagging things properly for those who don’t want to see things other than "please work on that."

when i played undertale, i lived vicariously through frisk as i played. they were quite frankly, a blank slate. i was able to self-insert in a way. due to story aspects, i felt the monsters were like... old old. like ancient beings that lived lives unfathomably long beyond the human lifespan. beyond the passage of time.

i fell in love with characters and aspects and ideas it gave. i fell in love with it’s world, the possibility of other worlds like it, and exciting wacky hijinks. i took interest in others making au's and thought about how i could make my own. what my own life lacked or couldn’t give me. the family and friends i found through it.

toby really kicked everyone’s ass with this one, and i hope he does it again and again. and i pray he continues to succeed. because he made something beautiful.

now for what i had to deal with, during the failed attempt of making my story…

i have had to process a lot of neglect from family and home in recent years. though i’m older now, it still hurts. things still linger and sting harder than they should. they say it gets better but it really sticks and comes back in many ways that make life so much harder than it should be. it’s only made harder when people want you to be better, but it takes time to get there. sometimes people can't be with each other because of it, which is something i've had to learn over and over again. it takes so much time and it takes it away from everything you hope can be good and great in your life.

growing up was a nightmare. i’ve had to grow up with abandonment from my mom. neglect from my dad. i've had to deal with them trying to reach back out and my feelings on whether or not it's deserved. or if i'm even ready to handle it yet. many times i'm not.

i’ve had to deal with surgery to fix my body from disgusting and life ending deformation as a toddler which still leaves scars on my body today. my family has told me i’m lucky to even be alive. sometimes i almost wish it took me, because the world is cruel. but at the same time, i want to live so, so badly.

i’ve had to deal with manipulation and rape from someone almost ten years older than me in household when i was just a child. from five to nine. threats of being compliant and not to speak up or else my life was in danger. being physically trapped for hours while my body was a tool. later this fell onto another child of a caretaker for my sister, which is the only reason i got away from it. so i never got the chance to speak up myself and that effects me to this day. i was told years later this same thing happened to my older, severely autistic sister prior. someone who literally cannot verbally communicate or function without help from another. my grandmother telling me she left before because my father didn’t believe her. this all meaning, this is something that could have never happened.

i've had to handle my grandmother’s physical and verbal abuse for the rest of the those years after she came back to take care of my sister. my sister didn't escape abuse either. i would be stuck listening to her convince me as i got older and barely making it out of school that wouldn’t ever survive on my own. that i would never make it. that i would never find love. that i’d be eating fucking “saltines and ketchup” on the streets. i’ve had to deal with eating disorder because of her and various other disgusting shit i don’t want to add that the fear had made me succumb to. i didn’t leave my room for days at a time unless i was forced to. i didn’t sleep properly, to the point of passing out for minutes at a time. anyone who used to come to streams would know, i used to fall asleep while drawing with my brother. in many ways, my grandmother has made me so functionally stagnant, which is so hard to combat now.

cutting out all the general silliness and nonsense i would make just to smile once in a while, my art and flowerfell was an escape for me. it was a way to express my pain and hope that there was some sort of out. that there were friends to be made and love to be had. family to be found. that if you’re strong enough maybe you can be redeemable and make it to the end. frisk was hope. sans was strength. and all of the friends they were supposed to make along the way were support.

but at the same time, i clearly wasn’t able to handle the scale of what it became. i wasn’t ready for the crowd, i wasn’t ready to make a coherent and straight story, and was too giving and lenient. i wasn't ready for the "godlihood" people were pressing on me when i was just a normal person. it made making real friends a hassle. i didn't know who was honest or using me. many people have used me.

i was scared after it fell apart and got toxic. that people can take and twist and hate no matter how hard you try. i didn’t understand a lot of things back then or how to defend myself. i didn't understand how to combat theft, i didn't understand fiction kin, i didn't understand self care or boundaries for others and myself. i didn't understand a lot of things. i try really hard to understand now.

for all intents and purposes, it was getting septic. i was getting septic at that time and for some time after. and because of that i lost not only my story, but my friends and my sanity. i wasn’t able to keep it together for them or myself. i was hurt and hurting others by proxy. and i am so sorry for it. all of it.

i was only saved by finally being taken away from home by someone who actually took a chance on me. someone who made time for me even when i was getting reclusive. someone who loves me through all of that even if i hurt them terribly in the process, and may even still in all the faults i'm working on. despite everything, they're still with me today.

to this day i find flowerfell hard to look at without feeling various stages of grief. i have many degrees of anger and sadness, at times hopeless acceptance. not necessarily towards anyone anymore, but that i was unable to finish it. or felt i was unable to. that i'm unable to surpass it. that i was so fearful of loss and parts of myself being taken away when i already felt i had so little. how it blinded me to what good i had at so many times. how it’s destroyed my ability to create and fall in love with characters i like or make, and their worlds. no matter how hard i try now. that it’s taken my ability to trust, communicate, and form steady relationships with people. how it effects even those who have stayed and try so hard. that it’s taken my ability to share and feel safe doing so. even with people i'm close with today.

even situations on how helpful it’s been for people over the years, and deeper connections to self or others they’ve found in the progression of time because of it. i’m not unhappy for those who have, i’m grateful that people have found their hearts in it. it was made with unfathomable love and there’s incredible pain on having given up continuing what could have been more. what else people could have connected with or felt. there was so much i didn’t get to share, and got too angry and scared to give.

i grew to believe people didn’t deserve it anymore because of what i and my friends at the time were going through. i no longer wanted to feel hurt. i no longer wanted my friends to be hurt. and i violently took it away into myself, which has hurt me even more over the years.

i want to believe people would have liked the ending, and anything that would come after that. it was going to have a good ending.

later i would find the fear of parts being taken would be connected to discovering plurality in myself, and recently finding out in therapy i’m probably not too separated from my sister in being on the spectrum, adding to all of that and more. i’d have to process that feelings became separated and another struggle to deal with. that i was dissociating from everything so hard these feelings are expressed as their own apart from me, but still with me. that this was my way of not being alone with what i had. it is not a kind thing. while they're like family to me, it is also a cage.

it would take me years to actually discover what this was properly, having to go through a whole ordeal of manipulation and problems from that alone. i would have to deal with them also being stolen and taken advantage of due to complacency and misunderstanding. which has made every bit of fear with what came before twice as difficult. however, i've also had good people along the way, and i hope they stay with me for a very long time.

because of this i’ve learned a lot about systems and kinships and reasons why these exist. how these things can make people feel at home. i have changed a lot of views on it and how these things help people, even if they’re strange at times… i’m not mad about it anymore. if it helps people it helps people. other people are trying to survive too. i just ask people be respectful about it.

i don’t hate fanart or others trying to make stories anymore. as someone who struggles now with even a fraction of creating any amount of work i used to, i’m more glad than not that it’s encouraging people to improve and move forward. but i won’t ever accept discredit because at the root it is mine still. i made this for myself before i made it for others. it will always be a part of me, even if painful now.

i’m just tired. i’m tired and i hope over time i’ll be able to rest.

sigh.

to kaze, your document is faithful and i won’t argue that any of it is wrong or malicious. there was a lot missing from that video that could and should have been added. it wasn't just about shipping, but a lot more. i hope people will leave you and others alone about flowerfell and ship nonsense at the end of the day. especially when your stories were wonderful and aren’t hurting anyone. while we’re not on good terms, i do wish them a very "fuck off and move on."

however, i will not accept the statement that you were helpful to my mental health, or to others involved to begin with. trying to be, maybe, but it faltered.

apart from encouraging anger towards the fanbase either on my or by your own hands, flipping the switch between telling me to keep going and giving up. you fully took advantage of the complacency i had to go through at home to survive and had to unlearn for many years prior. you weaponized your problems at home onto us. this compiled everything, probably for both of us. this would only continue on to my system in many ways.

you actively encouraged suicidal behavior within the group, provoking my brother into a pact at his lowest. you took advantage of me and my brother mentally and sexually. knowing full well of our issues and my own csa, you still crossed lines. doing or sharing things without warning or prior consent and conversation, at times even within public groups. fighting back or saying something about these things were difficult because everyone was sensitive at the time. even if things were jokes at times, it didn't always come across that way.

i watched blind fight so hard for you in many ways even when they were struggling so badly with their own physical health, even staying in the end. i don't know if they're doing well or are still there now which is another string of worries.

what hurt the most is that for years you blamed me for an attempt because i “didn’t love you enough to talk to you or be honest” and held it over my head instead of explaining until the very last second before i left that it was because of home. you continued to comment in ways up until that point, then deleting things as if i couldn’t see logs. every single day i thought you were going to just be gone in an instant without warning. that i and others would lose one of our best friends. i grew so afraid of talking to you because of this. i was scared to hurt people more in anger of that. it is still something that terrifies me to this day.

flowerfell wasn’t the break of our friendship, it was the inability to handle the weight of taking care of someone who was unwilling to work on themself on top of all of that, while being unable to take care of myself at the same time. not being enough. that nothing of what little i could give would ever fix what was happening, and that i was being used as an escape method. much like my brother was. we weren’t good for each other anymore. and while i wanted to keep holding on, many people told me i had to let go and they were right. i'm sorry that it wasn't completely by my own voice that i let go.

i don’t even hate you anymore, if i even ever really did to begin with. the most i get is mad and i may say the word "hate" in anger, and that is entirely my own fault for checking in once in a while to see if you’re still breathing or getting better. because i cared a long fucking time and i think parts of me still do. i can’t say there weren’t fond memories or good times and i still have gifts i won’t throw away. and i won’t discredit that i do see you trying really hard for yourself now, which is a hopeful feeling and all i and others ever wanted. even if we may never speak directly again, because i don’t think that would be good for either of us, i hope it keeps going well.

but i don’t think you have the right to say i’m a bad person as if you weren’t just as bad yourself. you effected me and others just as badly.

we don't have to forgive each other. but i do hope, after a long time, we can forgive ourselves.

just a last little edit:

before you start congratulating someone who added to the entire severity of literally everything, understand this:

we were not driven by her or her alone. this is not her fucking win. this is the result of friends and good people saying we should speak up and needed to be heard for years. this is because we have support we actually feel safe with and finally decided we're fucking tired. we didn’t speak simply because she put out some silly little document. she only added to the fucking misery that everyone else has brought on about this!

this is for ourselves!! thanks! and goodbye! - =D

#flowerfell #flowerfell au #frans #tw csa

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000yul · 4 months

Text

a friend asked for a quick and dirty TL of the new lunar new year official manhua oneshot (Let's Share a Meal Together) so i Tried★ it's a treat!! perfect for the new year

i forget how the siblings address each other in the official TL so i'm winging it here oops .: The movie has concluded, please leave in an orderly fashion. N: Ooh~ These two hours were well-spent. Even if they can't compare to me, this director's pretty promising. N: Hey! Watch where you're going! .: S-sorry…

N: Really now. … N: Feels like Lungmen's been more crowded than usual recently… N: Right! N: It's that time of year again.

(cover) Siblings though they may be, their tastes have nothing in common.

N: So… N: I'm thinking we should have a family dinner for New Year's Eve. CY: I don't know where you got this idea, CY: but that's fine by me.

CY: I don't think you'll find the others as easy to convince though. CY: Ling's such a free spirit you might find it hard to see her in time, let alone Dusk. CY: You don't get along with Dusk. Didn't you guys get into a fight over the bowl of noodles you cooked for her before? N: Bro, aren't you tired? (I know I am, just from watching…) CY: If you persevere every day, you wouldn't tire from something like this. CY: Nian, you should also exercise. Then in daily life, you'll… N: When it comes to martial arts, I'm pretty sure you have everyone in Great Yan beat. CY: Haha, you speak too highly. Even if that were true, if I let my guard down, in forty years there might be someone who can defeat me. N: It's just forty years. With a mortal lifespan, how many people are going to be able to match your years of practice?

CY: It's precisely because their lives are so short compared to ours CY: that the rate of their progress is beyond our imagination. CY: That's why I believe it's all the more important for us to spend time bettering ourselves. CY: Nian, if you feel like you have too much free time, how about I draw you up a training regimen… N: Wow, look at the time, I'm going to miss the next bus. N: I've rented a place in Lungmen, the address is as I said, don't be late, byee! CY: Sigh… This child is as impatient as ever…

Shangshu City N: Well, I've reached this pavilion… N: Why do all these peaks look the same… (bottle of booze) N: … N: She's not taking the bait, is she… N: (Last time Ling showed up for Second Brother's cup…) N: (I guess this doesn't compare…)

N: Open sesame, spin the bottle, whee! L: (I really don't want to show myself.) N: BOSS! GET OUT HERE, I WANT A REFUND! .: Ah…? N: YOU TOLD ME THIS WAS SO GOOD IT COULD TEMPT AN IMMORTAL TO DESCEND! N: THIS USELESS-ASS—

N: piece of… N: When did you get here? L: I've been sitting here for a while now. N: How did you know I'd be here today? L: It came to me in a dream, let's say. N: (here's a souvenir cup I got you.)

L: So what winds called you here from far away? L … I see, so you wanted to call us together for New Year's Eve dinner. L: I'm not against this on principle, but I'm afraid I can't make it that day. N: Why? L: A prior appointment.

L: Ten years ago I asked someone to brew some wine for me, and I'm due to pick it up this year, on the 30th. L: The flavour won't be right if I'm even a day early, L: and after the 30th, they're going to close for the New Year. L: It's true that this time is a big occasion for the people of Great Yan. It's a once-a-year occasion, after all. L: But that has nothing to do with us. L: Let's do it another day. N: You'll regret not having a taste of my homemade hotpot!! L: (Does she think that's a selling point…) L: It looks like little sister Dusk has a storm coming her way…

D: Who goes there? D: NIAN! IF YOU WANT TO DIE I CAN OBLIGE!!

D: You vandalised my art for THIS? N: Wow, the face you're making is ugly as hell. D: I'm not going. D: I can't believe you ever thought me saying yes was a possibility. N: You'll regret not having a taste of my homemade hotpot!! D: Do you think that's a selling point!? N: Oh, right! There's a hot new artist's exhibition in Lungmen. I went to see it and it's pretty good! Aren't you interested? D: If you like it, I definitely won't!

D: I have no interest in the artwork of others. D: Also, if you want a reunion so badly, D: one day we'll all reunite no matter how we feel about it. No? N: Again with that tired old crap.

N: One day, N: I'll make it so that you never say that again. D: Hmph. D: Get lost.

N: Oh man, in the end only you showed up. CY: Haha, well, I hope I suffice. CY: I sent word to the Sui Regulator. N: Ah! CY: I knew it'd slip your mind. N: Man! None of them can commit worth a damn!

N: Will there ever be a time where we can just go somewhere together for a day? N: Like normal people, N: Like a normal family.

L: Ahh~ L: Looks like I'm out of wine L: I should seek out more… D: What a pain. D: I should knock some sense into her.

CY: Nian, CY: Let's get a hotpot with a divider. For spicy and non-spicy. N: Were you even listening? N: No. N: Absolutely not. N: Nooooooooo.

N: Bro! I thought you could handle spice! CY: Alright, now that the shopping is wrapped up, let's head back. N: Why'd you insist on the split hotpot..! N: Brother!! CY: I just think being prepared is a good thing. (Also, I'm not as good with spice as you are.) CY: And, CY: It's not just humans who are capable of change. D: Open up, it's too cold out. D: Idiot. CY: See.

D: What? Your staring is making me lose my appetite. N: Hehe, N: Doesn't the real thing taste better than ink? D: Hmph. Whatever. N: Whoa, it started!

N: I was part of the prep for this year's fireworks show in Lungmen! N: Check out my Super Deluxe Two-Step Firecracker! D: So.. the reason you picked Lungmen was…? L: Alright, alright. L: Dusk, L: It's okay. Open your eyes and see.

N?: It's over. N: It'd be nice if more of us showed up next year. CY: Any more of us and the Sui Regulator is going to start raising a fuss. L: True~ D: I'll skip next time. N: We had such a nice mood going on, couldn't you guys at least try to not kill it? L: Yes, this is nice once in a while.

D: There's nothing special about playing house. CY: Even playing house is nice sometimes. CY: That's why we've gathered here today. CY: Happy new year. L: Happy new year~ N: Happy new year! D: … Happy new year.

N: Alright, we've mostly cleaned our plates and eaten and drunk our fill. N: That leaves one last question. N: Who's doing the dishes? N: Hey, now you're all quiet? N: Hey!!

#i love the sui siblings...#also my girl dusk got so many good faces #arknights #sorry in advance if there are any mistakes lol

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curatoroffiction · 4 months

Text

Overprotective Part 2

The first post of this story can be found here. The post this story was based off of can be found here.

Your words hit Lucifer like a truck. He grabs your arm, stopping you, and when you turn to yell at him, you pause when you see the visible fear and pain in his expression.

You two are soon joined by Mammon and Beelzebub standing in the doorway, having followed you in your frustration. The two arrive just in time to hear Lucifer ask you "What do you mean you hope you die?"

You didn't really mean it, you were just SO tired. So fucking tired. So done with having every little thing in your life softened and controlled.

Before you can answer, Mammon blurts out "WHAT D'YA MEAN YOU WANNA DIE!?" while Beelzebub quietly stares at you, trying to understand.

Mammon's outburst attracts everyone in the house. It's hard not to hear him.

Soon the brothers are all spilling out the door, and you think you can even see Belphegor somewhere hidden in the background.

You sigh. "… I can't keep doing this thing where you guys control every part of my life. I can barely deal with you controlling ANY part of my life." You shrug Lucifer's grip off your arm, and you finally begin to address the issue head-on.

You look to Levi; "I want to be able to watch sad movies and sad shows. I want to enjoy the angst. I want to be able to cry. It's good! It's healthy! What ISN'T healthy, is avoiding sad things all the time, like they're going to kill me!"

Levi cuts in; "But they COULD kill you!" before quickly getting quiet again, not meaning to talk over you.

You stare at him in frustration and confusion. "… What do you MEAN they can kill me?"

"Humans who watch more sad shows tend to live shorter lives.."

"…" It begins to click for you. But you also have to rectify this misinformation; "Levi, those statistics don't imply causality. If they're even real, they'd imply correlation. People who only watch sad things that are painful probably aren't living very happy lives to begin with. They're probably trying to cope through a tough reality, which would likely be the REAL cause of their shortened lifespan, in conjunction with a HUGE number of other factors."

"…"

"Watching sad shows is good, and can even help with test-running sad scenarios before they happen in a low-stakes environment, which is GOOD for emotional health and wellbeing."

"…"

"If all I ever do is watch sad shows, then yeah, maybe I need help. But that's not the same as watching a few in a rotation of other medias."

Leviathan looks rather embarrassed.

"And you!" You turn your attention towards Asmodeus. "Asmo, you can't keep trying to destress me all the time! Stop giving me creams and tinctures and your new balm of the week! I want to stay up! I want to live a little messy!"

"But those things are GOOD for you! I never push anything on you that I didn't already use myself!"

"That works FOR YOU - It's not going to work for everyone! It makes my stress WORSE when I have to adhere to your strict regimen! It's exhausting and frustrating, and it takes any joy I got out of sharing those bonding moments with you, and sucks the life out of it!"

Asmodeus realizes he never considered that you weren't enjoying being doted on. He LOVES being doted on, so he thought you would want the same thing. Looking at you now though, and realizing his behavior contributed to this stress and this problem that's coming to a head now, he feels… Not great.

As Asmodeus gets quiet, you look to Satan, who is surprised. "Satan, I get that you're worried about my health, but when you treat me like I'm not doing enough? It's so fucking insulting. Telling me to take care of my health like I'm not already doing that. Telling me the statistics of illnesses and injuries isn't useful, it's fear-mongering at best."

"I just thought that someone in this house should be wary of what can befall a human - You're all so delicate."

"But when you treat me like I'm paper, all I want to do is just tear myself apart! If I can't walk down a set of stairs without you telling me the statistics of stair-related injuries and trying to hold my hand, I'm never going to feel like I can live my life! Imagine if YOU had someone constantly walking through your room, telling you the statistics of book avalanche-related injuries, while touching all your stuff and changing everything so you can't live the way you want to!"

The contrast to his own life makes Satan double-take. He never realized he was being controlling and invasive, but your comparison brings light to how his behavior could damage your relationship. "… It would be rage-inducing."

"Exactly! And Belphegor!" Belphegor tries to hide himself, but the brothers part under your frustrated gaze, and you can see the sleep demon anxiously shifting under your scrutiny. "Belphegor, why are you avoiding me??"

"….." He's quiet, struggling to put words to everything. Beelzebub realizes his brother's been hurting, and he hasn't realized because he was so concerned with your wellbeing. Beelzebub gently rubs Belphegor's back, and Belphegor covers his face, looking away as he finally is able to get out the words; ".. I didn't want to hurt you."

His reasoning is different from everyone else's. It's reasonable in the fact that it's already happened.

Though, what DOES make it unreasonable, you have no problem telling him; "If you don't want to kill me, you're not going to! You don't kill people you don't want to! And besides, if it's a fear of accidentally hurting me, that's normal! People accidentally hurt the people they love all the time! People don't accidentally KILL the people they love all the time, and what you did to me when I first arrived in Devildom WASN'T AN ACCIDENT!"

Belphegor is silent, soaking in your explanation.

Your voice softens as you become a little less frustrated, being able to voice everything that's been bottled up inside; "SO- As long as you don't want to kill me, you're not going to. And if you accidentally hurt me? I'll heal. We'll work through it together-"

"What if I hurt you in a way you can't heal from? Demons are strong and- …" It chokes on the edge of his tongue, threatening to come out. He tries to hold it back, but he can't. "And.. I know better than anyone how easy it is to snap your neck. It was like a toothpick. Do you know how terrifying it is to realize that I have to control my strength to that level around you? All it takes is one playful shove, and you could end up in the hospital- Or worse. You're so much more delicate than you realize, and we have to be so much more careful than you realize."

It's here that a silence comes over everyone as you soak in his explanation. You never really realized how difficult it was for the demons to reign in their strength to keep you safe. You thought it was fairly breezy, since everyone else seemed so relaxed until recently.

It's your turn to feel sheepish.

".. I'm.. Sorry. I didn't know. But there has to be a middleground. You avoiding me makes me feel awful. I feel unloved and unwanted and ignored. I don't want to be safe at the cost of our relationship. And my safety shouldn't be an ultimatum."

"…." Belphegor's eyes are sad, and he's been trying to hold back the tears, but he can't. Beelzebub holds him and tries to comfort his brother.

The demon of gluttony realizes he too has been trying to control your life too, which has probably been causing you undue stress, which is probably why you ran out here in the first place. ".. I'm sorry for making your life more stressful, _. I want to keep you safe, but it's obvious that I should have talked with you about it."

The apologies start spilling as one by one, the brothers begin apologizing for controlling your life and making you feel ostracized.

Mammon doesn't apologize as he doesn't feel like he crossed any boundaries, and makes it known when Asmodeus elbows him. "Hey, I didn't cross any boundaries!"

"… I mean, trying to feed me shady vitamins out of a bag is hilarious, but also probably not exactly healthy."

"But I've been making you better food too! Packin' the nutrients in!"

"Is THAT why you learned to cook all these new dishes??"

"YEAH!"

"…" His kindness and effort were sweet, and the least invasive of the brothers' attempts to help you and prolong your life.

But those weren't the only things he was doing. "I need you to stop trying to give me protein shakes and vitamins and whatever 'health supplement' you find on the shelf. The health supplement market is really messed up. I've lowkey been avoiding most of what you give me, because there's no regulation in that market, and it actually COULD hurt me."

He's stunned. He figured some of his methods might've been a bit harmful, but he also figured he would get enough right that it would cancel all the bad stuff out.

You continue; "Can we all find a middleground? Why are you all so scared of me dying right now? Did something happen?"

Lucifer nods, having been listening; "I think a middle-ground would be better. If you're feeling stifled, that's not healthy either. And it's obvious we need to take better care of you-"

"Why do you NEED to take care of me?" You turn to Lucifer, exhaustively. It stops him in his tracks and he stares at you, confused.

"… Because you're precious to us."

"But I'm not helpless. Do you not trust me to reach out when things are getting difficult? I can advocate for myself, Lucifer! It's so demeaning when you treat me like you know better, and like I'm just some bumbling idiot who you have to keep from dying!"

The words cut deep. The last thing he ever wanted to do was to make you feel like he looked down on you. You are one of the most important people in his life, and he adores you. The fact that you haven't been able to see that causes Lucifer to become quiet as he reflects on his own behavior.

He should have reigned in his brothers. He should have given you space. He should have advocated more for giving you your own voice, not talking over you with what you should have been doing.

It all seems so clear and so obvious, but it took you speaking up for him to realize how much he's been ignoring your emotional needs in care of your physical health.

And with this whole meltdown, he's realizing that it was the breaking point.

"I too, am sorry, _. I never meant to make things more difficult for you. I love you dearly. I will be better, going forward."

You finally seem to relax as he apologizes.

But he continues; "Can we please talk about your mortality, though?"

Everyone can see it's not exactly a conversation you WANT to have. But you know it's one you need to have. ".. Okay."

Levi sputters out with his frustration first; "If you die, then I won't be able to share the rest of my life with you. There's so much that can happen when you're gone. I know you're not going to live long, and it scares me. I don't want to reach a day where I want to knock on your door to ask you to hang out, but I know you'll never answer." He's tearing up as he says this, his body physically shaking.

Asmodeus gently rests a hand on Leviathan's shoulder, looking to you, a sad expression on his face. ".. I think a lot of us share that sentiment. We want to get in as many good memories as we can, because you are such a precious, amazing, wonderful person. You are a once-in-eternity kind of person, and we will never be able to fill the hole you'll leave when you die. It's so hard to think of moving on when we've barely gotten to share a life with you."

Satan fidgets with his fingers against his leg, but he can't keep himself contained any longer, cutting in; "Solomon's here to stay forever, why can't you be too? We know it's possible. We know you could stay alive forever. The bastard says he doesn't remember what he did to curse himself with immortality, and every immortality curse I've found comes at a great cost…" He finally looks to you directly. "But all of that aside, it's hard to even broach the topic with you. Do you WANT to live forever? It would be selfish for us to ask you to carry the pain of watching every one of us die, just because we can't bear the sight of losing you. I can't bear the sight of losing you.. But it feels so selfish. And I don't want you to ever reach a point where that sorcerer is the only friend you still have left that hasn't died. …" His voice trails off in frustration, losing his train of thought to the idea of you living eternity alone with Solomon. You can see Satan's grappled with this issue for a while.

Belphegor picks up where Satan left off; "It's hard to imagine a world without you. You came into our lives, and it was like breathing for the first time in a long time. We love who we are because of you.. And I think we're all scared of who we'll become when you're gone. Losing you will be right up there with losing Lilith as the worst things we've ever experienced, and we won't have another you who can help us through it. We wouldn't WANT another you. …. But we simultaneously recognize that it's not your responsibility to help us through it."

Seeing his brothers going back and forth about their feelings, Mammon can't help but be grounded in the moment. ".. I think we wanna take responsibility for it now, because when you're gone, we're gonna hafta take responsibility for it anyways, yeah? …" He looks anywhere but directly at you. "…" His silence is hard as he chokes back the tears, trying not to fall apart in front of his brothers, but between Levi's crying and Asmo's sniffling and everyone else's pain, it's hard for Mammon to keep strong.

So Lucifer steps up to the plate. "We're sorry for pushing all of this on you, _. It shouldn't be your responsibility to help us through the pain and loss that hasn't even afflicted us yet. It's hard to talk about this without accidentally putting pressure on you to choose an eternity that could hurt you so much worse in the long run, just to keep our own heads on straight. Do you understand? We promise, it was never meant to make you feel belittled, we just.. We've never dealt with something like this before; A slow attrition of loss that we either have to accept, or find a way to fight.." He gently rubs your back, looking you in the eyes. ".. And we've never really been the kind of people to back down from a fight."

"…" It all makes sense. And hearing their hearts laid bear like this clutches at your heart. You never wanted them to feel like they couldn't come to you about this, but you understand how it got this bad. It would take facing all of their fears and letting you come to an answer at your own pace, without pressuring you. THAT'S why they tried to prolong your life without saying anything. THAT'S why they kept talking about your health. THAT'S why they kept trying to circumvent the issue.

You continue; ".. I appreciate the honesty, guys. I love you all too. I don't want to leave you guys all alone, but.. You're right. Immortality would be a huge decision. If it's even achievable. … And I understand why this all happened. I understand why you guys pushed the way you did. I think we should keep talking about this, but, taking it a little slower. That way, you guys aren't completely holding back the floodgates, but I also don't get overwhelmed. Whatever happened, whatever fate I choose for myself, I do want it to be my own decision. But I think I NEED to make that decision. I've put it off because I didn't really want to think about it, but.. I don't want to put it off until it's out of our hands."

Lucifer rubs into your back, listening. All the brothers listen.

"Until then, until I figure out if I want eternity or not, can we please go back to how things used to be? I'll do my best to take good care of myself, and advocate my needs, but I need you guys to trust me that I'm going to take care of myself and let me live a little, even if it's risky. I promise, I'm not going to be diving off the roof, but I want to be able to play games that make me sad, eat junk food that gives me pimples and might not be GREAT for my heart. I want to hang out with you guys, even if I could get hurt. I want to not be reminded of my mortality constantly, and be able to make my own choices about my own limits. I promise to be good to myself and reach out if I'm struggling, but you guys gotta promise to be willing to let me take more responsibility for my life again."

"You need some good things in your life though." Levi doesn't want his efforts to get lost in the shuffle.

"I'll make sure to set aside time to enjoy good shows with you that are happy and show how good life can be. Can you sit with me through the sad ones and help me pick up the pieces?"

Levi nods, wiping his eyes.

Asmodeus takes this chance to add; "You also need to be gentler with yourself. You can't be up at all hours of the night every night."

"I'll be good about my self-care, making sure I'm getting good sleep and relaxation. Can you love on me when I don't want to be presentable and good and I want to just throw caution to the wind sometimes when it comes to the littler self-care things? I don't want every minute I spend with you guys to be an exercise in avoiding death. I want to LIVE a little, which means we'll get messy and make some bad decisions sometimes."

"Of course. But only if you're not letting yourself fall to ruin. I don't want to watch you waste away.."

"I promise I'll reach out if I start to struggle, and I'll accept your help if that time comes."

"Thank you."

"And your health-" Satan adds, a little embarrassed, but not wanting it to go unaddressed. "You need to be wary of how dangerous this world is, and how fragile a human body is."

"I won't go throwing myself down the stairs or taking wildly unnecessary risks - So long as you let me take risks and get hurt sometimes. I'd rather you help me patch myself up after getting burned or cut than to live my life constantly cushioned." You look to him so earnestly that Satan is flustered, but he understands. Life without risk isn't exactly living.

"I think I can do that."

You look to Belphegor, who has been quiet this whole time. ".. And Belphegor, can you please be in my life again? I miss you."

"… What if I hurt you again?"

"We'll figure it out together."

"What if I can't control myself?"

"You have 6 brothers who will happily kick your entire ass if you go Human Murderer on me again. You should rely on your support system. Don't be afraid of fighting with me. We need to be able to have fights and disagree and have bad days sometimes. What matters is coming back together and making things right, and relying on our support systems so it doesn't get out of hand. Alright?"

Upon mention, his brothers quickly crowd him and hug him and hold him, reminding him that he's not alone in this. He's not alone in learning how to be better to you.

"…." Belphegor nods, tearing up again, soaking in everyone's love.

Mammon scratches his cheek as he looks to the side and adds "Since we're all talkin' about ways you can stay alive longer.. Can we come to you when we find stuff that could be an option? There's gotta be more options than forever immortality an' death, yeah? Witches stay alive for ages!"

"… Only if you don't pressure me to take it, and you let me be the ultimate decider, and you don't bombard me with stuff all the time. I don't want you coming at me with 'Prolong your life now' schemes every other day. I want to be able to live with you guys, and live the life I have, however long it's going to be. Alright?"

".. Alright." Mammon seems more comforted in the idea that he can keep looking for ways to give you more options.

Beelzebub slowly moves towards you, silently wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You hug him back. The brothers begin all coming close to hug you. Beelzebub apologizes once more; ".. We're sorry for stressing you out. Thank you for listening to us and our concerns. You're important to us. We love you."

Hugging as many of them back as you can as you're squeezed softly into the fold, you respond; "Thank you guys for talking to me about it instead of continuing to be weird and stand-offish. We'll figure it out as we go. In the meanwhile, let's make good memories."

The brothers begin heading inside, you following them.

Lucifer lags behind a little, tugging a trinket out of his pocket. It's a pendant which would keep you from aging which he picked up thinking you might like it - But considering the conversation and the boundaries you've just set, he thinks it would be best to just.. Be in the moment with you.

He stuffs it back into his pocket and comes to join the group in the house, and he opens the door just in time to hear Levi cry out "NO BUT THAT IS THE SADDEST ANIME EVER-" followed by your hallowed cackling of 'making up for lost time'. Lucifer smiles to himself.

However long they have with you, it's the greatest treasure of all.

#Angst #Angst fic #Angst with comfort #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Obey Me #Obey Me!#Obey Me SWD #Obey Me! SWD #MC's Mortality

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