#there's just many many many such cases so like

[maxlarens]

OP: JUST A GIRL! ⭐ part one

pairing(s): oscar piastri x mercedes driver!reader

summary: your ex-boyfriend is a misogynistic pain in your ass and oscar piastri is more than happy to help get him off your case. maybe a little too happy?

fc: milly alcock

a/n: ignore how many fucking typos ive made in this. i was obviously channeling very pissed off driver!reader and just smashing the keyboard without checking things lol

(yn’s messages)

[*a/n: not trying to imply anything here about any drivers personal opinions on women/feminism/etc. simply was restrained by the site i used for this and the repetition of going through every driver’s response. i have my personal issues with how the grid reacted to the christian horner situation which i am largely unimpressed with, but this is a silly little fic about fictionalised versions of real people. so sorry for the interruption and on with the fic!!!]

(yn’s messages)

@mercedesamg just posted…

tagged @lewishamilton @ynusername

liked by @ynusername @oscarpiastri and others

mercedesamg Y/N and Lewis finish in P5 and P7 at the Chinese Grand Prix

user1 he plays tennis, he doesn’t have the strength to drive an academy car. I DO. [❤️ by @mercedesamg, @lewishamilton]

user2 i’m getting that yn podium so soon i can taste it

⤷ user3 please she only went up one position from quali. you’ll be waiting a long time

⤷ user2 jealousy is a disease get better soon

— comments have been limited on this post —

🏎️ LIKE okay maybe i’m a little mad that the grid is full of men and they think they’re totally above supporting women in any real meaningful way. maybe this is my teeny way of making commentary on that. kind of. ANYWAY obviously i made a playlist >> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1sommcVSznRcikbvmoqYjB?si=oc3bLh8CQTGUjC4YFH_0XQ&pi=a-9pl8GZTVQg6h

#oscar piastri #f1 #formula 1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri social media au #oscar piastri smau #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x driver!reader #Spotify

[foone]

Do you think there's someone in starfleet who knows the statistics about how many people die in transporter accidents a year? Do you think they think about like we think about the number of people who die in car accidents a year?

Like, when they talk about it, do some people argue it's just the cost of transportation and we all implicitly accept the risk in exchange for convenience?

Are there non-profit organizations that work to lower the number of transporter accidents? With awareness and research and policy changes?

Do people argue about how people tend to irrationally think of transporters as dangerous, when if you look at the statistics, shuttles have an even higher chance of fatality? It's just a gut feeling people have, rather than an idea based in fact?

Do people argue that the fatality rate for shuttlecraft usage is misleading?

Lemme shift into my persona of a StarFleet officer:

See, we've become such a transporter-dependant society, that they're used in nearly all cases. The thing is, since transporters are just the default, then it means that shuttlecraft only get brought out in situations where transporters don't work.

And when do transporters not work? When there's some dangerous space shit going on in the area! Electromagnetic storms, subspace disruptions, some types of shields, active jamming, and more! And in most of those situations, that means it's also a dangerous place for a shuttlecraft to be!

It's just a situation where the shuttlecraft has a chance of getting through, while a transporter has none. So the shuttlecraft are more likely than transporters to suffer fatalities per kilometer traveled because they're mainly getting used in already dangerous situations.

If we used shuttlecraft for everything, not using transporters, this statistic would invert: the fatalities per kilometer would massively decrease, because the vast majority of the time, shuttlecraft would be traveling perfectly safely through normal conditions. Those normal condition flights (which we now replace with transporter use) would completely outnumber the relatively rare flights through dangerous conditions.

The raw statistics are misleading, you need to do a little more analysis to understand what they mean.

#Star Trek

[notherpuppet]

hazbin race talk (kinda uncomfy but said w/ love!)

When it comes to human iterations of the hazbin characters, my decision making when it comes to race is usually dependent on canon/semi-canon info and voice actors.

Many of the demons in the show can have pretty "race-blind" casting because their characters don't necessarily have racial ties to their background. There are some characters who do have clear ties to an ethnicity and/or viv has overtly stated so, such as Vaggie (Latina), Angel Dust (Italian), and Alastor (Creole). Some of these may no longer even be canon since the show started. As for their race, their skin tone is still pretty open interpretation for artists because canon reference just does not exist (yet? maybe ever?).

As for other characters, such as Husk, Niffty, Charlie, Sir Pentious, etc. I feel that those characters have a pretty ambiguous background, open to interpretation by artists who are depicting their human forms. I depict Husk as Black because I watch the American version where his voice actor is Black. I depict Niffty as Japanese (when I do draw her human form) because Niffty's voice actress is Japanese. The Hazbin pilot did not have the same voice actors as the ones for the show, and internationally, that's not the case either. And the voice actors are usually just one direction I might take, I don't hold myself to that option as a rule.

Like, idek if I would depict Sir Pentious as White because his voice actor is a White American, I may consider his British background and honestly the fact that he is dark demon into play. I think that's where "casting" the human forms can be very open to interpretation for certain characters.

I think something that is really cool about the show is that there are opportunities to cast a character as whomever. (I think of Little Mermaid 2023). There are times where a character's race is integral to their background, and other times where it is not so explicit. When it is not explicit, I think it's okay for an artist to interpret a different design. I don't think it should be assumed that it is erasure or tokenism (though I do empathize with that reaction as someone who craves certain representation).

I personally love seeing a diverse cast, so I like incorporating that in my design choices! But I don't think someone is 'wrong' for having a different interpretation of a character. It's okay to not like a direction someone may take, but I don't think that means they're wrong and if you don't like it, idk, you can always just close your eyes or scroll lol.

My two cents.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#tldr; not everything is black and white lol #nuance y'alllll <3

[catboybiologist]

So.

Re: tumblr bans of transfemmes.

Let's ignore PhotoMatt for a moment. Manbaby tech CEO doubling down on a stupid decision and making himself look like more of an ass doing so is not a new phenomena.

Tumblr has consistently said, in both public statements and leaked internal communication, that they're essentially running a skeleton crew.

They keep saying that they don't have the resources to moderate, manually review posts, have any kind of appeal process, or anything. So, as people have widely received communications about, they seemed to have automated a significant portion of the moderation to operate solely on the quantity of reports (probably with a basic filter, eg quantity of reports regarding a certain post, within a certain timeframe) to automatically ban or shadowban accounts.

And so, they wipe their hands, both to the users, the public, and their own consciousness, and go about their automated operations.

All of this is likely true. Tumblr, at this point, is essentially abandonware internally, a kind of weird vanity project/dumpster ground for server infrastructure for Automattic. Likely, they don't want the bad press of "shutting down" fully. Or maybe the trickle of revenue they get here just barely exceeds operating costs, so why not keep it around?

Whatever is the case, the bans are a result of an automated process working in the background. I'm giving them some benefit of the doubt here, of course, we can't know anything for certain- but it seems like the individual bans are not based on any specific, manual action.

And that doesn't fucking excuse anything.

Because at some point, multiple people sat down at tumblr, and decided how to cut costs.

And they decided that the bare minimum of report abuse prevention was one of the first things on the chopping block.

Before the boops. Before GUI reconfigures.

They decided to cut something that is necessary to manage online communities.

They decided to cut something that ensures any targeted group will have any kind of community online.

And then, after all of that, the only manual intervention is doubling down on the shitty decisions that the automated systems make, and plucking reasons out of their ass for why they were the right decisions all along.

It's pure silicon valley brain. Blame the computer often and always. Use it to shield the active decisions you made when designing the computer that way. Treat it as a fact of life as opposed to something they actively made decisions for.

Is tumblr staff hitting the banhammer on each transfemme one by one? No.

Is tumblr staff deliberately crafting a system that allows TERFs and other conservative bigots to get rid of the "undesirables" for them? Yup. But they sure as hell are trying to not say the quiet part out loud. If they can always point the finger somewhere else, to the advertisers, to the automated systems, to the TERFs, then they can always have juuusssttt enough plausible deniability.

But being the "queerest place on the internet" requires concious acknowledgement that queer people will be targets of harassment, and you will have to protect against that.

Side note, this is why I do try to keep my blog at least somewhat SFW. Its one of the main reasons why I choose not to reblog all of the posts I'm tagged in- if the post is overtly NSFW, I've probably seen it, appreciated it, and consciously decided my level of interaction with it mostly based on how "tumblr friendly" it is. Is that bowing down to them? A little. It's also my choice. I value the community I have here. The pushes that y'all have given me gave me the strength to transition, and honestly gives me a lot of motivation to research HRT biology as much as I can, among many other things.

Yeah, I post pictures that are clearly meant to be found attractive in ways that are generally not socially acceptable , but never actual NSFW. I would like to think that I'm pretty safe from bans, but hey. Who knows. I don't want to lose my follower base, and the community around it.

And yeah, I'm gonna annoyingly remind you of the other places to find me, make sure to check my pin. If you don't know where to go, just find me on reddit and go from there, I'll post about it if anything happens.

#I hope this rant is at least somewhat intelligible #im in lab late night and typing this out as fast as i can in between experiment steps #stay safe out there yall

[elliesmainhoe]

need ellie to take care of me drunk desperately

i love your writing 😭

Rescue Remedy

e.williams x fem!reader

summary: you call Ellie to come and rescue you from a bar after having a few too many drinks

warnings: alcohol, cigarettes, mentions of hangovers, slurred speech, drunk crying, fluff.

just realized this is basically a self insert vent post of a very similar situation I've been in LMAO

WC 1K

DAY 4 OF SAPPHIC SUMMER

you were relieved when the familiar beaten up Ford focus pulled up beside you. you'd been sitting on the curb for almost 15 minutes- tear stained cheeks, smudged glitter and mascara as your body shook and jittered from both the cold Seattle night and the mixture of cigarette smoke and alcohol causing the most humbling case of hiccups you think you've ever had.

"Ells!" you whined, a new flood of tears streaming from your eyes at the sight of your night in shining armour- your girlfriend.

"c'mon sweet girl" she huffed, hair thrown up messily in the usual half up, half down style, clad in red and black checkered pyjama pants, black hoodie that was splattered with paint topped off with the obnoxious lime green crocks you'd gotten her for her one Christmas, of course decked out in charms shed collected over the past few months.

before you could even process it you were sitting in the passenger seat, leather seats sticking to your sweat glazed skin, and sobs turning to hiccups.

this had been the worst night out you'd had since your 21st. and as soon as the car revved and moved down the road, Ellie's hand pressed firmly on your bare thigh, the fabric of your dress not long enough to cover the majority of your thigh.

"what happened sweet girl?" oh and by that one question, it's like Ellie had opened a flood gate.

firstly, you got to the club of choice after having to walk almost a mile from where your designated driver had parked, accompanied by a couple of friends. after queuing on the curb for almost thirty minutes, you reached the front of the queue and then promptly realized you had left you purse. with your id. in the car. a mile away.

so after you'd trekked all the way to the car, retrieving your purse and id, getting back to the club, queuing for another 30 minutes, on your own this time- as your friends who had not forgotten their id decided to go in and leave you to sort your shit out.

let's just say you were already a little pissed off.

secondly, you got in the club and it stunk. not just of sweat and booze, but piss. fucking piss. and to top that all off you couldn't find your friends so- you did what any other sane person would do and ordered shots.

shots that were actually doubles, but of course you hadnt realized that until way too late.

which leads into the final stage of the night, your head being deep in a grimy toilet bowl, knees bruised from having to kneel on tiles that were not grouted properly and pieces of them shot out and cut at your skin.

and by that point you had gotten out your phone, which was now on 7% charge because you had offers to use your GPS and it drained all your battery, and was a blubbering mess on call with your girlfriend.

you would later have to retell the story again, as apparently according to Ellie- she couldn't understand a word you were saying, just nodding along in a desperate attempt to keep you awake long enough to get a glass of water and a slice of toast down you.

it must have been during your tangent when you'd gotten home, as when you finally finished your incoherent mumbling you were sitting on the beat up leather couch of yours and Ellie's apartment, a couch you'd hated as soon as you moved in, but Ellie had a weird attachment to so it stayed in it's place, the first thing you saw when you entered the home.

Ellie was kneeling in front of you, sitting between your thighs and facing you, holding up a large glass of water,

"sip baby" she spoke softly, to which you groaned.

"do- do- I haveeeeeee to?" you whined, batting your eyelashes in an attempt to distract your girlfriend "jus' wan' sleep"

"you can sleep after you drink that." after another groan you took a sip of the glass of water- admittedly, it was refreshing, however you still gagged to prove a point.

"good girl" she purred, standing up and kissing your forehead, moving over to the cabinet to grab a packet of pills.

"fuck off"

she laughs, moving back with a small white pill in the palm of her hand, to which you begrudgingly take after Ellie promises to take you to get ice cream the day after.

you felt your eyelids droop once more, you couldn't tell if it was sleep, or just your false eyelashes becoming suddenly very heavy, you whine "'m tired ells..."

"alright I hear you, c'mon baby" she sighs, leaving a half eaten piece of toast on the coffee table, one arm supporting your back and the other under your knees as she made her way to your bedroom, plopping you on the mattress and you sigh, already drifting to sleep before you screech at the feeling of something wet in your face.

"hey- hey" Ellie laughs, "I'm just taking off your makeup baby, just taking off your makeup", she smiles, dragging a cotton pad across your skin, taking off the creams and powders you had applied previously, smudged mascara coming off with it.

Ellie was thankful you'd taken off your clothes as soon as you stepped foot into the apartment saying something which she thinks was "dresses like these are modern day torture devices"- but with the way you slur your words when drunk she could never be sure, leaving you just in your underwear, making her job a whole lot easier.

trying to maneuver you, who had now dropped on the mattress like a deadweight, would've been a too strenuous task for 3am.

after discarding the used wipes and pulling your hair back into a very messy ponytail, Ellie scooted in beside you, the mattress sinking as you unconsciously snuggle in closer, head nuzzling into the girls neck, her hand going around to caress your back, soothing you into an easy sleep.

the hangover tomorrow was going to be horrible.

••••••••••••••

The third time I've tried to write this, I almost gave up 🥰

#lesbian #ellie williams #the last of us #wlw #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x reader #lesbian fic #ellie williams headcanons #ellie x fem reader #the last of us fic #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie x reader #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #tlou fic #sapphic summer

[princesimonsblog]

I need to talk about Charles’s death scene because it's the most beautiful death scene and one of the most beautiful scenes in general that I've ever seen.

It starts with quick flashbacks of what happened previously, Charles defending that kid and then getting himself attacked by his friends because of that. We've already seen all that.

But then it switches to him, alone and shivering, in the attic. We know what is going to happen. We already know he is dying. The light is cold, just like he is.

Then, enters Edwin, holding a lantern, bathing the attic in a warm colour. And Charles can see him. We and Edwin know why, Charles doesn't, yet.

Edwin wanted to bring him the lantern in case it helped, but it's already too late, Charles is dying. So he stays. They talk, Edwin answers Charles's questions, all while Under the Milky Way plays in the background (and what a beautiful song). Charles learns that Edwin is dead and is a ghost and he looks sad for Edwin, but he asks more questions, until he can't anymore.

When Charles doesn't have much energy left, he's not shivering anymore, his body can't even do that anymore. He's too tired to talk. Edwin reads him a story, changing his voice according to the characters.

Charles looks out the window as Edwin's voice fade in the background.

Then, we see him standing near that window, in a tank top, no longer wearing that blanket. At first, we don't see Charles's body, giving us the time to understand what just happened. And then he turns and sees his own body. He just died.

And despite knowing that throughout the whole show, Charles is a ghost, seeing his memory of his death still hurts. It's unfair. He was killed by his friends because he chose to do the right thing. But it's also beautiful, because Edwin was there. Edwin made what would have been a cold and lonely death a warm and friendly one, despite the fact that they were just strangers back then.

Charles then choses to stay with Edwin, and it's the start of a beautiful friendship between the two, a much more beautiful existence then they both ever had when they were alive (or even in death in Edwin's case, when he was in Hell).

This scene never fells to make me cry. It's so sad and beautiful. It makes me feel so deeply for him, a beautiful soul whose life got cut short.

And another reason why I love this scene so much is because it's when Charles and Edwin first met. It's how and why they became friends. This scene wrecks me on so many levels and I'll never shut up about it.

#dead boy detectives #charles rowland #dead boy detectives spoilers #spoilers #edwin payne

[jenanigans1207]

“I don’t regret it, Dean.” Cas says quietly. “Telling you I love you was the best moment of my life.”

“Yeah? Well, it was the worst of mine!” Dean yells, throwing his arms out to the side. There’s a moment of stricken silence where Cas’s face falls and Dean realizes how his words came across. He rushes to elaborate. “Do you know how many years I wondered if angels could feel love? Romantic love? Do you know how long I hoped that they could— that you, specifically, could? And more than that, that you would feel it towards me? I wondered all the goddamn time, Cas. And then you— you finally—“ Dean swallows past a lump in his throat, letting his arms fall back to his sides. “You finally tell me not only that you can love, but you love me. Me. And in one second, ten years of my wildest dreams came true and then were ripped away.”

Dean looks down at his feet. Clenches his jaw against the feelings threatening to choke him. He tries to take a steadying breath in through his nose but it doesn’t help him feel any better.

“Dean—“

“I didn’t think I was ever gonna see you again.” Dean confesses to his boots. “I thought I’d have to live the rest of my miserable life knowing I could’ve had you and kicking myself for being such a dumb piece of shit.” He swallows again and looks up. “I thought you were going to spend eternity not knowing that I love you, too.”

“I didn’t mean— Dean, I didn’t—“ Cas shakes his head as words fail him.

“So yeah,” Dean shrugs a little helplessly, his voice still tight with emotion. “It was the worst moment of my life. Except for every moment that came after— because every single moment from your death until you came back was the worst moment of my life. Every moment without you is. And you coming back could’ve been the best moment of my life if you hadn’t been such an ass about everything.”

There was a time, once, in the distant past where Cas’s face never betrayed any emotion. Dean could’ve scrutinized every single molecule of his expression and he wouldn’t have been able to read a goddamn thing from it. That hasn’t been the case for a long time— Cas took to emotions and humanity better than Dean did, and it was the only thing Dean had ever known.

Now, Dean can read a multitude of emotions in Cas’s expression: disbelief in the slight part of his lips, hope in the blue of his eyes, shock in the rise of his eyebrows. He can practically read every thought going through Cas’s mind as he tries to process what’s happened.

And then, there it is: acceptance in the way the corner of Cas’s mouth ticks up.

“I had no idea.” Cas answers after a moment.

“‘Course you didn’t.” Dean replies, his own mouth mirroring the small smile. “You fucked off before I got a chance to say it back.”

“I just assumed—“

“You know what they say about assuming, Cas.”

“No, I don’t.” Cas is full on smiling now, warm and full of the love Dean had only ever seen hidden in shadows of his expressions. Now it’s practically splitting his face open, spilling out of Cas like he’s finally filled up with so much of it that it’s simply impossible to keep it all in. “And frankly, I don’t care. I only care about what you have to say.”

Dean huffs out a fond laugh as he shakes his head. “Finally gonna let me do the talking, huh?”

“I’m in the mood to do some listening,” Cas’s grin is dazzling and a little cheeky, Dean wants to memorize it immediately.

He takes a step closer to Cas. And then another. Cas simply watches him approach, making no attempt to back away. His personal space is inviting and Dean enjoys stepping directly into it with no hesitation.

“Well, I might be in the mood for something other than talking.” Dean whispers, less than a foot from Cas now.

“Oh?” Cas prompts, his hand reaching across the minuscule place between them to settle on Dean’s hip.

“Yeah,” Dean murmurs, leaning in. “But just to make sure you get it through your stubborn head: I love you, Cas. And I’ll fucking kill you if you ever do something like that again.”

Dean kisses him before Cas has a chance to reply.

#idk man #these idiots just won’t leave me alone #I never write fucking little ficlets and I’ve written like five for these assholes #they just make me so insane #I’m literally not in control anymore #ficlet #destiel #deancas #supernatural #spn

[justalildumpling]

the aftermath (of champagne & tequila)

synopsis: so maybe those few glasses of champagne and tequila wasn’t your smartest choice of beverages at your high school reunion. but how were you supposed to know that running into your childhood crushes absolutely wasted would have you dealing with the aftermath of making out with not one, but both within the same hour?

pairing: haechan x fem! reader & mark x fem! reader genre: love triangle, childhood crushes au, college au, fluff, humor word count: 7.4k warnings: swearing, making out, mentions of alcohol, vaping, weed, jokes about death and just a 'hol lot of y/n being a dumb drunk

note: there’s really no plot to this, just pure thirst and chaos but then again, isn’t that all my fics ever🙃 (and god forbid any of my irls see this bc they'll know exactly who everyone is based off of💀)

[ playlist: all my friends - snakehips / feels - calvin harris / pretty please - dua lip / one kiss - dua lipa / leave the door open - bruno mars / nasty - ariana grande / streets - doja cat ]

IN YOUR DEFENCE, you weren’t planning on getting this drunk. 

In fact, you remembered reassuring your group of friends about this the day before, emphasising your astounding hatred towards the very limited selection of the free alcoholic beverages available at the bar (namely, beer and wine). 

Further backing up your case, you had initially turned up to your high school reunion an hour late with the lazy excuse of your last-minute decisions towards your outfit that day – which, considering your turbulent meltdowns about having no clothes at two in the morning, was a complete fucking lie – only covering up your actual reasonings of not wanting to face your high school year group. 

You didn’t exactly have any particular reasons to avoid anyone – a matter of fact, you liked to think you got along with everyone back in the day, often bouncing around from friend group to friend group with shiny eyes, inviting smiles and friendly banter – but there was something about reuniting your cohort again after a year which felt awkward. 

There was no doubt that everyone would have changed in some way shape or form. 

Heck, you were a completely different person from when they last saw you in the body of that wide-eyed girl in the crisp white blouse with the conservative knee-length pleated skirt. Plus, judging by the daily scroll of your Instagram feed, many of your peers seemed to don an altered version of their high school selves as well – meaning you had to get to know everyone all over again. 

You vaguely remember turning up at the congested bar next to your high school building. The entrance was decorated with popped bottles of champagne with only a few clean empty glasses left on the display tray. The rest are in the hands of the various levels of tipsy college kids packed together like a can of sardines in front of the bar, eagerly milking out the bar tab set by the committee. Despite your school renting out the entirety of the second floor, it felt a little too tight, almost claustrophobic inside as you discreetly tried to scan the drunken crowd for your usual group of friends. However, your search didn’t last long, resulting in you eventually giving up after a few seconds, opting to ease the mild squeamishness with some liquid courage.

The cheap champagne burned the back of your throat as you settled on painfully chugging the glass in mere seconds, sticking out your tongue in disgust. Regardless of your initial reaction to the first taste, you began lining up for another glass, maybe in hopes of finding your intoxicated friends swimming in the chaos.

“Oh my god, Y/N! Is that you?” 

Your ears perked at the familial voice amid of the loud chatter, head whipping towards the warm beam of Huang Renjun – a longtime locker mate/bandmate during school. Crushing you into a tight hug, you momentarily thanked the higher power of the universe for sending at least an old buddy as your first very sober interaction. 

Though you and Renjun had never exclusively shared the same social circle, your friendship went way back. It started from being in the school’s so-called “rock” band together to trauma bonding over some unfortunate extension English classes in middle school to being neighbouring lockers for the entirety of high school. You recalled Renjun being a wholesome-looking guy, uniform always neatly tucked in, hair short and well kept, so when you spotted his long bleached hair and a silver ring hanging off the left corner of his lip as you pulled away from his grasp, surprise was an understatement of your reaction.

“You pierced your lip!” you exclaimed, turning your face to various angles around him to have a closer look.

A hearty laugh escaped his lips, throwing his head back as he playfully modelled his new accessory with a childish smile, “I did! Though I would be lying if I said I got this voluntarily.” 

You cocked your head at him as the two of you received your preferred beverage from the bar counter, gesturing for him to elaborate. Renjun paused, sipping on the overflowing bubbles of his beer before adding, “I lost a bet with Donghyuck.” 

Lee Donghyuck, a name you would say you were well acquainted with. He was a popular figure with the female community of your school for his visuals and many other talents, an eye-catching part of Renjun’s circle and your childhood friend. Well, sort of.

The two of you met in second grade, the joyful period of a child’s life where everyone was automatically considered friends if you shared a class or your mothers exchanged more than two sentences and invited you to their birthday parties. Also meant, playing with the designated child of your mother’s chosen friend of the day until their hour-long conversation was over. 

Considering the sheer amount of afternoons spent with Donghyuck throughout your elementary school days running around with his family puppy on the school grounds, you would think that would automatically deem the approval of the “childhood friend” title. But the two of you didn’t really talk outside of your forced interaction nor did you share the same lunchtime activities much to your pathetic heart’s dismay. 

It would be a lie if you said you weren’t charmed by the warm scruffiness of the little boy, oftentimes guilty of shamelessly boring holes into the back of his head during class and daydreaming about your futures together instead of listening to your homeroom teacher. You had a feeling your mum knew of your little infatuation towards the boy, often sending you a knowing gaze after your weekly runarounds with him and after the mention of his name in conversation prompting you to believe that her coincidental run-ins with Donghyuck’s mother weren’t so accidental afterall. 

Though growing out of your shorts and summer tunic dresses and into your somewhat maturer age of a teenager; the validation of the excuse of your mother’s budding friendship to catch him after school expired alongside the dissipating giddiness you had once held for him. Something you saw coming for a while as you found yourself seeing less of him around which came as no surprise as neither of you shared the same class nor the same friends as you naturally started gravitating to different parts of your enlarging year group. 

Finishing off the remainder of your flat champagne, you raised your eyebrows at the boy, “Donghyuck? Haven’t heard that name in a while, how is he?”

Renjun hummed, fingers drumming on the sides of his beer glass, “Why don’t you ask him? He’s here today,” he began standing on the tips of his battered converses, peering around the bar for the boy in question.

You shook your head with a chuckle, “Don’t worry about it. It’s going to be impossible to find him-”

On queue, Renjun hollered Donghyuck’s name at the back corner of the room, waving at a shadowed figure exaggeratedly. You weren’t even sure how he was able to spot him within the chaos so quickly when you were still left in search of your friends. But that wasn’t your biggest problem anymore as you recognised Donghyuck emerging from within the darkness, jokingly shoving past the large group of huddled and what you assumed to be intoxicated boys. 

He didn’t look too different from the last time you met, maybe a few centimetres taller, skin sun-kissed from the recent summer weather but holy shit, was he still as hot as ever. If not more.

“Damn Y/N, is that you?” 

You were too sober for this. Sure, you had started to feel the buzz peppering various parts of your face; but your emotions, the logical voice in your brain remained intact, with it blaring “DON’T FUCK UP!” in bold capital letters the closer he got. 

Shoving your jitters further down your lame excuse of a brain, a playful smile was forced upon your lips, “The one and only.” 

Donghyuck grinned, lightly pulling you into a welcoming embrace, catching you off guard, “It’s good to see you again.”

You could tell the alcohol had already hit his systems judging by the uncharacteristically physical greeting and eyes lazily half-lidded as he pulled away from your grasp. “Looks like someone’s had a bit to drink tonight?” you teased, eyeing the lingering closeness between the two of you.

Donghyuck chuckled, softly shaking his head, “I haven’t had too much, maybe a couple of glasses of champagne at school and a few beers here. What about you?”

“Only two glasses of whatever they’re serving at the bar,” you shuddered at the thought, placing your empty glasses down on the side of the countertop. 

“So what I’m hearing is that you haven’t had enough yet,” Donghyuck sent a cheeky wink your way, completely forgetting about poor Renjun’s presence in the conversation as he lightly tugged at your sleeves back in front of the bar, ordering your preferred drinks with the bartender. Clinking your topped-up glasses with the boy, you wondered if making conversations with the boy was this easy before. It wasn’t like he was antisocial or judgemental during your high school years, maybe a little arrogant at times which initially caused your group of friends to have a slight dislike towards the boy.

“Y/N no,” you remembered your best friend Ningning immediately shutting down your thoughts followed by the excessive nods of your friends. 

The five of you sat on the floor in front of your lockers, the smell of the freshly made fries Minjeong had bought from the deli next door wafting down the corridor as you had your heated discussion for the day. How you ended up on the topic of your resurfacing feelings for Lee Donghyuck was a whole other question of its own. (Ah, you remembered. Minjeong tripped down the stairs as you and Donghyuck exchanged smiles and pleasantries, whilst she panicked about her one fry which flew out of the cardboard box, all you could think about was him)

Ningning scrunched her eyes, lips formed into a sour expression, “He’s just so…” 

“Egotistical?” Shuhua offered.

“Short?” Yunjin added, throwing a handful of fries in her mouth.

“Both,” Ningning affirmed. She patted your lap, a thin smile drawn on her face, “You’re too good for him Y/N.”

It was safe to say that the droplet of leaking feelings had shrivelled back up into your heart that day, both due to your friend’s confronting opinions towards the boy and the unapproachable aura he exuded. (Ok, maybe you admired his golden face from across the room from time to time but who could blame you? It wasn’t your fault his stupidly good looks started appearing at every extracurricular activity you signed up for that term) 

A full glass’ worth of conversation passed at this point, and the both of you head deep into your storytelling of your crazy nights out. Bursts of booming laughter thundered as he described canon bombing into his university’s questionable lake and audible gasps sounded as you described your New Year's celebrations earlier that year. Maybe you were wrong about your skepticisms towards the boy during your schooling years, blaming your tendency to catastrophize any minor inconvenience to blow his inherent “unattainableness” out of proportion.

Pulling your phone out of your handbag to check the time, you were greeted with several missed calls and spammed messages from your friends, slapping you back to your original goal in mind. 

“Everything alright?” Donghyuck’s face appeared beside your phone screen, eyes concentrated on your sudden change of expression.

“Uh-” you began typing your response to your group chat, reassuring them of your whereabouts in the heavily packed venue, ”-yeah. Yeah, sorry,” you clicked your phone shut, stuffing it back into your purse before facing him again, “Just reassuring a panicked group chat.”

He laughed, dipping his head in understanding, “I’m guessing I’ll have to let you go?”

You shrugged, offering him a small pout, “Unfortunately but hey, take a shot with me later?”

A soft smile littered Donghyuck’s face, hands squeezing the tops of your shoulders.

“Bet, I’ll come find you.”

NOTE TO SELF: Don’t go into the female restrooms during a big event in a relatively logical state of mind.

The girls' restrooms were a lively place for the residents of your school, always scented with the popular fumes of grape ice and strawberry watermelon vape, the tile floors littered with abandoned pairs of laddered stockings in the winter and forgotten multicoloured hydro-flasks perched on the benches. With quite the vaping addiction of your school, it was always a fun game of guess who when you took the trip to the restrooms during class, which clique was occupying the stalls together, which flavour they were attempting that day or what piece of drama you were going to be handed. 

You realised that not much had changed when you found your friends huddling with quite the assortment of other girls in your year group in the bar restroom. The air was concocted with the nostalgic smell of blue raspberry vape and Maison Margiela, accompanied by loud loving gossip in the unoccupied stalls and the occasional drunken mirror selfies in front of the basin.

“Oh my gosh Y/N! You’re alive!” Ningning screeched, glomping you into a tight hug, “I was about to get up on the tables to find you out there.”

“Sorry, I missed your calls,” you wheezed as Minjeong came over to peel the girl off of your body, “I didn’t realise my phone was on silent.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Shuhua slurred attaching herself to Minjeong’s side, “You must’ve been bouncing around like you usually do, judging by how long it took you to find us.”

“Yeah,” – if bouncing around meant from one drink to another with the same person – “You could say that.”

“Yunjin said hi by the way,” Minjeong interrupted, pulling up a photo of your absent friend striking a cute pose in front of a sushi train in Hawaii, “She said to drink on her behalf, which I don’t think is the best idea.”

“That girl’s probably drunk right now,” Ningning snickered, turning to face the large mirror to reapply her lip gloss, “But I’ll take any excuse to drink more.”

Minjeong raised an eyebrow at the girl, “Didn’t you say that you were saving your liver for next weekend?” 

Ningning merely shrugged, waving her off before grabbing ahold of your hand with an animated wiggle, squabbling about something along the lines of you looking too sober. You ran into many old faces on the short journey to the bar front, hearty laughter and juicy gossip unconsciously spilled and overheard from the neighbouring conversations (Though whether it was true or not, you weren’t sure, but considering the topics of accidental pregnancies and very messy breakups – maybe it would be best to wish for the latter)

You were on your fourth glass of champagne at this point, something you couldn’t understand as every sip you took attempted to change your mind; it really just tasted the same – like fucking ass. The state of yourself on the other hand arguably has made some progress, to your best friend’s delight. You had joined in on Ningning’s nonsensical babbling a half glass ago, nodding along to whatever came out of her mouth with a small giggle tickling up your throat. She leaned into your ear, slurring some muddled sentence that was drowned out by the screaming lyrics of ABBA. A nod came as a reflex for you, a dazed smile tugging at your lips.

She gave you a little squeeze on your shoulders, shuffling past a sea of people and to the other end of the room. The world seemed to move faster than what your brain could handle at that given moment, only registering the disappearance of your friend as well as the foreign group of kids gathered around you a few minutes later. 

There you were, at square one once again, like a clueless fish stuck between the school of other wandering creatures. Except, replace the ocean with flat champagne and cheap house beer.

With an exasperated sigh, you took a step back from the chattering circle, but what you thought was an empty space was in fact a person. A person with a full glass of beer – well, half full after you knocked into it.

“Shit- Fuck- I’m so sorry, is your drink o…kay?” Your words trailed off as you came face to face with your ex-best friend Mark Lee.

Ah yes. Mark Lee and Y/N L/N, quite the known duo during your middle school days. Inseparable, protective and unanimously voted as most probably secretly dating or housing feelings for each other – which to be fair, wasn’t exactly false. 

Your rather complicated feelings for the boy began in fifth grade when the boy slipped you a silly doodle of a duck in a top hat during math class. The two of you were seated a table apart from each other with your respective seatmates so you weren’t too sure of why he specifically chose you to gift his work of art but regardless, you giggled, pencilling in the words “Taffy the Duck” on the top of the page to pass back to him. Your little note passings continued throughout the rest of elementary school, leading to middle school where in your despair realised that you shared zero classes with the boy. Despite this, your friendship stood as strong as ever, hanging out during lunchtimes and visiting the local 7/11 after school until well – it wasn’t.

There was no pivotal moment when you stopped being as close as you were; in fact, it was a question that remained frustratingly unanswered throughout the years. It wasn’t like the two of you ever argued or had a major fallout – which could’ve given you a proper reason to either make up or talk to him again – but rather be described as a painstakingly slow drift, enough to the point where it was unnoticeable. Maybe it started with the branching of different friend groups then led to your attention on your respective crushes at the time – which now that you recollected on your past, think that your hidden feelings for each other at the time were the only thing holding you together.

Sure, you had attempted to revive your friendship at times, starting with the ever-so-awkward first hellos in the stairwell to a couple of sentences exchanged before classes started in your final year, but all efforts seem to have unravelled as you graduated from school and went on your separate ways, until today.

“Oh hey, Y/N?” 

You handed him a napkin from the bar, “Mark.” 

Shaking the excess residue off of his hand, he mumbled a quiet thanks as he took the napkin from you. You wanted to die, really. As a matter of fact, you were convinced that it would be a much more pleasant experience than silently standing like some dumb wooden doll in front of your ex-best friend, as he cleaned up after your mess. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “It’s been a while huh?”

You gulped down the last sip of your drink, feeling the burn of the champagne trickling down your oesophagus, “Yeah, I mean the last time we talked was, one and half years ago?” – Technically, it was his birthday a little less than a year ago when the two of you last exchanged messages. It entailed your short greeting of “happy b’day mark!” and the equally blunt response of “haha thanks y/n”. However according to the Cambridge dictionary, a conversation is defined as a discussion about a particular subject and well, nothing was discussed.

“Well, how have you been? Your brother doing well?” Mark passed his fingers through his dark locks, turning his full attention to you.

You were surprised he remembered your brother, with him starting school not long before you guys stopped being friends, “He’s doing well, grown up a lot since you last saw him,” you snorted, remembering his little presence trailing behind the two of you after school, begging for you to buy him Mcdonald's fries, “How about you? You attend NCIT right?”

“Yep, studying Business,” he rolled his eyes, “Quite the regretful choice. How about you?”

“Communications at Yonsei,” you responded, “Though, I did originally transfer from Business, due to as you said. Quite the experience.”

Mark chuckled knowingly, raising his glass to take a sip of his remaining drink, “It suits you. Communications that is.”

“What? Because I’m loud?” you joked.

He shook his head, “You always had great ideas, people always looked to you for advice.” 

A warm smile made its way onto your face. It was a reassuring phrase to hear, short but impactful nonetheless. Especially as you struggled to figure out your path after school, switching from one faculty to another in hopes of finding the one that didn’t make you want to throw yourself off a cliff side. Communications was a spontaneous jump but it was the only choice that made you confident in your abilities so hearing this sort of external validation felt nice, especially from him.

Mark returned the gesture, eyes crinkling into the tender crescent shape. Despite the maturing of his facial structure, he still housed the same childlike smile. The one which stretched to the outskirts of his cheeks, softening his overall cold exterior. The one that made you fall for him in the first place. 

“How come I didn’t catch you at school earlier?”

You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, “O-Oh, I turned up pretty late so I missed out on the terrace drinks.” 

“That makes more sense,” Mark hummed in affirmation, eyeing you up and down, “I feel like I definitely would’ve noticed you if you were there.”

What. 

“Tequila shot?” he offered.

You bat an eye, “Uh, sure.”

YOU SEE, you were an affectionate drunk – most often seen clinging onto your friends’ bodies for dear life or littering kisses on their cheeks towards the peak of your night outs. You concluded your drastic personality change was due to the massive confidence boost and the silencing of the practical parts of your brain, meaning that your already concerning amount of extrovertedness maxed the scale.

Before that evening, this quirky little trait of yours never caused you harm, only resulting in the multitude of ‘friends’ being made in the club’s restroom line or several new followers on Instagram the morning after – half of which you barely remember the existence of. 

It was barely eleven when Donghyuck snatched you away from your friends, keeping what you thought to be an empty promise of taking a shot with you. Although you were the one originally suggesting your actions, you won’t lie that you held low expectations for him to follow through – most definitely considering his current state of mind.

Clinking your shot glasses together, you downed the liquor in mere seconds, followed by the soothing taste of the lime, melting away the burn that chased up your throat. An electrified laugh sounded from your left as the familial chords of Bruno Mars blasted through the speakers. Donghyuck held no hesitation to grab your hands, dragging you to the front of the speakers as he playfully serenaded you throughout the way.

You could only shyly giggle as he twirled you around the circling crowd, blatantly avoiding his grand gestures for you to sing along. But your resistance didn’t last long as the chorus hit, finding yourself swaying to the beat of the music, accepting the enclosing distance between your bodies. You peered up to meet his eyes, still filled with the childlike wonder and life from the early days of your friendship to the sharp slope of his nose to his scattered moles down to his supple lips.

“You know Hyuck, you’re really hot.”

A satisfied grin laced Donghyuck’s lips, “Am I now?”

“Can I kiss you?”

You weren’t exactly sure what initially prompted you to blurt your relatively forward words to the unsuspecting boy. Maybe it was the lingering fresh taste of the lime on your tongue. Maybe it was the way he swiped his tongue against his bottom lip to soak up any last droplets of the liquor or simply because you just wanted to. Either way, what you didn’t expect was for a smirk to tug against Donghyuck’s lips, stepping closer to your body, eyes flickering to your lips as a finger grazed the underside of your chin. He momentarily wavered a couple centimetres away from your lips, warm breath fanning against your face before his lips met yours. 

The once horridly ear-deafening music of the room with the bubbling chatters of your cohort seemed to fade into the background as the ghost of Donghyuck’s hands skimmed the bare parts of your waist. His tousled curls tickled the sides of your cheeks as he nipped at your jawline, pinning your body firmer against the wall. 

“God forbid if our mothers saw us right now,” you let out a slight gasp as he kissed the sensitive part of your neck.

“Well, good thing our mothers aren’t here to see us, right?” a low chuckle rumbled from his throat before reconnecting your lips again, his tongue fighting for its place in your mouth. Your fingers gripped at the back of his head, tugging at the strands to elicit a staggered moan from the boy, filling your chest with a weird sense of pride and definitely not helping your already inflated ego.

You could conclude you had certainly passed your tipsy stage, with the last shot of tequila seeping into your system and pushing your brain’s irrationality almost a bit too far. You remembered once hearing your tenth-grade biology teacher talk about the effects of alcohol on the human body and how it altered your brain’s chemical composition. Specifically, how it lowered an individual’s inhibitions and social rationalisation.

And considering your ongoing messy but undeniably hot lip-locking with Lee Donghyuck, you began regretting zoning off in the latter part of that science lesson (not really. You did manage to beat your personal record in 2048) where she had subsequently explained how to piece together the drunken jumble in your brain as the following few words which tumbled out of your mouth, you would inevitably regret.

“Wait, I need to pee.”

YOU HAD TO ADMIT. It was quite scary the amount of things you managed to figure out about yourself whilst severely intoxicated.

One, you really couldn’t hold your bladder. Evident by the frequent trips to the restroom every thirty minutes or the number of times you had bumped into the same group of girls gathered outside the basins, offering you a hit of their neon-coloured vape and a piece of their drunken secrets. 

Two, realising the sheer amount of time and money wasted spent trying to figure yourself out during your high school years as the one night of limitless alcoholic beverages seemed to be a confronting personality test in itself. 

Three, the emotions you spent years persuading to simmer down in your heart were capable of rapidly firing out in mere seconds alongside the memory bank of shitty pick-up lines and your apparent drunken rizz that went through the roof.

Four, maybe your best friend’s words of you supposedly being in your “hoe phase” were really true because at that moment, you really, really wanted to kiss someone – more specifically, Mark Lee.

It wasn't exactly the best course of action, considering your heated make-out session with Donghyuck not too long before – which you left halfway through, might you add. But wise decisions weren’t things you were great at making. Especially a few too many glasses of champagne and spirits deep.

According to your very skewed sense of time, it was around midnight when you stumbled into Mark once again, this time hidden within the shadows behind a pillar in the corner with another drink in his hand. Not many people lingered around this part of the room. You guessed it was due to the immobile bodies sprawled across the dingy carpet a few metres in front and a frustrating lack of both music and alcohol. With a light trip in your step, you made your way towards the boy.

“Oh my gosh Mark! What are you doing here?” 

A concerned grimace appeared upon Mark’s lips, prompting him to place his drink on the carpeted floor to steady your rocking body. The room had begun spinning at this point in time, with Mark’s face distorting ever so slightly to your hilarity.

A giggle bubbled up your throat, followed by your hands which gravitated towards the poor boy’s face, poking various parts of his features in such fascination. Mark could only sigh, registering his sheer lack of control in the situation, as he sat you on the plastic chair. 

A wave of peace washed over your bodies for a few minutes, with Mark quietly sipping on the remainder of his drink whilst you traced your fingers across his jawline. Though much to his despair, the calm before the storm barely lasted three minutes as your loud ass mouth began itching to dominate your brain.

“Mark, has anyone ever told you how fucking hilarious you are?” 

Mark deadpanned, crossing his arms over his chest, “I haven’t said anything.” 

“SEE?!” You bounced out of your seat, “A fucking knee slapper that one!” 

Another sigh escaped his lips, getting ahold of your shoulders again to place you back down, “Y/N, how did you manage to even get like this?”

“You know Donghae? Haechang? Whatever his name is-”

“Donghyuck.” Mark corrected, eyebrows furrowing at the mention of his name, “What did that overgrown cabbage patch kid do to you?” 

“Relax, he just bought me a shot…” You drew out your words before pouting, “Or two, and maybe a couple drinks before that.”

Mark shook his head, patting your head, “I’m gonna get you some water.”

“Nooo! Don’t go, you’re so sexy!” You latched yourself onto his waist, fingers twisting around the belt loops of his jeans. 

You could feel him visibly freeze on the spot, occasionally twitching nervously the closer your hands lingered to his crotch. You staggered up from your seat again, hands grazing his torso to wrap around his neck. Despite only a part of his face being illuminated by the light behind the pillar, it was enough to make out his parted lips and widened eyes.

Just like Hyuck, you realised how much Mark had grown into his mature face over the years. His cheekbones were more prominent, and his hair styled with the hard gel he refused to use in middle school. You reached to pass a stray strand across his forehead, though your eyes never left his and your lips inching closer towards his.

“You’re drunk, Y/N.”

You shrugged, eyes flickering down to his lips, “I wasn’t drunk when I wanted to kiss you.”

“And when was that?”

“Middle school, high school,” You paused, pondering for a second, “After graduation.”

A moment of shock flashed across the boy’s face, lips partly ajar and what seemed like a rollercoaster of emotions tumbling within his eyes. You had always questioned what his response would’ve been to a potential confession back in the day; maybe he would’ve reciprocated your drawn-out feelings and lived as a happy couple to this day, or if you wanted to be pessimistic, suffered the horrors of a toxic middle school relationship and be forever traumatised by love for the rest of your life; or maybe he would’ve rejected your feelings and just remained as an awkward pair of “besties”. 

There was a little voice shrieking from the depths of your brain to shut the fuck up, most probably belonging to your sober self trying to save your face. However, it seemed as though the mystery to your decades-long question would be answered that night as Mark chuckled, clearing his throat.

"Middle school me would've gone crazy hearing this." 

You knew you were definitely wasted at that moment, his words of reciprocation to your elementary school feelings flying over your head and rather hyperfocused on the warmth of his embrace and the subtle gulp of nervousness he took.

"What about present-day Mark?” You murmured, your breath hitting his lips, “Is this making him crazy too?"

"Absolutely insane."

You were reminded of your friends’ comments on your drunken rizz, with apparently any form of embarrassment and dignity thrown into the gutter to crash and burn. With the amount of unknown dms you had woken up to the morning after drinking, you’d think you would’ve learnt your lesson by now – but your drunken alter ego was a stubborn bitch. 

A bitch who definitely needed some kind of therapy.

As Mark smashed his lips onto yours, it was then you were hit by your mother’s words about drinking responsibly. Obviously, to avoid alcohol poisoning, potentially blacking out and passing out on the side of the road, but most importantly, to avoid involving yourself in sticky situations in which your sober self had to deal with the aftermath.

But how were you supposed to anticipate that the aftermath of a fuckload of champagne and tequila shots was going to have you hooking up with your childhood crushes at your school reunion?

Oh, and blackout whilst you were at it.

YOU WEREN’T GOING TO LIE, waking up in the comfort of your sheets came as a surprise for your tired self. 

You were quite proud of yourself for making it back in one piece, or even back at home at all and not passing out on the side of the road somewhere, considering the rather large gap in your memory and the fact that you were most definitely still drunk when you woke up. 

There was a slight wobble in your step as you made your way over to the kitchen, head pounding and face still numb as you took the first miraculous sip of water. Your phone screen lit up with a bomb of message notifications and Instagram tags from last night, in which you nervously opened your active group chat.

[ yunjin ] did i miss anything?

[ shuhua ] i shit talked about ppl with aeri and somi whilst high

[ ningning ] yk i don’t think i recall parts of last night

[ you ] i mean,, understandable. u were pretty fucked

[ minjeong ] y/n wrestling tongues with donghyuck was the most unexpected for me

[ shuhua ] you what😭

[ you ] we are not mentioning that…

[ ningning ] wait i swear it was mark, was it not?

[ yunjin ] lol plot twist: it was both

[ you ] …

[ minjeong ] YOU MADE OUT WITH BOTH OF THEM!??!?!?!

You chose to shut off your phone at that moment, predicting the bloodbath of capitalised screams and spammed Facetime calls from the group. Which, in all honesty, you severely lacked the willpower to deal with.

A soft shuffle of slippers sounded at the kitchen entrance, and you turned to face your mother. Still in her pink fluffy pyjamas, drowsily waved as she made her way to the fridge, delicately opening the door to grab the milk. 

“How was last night?” she asked, making her way to the milk frother.

You hummed, walking to the coffee machine with a mug in hand. “It was…”

An absolute clusterfuck of chaos – would be the correct answer. But telling your mother you had drunkenly made out with the sweet little son of her old friend and the name of a boy she hadn’t heard from for half a decade probably wasn’t the best piece of news to be told first thing in the morning – if at all.

You slipped a capsule into the machine with a crack, half haphazardly pressing buttons on the top before a mellow whir filled the silence, “... Interesting.”

A short chuckle resonated inside the refrigerator door, “What did you do this time?” 

You scoffed, offended by the direct jab of her question, “Hey! I don’t always get into trouble!”

“So you didn’t do anything last night?” 

You groaned, pouring the foamed milk into the coffee mug, “Well, no…” Dragging on the o, you passed the mug to your mum, huffing as you sat on the countertops, “How can you always tell?”

“I think I’ve heard enough drunken antics from you to know,” she took a sip from her mug, raising her eyebrows at your phone lock screen, “And I think the amount of notifications you’re receiving says a lot too,”

You reached over the end of the countertop, swiping your phone with a roll of your eyes. Your once pretty lock screen of you and your friends had been bombarded by the stacks of message notifications, fulfilling your prediction of incessant exclamation marks and illegible keyboard smashes. However, one contact profile stood out from the rest – that being a concerned Renjun.

[ renjun ] u feeling alright after yesterday?

[ you ] physically, pretty decent.  [ you ] mentally, very confused.

[ renjun ] haha fair, u did seem pretty wasted before u left

His message made you pause, attempting to dial back your inefficient memory to when you left the venue. 

Did you even see Renjun before you left? Pfft, who were you even kidding – you didn’t even have any recollection of how you got home in the first place.

[ you ] remind me how i got home..? :)))

[ renjun ] … mark left u with minjeong who called u an uber home [ renjun ] god, how much do u remember?

[ you ] … not a lot

[ renjun ] u free wednesday? i think we need a debrief

“IS IT TRUE that you kissed both Mark and Donghyuck at the reunion?”

Now. When you agreed to get a casual drink with Renjun the following Wednesday, you had expected a few questions about your little flings with his friends to come up in conversation. But boy, did you fail to prepare for such bluntness so early on.

“H-how the fuck- did you- know?” Choking on the sharp intake of the unmixed gin at the bottom of your cocktail, the calm approach you had rehearsed on the way over to the bar fell apart as your response came out as a desperate splutter of coughs and stutters.

Renjun threw you a sidelong look, chucking the pathetic remains of the stale popcorn at your figure, which you barely dodged.

“Because those horny fuckboys told me, how else?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, the accentuation of the word fuckboys making you feel rather defensive over your drunken behaviour, “Just for the record, I don’t usually go around sucking faces with every hot guy I see.”

“I never accused you of doing so.” 

A smug look settled on Renjun’s face, clearly amused by your unfortunate situation judging by the quirk of his lips as you reached for your drink once again. 

“You are insufferable.”

“So-” Renjun dragged on, resting his elbows against the tabletop, “Who was the better kisser, hm?”

The alcoholic concoction got caught in your throat once again, sending both you and your rapidly declining self-preservation into a downward spiral. The straightforwardness of the boy is one of the contributing factors, the rest being the rather vivid flashbacks of your liaisons a few nights prior. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t talked about this before – in fact, you recalled it being one of the first questions shoved into your face when you picked up your friends’ calls. However, whether you gave them the answers they were desperately seeking for, you weren’t sure because simply. You weren’t exactly certain about how to answer it either.

“I cannot believe that you hooked up with both your childhood crushes and managed to mess up both interactions,” you remembered Shuhua splutter incredulously through your FaceTime call with the approving nods of the rest following shortly after.

“I just- how did you get the courage to pull the two hottest guys in our year whilst being the drunkest you had ever gotten?” 

“It was because I was the drunkest I had ever been,” you grumbled in response, rolling your eyes at your screen, “I wouldn’t have otherwise.”

“So you’re saying you wouldn’t hook up with them again?” 

You chose to remain silent for Ningning’s question, neither wanting to directly confirm or deny any theorised accusations which plagued your best friends’ minds, but, with the growing giddiness which reflected on their faces, you realised that no amount of silence could ever hide your real thoughts from your friends, prompting the passing notion that maybe the silence was actually meant for you and your restless little brain. 

Shaking away your thoughts, you turned back to Renjun, “Why are you so interested in this anyway?”

Renjun slurped the last droplets of his cocktail, eyebrows raised in amusement, “Well, aside from the fact that you chose my two best friends as your hookups for the night – which, may I add, coincidentally happens to be both your childhood crushes – Let’s just say those two aren’t exactly on good terms right now.”

Your lips parted from the straw, “Aren’t on good terms?”

As far as you remembered, the three of them had been best friends since early middle school – a fact that made you want to coil up into a shameful ball of nonexistence – you recalled seeing them on the soccer field at lunch, oftentimes doubling over themselves over something on Donghyuck’s phone or the rare exchanges of shy hellos and flustered smiles when they had met up with Mark as he dropped you off in front of your classroom. 

Despite the drift in friendship from your end, Mark’s friendship with Donghyuck had always seemed to remain close – which, considering their shared activities of partying, sports and residing in the same social circle, made sense.

Noticing your puzzlement towards his revelation, he added, “Believe it or not, they fought over the same girl a few months ago.” Renjun popped the fries in his mouth as if he wasn’t casually spilling his best friends' secrets to a girl he randomly reunited with a couple days ago, “which is funny because that’s literally what’s happening right now.”

You groaned, slinking further into the wooden seat with your head buried into your hands, “Great. So what you’re saying is that I’ve just further ruined your guys’ friendship because of some silly drunken mistake.”

“I guess you could say that.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Oh, lovely. What a great reassurance to hear.”

“I was just offering my pure honesty, no harm intended.” 

The two of you slipped into a comfortable silence, ordering the last deserving round of the cheap happy hour cocktails before it was too late. As you waited for your orders to be delivered, Renjun spent the time scrolling through the photos of their drunken nights out, replaying the short clips of Donghyuck with a traffic cone over his head and his own unfortunate events of being rolled around the empty city in a stolen shopping cart.

With the number of snorts and giggles exchanged, it felt like no time had passed since your high school days – except for the increasing recklessness between both parties.

You began retelling your version of your nights out, from the gasps extracted as you mentioned witnessing a random street brawl in an alleyway to the disapproving tuts of his tongue about your case of being stranded on the side of a highway at three am. 

“You know Y/N? You really are the bringer of chaos.”

You could only chuckle in response as you reached for your phone, “Trust me, I’m not that bad.” 

However, as you unlocked your phone to read through your missed notifications for the evening, you realised that maybe you should fix your habit of making bad decisions whilst severely intoxicated, as what you found waiting on your lock screen served as a painful reminder of quite possibly your stupidest mistake yet.

Noticing your sudden change of demeanour, Renjun frowned, “Hey, is everything alright?”

You could only bat an eye, pushing your phone to his side of the table for him to read.

[ mark ] hey, what u up to?

[ donghyuck ] { image 1 } [ donghyuck ] wuju misses u :((

Yeah, you took it back. You really were the bringer of chaos.

a/n: bro u don't even understand.. this has been sitting in my wip docs for like more than a year😭 but i finally forced myself to write and post something on this app that wasn't a longass smau OIHFOIWEHF anyways thank you for reading!! don't hesitate to leave a comment and rb this post if you liked it🥲

taglist: @polarisjisung @wooyoung-a @w3bqrl @ficrecnctskz @rv7hsua @n0hyuck @neosdaisy @baekhyunstruly @rum-gone-why @dinonuguaegi @alethea-moon @klovmasworld @moonchele @chernabogsbiggestfan @xxxx-23nct @maeumiluv @produmads @shwizhies @dearlyminhyung @barbkh8450t @cupid-yuno @mxnhoeuwu @haechansbbg @sehunniepot @ujisworld

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[liveontelevision]

Hello hello! If you are still taking requests I've been dying for an Alastor x reader where the reader was married to him when he was alive, and she outlives him quite a while before they reunite in hell, only for him to nearly die again when the angels attack. I love your work!

I've been wanting to do this prompt for a hot minute, sorry it took so long Anon :')

But here's a good long fluffy, angsty, fic to balance out how much of an ass Alastor is in Suffer lol

Curiosity Killed the Cat | Reader x Alastor

What caught your eye first, was how much whiskey he could down before losing his composure. You found yourself in awe, watching this charismatic stranger go round after round, only to end up on the dance floor with more energy than you had when you were sober. Truly a spectacle. Why don't you go tell him that?

"Excuse me-" You say in a sing-song voice, slipping by the stranger to beckon another drink your way. You may or may not have brushed your body against him in some sort of attempt to get his attention. It went unnoticed, but that's alright, that trick didn't usually work on the ones who had one too many drinks.

You decide the next best action is to sit at the seat next to him, despite there being multiple unoccupied stools at the bar. That’s something he has to question, right?

Of course not. You spent far too long trying to get his attention in any way, and he's either humming a song to himself or chatting with the plump, noisy, owner who would come by. They seemed to be close friends.. but she definitely wasn't his type. She looks like one to cause trouble.

You get a good scope of his character. He came in wearing a pristine trenchcoat, shielding an expensive-looking vest and tie combo. But, by now the tie had come undone and was draped across his neck. The heat of the whiskey might've gotten to him, he left his top few buttons precariously opened. You didn't mind that one bit. Next thing you spot; slightly messed hair and smudged glasses- bingo.

"Hey, birdy-" you finally muster some courage to get his attention. "-may I?" You pull out a handkerchief you usually have on hand, in case handsome strangers with glasses need a quick clean. It took you a good half hour to finally speak up, but he's looking you up and down as if you had just walked in. It takes a moment, but you see him finally decide you aren't a threat. He sits silently. Taking another swig of his drink, he looks at you with a smile. Does he want you to.. no harm in trying.

You bite at your lip, hesitantly reach out to his face, and carefully pluck the glasses from the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes as you do so. A man hasn't made you blush in quite some time. You decide to blame the drinks. Luckily, you have a task to keep your mind preoccupied. You're carefully swiping any smudges clear from the lenses when you hear his voice for the first time. Or so you thought.

"Mimzy, dear, do tell me who this little kitten here is. A regular?" You're assuming he's speaking about you, he's gesturing in your direction with his empty glass. The owner of the speak-easy, who you now know as Mimzy, trots behind the bar to top off his drink.

"For sure! What do ya say, kid, you're here.. on most weekends, ain't ya?" She turns to you, and you take a moment to confirm. You didn't think she'd notice, you don't come here that often. That's what you tell yourself at least.

"Got an eye on her tonight, Al? Sounds like someone's not goin' home alone~" She teases him with a quick jab, and he's quick to roll his eyes.

"Now now, she's been perched here for quite a while and has barely said a word to me, I doubt she's getting any more than a free drink." He sounds snarky, yet.. familiar..

"Al… as in Alastor? That radio host fellow? Well, I’ll be damned! I wasn't expecting a celebrity such as yourself to frequent little joints like this one." You comment, finally joining the conversation. You hear a throat being cleared dramatically and turn to the owner behind the bar. You laugh nervously.

"Not that- it's still a good bar- I.. Sorry." Good recovery. Your attention is taken to the hand outstretched to you, and you instinctively lean away from it.

"Kitten-" He beckons his hand, and you follow his eyes to his glasses that were still in your grasp. You let yet another nervous laugh and quickly pass them over. He slips them on with a satisfied hum.

"If I remember correctly, Al-" you attempt to mock the nickname you picked up from Mimzy. "- You have a broadcast tomorrow morning, no? You really think drinking like a sailor tonight is the best idea?" You weren’t concerned, really. You wanted to tease him a bit longer.

"Props to you for knowing my schedule." You realize how strange that might've sounded and quickly finish your drink to prevent any more embarrassing thoughts from slipping from your lips. "Are you implying I can't handle my liquor, dear?" He scoffs, beckoning the bartender over. He has them refill your glass.

"I'm sure you can, birdy, but you've been pounding down more drinks than I can count." You respond. You weren't one to flirt effectively. That, or he just happens to see right through your nerves.

"So, you've been counting, hm?" You realize you had outed yourself to watching him all night. You curse yourself quietly, hoping the music filling the room will cover your frustration. "Appreciate the concern, but I promise you, I'm more than capable of doing my job. No matter the circumstances."

While he seemed to be reading you quite easily, you had picked a few things up yourself. For one, he watches everything. And he seems to only drop his intel when he needs to. Or to mock you. And two, he's a bit of a narcissist.. quite an ego on this one. But that could work in your favor tonight.

"Well, fine then. I'll be up bright and early to listen to your broadcast. I doubt you can get through it with a hangover. Especially considering how much you've been drinking."  You state proudly. He lets out a chuckle, and despite how quiet it is, you can't help but appreciate his sultry laugh.

"Is that a challenge, kitten?" He purrs -ha- leaning his chin into his hand and slouching his body towards the bar.

"I mean if it is, there must be stakes." You say it as a matter of fact. "Let's say.. you cover my bill next time if I catch you slip up."

"Hm. Seems fair. You better be listening close, though, I'm very good at what I do." He enunciates his final sentence and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, you consider this could be a bad idea.

"And when I win, what will be my prize?" He asks. You let out a little giggle at his cockiness.

"I'll tell you my name." He cocks his head to the side, an intrigue hitting him. Did he really manage to get this far without a proper introduction?

"I see your little detective game going on, I'll give you that. You are quite the observer. But you won't find my name just by looking." You say smugly. That's true for a number of reasons.

"I suppose you did leave that information out, hm?" He let's his eyes drop, as if he was trying to piece it together with what little information he had.

"I must say, you've got me hooked, kitten." He lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and finishing off yet another drink.

"Deal?" You hum, holding your hand out to him. He smirks, taking it into his own, not expecting a firm shake, but receiving one. He went on to press a quick kiss to your knuckles.

"Deal."

You went home alone after that night, but it was likely for the best. You were sure you'd see him next time, anyway.

Now that you had to tell him your name.

You thought for sure he'd at least stumble through a sentence, but no. He went through the entire show, even an interview with some big shot, and spoke perfect English. He talked like he'd never had a drop of booze his entire life and got a full night's sleep, which you both knew was far from the truth. You almost dreaded the next encounter, but at least you didn't wager anything too crazy. Sure, he'll see you differently after this, but if this were to go any further - what are you on about? You only met him once and listened to him on the radio occasionally at best. He's a perfect stranger to you. Let's not get too excited.

You find yourself seated in the same spot as before, shrinking into your seat and downing a few drinks to build your courage. You told him your mark. An awkward introduction, first and last name, made you feel like a new student at a children's school. He perks up, which is what you expected.

"Ah! So you're the famed physician! It's almost silly of you to call me a celebrity, you're the talk of the town, kitten." You groan, of course, he recognizes you. Everyone in this damned small town knows your name, your family.

You were one of the first women to complete their studies and practice medicine from your hometown. But to attend such high schooling in this time, your family had to be well off. And you were, in fact, well off. When it came to your love life, men were either disgusted by your pursuit of knowledge or took it like some fetish. You haven't approached anyone for years.. not like this, at least.

"You know, I spoke with your father a few-" You groan at the mention of him, cutting Alastor off mid-sentence.

"Don't be a fool, I heard the little interview on your show.. Can't say that was my favorite broadcast." Alastor had a certain segment where he would chat with some of the richer and more.. stuck up.. men in society. It wasn’t titled as such, you just noticed the trend of guests being pompous and wealthy. And your father was the perfect fit for that.

You didn't know this at the time, but Alastor was suddenly hit with some mixed emotions. There was more than one reason as to why your father was chosen to be on his broadcast. Alastor used his interviews to initiate close ties, and make powerful allies. If they weren't complying how he hoped, he would usually cut ties. Permanently.

Your father was definitely not a reasonable man, in fact, you made it a point to avoid him when you returned home. But did he deserve death?

"I didn't expect just the sight of me walking the streets to be as interesting as it is." You mumbled, leaning forward on the counter and drinking something much stronger than you expected. But the mentions of your father called for a hard hitter.

"You didn't?" He asked bluntly, twirling the liquor in his glass. You hum in agreement. Gossip spreads like wildfire here.

"Well, you've picked up some interesting feats. If you were hoping to go unseen, I would've put some more thought into my rags." He gestured to your clothing. It was definitely of higher quality, but it was something you were used to wearing while attending your school in a high-class city. You felt a bit embarrassed, placing your hands in your lap to subtly hide your body.

"And a beautiful doctor like yourself just 'walking the streets'? Some might be concerned for your safety." You tilt your head to the side at his words. Your confusion makes him smirk.

"I'm sure you're aware, kitten, but there seems to be a killer on the loose." He seems far too excited for the subject at hand, and it's almost noticeable.

"Hm. Guess I shouldn't be going out alone and talking to strange men, should I?" You say with a smile.

"I suppose you shouldn't." He shrugs off your words, getting another drink. You didn't even see him finish the previous one. "Though I must say, I'm glad you did. You've been quite the conversationalist." It's barely flirting, but it seems to leave you blushing a bit.

You went on to chat throughout the night, your drunken rambling turned to complaints about your father, and morbid details about what you'd learned in medical school. Both topics that you didn't realize intrigued Alastor to a personal extent. Later on, the rambles started to become incomprehensible. He decides it would be best for you to leave, considering you were refusing to do so and thoroughly embarrassing yourself in the process.

A giggling, stumbling mess, you were carefully lifted from your seat and brought to your feet with his assistance. He helped you out to the streetside, calling a taxi and bringing you into the backseat gently. He then went ahead and paid the driver, and turned at his heels to head back inside.

As he was reaching for the bar's door, a loud call forced him to turn back to the cab.

"Buddy, she's too sloshed to give me an address. You know where she lives?" Shit. Alastor looks to the bar’s door, then to the cab, where he spots you leaning your head against the window in the backseat. He sighs.

After insisting the driver keep the fair, Alastor brought you back out. He kept you standing with a hand on your lower back, as you gripped onto his shirt, far too small to reach your arm over his towering figure. He was cringing at the sight of his clothes becoming disheveled.

"Alright, kitten, where are you staying? I doubt you'd appreciate me taking you to your family home.." He was talking in a hushed voice, in the hopes that you'd have enough conscious to respond, but knew that likely wasn't the case. He looks around the area as if the answer would be in plain sight. He lets out a sigh of defeat when it clearly wasn't.

"Didn't even get to finish my drink.." He mumbles, pulling you closer to keep you stable enough to walk a few blocks.

There, sat a charming little motel. However, calling it charming was.. optimistic. Your memory, to this day, is in small flashes. Only certain things come to mind when trying to picture what went on.

You remember Alastor talking to the older gentleman at the desk. It seemed like they were acquaintances. Maybe they've done business in the past.

You remember him giving up after finding that the room he booked was on the second floor. Unwilling to deal with the staircase, he hoisted you up quite easily. You definitely remember that. How such a slender man can hold you in his arms with no strain.

You remember the room, it was cleaner than you expected. He seated you on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you to remove your heels. He didn't seem to go much farther than that. He could've removed your entire wardrobe with your state of mind, and you'd be none the wiser. How awful it must be, to live in a world where a man not making a pass, surprises you.

As far as you know, you drifted to sleep almost right after. You're pretty sure he wrapped you in the blankets, and you remember the faint touch of hair being brushed from your face. His hand was far colder than you would have expected.

Being in your occupation, you don't exactly have time to confront all the horrific sights you've seen. So, your body deals with those emotions in other ways. A common occurrence, you were plagued with a number of night terrors. Something seems different in tonight's regularly scheduled program, though. A radio static overwhelms your senses, and any horrifying disfigurations that were taunting you seem to fade into nothing. A yellow grin and glowing red eyes are the last thing you can see.

You woke up the next morning with an excruciating headache, an ache in your stomach, and sore feet. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you barely care about the makeup that you'd smudged beyond repair. You try to recall your dreams, which usually stay vivid in your mind for most of the morning, but.. there's nothing. And despite the killer hangover, you feel more awake than you have in ages.

The panic settled in after you ran your hands across the unfamiliar sheets. With a soft gasp, you observe yourself. Still fully clothed, you spot your heels set next to the door. You look around the room next, and you almost feel relieved, seeing Alastor seated in a lounge chair in the corner of the room. He had his nose in a book. It was better than seeing him lying on the other side of the bed.. wait, was it?

You let out a pathetic little sound, your voice too weak to form any coherent words. He sets the book on his lap, and your sad attempt at a greeting seems to catch his attention.

"Good morning to you, too, kitten. Sleep well?" You were sure he drank as much as last night. If not, more. How dare he look so put together?

"Morning. I-um.. I suppose I did.. I-I hate to ask, but did... did we-" you stammer out, and he quickly holds his hands up in defense.

"Heavens no, dear, I wouldn't dare defile a woman who can't handle her whiskey." You scoff at his insult but still feel disarmed by his reaction.

"So then.. the motel room?" You question. He cocks his head to the side, only now realizing that your memory must've gone from the previous night.

"Ah, so you really can't handle your whiskey.. Well, not to fret, dear. You weren't telling me where you were staying, and Mimzy seemed keen on me taking you elsewhere." In actuality, she was trying to play matchmaker. Thanks for trying, Mimzy.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Alastor, I hate that you bought a room just for me.. I can pay you back." You sit up, running your hands through your mess of hair and letting out a pained groan.

"I'm sure you can, but I simply can't accept." He stands, tucking the book under his arm and walking to your bedside. You swing your legs over the edge, only to notice how close he seems to hover over you. You look up and realize how statuesque he was. You hadn't seen him in daylight. And his height is much more intimating when he stands.

"It was my pleasure, getting to witness you thoroughly embarrass yourself." He bends at the hips, a taunting smile across his face. You try to recall anything embarrassing you might've done the night before, but you can barely recall a thing. That did little to ease your mind.

"You'll have to tell me about it one day." You grumble, standing with his assistance. He offered to escort you home, and you happily accepted.

The two of you stand on your small porch. It's a quaint duplex you've been renting, you go on about how how the family who lives here travels for the summer and was more than happy to offer their home to such a sweet thing.

"Well, since you insist that I can't handle my liquor, it might be a better idea to find each other.. somewhere other than a joint..." you say sheepishly, your eyes wandering to anywhere but his gaze. When he steps closer, you finally fix your wide eyes on him.

"You don't want me to court you, kitten. You're a lovely, educated, pretty little thing, you'll be wasting your time, unfortunately." He doesn't sound insulting, he says it very truthfully. It only makes you want to see more. To ask him to come in, and stick around awhile. But you're aware he has a broadcast coming up soon. You wonder if he would've stayed by your side if you slept through it.

"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, getting coffee doesn't waste too much time." You decide to stand your ground. You aren't sure why he's refusing if he thinks all that of you. You see him look you up and down, then let out a sigh.

"Hm. I suppose. I'll be back here tomorrow morning since you're so insistent. Just remember I warned you-" He says playfully as he makes his way down the stairs.

"Curiosity killed the cat, my dear!" He calls out before giving another heart-melting smile. You nervously bite your lip and watch him walk off through the cracked door. Like a damned puppy, you couldn't help but watch him walk off. You quickly shut the door, after realizing how hard you were smiling.

-

This was supposed to be for fun. You were just supposed to be some extra company on occasions. And he knew you came with your perks. You were an heir to a decent fortune, it only made sense for him to befriend you. You were knowledgeable and smart, he could definitely benefit from your skills if he needs to do so. There were plenty of ways Alastor could use you if necessary.

But with every little dance, every little coffee, or walk home from the bar, it was making him nervous. Of course, he would never call it that, he's too disgusted by the pangs in his chest he gets around you. Unfiltered, yet still delicate and professional. Incredibly intelligent, yet still makes the silliest mistakes. You were flawed. You came from such a slob of a man, and the fact that you are so kind despite that amazes him more than you realize. You are more than willing to stand for your beliefs. For one of the first times in his life, Alastor admired someone.

He's not sure what conversations led to him agreeing to cook yet another dinner in your home, but here he was; standing at your door with a bag of groceries.

"Oh- you didn't need to do all that, you're always free to use anything in the kitchen." You greet him as he comes inside, where he sets the bag at a nearby counter space. You reach up and pull his trenchcoat off his shoulders, which he willingly surrenders to. It was a little action you took, taking his coat for him when he would stop by. He's come to expect it. You hang it up on the rack nearby.

"Nonsense, I'm sure you have plenty to work with, but I'm following a special recipe tonight." He insisted, already unpacking things, setting up pots and pans, and rolling up his sleeves. He pulled an apron from the bag last, and the sight of him all prepped for cooking leaves you weak in the knees. You want to see this every night. You want him in your kitchen every mealtime. You shake the desires from your head, pushing aside the dreams of domesticity that have been plaguing your mind recently.

"Can I help with anything?" You chime in, peeking around the corner to smile at him through the doorway. He shakes his head.

"If you feel the need to help, you're more than welcome to get the table set, but I am quite in my element here, kitten. So, not to worry." You were mostly listening to him, but one part of you kept your focus on his skillful knife practice, watching him chop vegetables in a nearly professional manner.

"Kitten? The table?" His words and his moving on to something else snapped you from your funk.

"Oh! Of course, yes." You stumble a bit but do as he instructs. It wasn't anything special, but the space was more than enough to give the ambiance of a good date.

Damn, this man could cook. He's cooked for you before, but something you couldn't quite put a finger on left you swooning at the sight of the still-steaming gumbo in front of you.

"Damn, you can cook." You're muttering, between bites. You almost can't taste all its decadence, digging in before letting it fully cool.

"Slow down, dear, we have all night." He says softly, despite bringing a spoonful to his own lips. You catch yourself staring at the sight of him eating beside you, enthralled by his enthusiastic hums.

"So where did this come from? I'm a bit suspicious of the finery if I'm honest." You place your elbows on the table, perching your chin on top of your hands. He scoffs in response.

"How rude. All my meals are of the highest quality. I simply haven't made this in quite a while, I thought tonight would be a good time to do so." He replies.

"A recipe for special occasions, hm? Would you consider this.. a special occasion?" You tease, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. He looks confused, letting his eyes wander in thought for a moment. Was this a special occasion? Is there any specific reason he wanted to bring his own mother's recipe to some girl he's befriended? He pushes the thought aside, planning on mocking you like usual.

"Any night with you is plenty special, kitten." He hums, popping another spoonful into his mouth. He doesn't see your face turning red, but his oblivious flirting always leaves you flushed.

"In that case, when are you inviting me to your own home? I won't lie and say I'm not curious, Al." You set your finished plate aside and notice his eye twitch. You've been staring at him long enough to notice even his smallest ticks.

"Someday. I've a bit of a mess to go through before considering bringing any guests over." He brushes clean his already pristine top, as you stand and take his empty plate to the kitchen. With a sigh, you take yourself over to the sink to do a quick clean. It's the least you could do after such a lovely meal.

"If you say so." You try your best to sound calm, but you're slightly hurt by his constant rejection of letting you into his personal life. It wasn't all the time, but there were clearly things he refused to talk about. You want nothing more than to know him.

Lost in your mildly upsetting thoughts, you recklessly take one of his knives the wrong way, the blade slicing surprisingly easily down your finger. The shock takes you back more than the actual pain. These are far too nice for everyday cooking.

Letting out a quiet curse, you feel his hand brush over your own, his shadow casting over your entirety. "Such a clutz." You hear, his voice causing you to tense. You let him guide your hand under the water to rinse it, effectively caging you in place.

"Be careful, will you? These are my nicer tools." Interesting way to say it, but you were too focused on the fact that you could feel his breath heating the back of your neck. You simply nod, before turning the water off with your free hand. You turn your body around, leaning your back against the edge of the countertop and effectively facing Alastor. His hands stay planted on either side of you, making it a bit of a tight squeeze. You weren't sure what you were trying to accomplish here, but here you are. Neither of you seem to be moving away, though. He drops his head to look into your eyes. You're lost in them.

You reach your arms upwards, holding them around his neck as best you can, and you feel him willingly lean within your grasp. The moment is heated, you feel his breath against your lips as you pull him impossibly closer. His breath is quick, almost shaky. You've never seen this side of him. You'd never associate Alastor with the term nervous.

Nearly closing the gap, you feel a hand come to your throat and fingers gently holding your jaw. With a quick turn, he places a soft kiss on your cheek. It lingers for a moment, and even if it wasn't what you were expecting, you're gasping beneath his affection. The room seems to cool down for a moment. He steps away silently, pulling his things all together.

You may have made a mistake.

"Oh, Al- I'm sorry I didn't think.. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i-if that's what happened there." Your words quicken, suddenly becoming anxious that you may have upset him.

"No, don't fret." He waves his hand dismissively, his back still turned to you as he keeps himself busy with a bit of tidying. "I'd be an idiot to not expect that, eventually." He almost sounds insulting, a little cocky.

"Why's that? Are you used to women just throwing themselves at you?" You tease but keep yourself from his eyeline.

"Well, yes- but, you've been especially touchy recently. And you seem to be acting like I make you.. nervous. Fidgety." His little observations leave you a bit embarrassed.

"It's not nervous.. exactly. Never mind that, though.. Does.. that interest you..? At all?" It takes you a while to get the question out and it still comes across shaky. You're response is silence. Fill it.

"H-How about a drink before you head off, hm?" You quickly shuffle to your liquor cart, looking for anything to drown out your essential confession.

"It does." You freeze in place, missing the cup entirely with your first pour. That was an answer neither of you were really expecting. You finally turn to him, seeing that he had looked away just as you did.

"So, that means-" you want him to elaborate. You want to hear him say all the things you've been dreaming of. That he wants to spend his free time with you, hold your hand, and kiss it with more than just a greeting in mind. To call you anything other than kitten. Well.. that last part you didn't mind as much.

"I've not prepared myself for such a conversation, but I.. enjoy your company. And your brains.. and you certainly aren't terrible to look at." He said he didn't prepare himself, and it was pretty obvious. This wasn't his usual taunting, his usually eloquent beats. He's pausing between phrases, to come up with the best words on hand.

"Jee, thanks." You roll your eyes, your smile still shining.

"I suppose you leave me speechless, kitten." You leave a radio host, a man who talks for a living and is quite good at it, speechless. This time, he sees the freshly pink hues across your cheek. He lets out a devious chuckle, one you recognize when he's about to do something you'd consider nefarious. He starts to approach you, his clean shoes clicking against the wooden floors being the only sound. You knew you weren't in danger, but you find yourself walking backward until you hit the table. Continuing to lean away from him, he towers over you, only following your avoidance until you are straining to stand upwards.

"Well?" You let out, your words barely a whisper. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

That seems to shock him a bit, you see his shoulders tense just slightly. You watch him contemplate his next action. He let his hand snake around your waist, not exactly to pull you closer, but his touch still left you weak. With a soft kiss on your lips, he gave you no time to truly enjoy it.

"I hate to repeat myself, but I warned you, kitten. Curious little things like yourself deserve.. more." After processing his words, you're still melting to his touch despite how fleeting it was. He steps away.

"W-What- No! I thought you said you were interested! And that kiss- W-What were-" You throw a bit of a tantrum, but quickly calm yourself. "I don't understand, help me understand. Please.." You sound a bit defeated. He sighs, clearly pained that this conversation has to continue.

"Hm.. I don't believe I'm able to give you everything you need. But, you deserve everything you need. It's as simple as that." He's pausing between words, and his expression shows that he's still not exactly satisfied with how it came out.

You shrank in place and held your arms, your mind trying to scrap together any little hints to what he means. Maybe something he's mentioned in the past. But as elusive as ever, it still just doesn't make sense to you. He catches a glimpse of your upset appearance, then takes in the rest of your state a bit longer. You can feel his eyes on you, forcing you to nervously bite at your lip.

"Okay. Let's forget all that, then." You said softly, smiling the best you can and waving your hand dismissively. He obviously knows that you wouldn't lose these feelings as quickly as he'd hoped. He'd reassure you, you'll get over it.

But you couldn't. You tried, you did. You went on other dates, considering how many men were throwing themselves at you in the right bars. You kept your distance for a bit but still saw him at Mimzy's bar on the weekends. Despite all your potential suitors, you still only seemed to look forward to those nights with Alastor. You'd go as far as to complain about some unruly men to him. His disgusted reactions were a comfort.

You kept trying to pry his real reasoning as to why he wouldn't be with you. He'd admit to not being trustworthy, which you would always dismiss. He'd go on about the other men that would be a much better fit, and all with good reasoning, but you still wouldn't stop pestering him. Then, after a few too many drinks, he finally let slip his disinterest in intimacy. And from everything he's told you, this seemed different. It wasn't an excuse or an avoidance, it was the truth.

"So, you don't find me physically attractive?" You ask him, swirling your half-empty cup.

"It's not that, I assure you. I'd just prefer to shower you in other affections, I suppose." He seems a bit unfiltered tonight, still avoiding your eyes.

"Other affections, hm? Like what, birdy?" You were already enraptured. But you were kicking yourself for getting your hopes up at all. You can see his immediate regret in his words.

"Kitten-"

"Please? I'm just curious." You say sincerely, placing your hand over top of his. You hesitate for a moment, but he seems to not mind the touch.

"Well.. I'd like to buy you the finest things. Any book you're slightly interested in, any frock that draws your eyes, any accessories that would bring out your natural beauty- you deserve it. I want to keep you proudly on my arm throughout the streets, showing everyone that you belong to me. I'd like to cook you every meal, until the day I die." His drunken rants leave an obvious sparkle in your eyes.

"Well that all sounds lovely to me.." you say softly, twisting and turning his hand until your fingers are comfortably interlocked with his. "Simply put, you're not interested in sex?” He was taken aback by your bold words, looking around as if he were nervous someone would hear. “I’ve read about it before, there’s an interesting essay that describes this sort of phenomenon. I'll have to lend it to you.” Your calmness surprises him.

“Well.. Thank you. That puts an end to that, then. Go on and find a man who can properly bed you.” He tries to act just as calm, but his voice still seems a bit frustrated by the idea. You make an act out of tapping your chin and humming in thought.

“No, I’d much rather spend my time with you.” You say bluntly. He quickly chimes in.

“But, I-”

“Alastor, I’ve never met someone as arrogant as you.” You let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If you’ll have me, however you want that is, I’d love nothing more than to spend my days with you.” You speak slowly, almost mockingly, trying to get this damned point across after so long.

He’s still quiet, opening his mouth to respond, then letting his lips shut again. He smiles at you. You couldn't ask for a better response. It was the sweetest smile you've ever seen from him, no sign of teasing or mocking you, no hidden intent, and just slightly bashful. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, in a sweet sign of acceptance.

Things went on after that without a hitch. Mostly. There were some kinks to work out, sure, but you were absolutely head over heels for him. No one’s ever brought you this much joy, and having this more intimate side of him, despite its physicalities, was more than you could ever hope for. He’d finally let you into his home after a while. It was near spotless and he was more than willing to show off the space to you. You wondered why he felt the need to stall this for so long. But you’re together now, hardly anything else matters.

As the summer came to an end, and you had to find somewhere else, you were invited to stay with Alastor. After walking freely around town, as promised, with his arm around yours, gossip spread as it always does. Another talk of the town, two unwed youths in the same place, sharing the same bed assumedly. It made you two snicker at the rumors. Living with him was heaven.

Following through his previous statements, he showered you in compliments, cooked every meal for you, and spent as much of his free time with you as he could. He offered little physical affection, little pecks here and there, and had no issue with sharing his bed. It wasn't long before you popped the question. Neither of you were really interested in the big fancy wedding idea, he was even comprehended by the marriage itself, but if anyone could wear down his nerves, it was you. That being said, Alastor did get you a ring that you were sure cost far too much. He brought up the idea of eloping. A little vacation just for the two of you. It sounded perfect.

“Birdy~ You let out in a sing-song tone, opening the door to your shared home. Every time you’d walk up to the house, you’d slow down, taking in your flawless reality every day. You’d hold your hand out to yourself, looking at the still newly polished ring, then finally entering your perfect home.

Although, it wasn’t perfect today.

You call out his name, no response. You know he should be home, so you peak around corners to no avail. You checked tables and counters, no note to be seen.

After setting down your bag, slipping your heels off, and hanging your coat after your quick search, you head to your room to at least change for the evening. You and Alastor usually go visit Mimzy on these nights, an unspoken routine.

On the way to your room, your tights hit a wet splotch on the floor. With a groan of disgust, you finally realize what you had stepped in.

Blood.

Of course, you’d recognize blood. It trailed from the door in front of you.

Alastor assured you this was his office and showed it to you on occasion. The door was always open when he wasn't home, and although you never felt the need to intrude on his personal space, something was clearly wrong. You swung open the door.

“No.”

You cover your mouth after your quiet refusal. You're silent, unwilling to believe what you're seeing. Your darling husband-to-be, kneeling over a stained and still wet corpse wrapped in canvas. His hands are covered in blood. Actually, his entire body is covered in blood.

How he managed to get in and out of the house without making an entire mess was a thought that managed to cross your mind in your state of shock. You glance up for a second to notice one of the heavy bookshelves pushed aside, a sort of patio doorway leading to the swampy area behind the house.

You look at the door, then to Alastor. Who’s giving you a wide-eyed face that pains your chest.

Say something, Alastor. Say something that’ll make this all okay. You're a deer in headlights.

He notices your eyes dart to the right, then back to him, staring for a moment longer. One thing is on your mind without his reassurance. You’re in danger.

Run.

You book it down the hall, clearly going to the exit. Both your feet soaked in blood at this point are tracking through the house. The moment was such a blur, that you hardly remember how far you got before feeling the pain of hitting the floor. You look down after scrambling onto your back, seeing Alastor’s hand wrap around your ankle.

“Hold on! You’re covered in blood, you’re a mess, just-” He sounds deranged. Who is this man? Surely not the one who’s been treating you so well all this time. He sounds anxious and angry. You’re face is stained with tears as he essentially drags you across the floor briefly, not considering his heightened adrenaline in these moments. You kick. You scream.

“Listen to me!” He grabs you by your arms, giving you a good shake. That seems to calm you down.. or at least quiet you down. You’re staring at him wide-eyed, your breath rapid. He has your attention, yet he’s not sure what to say. A pained expression grows on his face. You’re leaving him speechless, again.

“Let’s.. clean you up.” He scoops you up, and maybe it's the shock that leaves you so lenient. Or maybe it's all the good times blurring what you've witnessed. When you come to, you’re sitting in the bath, Alastor by your side, and running a sponge across your arm, thoroughly staining the water with blood. The sight brings a gasp from your lips, that feels like the first breath you've taken in hours.

“A-Alastor-” You let out weakly, your frightened expression now burned into his mind. “Was that real..?”

“It was-” He lets out a pained sigh, seeing if he could soften the truth. It's not possible. “-It was.” no words can save him from this.

“W-Why..?”

“He was rather unpleasant. A man with too much money, who wasted most of his time on hitting his women staff. He had his chance to make things right, I assure you, this is always the last resort.” That doesn't help for obvious reasons. You pull away from his gentle washing.

“Always? You've done this before?” Your voice squeaks as it comes out. You don't want to know the details. But you can't stop the words from spilling from your lips. He stands and rings the sponge out into the sink, watching the red-tinted water swirl down the drain.

“Yes.”

“How many times have you-” You stop yourself finally. You don't want the answer to that one. You don't want the answer to any of these questions. Unconsciously, your mind still seems to piece together every strange thing he’s done and said to you.

Your half-sentence is replied to with silence. He goes on to finish cleaning you up, helping you in and out of the tub, and drying you as best he can. He wraps you in his own robe and brings you to the bedroom. You’re mortified when you notice him guiding you by your shoulders to avoid the bloody footprints still on the ground.

Some time passes. You sit empty-minded on the edge of the bed, your eyes gazing down into nothing. Alastor leans against the vanity across the small room from you. He runs his hands through his hair, pausing and clenching some strands in his fists before moving on.

“I can..get all your belongings together, find you a place to stay. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.” He finally says, breaking the silence and your endless train of thought. His offer seems reasonable, but you still feel hurt.

“You want me to leave?” You ask quietly, gripping the edges of the robe and shrinking into yourself. He’s shocked by your response, you can hear it in his voice.

“You want to stay?” He asks in response.

“I.. I love you.” You say weakly. It stings to say it out loud. And even more so to hear it. “Will you hurt me? I-If I go to the police? If I rat you out..?” What are you doing? You can’t ask a murderer that. Your mind is running on fear, especially after what you just said. You feel his hand lightly lift your face to his, flinching slightly considering you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

“I would never hurt you. I’d spend my days rotting in a jail cell if it meant you’re safe..and happy. I love you, kitten.” You aren’t used to seeing this face. It’s almost emotionless. You start to picture this face carrying out his murderous intentions. But there's a crack in his psychopathic mask. There's a hint of softness and anguish at the sight of you.

“I don't.. I don't want to leave.” You take a hold of his hand, still shaking and clearly unsure of your words. You hear a soft hiss leave his lips, clearly trying to conceal his reaction to the unexpected. “I don’t want you to be in jail- or.. I suppose I don't want you to be caught..?” You groan, holding tightly onto his hand. “I’m so confused, Alastor. I want things to be normal. I want to go back to when you cooked for me, and.. And go back to planning- o-our elopement…” You let out weakly. He doesn't respond at first, you force your eyes up to meet his. He looks heartbroken at the sight of you.

“I just want to pretend that none of this happened..Please, stop this. F-for me, please don't do this anymore.” Your voice becomes a whisper. His hesitation only makes it all worse. He responds once he feels your grip on him loosen.

“Okay- okay. I’ll clean up this mess, and- I’ll stop. For you.” You manage to give him a weak smile, before resting your head against his chest. After holding you for a moment he settles you into bed after you had essentially fallen asleep in his arms. He does as promised. Mostly. He cleans up the mess at least.

The next morning, you wake up and hope everything that happened before a nightmare. But, you feel his robe still wrapped around you, then notice Alastor’s side of the bed empty. It's real then. It was too vivid. And if it's real.. Then he’s stopping. Because of you. It’s almost touching.

You go on about your day, and he greets you as if nothing is wrong, making your breakfast as usual. He’s chipper and goes on to chat about his plans for today. He’s pretending that nothing went on. How often has he done this? Convincingly pretend that he didn't take a life less than twelve hours ago?

It takes you a few days. A few months.. years, actually. To accept what he had done. You never forgave him, but you accepted it. You had to go on and enjoy your newly wedded life together, didn't you? Alastor had a broadcast to work on, an audience to appease, and you had to work as a physician, helping locals from within their homes. Besides, he stopped the murders after you caught him that one awful night, didn't he?

Didn't he?

Police are at your door. A nightmare of a sight. You open it, putting on your best face. It wasn't as easy as it used to be, but your smile still convinced the public. Leaning against the open door and batting your lashes you greet them sweetly. your face instantly fell to their words. You almost hoped that he had gotten caught. But he didn't.

He's dead.

“Shot in the woods, ma’am. A hunter mistook him for a deer in the dark.” you'd recall these words later, but for now, your ears were ringing and your mind was absent. You thanked them and shut the door.

You can't recall how loudly you screamed and sobbed, or for how long that went on. You need to be held. You need him to hold you and that only pains you more. You mourned for days, canceling appointments, and not answering any guests who were there to offer empty condolences. You rotted in his home. He was so young. You were both so young, there was so much to look forward to in your future. It's all gone now.

The first place you went to was Mimzy's bar. A few months had passed, and all your good liquor had run out. Plus, a familiar face could be a good change of pace right now.

“Oh, hun!” An immediate greeting at the door, Mimzy brings you to the bar. It's a late night on a workday, it was essentially empty. “I'm so sorry for your loss. Everyone in town is worried bout ya! I'm sure you don't wanna hear this, but how are you doin'?” She was right. You didn't want to hear that. You hated that question.

“Fine.” You say squeakly. It was the first word you had spoken in weeks, you realize. She slides you your drink and you immediately down it. She tops it off just for it to be finished off even faster than the last.

“Slow down, hun.” She says, sliding a glass of water to you next. When you drink it thoughtlessly, the absence of alcohol has you scrunching your nose. “I'm sure this isn't the best time, but.. I got somethin’ for ya.” She disappears into some backroom before reapproaching you and your barely touched glass of water. She places an enveloped letter in your hand. Your name written in neat cursive fills its front and your hands start to shake.

“It's from Al. He wanted me to give this to ya. If he ever.. well, if this ever happened.” as she's speaking, you've already opened it and begun reading.

It was instructions. And a large wad of cash. Above the instructions, A small blurb about how sorry he was, how much he loved you, and prayed that you'd never have to read this. Then a list of how to thoroughly clean and dispose of all evidence in his shed.

“Did you know?” you ask Mimzy, your hands crinkling on each side of the letter. She nods. “He never stopped, did he?” You say in a hushed tone, mainly in disbelief to yourself.

“Well- not exactly, no. he was finishing somethin' up in the forest that one night.” Mimzy talks as if she's practiced this conversation. He must've kept her up to date with all this.

“He told me he would stop. He said he was doing it for me-” You grip at your heart, letting out a shaky breath.

“What important is that he loved ya, right? He was an equal opportunity killer, hun, he only did what he had to. It was for the greater good, ya know?” Mimzy was speaking far too calmly about this. you let out a flurry of curses, shoving the crumpled-up instructions into your purse before standing at the bar.

“You're all fucking psychopaths!” You yell out to the empty bar and leave the building in a huff. 

You needed to leave town. The two people you were closest to were both criminals. And being in this house was only hurting you more. You packed as much as you could, hand hovering over the phone to call for a taxi. You freeze in place. Then see your ring. You look at it for a moment, the light giving it a beautiful shine. With a defeated sigh, you set your bags aside and pull the instructions back out from your purse, straightening it out as best you could.

After finishing a very thorough cleaning, and questioning your actions through it all, you did everything on the list. You burned the letter alongside some other items that he told you to dispose of. You still aren't sure why you did it. He was never caught before and he must have cleaned up his job in the forest before getting shot. Maybe it was for the best. Let his radio persona live on. Let it be the last nice thing you ever do for him. You finally leave that hellhole behind.

-

You went on to live another sixty years, quite a feat if you must admit. You weren't much of a religious person, so passing in your sleep and waking up in the streets of Pentagram City, was a bit of a shock. After accepting the idea of an afterlife, you put the little details together. You were sure after all that went down in your youth, you would end up here. And if you're here, then maybe..

There are more important things right now. Lucky for you, you fell right in the middle of a bustling street. You scramble to your feet and quickly escape the speeding cars. Why were there cars in Hell? Why did it look so much like a big city you would visit at some point, how is it so human? There was so much to question, but you were desperate to find any sort of sanctuary.

You weren't sure why your first thought was to find the nearest bar, but something seemed to bring you in. You're almost disappointed in yourself for stepping into a club decorated as a 20s speakeasy. But it was familiar- nostalgic. A shrill voice draws your attention.

"Oh my stars! Get over here, doll!" The shriek brings your attention to the bar, where a slightly familiar face greets you. “What are ya gawkin’ at? It’s me! Mimzy? Get that tail over here!” Mimzy owns a club even in Hell? You approach her after some more beckoning.

"Long time no see! How long you been in?" She goes on. You observe her appearance as she speaks. She looks almost the same. The red eyes and sharp teeth were definitely new. You realize you hadn't had the chance to take in your own appearance, but clearly, it must've been similar enough for her to recognize you. Still questioning your position, you finally process her words.

"Oh- I just arrived actually. Lucky me to walk straight into your bar, hm?" You lean against the counter as she pours you a drink, a flurry of trauma and nostalgia turns to confusion.

"Wow! You had quite a life after old Al got you outta town, didn't ya?” She teased. You let out a nervous chuckle. Good old Al. You haven't thought about him in years. You were so young, so head over heels for this man you barely knew. You somehow managed to suppress all the bad times as you aged. Mimzy notices your face droop a bit.

"I suppose I did.." a brief smile meets the wedding band still on your hand.

"Well? Finally gonna reunite? Ooh! How romantic! You'll have to update me, sweetie!" Mimzy bats at you, letting out an excited giggle. You quickly shake your head, not processing any other way to respond.

"I-I can't- I mean.. Not after everything he’s done.” Your hands clench at even the thought.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but we’re all for a reason. You got plenty of time to forgive him, with the whole eternal punishment of it all.” Mimzy’s tone drops to a more serious one as if she’s heard that line before. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to rot in Hell with someone they love, you should see what he’s up to!” Her tone seems to immediately switch to something more chipper.

“Still, I uh.. I shouldn't. He’s been dead for so long, I’m sure he’s got some other dame cleaning up his messes.” Excuses. You didn't want to see him, because this is his fault. You're here because you helped clean up his space after his unfortunate death. Even when you had no idea, he relied on you. He trusted you to carry this burden for the rest of your life. Your rage was suppressed when you heard Mimzy's voice chime back in.

"Nope! He's been busy with uh.. his work. Still wears the ring, though~" She hums, tapping her finger to emphasize her words. You look down at your own hand. Why did you still wear yours, again? You never remarried, but mainly because of the trust issues that were instilled in you for the rest of your life. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea..

“N-No, I just cant..” You let out louder than you meant to. Mimzy shrugs off your panic. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare room, would you, Mimzy?”

-

Mimzy did in fact have a spare room. You stayed in one of the ratty rooms about the bar, alongside some of the demons that rented the rooms for their own business. You realized, after finding a mirror, that you were portrayed with some feline features, nothing too disfiguring. Once you saw your new form, Alastor’s voice, every single time he beckoned you with kitten, rang throughout your mind. You couldn't bring yourself to look at yourself for the first few months. This was Hell after all. Eternal punishment can manifest in several ways.

Mimzy was still a clear supporter of Alastor, so she had a radio set up in your room already. No matter how hard you tried, you realize pretty early on that Alastor had some power over the radios that force his broadcasts to be the only thing streaming. You heard it all. The screams of souls being torn apart, his constant gossiping and cruel words making fun of other demons.

But damn, if it didn't feel like living again. Waking up every morning to the sound of his voice on the radio, before you can truly decipher what he’s talking about, it almost feels like a normal life. But then you hear the pain in those demons that he’s mercilessly tearing up. Sometimes, you see Mimzy cheering at the radio like some sports game is being narrated. You try to avoid her when she’s doing that.

Things were comfortable for many years. As comfortable as Hell can be, at least. Alastor became a distant part of your daily routine, you'd hear his broadcasts all the time, but only in addition to the other bustling city noises. It all seemed to cancel out after a while. You worked with Mimzy, picking up at the bar when she had to run off. In exchange, you stayed in that room indefinitely. You two seemed to become friends again, despite your living history. It became clear to you that what happened when you were alive really didn't matter down here. You all made the same degree of mistakes and you all learned that you’re here for the same reasons.

You went through extermination days as best you could, only having one face-to-face interaction. That day, you were already on the verge of death from falling debris and trying to escape a specifically insistent exorcist. She had you cornered. You shut your eyes, wincing at the upcoming angelic weapon you saw her raise at you. Only feeling a slight sting across the bridge of your nose and cheek, you open your eyes to see her flying back towards the portal to heaven. You can't believe you got that lucky. You’re still in disbelief at the entire scenario, but unlike most wounds down here, your face was permanently scarred. It was small, barely noticeable! Mimzy says.

But you knew not everyone had this much luck on extermination day. After noticing the silence on the streets, during the most recent extermination, you nervously left the bar. Everything was empty. The portal had opened closer to that hotel you’d heard of. And the exorcists were going straight to it. You scoffed, walking back into the bar. They’d finish off those demons there quickly, so you still wanted to hide. As you barred yourself up in your room, you remembered Mimzy telling you about her visit to that hotel. About why she visited the hotel. Alastor's there. You try to not panic. It’s been decades, why are you worried about him? Besides you know how powerful he is, you've picked up his whole radio demon shtick from others. He’ll be fine.

Then why are you so restless?

A loud knocking at your door shakes your entire core. You keep yourself hauled up in the corner of your room, covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You still hear a voice call your name from the other side of the door.

“You gotta come see this! The angels are gone!” It's Mimzy. it's far earlier than usual, you were almost worried it was some new tactic they picked up. You crack the door open just slightly, and her small frame pummeled the door open. She paces your room, rambling words that you barely catch, and she shoves her phone to your face. You have to take it from her shaking hands to get a glimpse. It's hard to see, but it's very obviously footage of Alastor fighting Adam. His body is warped through the drone’s camera, and you watch him fade away into nothingness after one blow. There was no audio, You couldn't hear what happened. Considering you weren't familiar with his shadow antics, you had no idea what actually happened to him.

“You gotta find out if he's okay! I can't go back to that hotel, you gotta do it!” she sounds frantic, taking her phone back. “What? Absolutely not! I'm sure he's fine.” You wave your hand dismissively, despite the hesitance in your voice. Everyone's in Hell for the same reasons. Your mind goes back and forth on the possibility of forgiveness.. of mending burned bridges.

“The videos from a few hours ago, those angels are gone! Ooh.. He's just gotta be okay..” You didn't realize how much Mimzy actually appreciated Alastor. Whether it be the protection he offers or their actual friendship, you aren't sure. But she's clearly worried about him. You just aren't ready.

Mimzy spent the next few days begging you to go down there and find him. And you refused every time. She mentioned going to Cannibal Town to visit his "Gal Pal" and even she hadn't heard from him. He's disappeared before, just recently too, You're sure it was just like his last seven-year absence. Even if you were getting a bit worried, you'd never admit it. There were no broadcasts, there was no public trash-talking from the Vees, it was just.. quiet.

“Didn't you love him?” You stare at Mimzy, in disbelief that she just said that.

“Excuse me?” That seemed to strike a nerve. And maybe she meant to do that.

“I remember you two in my bar, you were two peas in a pod! I've never seen him like that with any gal, hun. That's not somethin' that just goes away.” Mimzy takes your hand from across the bar. “Please, go check on him. Maybe it'll be like a final hurrah, but I just gotta know if he's okay.” You look around the room as if someone would offer to go in your place. But she's right. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't missing his broadcasts. You let out a dejected sigh.

“Okay.. okay! Fine.” You huff. An immediate change in attitude, Mimzy lets out an excited exclamation and pours the two of you drinks, to celebrate her pushy victory.

-

You take in a deep breath, looking around the new hotel's exterior. It was much larger than the previous one and more lavish. You hesitate before knocking on the door. A series of whispered voices, then scrambling feet, follow the door opening. It's the princess of Hell. You weren't expecting Alastor to greet you, but you still feel a bit disappointed.

“Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Ho-” You quickly interrupt.

“No! Nono, sorry.” You laugh Nervously. “I'm not here for the whole.. redemption thing. Is.. uh…” You peek around her shoulder, seeing a few demons you recognize from the commercial, but no Alastor.

“Is the radio demon here..?” You finally ask quietly. Charlie still seems a little hurt from the interruption, but just because you're not interested in redemption doesn't mean she won't try to convince you.

“Alastor? Sure! He's been in his tower since we reopened.. So, he's probably up there.” She explains, pulling you into the building despite your refusal. “I can go get him for you! What's your name? I'll tell him who-”

"That's actually okay! I was sent to check up on him, so.. if he's alive, then that's all I need to hear!” Mimzy will just have to be satisfied with that. You're chickening out. If they're saying he's fine, then that's good enough for you. The longer you're here, the more anxious you're becoming. You're worried he could pop out of nowhere. Which is a legitimate concern apparently. 

“Charlie!” A greeting comes from behind the blonde, and you see a red-clawed hand engulf her shoulder. “Already a new resident? How exciting! What unfortunate sinner has found themselves here as a last resort.. today…” 

You know that voice. Of course, you know that voice. He looks fairly similar to how he did when he was alive, the hair was new. Ditto the antlers. A deer? They turned him into a deer down here? You almost want to laugh. Maybe being in Hell for so long has turned your sense of humor that crude. You're staring with wide eyes. He whispers your name so quietly that all you can really take in is his lips forming the word.

“Hey, Al! She was just looking for you! I think she might be worried, right?” 

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-

“I.. was! But I see he’s clearly fine now, so! I should get back to Mimzy’s-” 

“Mimzy? You're with that trainwreck?” a low voice comes from the bar, interrupting the conversation. The cat demon behind the counter scoffs at you. “Nice ears.” They fold down involuntarily from embarrassment.

“Kitten.” You immediately turn at the sound of Alastor’s voice, shivers thoroughly covering your body. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but it clamps shut. His eyes widen for a moment, looking around the room to see how almost every resident had gathered to witness the new face. You start to back away to the door.

“This may not have been the best idea.. T-thank you, princess, it was nice meeting you.” with a blink of your eye, Alastor’s arm is around your shoulder. 

“Why of course! Thank you for visiting! I'll escort you out!” His chipper attitude startles you, and you feel almost insulted by his eagerness to have you leave.

“Oh! Well.. come back anytime! Our doors are always open!” You hear Charlie call out as Alastor takes you outside the building. Before you even have a chance to protest, you're suddenly in a recording room. Your mouth is still open ready to scold him, but instead, you examine the dizzying change in scenery. Your eyes finally drop to Alastor, who had taken both your shoulders and let his head drop from your view. He startles to mumble.

“W-What are you-”

“Why didn't you tell me you were here?” His head finally lifts and you catch his perplexed expression. Pained eyes paired with a strained smile, it's almost frightening.

“W-Well, I.. it was just-” 

“When did you arrive?”

“A few.. decades ago..?”

“Decades?” His voice goes low and static. You pull away from his grasp as his voice changes. “You shouldn't be here. There has to be a mistake.” His voice returns to normal, and he starts to pace the room. Mumbling more nonsense to himself, he starts gripping at his hair. 

You watch this for a while, before finally approaching him. You take hold of his arm, effectively stopping him in place. Pulling down his arm, you feel the grasp on his hair loosen.

“Calm down. You're pulling your hair out, again.” You say softly, brushing his hand clean of stray hairs he had torn out. Reaching forward you attempt to brush his hair back into place. Your hand pauses, hovering just by his cheek. You want to hold him. He seems to follow your hand when you decide to quickly distance yourself.

His eyes look bloodshot and demonic. How could you still possibly be getting lost in them?

“You shouldn't be here, kitten. You’re here because of me.” You flinch at his words, despite how true they are, you manage to feel some underlying guilt.

“Yeah.. Mimzy just wanted to know if you were alright. And you seem just fine. I should go.” You say bluntly, taking hold of your arms and going towards the door.

“Why didn't you find me?” His words cause you to stop.

“Sorry, you weren't exactly the first thing on my mind when I woke up in Hell.”

“Kitten, I-” His voice seems to drop the radio static. It sounds entirely too familiar.

“-don't call me that.” You snap, biting at your lip unconsciously.

“I'm sorry.” He finally says. “It was.. irresponsible of me to lie to you. I made a mistake.” He sounds more embarrassed to admit he messed up. His ego makes you scoff.

“Yes, it was irresponsible. It was downright cruel, Alastor. I had to live with the burden of your murders and had to die with the consequences.” You turn back to face him, a rage that had been boiling for decades finally spilling over. “I did so much good after you died. It has to be your fault I'm here. I never told the cops, I followed your ridiculous instructions, and it was the worst decision of my life! And now I'm paying for it. For being too far in love to realize that you were just using me!” You've had this conversation in your head so many times, that you have no issue saying exactly what you want.

“No!" He stops himself before he can shout anything else. "I assure you, that isn't the case at all. I love you more than I can put into words, kitten, can't we just-” Alastor reaches his hand out to you and you quickly lean away. You spot the ring on his finger.

“Love? You used me to make sure your record stayed clean! That's not love.” You hiss.

“I did it to protect you. I gave you everything you needed to remove yourself from the situation if anything were to happen to me. You said you went on to do good, and I believe you. That was because of me! The letter and the money were both for your safety- I was helping you.” He isn’t exactly shouting, but his tone is certainly sending chills down your spine.

“You don't get to take credit for my life! I should have never come!” You fling your arms up, turning back to the door. He grabs your arm and turns you back to him, a tight grip on your shoulders. He opens his mouth to seemingly scold you, and you're ready to bite back. You notice him scanning over your facial features, and his expression seems to falter.

“What happened to you?” He runs a clawed finger delicately across the scar on your cheek. It had faded but was still visible. You wince at his touch, which makes him pull his hand back.

“Oh, don't act like you care.” You mumble.

“Of course, I care.” His soft response forces a pained groan from your lips. 

“All these sweet words you’re saying.. I-I don’t know what to think with that ridiculous smile.. I can't take you seriously!” Your voice is beginning to crack, losing the strength to have this go on.

“About that-”

“I hate you.” He flinches at your words, Out of everything you’ve said, you don't understand why that seems to silence him. He grips onto his chest, his coat and shirt scrunching into his fist. You watch him drop his head, bracing himself on his desk that he had stumbled to. You’re sure he’s being dramatic. Hamming it up to get some sort of pity. A sigh passes your lips.

“Um.. Alastor… I didn't mean to-” His act only fools you a little bit. You wonder if you’ve let out too much steam. If he really-

Before you can finish any other thoughts, he collapses to the floor.

“Fuck-” You quickly move to his side, flipping him to his back and helping him at least prop himself up against a wall. “Should I get-”

“Don't tell the others.” He breathes out, putting his hand up dismissively. With the wave of his hand, you see the blood across his palm. Your eyes follow the source to a continuously growing stain on his top. The sight of blood didn't seem to bother you after everything. “Just help me up.” 

“O-Okay.” You do as he says, helping him stand. Almost feeling like an instinct, you pull his coat off of his shoulders. He struggles to keep up with the movement but still gives in. He quickly loses his strength and stumbles to the small couch nearby. You almost enjoy watching him stubbornly refuse your help.

“I.. might require.. some assistance.” He says it so softly you almost want to ask him to repeat himself. Even if you understood him just fine.

“You're asking for help?” You correct him, placing your hands on your hips.

“I don't need help.” He snaps. You would've been offended if you knew he was just to flustered to admit it.

“Then what do you need?” You sit beside him on the couch, placing your hand on his blood-stained shirt. He immediately winces.

“For.. you to stitch this up.” You start unbuttoning his shirt, your hands grazing the fluff of his chest with a mild curiosity. You finally get the full scope of a completely untreated slash that would've surely killed any human if left untreated. But for an almost immortal demon, it was just a painful nuisance. Very painful.

“From your fight with… You want me to help you stitch this up?” You ask because that it seems near impossible to do so, even with someone of your medical history. It's wide and seems to be covered with specks of gold. It feels like small shards of glass when you swipe your hand over him.

“.. yes.” He says quietly. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him. He’s reckless, too stubborn to have looked at the wound because of its reminder of his defeat. And you know that's exactly why it got this bad. No matter how small, Alastor sees the smile growing on you.

“I missed your smile.” He says softly.

“Please stop saying things like that.. You're confusing me.” You make sure to speak your words quietly as if you don't want them to be heard. A small demonic creature rushes to your side, holding a tray up with the essentials to properly treat the slash. It stays perfectly still once in your reach.

You went to work, after some proper scolding, trying your best to keep the process as painless as possible. Every so often, you wonder why you are being so careful with him. He doesn't deserve your tenderness. Your thoughts are stopped when you see his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away. His face is scrunched, a hiss passing by his tormented smile. You must've hit the wrong spot while lost in thought. Your eyes fall to his ring, again.

“Why did you keep this on?” You ask, examining his hand that’s still engulfing your wrist.

“It reminds me of you. And yours?” His voice is hushed, still recovering from the pain. You realize he has a full view of your own hand, your wedding band sitting just as clear to him.

“It.. reminds me of what you did to me.” You hear a quiet groan in response to your words, and he releases your arm, gripping the couch in its stead. You keep going.

“I'll admit, I was worried about you.. after the battle with Adam. Maybe it was Mimzy getting me all worked up..” You finally admit. You don’t want him to think you’ve spent your whole life and death hating him. But why would it matter either way?

“I can't be killed, you had nothing to worry about.” He replies, not willing to comment on your sudden vulnerability. Not in this position. All you can do is laugh at him. He's clearly talking out his ass.

“Looks like you got pretty close to it.” You scoff. His ears flatten, and he looks away like a stubborn child.

You finish up after an hour. It felt much longer. The silence with quiet quips mixed in, the surprisingly intimate moment, it was suffocatingly uncomfortable.

“I didn't want to come here. I was perfectly content in being in Hell. I didn't expect this form of torture.” You say, setting everything back onto the little tray presented to you. That little demon had been standing there this whole time. You notice it started shaking a while ago.

“Come now, you're being dramatic. You chose to find me, did you not?” He says, sitting a bit taller with the regained strength.

“I'm not being dramatic! You try to avoid Mimzy's constant nagging! I hear your voice everywhere, see all the ads for this hotel, and they made me a damn cat, Alastor!” You feel yourself starting to lose your composure, gripping your hair and letting out a pained laughter. “H-how unfair is that..?” You let out a weak chuckle, feeling tears well in your eyes. He pulls your hand away from your hair, brushing his thumb across your ring as he holds you for a moment longer.

“Completely unfair. Your appearance may be.. unappealing … to you, but your face is still the same. Your eyes still bright as usual, your smile just as sweet.” His sincerity is muddling your thoughts. Those thoughts that warn you he’s hurt you before. And now he’s a cruel overlord, he’ll hurt you again tenfold. You feel his thumb drag along your lip after realizing you had leaned in towards him.

“Still biting your lip, hm?” His static fades again, and you wince at the raw skin he's brushing over. Old habits apparently don’t die hard.

“N-nervous tick, I guess..” His closeness leaves you a bit breathless.

“Do I make you nervous?” His tone confuses you. There’s an underlying sense of worry, a genuine concern for your well-being. But you’re still distracted by his strange smile. You don’t have much time to think any further about it before you’re startled by gentle lips against yours. It’s quick but is more than enough to let out a flood of feelings you’ve been suppressing since the day you left your hometown. He looks at you with a sly smile on his face.

“I’m still mad at you.” You say quietly.

“I know.” He kisses you, again.

“Y-You don’t have to-” He interrupts you with another kiss.

“I know.” Still holding your face you barely take in his next words with a clear head. “I miss you.” Another kiss, just to throw you off this time, “I miss having you at my side.

Stay.. please.”

There was no way you would drop everything to live with a man you were barely married to in life. That didn't stop you from seeing him more, though. You were actually.. kind of glad to see him. To patch things up, even just a little. You’d visit, sneaking around at first to avoid any interaction from the other residents of the hotel. They were all more than intimidating to you. Especially considering one of them was the king of Hell. Alastor was more than happy to keep you away from him, though.

You updated Mimzy on how he was when you left that first night, but you left out the unimportant bits.. Like the giant angelic slash across his chest. You didn’t need Alastor to tell you that you shouldn't be going around spreading that information. A true accomplice. When Mimzy noticed you were visiting him to the point where you couldn't cover the bar when she needed you to, she was more than happy to kick you out. You knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't want you homeless, but you were essentially left with nowhere to go. Except for the hotel.

It wasn’t the worst thing to happen.. Things almost seemed normal. Alastor had lots of sucking up to do, even though he wouldn't call it that. He was definitely working at it. Making you breakfast like before, treating you like even higher royalty than he ever could while alive. He has the power to do so now and he fully intends to use it. And it’s working.. A little bit.

Okay, a lot.

You’re shocked that he still seems the same after becoming the powerful overlord he is. You’d love to convince yourself that none of that mattered, his status in Hell or what happened when you were alive. That you could just forget mortality to look forward to the potential future facing you. It’s easier said than done.

You're still struggling with your nightmares. Even more so in Hell, likely another form of punishment. Something about the hotel seemed to subdue some of them actually. As if the air were clearer here. It only helped most nights, though. Whenever you woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe, clutching at your heart, there was only one thing to calm you. The radio at your nightstand would play a specific song. One that Mimzy was fond of, so you heard it most nights at her bar on Earth. Whenever you heard that, you knew he was there. He was waiting for you.

"Birdy?" You knock on his door, which seems to open slowly just from your touch. Alastor is sitting contently in front of his firepit. This wasn't the first time you've found him in the middle of the night.

"Another one, my love?" He tilts his head up slightly, the book he had in his hand shutting immediately. You nod your head slowly, already approaching him. Your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders is dragging across the ground. You give him a look he recognizes, and he nods at the implications. Without caution, you let out a tired whimper and plop into his lap. He pulls the blanket over your entirety.

Getting completely comfortable, he adjusts his arms to pull his book back to his eyeline. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder, you're too tired to conceal your little habit of purring. He doesn't mind, though. He loves it.

♡♡♡

Another big boy for ya 🫶

Human Alastor is really fun to write for, I had to do some research tho lol

I tried to keep Alastor's sexuality in mind, so I hope I represented it well. That's always something that makes me nervous when writing for Al 😬

Taglist!

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @the-maladaptive-daydreamers /@str4wberry-t00th-anon / @voxrei / @raythegay / @whoknowswhoiamtoday )

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fan fiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x you

[ao3commentoftheday]

I'm sorry if this has been asked before, but it feels like you would know the answer. My favorite fandom recently had a TV adaptation, and the TV show and game are listed as seperate fandoms. Is there a way to search at the same time for anything with either the show, the game, or both tagged? I think if I search for both in the fandoms listing it'll only give me fics with both the game and the show tagged, so it's technically listed as a crossover. Is there a way to search for anything with either or both? Sorry if this is a silly question or there's an easy answer.

Not a silly question at all, and once you know how to do it it's super easy! It's just learning how to do it that takes a second.

So first of all - the reason why you're only getting works with both fandoms tagged is because if you're using the Include filters, those work as an AND function. You're telling the system that you want Fandom 1 AND Fandom 2. If you include 5 tags (across all tag types), you're saying that you only want results that have all of those tags applied.

In order to get an OR result (where any 1 of those tags are used, as well as any combination of those tags are used), you need to use the Search Within Results box at the bottom of the filter sidebar.

(If you prefer to use searches instead of filters, use the Any Field box at the top of the advanced Search form)

I'm going to use the example of The Last Of Us because that's a video game that I know was recently turned into a TV show as well. I'll go step by step so you know what I'm doing and why. If this is the same fandom you're reading in then great! If not, then you can follow along. I recommend having a tab in your browser open to AO3 and some form of notepad app to copy/paste some info you'll need.

Step One: search for the first fandom. I went to the full Works Search form and entered The Last Of Us into the box labelled Fandom. You can select either one from the dropdown. Then I scrolled down and hit Search.

Step Two: You'll get a list of works that use whichever tag you chose. Click or tap on that tag. Then, on that tag's works page, click or tap on the RSS Feed button

Step Three: depending on your browser, this might open in a new tab or it might download a txt file. In either case, open it up and you'll see a bunch of text and code. In the third line down, you can find the tag ID number after the /tags/. Copy that number into your notepad app.

Step Four: do the same for the other fandom too. Now you have the first ID number 45567538 and the second ID number 54134982

Step Five: in your notepad app, format your filter parameters like this:

fandom_ids: 45567538 OR fandom_ids: 54134982

Step Six: Now go to whatever tag it is that you want to filter - for example Angst - and scroll down to paste your parameters into the Search Within Results box of the filter menu.

After you Sort and Filter, you'll get every fic in the Angst tag that has either The Last of Us (Video Game) or The Last of Us (TV show) or both tagged.

You can do this for as many fandoms as you'd like. You can also do it for character_ids and relationship_ids. Combine them with an OR between each one and you're good to go. There is a theoretical limit to how many items you can specify? But I've never hit it.

#asks and answers #long post #images described in alt text #how to ao3

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Deuce Spade - Platinum Jacket Vignette

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: This museum really has a ton of paintings. Not that I really know how to act in quiet places like this…

Deuce: Oh, but I can't use that as an excuse. I'll have to be a good supporter for the museum, just like any honor student would!

???: Is this dome… a teapot cover? Why would the Card Soldiers be carrying tea?

Deuce: Huh, you don't know, Sebek? Cool, then I'll tell you about it.

Deuce: This painting shows a scene of a trial from one of the Queen of Hearts' legends…

Deuce: And those Card Soldiers aren't actually carrying tea, but a witness for the case: a tiny mouse!

Sebek: Hmph, what's with that smug look? Well, fine, never thought there'd be a day that you'd have something to teach me, I suppose.

Deuce: Heheh. I'm a supporter for the museum, so it makes sense that I can explain something like that.

Deuce: Since I'm a student of Heartslabyul, I made sure to study extra hard all the tales related to the Queen of Hearts or her Card Soldiers.

Sebek: Is that so? Still, did it require two of them to transport a single small mouse?

Deuce: According to the story, it was a crucial witness, so they wanted to make sure it got to the Queen safely.

Deuce: Ah, that reminds me… We had something similar to this painting go down at Heartslabyul just the other day.

Deuce: Though, it wasn't a witness that was getting brought in…

Sebek: What, was there some lout breaking the Queen of Hearts' laws?

Deuce: Yeah. There was this one student who'd been breaking the rules over and over again, and he was finally being brought before Rosehearts-ryōchō for a stern reprimand…

Deuce: When the two guys tasked with hauling him in came to bring him to the Housewarden, that rule-breaker ran.

Sebek: Why do you even have people tasked with hauling others in…? You folk in Heartslabyul have far too many strange duties and rules!

Sebek: But that transgressor is also a coward, fearing reprimand and fleeing without taking responsibility for their actions.

Deuce: Right? He made his bed, he's gotta lie in it.

Sebek: Judging by your manner of speech there, am I right to assume that you helped to secure that transgressor?

Deuce: Yeah. I ran after the guy and caught him in a flash.

Deuce: Not like I've been training my legs or working on quick, explosive power in my sprints while in the Track and Field Club for nothing!

Sebek: Oho, so you captured them. And what were those two that were supposed to have brought him in doing?

Deuce: The guys on duty were apparently so shocked when the rule-breaker ran away that they couldn't move quick enough.

Deuce: But once I brought him back to them, they firmly took hold of him on both sides and brought him to the Housewarden, though.

Sebek: I see. So perhaps the reason why it isn't considered overkill to have two people on duty for such a thing is in case something unexpected occurs.

Deuce: Maybe…? I guess so.

Deuce: Ah, but listen to this. After he finished reprimanding the rule-breaker, Rosehearts-ryōchō praised me for a job well done.

Deuce: "Not only did you capture the transgressor without a moment's delay, but you showed good judgement in allowing the students on duty to do their job as assigned," he said!

Sebek: True, normally you'd do something brash like bringing that offending student directly to Riddle-senpai after capturing him.

Sebek: An unusually calm and mature judgement, coming from you.

Deuce: Hey, nothing "unusual" about it! It's not strange that I was able to think that through.

Deuce: Because, I'm on my way to becoming an honor student!

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Sebek: Oh, this painting… It looks as though it's based on the legend that speaking a wish into a well would make it come true.

Deuce: Yeah, so if you make a wish into a well, it sends your voice back out. I remember that well, 'cause I always thought that was odd.

Sebek: It's merely an echo. What is so odd about that?

Deuce: Huh, an echo?

Sebek: You didn't even know that? I'm speaking of the phenomenon in which sound bounces off of water or walls and is reflected back.

Deuce: Huh… Oh, so is that the same sort of thing as when sounds reverberate in a tunnel?

Sebek: That's right, as tunnels are also primed for echoes.

Deuce: Oh, okay… That actually brings back memories.

Deuce: Whenever I'd be riding through long tunnels, I'd put the pedal to the metal and rev it up so loud.

Sebek: You'd rev what? Are you talking about some kind of music?

Deuce: No, no. I'm talking about a blastcycle, not any instruments or whatever.

Deuce: The engine can make different sounds based on the body of the blastcycle, or even from the way it's ridden.

Deuce: It can make heavy thumping sounds, or low, rolling sounds…

Deuce: And it can be really fun to change up my driving style just to hear those different sounds.

Deuce: Whenever I ended up alongside another driver who knew how to make their own engine sing,

Deuce: It was easy to just end up competing to see who could make their engine rev louder.

Sebek: And what is so fun about that? It just seems to be a cacophony of noise, based on what you're saying.

Deuce: YOU DON'T GET IT AT ALL! It's great because I can feel it to my core.

Deuce: And, it feels sooooo amazing to feel the vibration of the engine echoing off the tunnel walls!

Deuce: AND PICKING UP SPEED IS THE BEST PART!

Deuce: The faster I go, the higher the pitch of the engine…the more that sound echoes in the tunnels…

Deuce: By the end of it all, the only sound I can hear is the blastcycle engine… I just can't get enough of that feeling!

Sebek: Shh, Deuce. You're being too loud, lower your voice. You're going to bother everyone else trying to enjoy the silence.

Deuce: Ah, sorry… Actually, kinda feels weird to get told by you of all people to lower my voice.

Sebek: Why is that? I don’t raise my voice like that unnecessarily.

Deuce: Eh… You seriously saying that right now?

Sebek: Obviously. At any rate, I don't really understand what you were saying about those blastcycles, but…

Sebek: You shouldn't cause a ruckus while riding, unlike what you did just now.

Deuce: Well, obviously I try to ride so I don't bother others on the road… At least, now I do…

[Land of Dawning – National Museum of Art]

Deuce: Oh hey, it's the Lord of the Underworld. I like how brave he looks flying through the sky in this painting.

Deuce: And on top of it all… He's way too cool, rushing to the front lines like that to save his captured comrades!

Sebek: Right. The Lord of the Underworld must have been a truly capable fellow, able to take on even the most difficult missions by himself.

Sebek: One would require proper deliberation and competency to achieve positive results.

Deuce: Urgh… That hits a sore spot…

Sebek: A sore spot…? Ah, you are talking about what happened last week.

Sebek: I remember seeing you, Grim, [Yuu]… and Ace, if I recall. It was while I was heading back from flight class.

Sebek: All four of you were standing like idiots in the hallway, being scolded by Trein-sensei.

Deuce: URGH!!!! You saw that!?

Deuce: I-I didn't plan on it ending with us getting in trouble! It wasn't supposed to end like that…

Sebek: I'm sure it is a ridiculous story… But why not, I'll listen to whatever excuses you come up with.

Deuce: At the start of History of Magic class, Trein-sensei told [Yuu] to read out loud a passage from the textbook.

Deuce: But that page was completely ruined by drool, since Grim fell asleep on it the night before, so it was impossible to read.

Deuce: So, I raised my hand, offering to read it instead.

Sebek: So why did that end up with you all being sent out to the hallway?

Deuce: …I forg… …xtboo…

Sebek: I can't hear you, speak up.

Deuce: I… I'M SAYING I FORGOT THE NECESSARY TEXTBOOK!!!!

Sebek: So you tried to step up, even though you didn't have the textbook… You're a fool who has gone beyond help.

Deuce: Ace was saying something like that, too. Both him and Grim were laughing at me for that.

Deuce: Even though it was really Grim's fault in the first place!!

Deuce: [Yuu] even pointed that out to them, but they wouldn't stop, so…

Deuce: We ended up arguing… Which then got us sent out into the hallway before long to deal with the consequences of our actions.

Sebek: So that's why you were in the hallway. However, I don't understand. Why did you do such an unnecessary thing?

Sebek: Even if Grim or [Yuu] were to be reprimanded, that has nothing to do with you.

Deuce: Nothing to do with me? Come on, there's no way I can let my friends flounder like that.

Deuce: I mean, Grim aside… [Yuu]'s helped me out a ton before, so.

Sebek: Hmph. Then I guess at the very least, next time you should act after you've determined whether you have your textbook or not.

[Sebek walks off]

Deuce: YOU DON'T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE!

Deuce: Geez, and he walks off after one last parting shot, huh… Ugh. Guess I'll try to shake off this funk by checking out some of the other exhibits.

Deuce: Oh, this is a painting of a girl singing with flowers. She looks like she's having fun, but according to the story…

Deuce: If I remember correctly, she was described as vulgar, rude, and weedy...

Deuce: Doesn't matter where you are, or who you are, everyone has to follow the rules. Not a shocker to me that those who can't follow 'em end up in sticky situations.

Requested by @farfalla049.

#twisted wonderland #twst #deuce spade #sebek zigvolt #twst deuce #twst sebek #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: riddle #mention: ace #mention: grim #mention: yuu #mention: trein

[fum1ku]

TOXIC TRAITS - HQ BOYS

ft. kiyoomi sakusa, koushi sugawara, atsumu miya, daichi sawamura, tobio kageyama, kei tsukishima

tw: toxic relationship, arguments, cursing

pt. 2 where everyone kisses and makes out makes up, anyone?

KIYOOMI: silent treatment. perhaps kiyoomi’s fight or flight reaction stemmed from his inability to communicate well. but, that didn’t feel completely true. he could be blunt; honestly saying what was on his mind to anyone. but, when it came to you, he was just.. silent. you’d beg and plead, scream or shout, say anything and you wouldn’t hear a word back from him. it hurt. it tore deep into your chest; finding itself a resting spot in the pit of your stomach. would someone who truly loved you really do this to you?

KOUSHI: love bombing. sugawara really didn’t mean to. he didn’t know how much he’d ever smothered you until he heard someone actually say something about it. at first you thought it was just sweet, random acts of kindness from him. his love language shining through, at most. the expensive gifts, the rush of compliments he’d give you, the aching feeling of his arms wrapping around you for the 5th time in that moment. but, no—it was more than that. all of it was meaningless; hallow. not a second thought put into it besides his desperation to win you. to have you. he was so desperate to not let you slip away that he forgot what he had ever felt for you in the first place: love.

ATSUMU: toxic jealousy. atsumu miya had been popular with girls since high school. and of course it didn’t stop when he joined the msby jackals. if anything, he had been more popular with women now than he had been in his entire life. but, he always said it didn’t matter. he always told you “you’re all i need. no stupid fan girls can get in the way of that. i have you, and that’s all i want.” all he wants. but that all fades away after your first actual fight. who even remembers what it was about? it didn’t matter anymore. sitting in the bleachers watching your boyfriend prepare for his next match, you could see as a swarm of overzealous girls came running towards him. instead of his usual wave of acknowledgment and turning away to head for a more private area, he dove deep into the attention. he soaked up each compliment from every girl in the crowd with a sly smirk on his face. he accepted every picture he was asked to take; putting his hand around her waist, letting her kiss his cheek or feel his stupid muscles through his jersey. he did all of this knowing you had been there waiting; watching. he did all of this, not feeling a single bit of remorse up till the second he watched as hot tears streamed down your face and you ran out of the arena. shit. he had really fucked up.

DAICHI: overprotective. it was sweet daichi cared. really, it was. he’d place a firm hand around your waist when walking past guys in the street because he knew it made you feel safe. he’d have you sit a few rows back in the bleachers when watching his games “just in case”. and he’d always make sure you made it home safe after work or school. but, it soon turned into more than just those silly protective things. sometimes he made you feel like you couldn’t think or plainly act for yourself. everything had a risk to him; a risk that wasn’t worth taking with you. you tried to reason with him, but it never made sense to him in the way it did to you. he just wanted you to be safe after all, right?

TOBIO: anger issues. tobio didn’t mean to snap. it just.. well, happened. he loved you—he loves you— so much. he never wanted to see you cry; he never wanted to be the reason why you cried. but it had been a long day. practice had left him dead and dry. it had been back-to-back interviews, multiple photoshoots, and so many fucking autographs. today had taken everything out of him. as shallow as all of those things sounded, it was.. overstimulating, to say the least. kageyama couldn’t think of a better word to describe it; to name exactly what he felt. but when he came home and saw you in the kitchen; dishes stacked high, the pot on the stove bubbling over, the heat that overtook every single room in the apartment—he snapped. he lost it. you had opened your mouth to greet him and before you were able to say anything, all of the frustrations from today started pouring out of his mouth.

“fucking damnit. what the hell are you even doing, y/n? it’s a thousand fucking degrees in here with the stove on and it’s boiling over. fucking shit. i’m exhausted and i can’t even come home to have some damn peace in my own fucking house. what the actual hell?” his words burned through his throat, leaving a bitter taste on the tip of his tongue.

you said nothing as you turned the stove off, and walked straight past him.

“y/n—” he stuttered. “i’m—fuck— i’m so sorry. today was rough and i just..”

he looked down at you to see your body shaking; tears streaming down your face. he fucked up.

KEI: lack of communication. that best summed up kei’s entire life. including his life with you. one small argument and he was gone. vanished. nowhere to be found. not until you’d find him in some tucked away corner of your shared apartment. or outside the building during the evening. you could try your best to say something to him—anything—but it didn’t matter. he’d only talk to you on his own terms. but, what he was thinking? what he was feeling? that was a mystery to you. you could pour your heart out to him about how lost you felt; how much of a mystery his emotions were to you even after being together for so long. didn’t matter. he couldn’t piece together a string of words to give back to you. and that was going to be his downfall.

© fum1ku 2024.

⁂ taglist: none at the moment ! let me know if you wanted to be tagged for anything<3 my requests are always open too !!

#haikyuu #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu anime #karasuno #sawamura daichi #daichi sawamura #daichi sawamura x reader #sugawara koushi #koushi sugawara #sugawara x reader #haikyuu sugawara #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #miya atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #hq x reader #haikyu angst #angst #x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x you #hq atsumu #hq angst #haikyuu kiyoomi #haikyuu daichi

[spacebaby1]

Yuta always makes me feel soft. He is a thoughtful, kind man who is devoted to his loved ones. He is his mother's son. Of course dad Gojo. 😙 He is jealous because his son is his mother's copy. Their only son. Especially the mother is very fond of her son. Can you write some cute things?

I wanna write more of these😩🩷my beautiful boys!!

You were overjoyed when you found out that you're gonna have a baby. And Satoru being the only son of Gojo clan made everyone in his family excited for his first born; some even excited that your child might have the six eyes just like his father, which is one thing you didn't want. The birth wasn't easy, and it came to a shocking end. You could still feel the five days labor pain even after many years and it made your body shiver everytime you remember; crying from the labor pain, barely able to lay down or stand when everyone were petrified on your situation, unable to help you. Satoru haven't felt this hopeless all his life as he did in those five days to the point that they all that you might lose the baby. On the sixth day, at the early hours of the morning, your baby boy was born. You remembered crying as your mother in law placed your son on your chest; even Satoru couldn't hold his tears back as he caressed your hair gently, whispering praises. The intensity of labor left your body in so much distress that your doctor sadly informed you that you would never be able to have another child in the future. The news was a slap in the face for both of you however having your precious baby yuta in your arms was worth every pain and every other loss.

To your and Satoru's relief; your son did not inherits Satoru's six eyes on the other hand your son was a carbon copy of you; he had your black hair, your dark blue eyes and your personality, your gentleness and even your smile. However, he was as strong as he's father but he surly was your baby no matter how old he got. Yuta would never leave your sight which made his kindergarten years very difficult because he would cry nonstop when you weren't there. You'd go to shop leaving him with Satoru and he would still cry for you.

It was another long day when you and Satoru were fast asleep when the baby monitor went off, you groaned getting up but Satoru pulled you back to bed, still half asleep himself. He kissed your forehead before whispering, "I'll get him, Mama." You nodded falling asleep only to be woken up minutes later with another cries of your son, you got up rubbing your eyes and saw that Satoru wasn't in bed so you made your way to Yuta's room.

You could see how tired Satoru was softly rocking his little baby in his arms, "hey, he's not letting papa sleep?" You said with a small smile making your way towards your husband. Placing your hand on your husbands bare arms, "is he hungry?"

Satoru sighed handing him to you with a pout, "he won't stop crying and I tired to feed him but he won't eat and he doesn't need changing, I think he needs his mama to hold me and not his handsome dada." You chuckled at that but you knew that Satoru felt a bit left behind from your childs love. You kissed Satoru's hand while rocking Yuta in your other arm, "He loves you and he wants his dada to have a goodnight sleep that's why he won't stop crying to let mama hold him, right yu?" Yuta already stopped crying and falling asleep. Satoru kissed your head leading you towards the rocking chair and sitting by your side as you held Yuta in your arms, "he's so mini you, isn't he?" Satoru smile gently rubbing Yuta's cheeks. You smiled, "he has your beautiful nose tho." Satoru chuckled planting a kiss on his son's head, "Our beautiful boy."

Your thoughts were cut short when the front door flung open followed with your husbands unmistakable voice and your teenager sons tired groans. Yuta had just turned twelve and Satoru would take him for training ever since because he wants his son be able to help himself and other just in case he encountered a curse. And it was getting to your poor boy.

Your two boys entered the living-room when You were putting some reports away and Yuta literally ran to wrap his arms around you leaving a tired sigh, "Welcome, home you two." Satoru gave you a kiss while your son still held onto you, "Satoru, did you overtrain my baby?" All your husband did was laugh, "hey, this wasn't even the actual training."

Yuta sighed looking at you, "ma, I'm tired. Papa said we need to train more, tell him no." You looked at your husband and he just shrugged. You sighed, "just don't drain our baby boy." You said to your husband and rubbed your sons back, "come on, both of you go get ready. Dinner is ready, now up up. Come on, papa you too. Go" you pushed your husband when he tired to hug you laughing.

The dinner was as cheerful as everyday both your boys "arguing" over their training and you watched them with a loving smile on your lips, "admiring my beauty?" Satoru wiggled his brows to which you son reacted, "eww, not in front of me." You laughed and ruffled Yuta's hair, "Eat, both of you." You noticed how Satoru watched Yuta tell you all about the school events and his training with his dad with a small smile, as your husband played with the food in front of him and that smile would fall every now and then.

The three of you were watching some TV show in the living-room with your son laying on your lap and Satoru on the arm chair. No matter how old he got, Yuta would always lay his head on your lap as you placed your hand in his hair caressing it or just placing it on there for comfort. Satoru would lie if he said that he wasn't a bit jealous and wishing that his son would lay his head on Satoru's lap. Satoru often felt left out no matter how hard he tried to be around his baby boy. However, he never stopped showing his love to his child. Yuta yawned and you tapped his shoulder after looking at the clock and it was 10 in the evening, "Okay, bedtime. Come on." Yuta nodded getting up from your lap and giving you a long hug, "Goodnight, Ma." You kissed his cheek, "Goodnight, Baby." He smiled and went to hug Satoru, "Goodnight, pa." Satoru hugged him tight observing the love he is getting, "Night night my superstar."

Satoru made his way next to you on the couch and dropped his head on your chest as you played with his silver hair not giving any attention to the TV, Satoru was laying on your chest eyes open and lost in thoughts. "What's going on in your mind, papa?" You asked hugging him to your chest and he let out a long sigh, "You'll think I'm overreacting," He chuckled and you kissed his head. "I'll never think that, now tell me what's bothering you, is it the work?" Satoru shook his head nuzzling his head in your neck. "Do you think I'm a good dad?" He asked almost in whisper. You looked at him and made him look at you as he sighed and sat up straight, holding his face in your soft hands your spoke, "you're an amazing dad, your the best dad to our baby boy and you have been the most loving since the day Yuta was born. Why would you even think otherwise?" He sighed looking at his hands with heavy eyes that took you by surprise when he whipped the tears before falling. You moved closer holding his hands in yours, "hey, Sweetie. Satoru, why are you crying? Did Yuta say some-"

He shook his head immediately and chuckled the tears away looking at you, "Our sweetheart Yuta would never say anything to make me cry. He's such a gentle boy just like his mama always considerate of others feelings. It's just, ugh I don't know, I'm being so dramatic but I feel like he likes being around you more than me and I'm terrified that he'll grow away from me and I wanna give him all my love and support I just feel like I'm lacking at something." You hugged your husband, "I'm sorry you feel like this Sweetie. You're an amazing dad and Yuta loves you as much as you love him don't you ever feel like he doesn't like being around you and you out of all people should know how much he looks up to you and tries hard to be like his strong papa. He's just a-"

"Mama's boy." You both said together and Satoru laughed holding your hand in his and placing a soft kiss on it, "I don't know, I just felt the need to let that off my chest and you just know how to make me feel better, I love you, I love both of you." You smiled and hugged your husband.

Unknown to both of you Yuta saw and heard it all when he came back to grab his bag but stopped when he saw his parents talking. His lips quiver when he saw his dad crying and feeling like Yuta didn't love him. He went back to his room and tried to not cry at the image of his father crying in his Mama's arm.

The next morning you were in the kitchen making breakfast while Satoru was going through the report you wrote from yesterday. It's how your weekends went a late breakfast with you and Satoru rewriting the report for the week missions. Yuta came down a bit to excited skipping his way to hug you first, "morning angel, slept well?" He nodded happily giving you a kiss on cheek making you pout at how tall he has gotten; your baby was growing so fast. He happily ran to hug Satoru, "wohh, Good morning strong boy, don't attack your old man like that, I might break a bone." Satoru kissed Yuta's head, "slept well?" Yuta nodded happily still hugging his dad. Satoru's brows frowned as he hugged his son, "you okay, buddy?" He rubbed his son's back. Yuta finally let go and smiled, "better than ever, you're amazing pa." Satoru smiled as he ruffled his sons hair, "says the strongest boy. Who's my strong boy? Who's my strong baby boy?" Satoru spoke in a baby voice holding Yuta's cheeks making him laugh and try to let go of his fathers hold. Yuta finally managed to free himself from his father's hold, "Pa, are you busy today?"

Satoru smiled as both of your boys made their way to the kitchen to help you set the table, "not really, no missions for the day, why? You want me to drive you to your friends?" Yuta shook his head as shrugged, "Nah, I was thinking if you want to hangout at the mall? We haven't been to the mall, if you'd like?" He asked nervously and Satoru's eyes light up, "ah, yes and your mother would love to go-"

Taking your chance you spoke, "I don't think I can baby, I still have the report to finish, how about you two boys go and have fun? Plus I need my alone time." You said making them chuckle. Yuta looked at his dad, "Yes! Sure, let's go after breakfast."

You happily watched your husband get ready as you were standing by the doorframe, "you seem so happy that's making me fall in love with you over again." You said making Satoru smile, "I fall in love with you everyday!" He placed a long kiss on your cheek, "have fun at the mall, and get me something sweet when you come back." You said that and headed towards your sons room to find him trying to button up his shirt sleeve; unsuccessfully. Which reminded you of your husband and how both your boys can't button up their shirts sleeves. You laughed and Yuta forward his arm happily for you to button up his sleeves and you immediately helped him, "have fun okay? And please don't let daddy eat so much candy?" Yuta laughed at your request and hugged you once you were done, "I love you ma, I love you both so much." You kissed his forehead once you let go, "we both love you more, baby boy."

You watched them both leave and went to your report once again not minding the quietness in the house. Surprisingly you needed that time alone after finishing the report you went to your reading until it was getting dark and you heard the familiar voice of your two boys entering the house. Followed by laughter that made your heart swell with love at the sight of your two boys. "Pa, show ma what we won today!" Yuta hugged you quickly before rushing towards Satoru making you smile wide, "and tell her about the new store we want to! Ma, you won't believe what pa got you and we had so much fun. There was this new game store and pa and I went a bit crazy but it was so much fun." You watched you son and husband show you the big stuffed toy they won. "I take it you two had fun?" You asked to which Satoru and Yuta nodded happily. "Should we try the new video game, yu?" Satoru asked and Yuta nodded, "Yes! Wait I'll turn the TV on pa, get the game. Let's play it!"

It's been a few hours, and your husband and son were playing the video game on the living room floor, laughing and having fun while you happily read your book from the couch. A few few minutes later, Yuta fell asleep with his head on your husbands lap. Satoru turned the TV off and turned to look at you with a huge smile on his face, which you matched to his. Carefully, Satoru carried his son to his bedroom with you following behind. Satoru placed Yuta on the bed and was about to leave when Yuta grabbed his hand in his sleep, Satoru tried to carefully let go but only to earn an annoyed groan from his son. You chuckled and whispered, "Now he won't let go of his papa. Stay with him a while?" Satoru nodded with a smile as he knelt down next to the bed, caressing his son's black hair with such gentleness and love. You kissed Satoru's hair as you watched your two precious boys.

#baby yuta #yuta okkotsu #jjk yuta #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo jjk #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo angst #satoru fluff #dad satoru #gojo dad #satoru x you #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[yameoto]

Bro.. i haven’t even watched challengers yet, and i think you infected me with a chronic case of challengers brainrot.. but i saw your reply to anon’s ask. suggestions? ‘aight, bet 🫡

so i used your art donaldson bot and oh my god.. i got bored and decided to tug on his hair. and it leaded to him LITERALLY humping a pillow for me and he was begging me to touch him and shit. he even started calling me daddy (and mommy at the same time 😭) i even broke the filter too.. 🧍‍♂️

im not sure if this is specific enough, but maybe this would be a great subby!art (x gn reader maybe? not sure if you write for gn!r but you get the point <3 ) fanfic. he’s just so needy for you that he’ll do anything for you (even if it means humping a pillow for you.. OKAY HEAR ME OUT—)

he makes himself out to be sooo tough on court. but when he’s in your hands? he’s literally reduced to a sobbing, whimpering mess… HEJSHSJS art brainrot is so real..

i have many other ideas but i don’t wanna be too rude to dump all of my brainrot onto you.. (sorry not sorry !!)

love your bots and writing by the way !! can’t wait to see more of it in the future 🙂‍↕️

anon you're so sweet GOD! but yes absolutely can do. art bot in question!

ART DONALDSON. NEEDY BABY.

✗ warnings ; gn!reader, sub!art, like sub!art. dom!reader, pillow humping, hair tugging, overt puppy imagery. wc ; 1k

ART had always been a patient person. he excelled at playing the long game. slow and steady won the race—won him you, after all.

but he hadn't seen you all day, and now you were home and he was sprawled out on your bed but god— how much longer would you make him wait?

"hey." he reaches out, fingers intertwining with the hem of your shirt. when you don't immediately face him, he tugs, gentle.

"i played good, didn't i?"

"yes, baby. you played good.” you pat his cheek without so much as looking at him, and while the contact is nice—your palm cool and tender against the warm flush of his cheeks—its fleeting. you don’t even linger long enough for him to lean into it.

a subtle frown twists his lips. he sits up, feeling unsteady. the weight of the mattress sinks underneath him as he slowly, cautiously crawls over to you. his arms slide around your waist, body wrapping itself around your back. 

"hi." "hi." you answer, vaguely amused. he buries his nose into your nape and breathes in. the smell of you is intoxicating. "can we go to bed?" he murmurs, and the phrasing is so polite, so courteously horny that you have to laugh. "when i'm done." he makes a little, unhappy noise. it rumbles against your back. "but i need you now."

you raise a brow. "don't be gross, art." that effectively cows him. though he still remains, chin propped up on your chin and legs on either side of you, tucking you in. you can feel it when he begins to grind slowly against you, thick length of his cock twitching tentatively against your ass. "ah-ah." you tut. he freezes. you don't even turn to face him. "did i say you could do that?"

he groans, drags himself off of you (with great effort) and slides off the bed. it's almost petulant. "when?" "when i say so." the noise that rips from him is positively mournful. he slumps, head in your lap—hands clenching and unclenching uselessly into the mattress.

you're still not even looking at him, fingers wordlessly threading into his hair and moving along in these elegant, tenderly gratifying movements that leave his cheeks burning impossibly hot, the patch in his boxers growing impossibly wet.

at a loss, he begins to slowly rub up against the corner of the mattress, hips rolling in steadied, carefully monitored waves. it's imperceptible, its perfect. he just needs a little release. just a little, to hold him out until you finally glance up from your laptop and give him something, anything— fuck. his groin finds that sweet spot the same moment your nails dig just right, and he can't bite back the moan slips from his lips. it's damnably loud in the silence of the room.

art meets your eyes, keening at the unimpressed stare you level him with, the knowing twitch of your lips. he has to swallow the instinctive plea that swells up in his throat. no, no. don't stop don't stop—

"oh, sweetie." like clockwork, your hand untwines from his locks, and he crumples.

"please—can’t fucking take it.” he moans miserably into your thigh, slumped over. he's grinding brazenly now, all pretences lost; rutting hopelessly against the edge of the mattress with his cheek pressed against your thigh. "baby." you sigh, closing the lid of your laptop. he just shakes his head, hands wringing into the sheets as if he were clinging to the edge of a cliff.

it's so pathetic, you have to take pity on him. "up. on the bed." art perks up, hope ballooning in his chest. he scrambles up on the mattress, so eager—lips parted, on all fours. god, he looks so pretty like this; dick cradled by the fabric of his soaked boxers, straining so you were almost sure they’d tear a hole. he looks ready to jump you. you snort, running a hand through his hair indulgently. "not so fast, pretty boy. use the pillow, if it'll stop you from whining." he doesn't even protest. he's burning too hot. as soon as you give him permission, art scrambles on top of the pillow like it's god-given gift to the world. the moment it makes contact, his breath hitches—eyes flittering up with the feeling of goddamn heaven—

"wait." "what?" art hisses, though he freezes anyway, a dog on your leash. his eyes are sparkling as he looks up at you. "boxers. off." "okay." he agrees breathlessly. his mind is so fuzzy you could tell him to cum and he simply, would. he yanks his boxers down and his dick springs up like a jack-in-the-box. he lets out a low moan, limbs almost folding in on themselves when his tip slides slick against fabric. fuck.

if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine it was your thigh. "n-now?" his legs are quivering. his dick hurts. you look entirely too amused. "mhm." the noise he makes is guttural. he's so sensitive—each thrust elicits another pant, hips rolling in a frenzied rhythm. he wishes it was you. fuck, your warmth wrapping around his cock—your hands cradling his balls. the veins on his underside bulge, the coil in his sack drawing tighter and tighter. shit, shit. he's gonna cum now. he's gonna cum in record-time to the tender loving care of your pillow. his moans twist into cries, bed-frame shaking under the force of his weight. "you gonna cum now, angel?"art nods, jerky and furious. it's that word that gets him. angel. angel. a shudder rips through his body and thick, ropy streams of cum are splattering against the pillow. painting it, stained and sticky. he's hovers there for a moment; crammed between his legs, frame quivering, thighs wet as his mind blanks. in disbelief, if he had the pride—but he doesn't. so it's simple, base pleasure. god, his life is perfect. he crumbles into your lap like the colosseum. the corners of his mind are still fuzzy. the warmth of your thigh against his cheek is the only thing he's ever needed, only thing he's ever craved. god, he didn't even realise his cheeks were wet—doesn't think he cares. "good boy." you murmur, and he can hear the smile in your voice. your hand finds his hair, and he can't stop his hips from rolling against nothing.

#inbox ! #(っ ‘o’)ﾉ⌒💥my works ! #૮ smut🔞 #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #challengers #art challengers #art donaldson fic #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fanfiction #challengers x reader #challengers x you #challengers smut #mike faist x reader #mike faist #challengers movie #art donaldson x female reader #art donaldson x male reader #yameoto

[chan-skz]

Makeup - Bang Chan

His fingers were delicate. He was so close to you, you weren't used to such closeness. You prayed he couldn't notice the growing blush on your cheeks, as his gaze was focused on your makeup. You made the mistake of leaving your house without an umbrella, not having bothered to check the weather forecast, thus finding yourself stuck in the rain, ruining completely your hair and makeup.

"You're so stupid." Chan said slightly coldly, tearing his gaze away from you for a short moment to change accessories. You pouted, crossing your arms. He wasn't wrong, you should have thought better.

You decided to ignore his comment, watching him cleverly place a bit of the concealer against the back of his hand and lightly tap your beauty blender against it. At least you had the decency to bring your makeup bag with you. “I didn’t know you knew how to put on makeup.” Speaking of makeup, you didn't even know that he was an expert on that either.

"Don’t judge me, but I watched several videos just in case my girl friends needed help. And also I sometimes had to retouch my own makeup behind the scenes during concerts." He added calmly with a small grin on his face. But his expression quickly returned to focus as he began to apply the cosmetic on your skin. "So yes, I can manage to do it. I'm telling you all that because by the look on your face, you look rather surprised."

The sweet smile he gave you made your heart race. But you pushed all feelings aside, you had no chance. Not only was he your friend, but also an extremely coveted man. After all, how could such a perfect man be attracted to someone like you? So many girls would dream of being in your shoes right now. He could easily get girls much more beautiful and experienced than you in a snap of a finger.

"Are you okay?" He snapped you out of your thoughts, his gaze boring into yours. You nodded slightly, smiling softly at him. “From the way you look, you’re clearly not okay.”

You tried to reassure him but he cut you off directly. “Do you want me to make you feel better?” You stare at him, not knowing what his next move. Before you could even retort, his face moved closer to yours. "Can I?" His gaze was fixed on your lips. You didn't know what to say. Your face was red like a tomato, you slowly nodded it. This was the last thing you would’ve expect from him.

His lips were soft and delicious. Kissing your own friend had never been on your bingo of the year, but here you are, sharing a soft kiss that he himself had requested. Quickly, the makeup was forgotten and the kiss became more intense. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands came to grip your hips.

Suddenly he withdrew. "I forgot you had makeup on. Sorry I didn’t want to ruin it for you again." It was clear he didn't mean it. Seeing your lipstick ruined turned him on so much, but was he even going to admit it to you?

You laughed, knowing that this heated exchange had already done it. "You're telling me that when it already happened. Look at yourself in the mirror, your lips and the area around your mouth are completely stained." You wanted to kiss him again when you saw that it was his turn to be flustered by your comment. You took this opportunity to tease him even more.

“You know, you can ruin my makeup however you want and even further.” You smirked lewdly, gently sliding your hand down his chest to his crotch, clearly insinuating your desire for more than a kiss. In a flash he took your hand and pulled you towards another room. It all happened so quickly that your brain only registered the fact that you were now on his bed, him leaning against you.

“Say that again?” Now you were the one being humbled. You didn't expect this turnaround, even less from him. He had always been the shy type, although sometimes he could be bold. It was all part of his personality, but right now the person you were facing wasn't the same Chan you knew.

Suddenly you lost your voice, you didn't dare look at him, feeling ashamed.

Before you could even open your mouth, you felt his lips exploring your neck. A small moan escaped your lips when he coincidentally found your sensitive spot. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around his hips and arms around his shoulders, pulling him as close to you as possible. Doing so, you could feel his bulge against your core.

“Fuck don’t do that, baby. If you keep provoking me I won’t be able to hold back any longer.” He said in a deep voice in your ear. His tone gave you chills and he felt it. You were going to retaliate, but before you could even get a word out of your mouth he pulled out of you and knelt between your legs. His hands firmly grabbed your panties and a dirty smirk crowned his face. "Silly me, I completely forgot that you gave me permission to ruin your beautiful makeup. I’ll be happy to do so and honey, forget my words, I’m not going to hold back on you.”

#skz smut hours #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #chan stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #skz chan smut #skz x reader #stray kids bang chan #chan smut

[superblysubpar]

series masterlist | my blog is 18+

chapter summary: A bet is proposed.

the song: honey by halsey

2,563 words | please see the masterlist for general warnings

Hawkins, Indiana - the past

  Your fingers tightened around the handlebars, palms damp and grip too loose for your liking. A deep furrow seems permanent between your brows, resting under the cherry red plastic that brought you into this mess. Their words ringing in your ears like a jingle of a commercial - annoying and unable to ignore if you tried. 

  “What a girl - she needs a helmet to ride a bike?”

  And if that comment alone wasn’t bad enough, Steve Harrington had to chime in. Leaning over his own handlebars, smirking, daring you to challenge him. 

  “What you need it for anyways? Not like you were planning to go down the destroyer. Bet you were just going to Benny’s for ice cream.”

  The other boys had snickered, Steve’s smirk grew into a full wattage, cocky, grin. That is until you lifted your chin, kicked up dust directly at him as you turned your bike and said: 

  “Cute you still call it the destroyer. I’ve been biking down that hill for years. How about I show you and buy you an ice cream cone afterwards Harrington?”

  Boys ‘oo’ed’, Steve’s jaw clenched, and your chest filled with some sort of powerful and addicting feeling as you biked towards your lie. 

  Which now sits in front of you. The legend so aptly named by the Hawkins population of thirteen and under due to it’s sheer height and the gravel that sat below it. A hill way out near the Quarry, it took half the day to bike there and back - if you still had your bike after that is. It was the tallest point in Hawkins aside from a grassy hill teens would sneak away to. 

  From the top of the destroyer, you could see the whole town, all the way down to the bottom of the Quarry, the road, and where it turned to gravel to lead to the sort of landing at the base of the pit. 

  It was the point the hill turned to gravel that truly gave the bike killer its name. If one somehow got the courage, or in your case straight up stupidity and false confidence for brains, to decide to go down the hill, your speed by the time you reached the bottom would be too much and the gravel was a relentless enemy. 

  You’d heard stories of bikes skidding, of scratched up, bruised limbs. There was even a tale of one boy who toppled over his handlebars and popped his shoulder out of place. 

  And you’d told Steve Harrington you’d been going down it for years. 

  “Hey.”

  His voice was far quieter than you were used to hearing, like he wanted you to have to lean in and listen to what he was about to tell you. 

  When you turned to tell him you didn’t care for what he had to say, you were shocked to find his cheek pulled between his teeth, wavy hair pushed up at odd angles like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times. Steve wrapped his fingers around his own handlebars tighter, like if his grip was strong enough, yours would be too, straddling his bike next to yours and gulping as he looked down the hill. 

  “What?” You finally asked, fingers toying with the straps of your helmet. 

  “I don’t think you should do this…” 

  As the boys whispered behind you, you frowned and didn’t dare think about how Steve’s voice wobbled a little, like there was some real emotion behind the warning. 

  Like he cared. 

  “I’m truly touched you were able to scrounge up enough brain cells to force a thought, but I have never and will never care what you think Steve Harrington.”

  That same swelling feeling of triumph filled your chest when the other boys laughed and Steve’s ears started to turn as red as your helmet. 

  Steve ignored the laughing, voice a twinge stronger than before as he said, “You’re gonna get hurt.”

  “I’ve done this hundreds of-“

  Steve said your last name, grabbed your handlebars. His golden eyes burning with something as he practically begged you to listen to what he was trying to say.

  “You’re being stupid.”

  From this close, you could see more freckles along the bridge of his nose, see that his eyes weren’t brown but had a little green in them. You could smell lemonade and sunblock and something about it all made you panic. Made you push him off and add extra bite to your tone, hoping your words stung him.  

  “Yeah? Well, you’d know all about stupid, Harrington.”

  And then you pushed off, the call of your name drowned out by the wind rushing past your ears. 

  Hawkins, Indiana - the present

  Your eyes roll almost in time with Harrison Ford’s. A man who’s currently on the suspended screens because he has some weird thing about a movie with him being on while he’s flirting. Like Harrison’s energy is in the store with him, a guiding wingman. 

  What a tool. 

  Eddie’s lips quirk up in a lopsided smirk across from you when your shoulders tense at the shrill giggle to your left. You roll them back, then your head from side to side. Your fingers meet to form the goal post again, elbows sticking to laminated sheets screaming about summer deals and most definitely some sort of residual soda spill.

  “So,” a deeper voice than what you know it to typically sound like catches the tail end of the giggle, “If I were to call this number right now-“

  “I’m not home, silly,” another forced giggle interrupts. 

  Eddie sighs when you straighten up again, your teeth snapping at a red vine as you watch the hand reach forward and tuck a perfect blonde ringlet behind an ear, then linger. 

  “Well,” he leans in, voice stickier than the honey of his eyes, “If you were home…I’d call you.” He taps the tip of her nose with the pad of a finger, then flashes a smile brighter than the overhead fluorescents. “And ask you if you’d be free for a movie tonight?”

  Robin snorts next to your ankle behind the counter. Green vest covered shoulders rising as they shake with somewhat silent laughter and her head hides between her knees, tapes scattered on the floor around her. 

  Your head shakes back and forth in baffled amazement. It’s like an accident - you can’t help but watch  the wreck that’s about to-

  “And if I were home to answer, I’d tell you to pick me up at 7.” 

  The red vine falls from your mouth onto the counter, as you watch a little piece of paper leave manicured fingers and slip into the front pocket of his gray polo.

  A paper football smacks your nose as Eddie sighs out of his. As her hips sway under tight denim, haloed by the bright sunshine when the trill of the door chimes on her exit, the overpowering scent of vanilla and peaches continues to suffocate. 

  Steve Harrington turns to you all with a cocky grin. He pulls the digits scrawled in loopy font out of his pocket and nestles it between brown leather and green bills before returning the wallet to his back pocket with a pleased sigh. 

  “Oh yeah, I’m back.”

  And then he high fives the TV.

  Not just a tool - a whole box of them.  

  Steve turns when you snort, eyebrows raised at you as he takes his place behind the counter again. 

  “Something funny?” He asks, reaching toward your box of red vines. 

  “Real funny,” you admit, snatching them closer, “That you think anything about that interaction means you’re back.”

  Your waist hits the counter as you step out of his reach when he takes another forward with a tilted head. His fingers just miss the red candy when he huffs. 

  “Enlighten me, babe.”

  “Don’t,” you hiss, “Call me babe.”

  The counter digs into your back, Steve leans in closer, mint and cedar beginning to overpower the peaches, and you hate that you don’t mind the difference. 

  Steve’s lips smirk, a freckle just above his top one lifting as he tsks, “Wow. Not gonna even acknowledge my big brain word?”

  “Would you like a round of applause, Harrington, for correctly using the word enlighten?” 

  He grins, he nods, his fingers snatch a piece of the licorice up, “Yeah. Yeah I would.”

  You catch the end of the candy, shaking your head with a scoff. “She called you big boy.”

  Robin, whom you don’t want to admit you’d forgotten was even behind the counter with you, sighs, loudly.

  “Wow. Thanks. I had just forgotten.”

  Steve tugs on the candy between the two of you with raised eyebrows and a look of annoyance. “And?”

  You tug harder, and Steve dares to take another step closer with it, knuckles brushing yours that lay limply next to thighs almost touching. 

  “And, that means you didn’t do a thing except let rumors of what’s underneath your too tight Levi’s spread like the rash you’ve probably given to half this town.”

  Another tug of the candy, though gentler this time, pulls you closer, plastic crinkling against your abdomen as he proudly whispers, “Not rumors, babe.”

  “Call me babe,” you practically growl, “One more time. See what happens.”

  “Okay,” Steve tilts his chin in a challenge, fingers twitching on the candy, “Ba-“

  The red licorice disappears with a flash of silver metal, snapped between white teeth before it’s waved around dramatically.

  “While this is super fun to watch. She’s not wrong Stevie.” Eddie shrugs. 

  Steve takes a step back, red Nike swoosh flashing as he kicks at thread bare carpet. “Sure. She’s never wrong.”

  You have to physically stop yourself from sticking your tongue out at him. 

  Eddie hoists himself up onto the counter, chain tapping and clanking against things as he gets down just as quickly he sits when you snap your fingers and point to the ground. 

  He raises his hands in surrender at you, then waves at Steve with a squint of big, brown eyes. 

  “You’re not back. You barely had to put in any work with that cutie. She was making heart eyes at you from the parking lot, man.”

  Steve holds his arms out at his sides, like he’s innocent. “Just because girl’s know I have a sizeable-“

  “Ew,” you snap another bite of candy. 

  “Appendage-” Steve continues, ignoring you. 

  “You’re sick,” Robin delivers in a monotone from her stack sorting. 

  “And they know I know what I’m doing with it,” Steve talks over Robin in their well-oiled banter, “Doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard.” Steve dares to place his fingers over his chest and continue with pride dripping from each word, like he truly believes and is proud to say, “I still have to put in the work to look good, to flirt and think on my feet. I have to pull out the Harrington charm. It’s not my fault I have more than other guys to work with.”

  Eddie ponders what Steve is saying thoughtfully, he places his hands behind his back and paces, nodding his head carefully. 

  “Maybe so,” Eddie sighs dramatically, gesturing with a bow to Steve, “We cannot all be gifted with such well-endowment.”

  “I truly hate it here,” Robin says to the ceiling while Steve beams. 

  You tilt your head at Eddie, trying to figure out where he’s going before he gets there. 

  He slaps his hands on the counter, metal clanking against glass displaying candy as he proclaims, “I propose a challenge.”

  Steve snorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter next to you, his elbow nudging yours. “What, like a duel?”

  Your eyes roll as you dig your elbow into his, pushing him away. 

  “Intriguing, but maybe another time. I’m fresh out of jousting materials I’m afraid,” Eddie grins. “No, I think, to really know if you’re back, to prove this,” he waves his hands at the entirety of Steve, “All takes real work and you’re not just coasting on what the good lord gave you, you’d need to use it on someone who’s unsuspecting. Someone,” Eddie purses his lips, “Who isn’t already swooning over the mere thought of you.”

  Robin spins, blue eyes alight with intrigue. “Hold on. I’m listening.”

  Steve tilts his head, “You want me to get the number of a girl who hates me?”

  Robin grins like it’s the best things she’s ever heard, but Eddie shakes his head, tugging on a curl. “No. Too easy. I think you need to sleep with her.”

  Your mouth drops open in disbelief and Robin whistles low and slow. 

  Eddie pretends to hold up a scroll, reading from air in a theatric voice, “I, Eddie Munson, declare that Steve Harrington cannot get the next girl to walk through this door of thy Family Video to have sex with him. The rules shall be that Harrington may only pursue said girl after careful consideration of her un-swoonability by yours truly, and will have one week to prove his charming capabilities. The stakes? One hundred dollars. Does Steve Harrington accept such a bet?”

  You scoff, “You’re both not actually making a bet on-“

  Steve’s hand slaps into Eddie’s, both boys smirking as they shake on it. Steve waves his other hand in the air, all nonchalant while confidence oozes out of him. “Next girl that walks through that door, I’m going to fuck. Easy.”

  “Unbelievable, You’re both unbelievable.” Your words are lost on deaf, egotistical ears.

  Eddie nods, he grins with shoulders raised at Steve. “Right. Since you’re back, easy peasy.”

  “Her ass and tits will be squeez-ied.” 

  Robin boos, cupping a hand around her mouth. 

  You gesture to her, “That? That’s what you finally have a problem with?”

  Robin shrugs, grinning, “I’m off the clock in one minute. Then he’s your problem.” She looks at Eddie, “Still able to give me a ride home?”

  Eddie nods, “I am but only the ladies driver,” he turns to you with a snap, “Speaking of, think you left your vest in my van, doll.”

  “Oh shit, thanks,” you bounce around the counter as Robin heads into the back. The door chimes as you squint into the late afternoon summer sun, sneakers kicking pebbles on the way to Eddie’s van, when it hits you. Suddenly. Wonderfully. Beautifully. 

  Your vest is sitting on the counter next to your red vines. 

  You spin, gravel crunching beneath your heels as you look at the front of the store.  

  Heavy steps thud against the ground as you race towards it, meeting a frantic Steve at the set of glass double doors.

  He grips the handles, wild eyes and shaking his head no, as he holds them closed and you tug to open them, grinning. 

  Eddie bows behind Steve as Robin cackles. 

  “What’s the matter Harrington,” you call through the doors, enjoying the way his jaw pulses, “Why can’t I come inside? Enlighten me.”

  Steve’s gaze traces your face, it lingers on your smile before it meets your eyes. 

  A challenge in both sets of glares, neither of you willing to back down. 

  He let’s his hands fall from the handles and rest on his hips as the chime trills overhead with your step inside. 

  You bat your eyelashes, you press the back of your hand to your forehead and pretend to faint against the glass. 

  “Good luck, big boy.” 

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