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pucksandpower · 24 days

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Too Sweet

Toto Wolff x Reader

Max Verstappen x ex!Reader

Summary: Max used to think that you’re too sweet for him … now he has to learn to live with the fact that Toto has quite a sweet tooth (inspired by the song that I’ve had on repeat)

I take my whiskеy neat

The doors to the upscale restaurant swing open and Max strides through, his fingers lightly grazing the small of your back as he guides you inside. The dimly lit interior is bustling with the chatter of well-heeled patrons enjoying their evening repasts. A sharply dressed hostess greets you with a polite smile.

“Good evening, sir. Welcome to The Sazerac Room. Do you have a reservation?”

“Verstappen,” Max replies curtly.

The hostess consults her tablet, then nods. “Right this way please.”

She leads the two of you through the elegant dining room, weaving between tables topped with crisp white linens and elaborate floral centerpieces. Max keeps his hand at your back, his thumb idly stroking in a soothing pattern as you take in the opulent surroundings with wide eyes.

“This place is incredible,” you murmur, craning your neck to admire the ornate chandeliers glittering overhead. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

He simply grunts in acknowledgment as the hostess stops before an intimate table tucked discreetly in the corner. After pulling out your chair for you with a flourish, she sets two leather-bound menus on the table.

“Your server will be right with you,” she informs them before departing with a polite nod.

You waste no time in opening your menu, hungrily perusing the offerings. “Oh Max, look at all these amazing cocktails! The La Vie en Rose sounds divine — rose liqueur, raspberries, lemon ...” You glance up at him hopefully. “We should get a couple of those to start.”

Max barely glances at his own menu before shaking his head. “I’ll just have a whiskey neat.”

Your face falls slightly at his brusque response. “Are you sure? These all look so good! We should live a little and try something fun for once.”

He fixes you with a stern look from across the table. “You know I don’t like frilly drinks. Now stop pestering me about it.”

Chastened by his harsh tone, you lapse into a wounded silence and continue reading the menu with diminished enthusiasm. A few moments later, a dapper middle-aged gentleman in a crisp suit appears at your table.

“Good evening, and welcome to The Sazerac Room. My name is William and I’ll be your server this evening.” With a polite smile, he produces a notepad from his breast pocket. “May I start you off with something to drink?”

You glance back at Max, giving him one last chance to change his mind. When he simply gazes back at you impassively, you sigh. “I’ll have the La Vie en Rose cocktail, please.”

William jots down your order before turning to Max expectantly.

“Whiskey neat,” Max says flatly. “Redbreast 27 Year, if you have it.”

“An excellent choice, sir.” William makes a note. “And may I bring you both some bread from our bakery while you decide on your meals?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” you reply gratefully.

William departs to place the drink orders, leaving you and Max alone once more. An awkward silence stretches between you, filled only by the tinkle of silverware and murmurs of conversation from surrounding tables.

Finally, you try again. “Max, are you sure I can’t tempt you with one little sip? This La Vie en Rose cocktail sounds absolutely divine. You might lov-”

“For fuck’s sake!” Max suddenly explodes, slamming his menu down on the table hard enough to rattle the cutlery. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t want any of your ridiculous fruity bullshit? I’m a fucking race car driver, not some ridiculous Instagram model trying to look pretty with my drink.”

His nostrils flare as he leans across the table, eyes flashing with irritation that you would dare continue to push the issue. “I’ve had a long fucking day and I am going to drink whatever the fuck I want. So order your stupid fucking girly cocktail if you must, but don’t act so goddamn disappointed and keep shoving it in my face when I say no.”

You shrink back in your chair, eyes widening with hurt at his enraged outburst. The crestfallen look on your face is enough to douse Max’s fury like a bucket of ice water. He slumps back, remorse already stirring as he witnesses the light dimming in your eyes, lips trembling ever so slightly as you blink back sudden tears.

“I … I was just excited to try something new together,” you whisper shakily. “But never mind. You’re right, I’m sorry.”

The arrival of William with a basket of assorted breads and your glittering pink cocktail garnished with raspberries provides a merciful distraction from the tension.

You immediately reach for the drink, wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and taking a large gulp — both to avoid making eye contact with Max and to sample your coveted libation.

A look of bliss softens your features as the tart, sugary concoction bursts across your taste buds. “Mmm, this is incredible!”

For a beat, Max can’t help but drink in your look of pure enjoyment — the way your eyes flutter closed in delight, pink lips quirking into a contented smile as you savor each sip. It simultaneously tugs at his heartstrings and fills him with an irrational stab of resentment.

Here you are, sweet and radiant, able to find joy in the simplest of things … while he is just a miserable bastard who can’t let himself enjoy anything without getting irrationally angry.

You deserve so much better than him.

The thought is sobering and he feels shame burn hot in his gut. Unconsciously, his shoulders slump as he watches you take another euphoric sip of your cocktail.

“I knew it, this is amazing,” you sigh happily, seemingly recovered from his earlier tantrum as you bask in the deliciousness of your drink. “Max, you have to try just one little-”

“No.” The refusal is automatic, the word slicing through your offer before he can think better of it.

Your face shutters once more, the bright light in your eyes dimming as your smile fades into resignation. With a soft exhale, you set your glass down and reach for the bread basket instead.

“Suit yourself, then.”

As you silently butter a roll, Max finds himself at a rare loss, anger dissipating into regret as the knot in his stomach tightens painfully. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration after his impressive win on the track, a chance for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company and make more happy memories together.

Instead, he’s gone and ruined the mood … again … just like he always does.

***

“Another round?” Checo’s voice cuts through the sound of laughter and chatter around the table.

Max glances up distractedly from pushing the remaining bits of food around his plate. He, Checo, and a few other members of the Red Bull team are celebrating a successful Monaco Grand Prix. Despite making the podium, Max’s mind hasn’t really been on the festivities.

“I’m all set, thanks,” he mutters, raising his glass of whiskey with a tight smile before taking a sip. His gaze drifts across the opulent dining room of Cipriani Monte Carlo, idly scanning the crowd of wealthy patrons enjoying their evening meals.

That’s when his eyes catch on a shockingly familiar figure.

You.

Sitting at an intimate corner table, bathed in the soft glow of a candle’s flickering flame. For a moment, Max’s breath catches in his throat as a thousand bittersweet memories assault him all at once.

The hurt look on your face that night at The Sazerac Room … the resignation in your eyes as you accepted, yet again, that he would never be able to appreciate the sweet, simple pleasures that brought you such joy ...

The cold, empty silence that descended over your apartment when he finally left for good, stuffing his belongings into a duffel bag as you watched with trembling lips from across the room ...

Max blinks, and the moment passes — but his gaze remains riveted to your table. Because there, sitting across from you with adoration written across his insufferable face … is Toto Wolff.

Max feels his lips curl into an unconscious sneer as the Mercedes team principal murmurs something to you with a gentle smile, reaching across to delicately brush a lock of hair behind your ear. You catch Toto’s hand as it falls, pressing a tender kiss into his palm that makes the older man’s expression soften even further.

Your waiter arrives then, providing a momentary distraction as he lays out a couple of fresh cocktails on crisp white linen — a bright purple concoction garnished with a sugared rim and a plump cherry for you and an amber-hued old fashioned for Toto.

Your eyes light up as you take in the colorful beverage, immediately wrapping your hands around the delicate stemmed glass and bringing it to your lips to sample. A look of pure delight crosses your features as the no doubt sugary drink bursts across your taste buds.

“Mmm ...” you hum in pleasure, causing Toto to chuckle affectionately as he watches you enjoy the first reveling sips.

Setting your glass down, you gesture enthusiastically toward it as you address Toto. “This is incredible! You have to try it.”

Without hesitation, the Mercedes team boss dutifully leans across the table to take a long pull from your straw. Max watches with a mixture of disgust and morbid fascination as Toto’s expression morphs into one of surprised enjoyment.

“Wow, that is quite good, isn’t it?” Toto remarks with an indulgent grin, licking a telltale dab of purple syrup from the corner of his mouth.

“I told you!” You crow in delight, eyes sparkling with unrestrained glee.

The pure joy radiating from you in that moment is enough to make Max’s heart clench in his chest. He has seen that look before, so many times — whenever he deigned to let go of his surly demeanor for even a moment and actually indulge whatever fleeting whim or simple pleasure you desired to share with him.

But it was always so short-lived with him, stamped out by his own stubborn refusal to truly embrace anything resembling happiness or frivolity. You deserved so much more than his constant scowling and gruff rebuffs.

As if reading his thoughts, Toto then leans across the table to tenderly capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. The gentle intimacy of it makes Max’s gut churn as a feeling too complicated to fully unpack blossoms in his chest.

When you finally part, both of you are smiling at each other with such open, unguarded adoration that it’s almost obscene to witness. Toto reaches out to cradle your face in his palm as your lips find his once more in another chaste, loving caress.

This time, when you pull away, you let your head loll back with a look of pure bliss. Something deep within Max cracks and splinters at the sight. In a haze, he finds himself drifting back through the churning currents of memory ...

… that last, fateful shouting match in your living room, both of you red-faced and furious as the dam holding back all the anger and resentment and accusations that had been building for months finally burst ...

… you weeping silently as you clutched a meager trash bag containing what little remained of his belongings, not even able to look at him for fear of collapsing completely ...

… “I’m too sweet for you, Max. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

The acid words burn in his mind even now, feeling as fresh and raw as that night they were spat out like venom between you. His chest constricts as his gaze falls guiltily back to the present day scene in front of him.

Toto and you, basking in the warm, rosy glow of new love — careless and unrestrained in your public affection. Delighting in each other’s company and simple pleasures … just as you always desired for Max to do, yet he could never fully surrender to.

The display is like a twisted mirror, taunting him with the vibrant reflection of what he threw away. What he was too foolish, too emotionally stunted and uncaring to fully appreciate at the time.

Stumbling from his chair in a daze, Max barely registers the questioning looks and concerned murmurs from his team as he staggers from the dining room. He hardly makes it to the privacy of the restroom before bending at the waist, hefting the contents of his stomach into the thankfully pristine porcelain basin.

The whiskey burns on the way back up.

Max grips the edges of the counter, face contorted in anguish as a realization washes over him in searing waves.

You were the real prize all along … and now, he’s lost you for good.

My coffee black

The drone of announcements over the PA system and the dull roar of hundreds of people bustling to and fro mingles into an ever-present white noise hum. Max trudges ahead, the brim of his ball cap tugged low as he weaves through the teeming crowds filing through the airports’ terminals.

It’s just after 5 am, the start of another grueling race week. This time the travel will take you from the Middle Eastern leg of the circuit to the other side of the world in Australia. Twenty-plus hours of planes, layovers, and jet lag beckon — a prospect that grows less and less appealing with each passing season.

A warm weight presses against his side as you shuffle along beside him, head lolling adorably as you struggle to keep your eyes open. One slender hand is looped through the crook of his elbow, gripping the strap of your carry-on bag with the other. You let out a jaw-cracking yawn, leaning into Max’s solid bulk.

“I need coffee,” you mumble groggily. “I’m barely conscious.”

He shoots you a sidelong glance, mouth quirking ever-so-slightly at your dramatics. As grating as your tendency for excessive cheerfulness can be at times, he does admire your ability to shake off the fatigue and stress that plagues him more and more these days.

“There’s one of those chains up ahead,” he grunts, nodding toward the familiar logo peeking through from around the corner.

You light up immediately, straightening and quickening your shuffling steps in anticipation of the caffeinated boost soon to come. By the time you reach the counter, there’s a bright spark back in your eyes that makes the exhaustion plaguing Max’s own limbs feel slightly more bearable.

The barista, a pimple-faced youth who can’t be any older than 18, greets you with a too-wide smile. “Welcome to Daily Grind! What can I get started for you?”

You lean in eagerly, surveying the massive display of chalkboard signs advertising the latest sugar bombs and “coffee” concoctions designed to appease the basic palates of everyday people who wouldn’t know a good cup of joe if it slapped them across the face. Max scowls, already anticipating some ridiculously saccharine order.

“I’ll have a large cinnamon honey oat milk latte, please,” you chirp, as expected.

The barista marks down your request with a perky nod. “Excellent! And for you, sir?”

“Black coffee,” Max replies flatly. “Medium.”

Your brow furrows as you shoot him a quizzical look. “Just black coffee? Not even a splash of cream or anything?”

He shakes his head tersely, one hand already rummaging in his pocket for his wallet as the barista rattles off the total. “We’re in a rush as it is, and that sugary nonsense you ordered takes forever to make with all the fussy bullshit they do to it.”

You wince at his blunt assessment, shoulders slumping a bit in a way that makes a pang of guilt flicker through Max’s chest. He doesn’t mean to be so harsh … but sometimes it’s like the more considerate side of his nature has been ground away by years of constant training and calculating every single variable down to the most minute detail.

The poor kid working the register seems to shrink under the intensity of Max’s gruff demeanor. With shaky hands, he quickly processes the payment before stammering out your total. As you shuffle off to the side to wait for your orders, Max can’t help but keep picking.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you insist on ordering those stupid drinks that are 90% milk and trash,” he mutters, shooting you a disapproving look. “Barely any actual coffee at all.”

You frown, immediately hunching into yourself a bit as you cradle a handful of napkins against your chest. “It’s not like that coffee flavor isn’t there at all,” you argue meekly. “And I have to get some kind of caffeine boost to stay awake during all these flights and race weekends. I just … I don’t really like the taste of black coffee.”

Max scoffs loudly at that, shaking his head in open derision. “Sure, because drinking just regular black coffee like an adult would be too difficult. Instead you have to get your ‘caffeine boost’ from some tooth-rottingly sweet concoction that looks like something a child would order.”

The barista shifts uncomfortably behind the counter, clearly flustered by Max’s abrasive tone. Not that he cares — he’s been dealing with people gawking at him in public for years now. What does rub him the wrong way is the wounded look spreading across your delicate features, eyes dropping to stare dejectedly at the floor.

He opens his mouth to continue chiding you, but at that moment the barista appears with your drinks. The sweet, cinnamony aroma of your order hits Max’s nostrils like a slap in the face, making his nose wrinkle on instinct. You accept your oversized paper cup gratefully, hands automatically curling around the comforting warmth.

With visible enthusiasm, you bring the drink to your lips, unable to resist taking a sip despite the scalding temperature. Max tracks the minute changes in your expression — the slight widening of your eyes, the upward quirk of your lips into a smile of unalloyed contentment. Your lashes flutter closed on a quiet hum of blissful appreciation.

“Mmm … heaven,” you practically moan, hunching over your cup as though to better inhale the revitalizing notes of sugar and spice.

It makes Max want to retch, watching you so unashamedly indulging in such vapid, artificial flavors. How can you find such simple-minded pleasure in that, when you could be savoring the bold, robust notes of a proper cup of black coffee? One meant to awaken the senses and caress the taste buds with its smoky aroma and rich, nuanced flavor notes.

“You can’t honestly get any enjoyment from basically drinking hot milk and flavored syrups,” he mutters, sneering at the offensive beverage in your grasp.

In response, you simply shift closer to him until you’re pressed alongside his body. Your free hand snakes around his bicep, squeezing gently as you tilt your head back to gaze up at him imploringly. Exhaustion and hurt war openly with the angelic softness of your delicate features.

“Max … can’t you just let me enjoy this?” You plead in a low murmur. “It’s early, and we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

His jaw clenches stubbornly, unwilling to back down so easily. Caffeine and sleep deprivation have eroded his already thin sense of decorum.

“I’m just saying, drinking a syrupy dessert drink loaded with sugar and god knows what else isn’t doing you any favors. You might as well just stick to black coffee like a normal adult if you want to be awake and energized.”

The wounded look in your eyes deepens into something more somber and resigned. Slowly, you pull away from Max’s side until a noticeable distance stretches between your bodies. Something inside him shrivels at the loss of contact. Your slender fingers work feverishly at the cup’s lid until it pops off with a dull thunk.

Max stares blankly as you march over to the nearest trash can and upend the contents of your cup into the receptacle. You don’t even seem to hesitate — simply turn on your heel and hurl the now-empty cup in after the wasted drink. It clatters hollowly against the canister, mocking and empty.

When you turn back to face Max, the sight makes the now-lukewarm coffee sitting neglected in his own cup feels like a lead weight in his gut. Your arms are wrapped protectively around yourself, hunched against some unseen foe. Head bowed, you refuse to meet his gaze as you slowly make your way back over to where he stands rooted to the spot in stunned silence.

It’s only as you draw up beside him that Max notices the twin tear tracks striping your cheeks. Your chin remains stubbornly trembling, but you make no move to wipe at the tears now falling freely. Max’s chest constricts almost painfully at the sight of your misery, the guilt gnawing at him as the reality sets in.

He is the reason for it. His harsh, uncompromising tongue has wounded you in one of the cruelest ways once again. Too strict, too unyielding, too incapable of allowing even the smallest indulgences that bring you simple joy without sneering dismissal.

For several agonizing moments, the two of you stand in silence amid the milling crowds of travelers streaming past. Max can’t bring himself to meet your gaze, knowing he’ll only find the depths of his own callous thoughtlessness reflected back at him in your swimming eyes.

Finally, you release a shuddering sigh that sounds far too weighted for someone of your sweetness and light. When you speak, your voice is little more than a tremulous murmur laced with dejection.

“Let’s just go to the gate, Max.”

You brush past him without another word, leaving him to trail numbly in your wake as shame burns a hole through his gut. He watches as your form disappears into the throngs, shoulders already beginning to hunch inward as that spark of happiness in you gutters and fades.

Lingering behind, Max’s gaze falls to the empty cup lying crumpled and discarded in the trash. A reminder of yet another instance where his unchecked tongue and inability to empathize has spoiled an innocent attempt at simple pleasure.

His coffee suddenly tastes like ash on his tongue.

As he moves to dump the neglected drink into the nearby basin, Max wonders with a sinking feeling just how many more times he’ll be able to snuff out your light before it dwindles to nothing.

***

The late morning sun bears down with oppressive force, causing a mirage-like haze to shimmer over the sweltering asphalt of the paddock. Despite being early summer, the Spanish air is already thick and heavy enough to bathe Max’s skin in a sheen of perspiration as he trudges toward the Red Bull Energy Station.

Ahead, he spots a cluster of people milling aimlessly near the entrance to the Mercedes motorhome. At the center appears to be you, head tilted back in unrestrained laughter at something George Russell is regaling you with. The British driver is equally animated, pale features scrunched up in exaggerated motions as he relays what is no doubt an amusing tale.

Max feels his steps gradually slow of their own accord as he takes you in from a distance. You seem utterly at ease and in your element — cheeky grin splitting your face, one hand toying idly with the ends of your hair as your eyes crinkle with unbridled mirth.

A pure vision of effortless contentment.

His gut clenches unexpectedly, unbidden memories of how he methodically chipped away at that very lightness in you until it was all but extinguished washing over him in a nauseating wave. How quickly he took such simple joys for granted ...

So transfixed is he by the sight of your open, honest amusement that Max barely notices the figure slipping up behind you. Not until Toto Wolff raises a conspiratorial finger to his lips, eyes twinkling impishly as he pantomimes for silence at a sputtering George.

You remain oblivious even as the Mercedes team principal slides flush against your back, looping one arm around your waist to tug you snug against his chest. With his free hand, Toto cups it teasingly over your eyes — to which you release a tinkling peal of laughter.

“Guess who?” The playful lilt of the older man’s Austrian lilt is unmistakable, dripping with honeyed warmth.

“Hmm … I wonder,” you murmur coyly, making a show of tapping your chin in feigned confusion. “Is it a dashing gentleman caller here to sweep me off my feet?”

Toto chuckles deeply in your ear, the sound positively dripping with unguarded affection. “Only if you’ll have me, liebling.”

Craning your head back with a cheeky grin, your arms instinctively wind around his neck as you stretch up on your tiptoes to greet him properly. Toto meets your lips in a lingering, languid kiss that has George hastily clearing his throat and looking resolutely anywhere but at the affectionate display before him.

When you finally part, all radiant smiles and flushed cheeks, it’s like the rest of the world has completely fallen away. Toto gazes down at you with such pure adoration that Max feels his throat constrict as though a belt is suddenly cinched tight around it.

“I have a surprise for you, schnucki,” Toto murmurs huskily, lips brushing your temple as he speaks.

You light up like a kid on Christmas morning, practically vibrating with excitement at his words. “Oh? Do tell!”

With a wink and roguish smile, Toto brandishes his other hand from behind his back — in it, clutched protectively, is a large cup topped with whipped cream and what looks like edible flower petals sprinkled over the top. The light purple hue of the iced contents catches in the bright sun, refracting a prism of soft, delicate colors.

“I had the barista in our hospitality whip this up for you,” Toto explains fondly. “After I mentioned how much you enjoy trying unique coffee flavors. It’s a lavender vanilla iced latte.”

Your mouth drops open in a perfect ‘o’ of delight as you instinctively make grabby motions toward the tantalizing beverage. Max recognizes that earnest enthusiasm all too well. It’s the same look you used to get whenever presented with any unique taste or experience to appreciate.

A look he always met with disdain and scorn.

Toto doesn’t hesitate for a second before depositing the cup into your greedy hands. You immediately cradle it reverently, as though it’s the most precious thing you’ve ever held. Ducking your head, you take a long pull through the striped paper straw.

The expression that blossoms across your features as that first taste bursts over your tongue is one of pure, unadulterated bliss. Your eyes flutter closed on a muffled moan of sinful enjoyment, lips pursing as though savoring each individual note of flavor. Max hasn’t seen you look that unguardedly delighted by anything in … well, he can’t actually recall the last time.

“Oh Toto, this is heavenly!” You gush, swiping your tongue across your lower lip to catch a stray drop of condensation. “The lavender is subtle, but gives it such a uniquely fresh and floral twist. And the vanilla adds this creamy sweetness that keeps it from being overwhelming.”

You open your eyes to beam radiantly up at the older man, who returns your luminous smile with equal warmth. “It’s perfect, thank you! You have to try it.”

Without prompting, you eagerly offer the cup up to Toto. He accepts it with an indulgent chuckle, locking eyes with you as he takes a contemplative sip — no doubt eager to share in whatever fleeting moment of bliss the simple drink has brought you.

Unlike Max, who would have turned up his nose and likely received it with derision, Toto seems to savor the complex blend of flavors. Humming thoughtfully, he swipes his tongue across his upper lip as though committing each separate note to memory.

“You’re quite right, liebling,” he agrees readily, “this is delightful. So refreshing for this heat. I may have to acquire a taste for these iced coffees myself.”

You positively glow at his assessment, lighting up from within like a joyful little sun. Max is helpless before the storm of emotions suddenly ripping through him at the sight.

“Oh! That reminds me,” you chirp giddily, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I was talking to the barista about maybe incorporating some other floral syrups for iced coffees too. Like rose or hibiscus! And maybe we could get her to try making those fun layered drinks with the espresso on the bottom-”

Toto’s deep belly laugh cuts off your stream of eager rambling. Without warning, he snakes an arm around your waist and tugs you flush against him once more. You let out a startled giggle as he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, lips brushing the feverish pulse point just beneath your jaw.

“You adorable thing,” he rumbles warmly, words slightly muffled against your skin as he presses a languid line of kisses along the sharp line of your jaw. “So enthusiastic about the simplest pleasures in life ...”

Pulling back, Toto lifts one hand to tenderly cradle the side of your face. You automatically nuzzle into his palm with a look of such smitten devotion that it makes Max’s heart stutter behind his ribcage. When Toto leans in to seal his lips over yours once more, the kiss is deep and thoroughly unhurried — as though the two of you have all the time in the world to savor this intimate little moment.

Max’s hands clench into white-knuckled fists, blunt nails biting crescent moons into his clammy palms. He should turn away, leave you to your blissful display with someone who so clearly appreciates you. Yet he remains rooted in place, unable to tear his eyes from the scene unfolding before him.

It’s like witnessing an alternate universe version of your shared lives play out in vivid, scorching detail.

In this reality, Toto is the one tenderly stroking the pad of his thumb over the elegant arch of your cheekbone as the two of you part, drinking in the sight of your passion-addled features hungrily. He is the one basking in the radiance of your bright and unrestrained joy. Celebrating each of your simple thrills, from the most frivolous of flavored coffees to the sensual graze of skin on skin.

And where does that leave Max? An outsider peering in at paradise with his face smeared against the glass, watching the warmth and affection he could never fully embrace slowly slip through his calloused fingers.

And my bed at three

The mattress shifts, the subtle movement rousing Max from his slumber. He cracks one eye open to find the space next to him empty, the sheets disheveled where you had lain.

A glance at the digital clock on the nightstand tells him it’s not yet 5 am. Where are you going at this hour?

He hears faint rustling from the living area of the hotel suite, followed by the soft click of the door. Groaning, he kicks off the covers and pads out of the bedroom, the plush carpet warm beneath his bare feet.

You’re sitting on the couch, slipping into a pair of flats. “What are you doing up so early?” He asks, his voice still husky from sleep.

You look up, startled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” A soft smile plays on your lips. “I was going to watch the sunrise.”

Max rakes a hand through his tousled hair. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Because it’s beautiful.” Your eyes sparkle with an excitement he can’t comprehend this early in the morning. “The colors, the way the light slowly creeps over the horizon — it’s just magical.”

He snorts. “It happens every day. Nothing magical about it.”

Your face falls ever so slightly, and it tugs at something in his chest. But the feeling is fleeting, replaced by annoyance at having his sleep disturbed for something so trivial. “So you didn’t want to join me, then?” You ask, almost timidly.

“And wake up before the ass-crack of dawn? No thanks.” He flops onto the couch beside you with a huff. “I was up until 3 am sim racing. Not all of us find staring at the sky such riveting entertainment.”

You say nothing, simply nodding as you avert your gaze. The light in your eyes has dimmed, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he shakes it off — it’s far too early for this kind of whimsical nonsense.

“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “I’m going back to bed.”

He doesn’t see the way your shoulders droop as he turns and trudges back towards the bedroom. Doesn’t see the tears that prick at the corners of your eyes before you blink them away and readjust the set of your jaw with determination.

Max burrows under the covers, fully intent on drifting back into oblivion. But sleep evades him, his mind buzzing with a peculiar restlessness. He punches his pillow into a more suitable shape, flips it over to the cool side, but still he lies awake, listening to the silence that fills the suite.

After what feels like an eternity, curiosity gets the better of him. He kicks off the covers once more and pads over to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city street below. Sure enough, there you are, a tiny figure perched on a bench across the way, your face tipped up towards the slowly lightening sky.

Max leans his forehead against the cool glass, watching as the inky blackness of night gives way to soft shades of periwinkle and lilac. Slowly, the colors deepen into blazing pinks and vibrant oranges that streak across the heavens. The sky ignites in a brilliant blaze of crimson and gold, the clouds set afire by the rising sun.

And there you sit, bathed in the dawn’s ethereal glow, utterly transfixed. In this light, your features seem softer, more at peace than he’s seen you in a long while. A smile plays on your lips, genuine and unguarded, as you take in the spectacle unfolding before you.

Max finds himself holding his breath, as if the slightest movement might shatter the magic of this moment. He’s never seen you look more beautiful, more alive than in these fleeting minutes as day breaks over the city.

A rare pang of tenderness blooms in his chest, quickly overshadowed by a creeping sense of unease. He isn’t certain how much time has passed before the brilliant hues fade into the pale blue of morning, but eventually you rise from the bench, taking one last, lingering look at the sky before turning and disappearing from view.

Max exhales slowly, his breath fogging up the glass. He isn’t proud of how he dismissed your simple joy, that spark of wonderment at the little things that he so often takes for granted.

An emptiness settles in the pit of his stomach, the guilt heavier than before. How many other moments has he trampled on in his relentless pursuit of success?

He thinks of your radiant smile, how it lit up the pre-dawn gloom more vibrantly than the sunrise itself. With a sigh, Max turns away from the window, already dreading the apology he knows he owes you.

Because in that single, breathtaking moment, he realizes just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. Someone who can find magic in the mundane, beauty in the simple things he’s become blind to along the way.

Someone, Max fears, who may be too sweet for him.

***

Max gives up on sleep around 4:30 am, as he has for the past several weeks. Insomnia has become his constant, unwanted companion, leaving him tossing and turning until the first hints of dawn creep through the curtains. On nights like this, slumber remains persistently out of reach no matter how exhausted he feels.

He lies in bed, staring at the ceiling as the brightening sky slowly illuminates the room. It wasn’t always this way — he used to be able to sleep like the dead after a race weekend, knocked out by the physical and mental exertion. But lately, his mind refuses to shut off, thoughts swirling endlessly until his head pounds.

With a groan, Max kicks off the tangled sheets and drags himself out of bed. Maybe going for a run will quiet the racket in his brain, at least for a little while. He dresses quickly, lacing up his trainers and grabbing his earbuds before heading out into the semi-darkness.

The pre-dawn streets are blissfully empty as he starts off at an easy jog. He despises becoming one of those obnoxious morning people, but exhaustion has a way of stripping away one’s self-respect. If pounding the pavement before the rest of the world awakes is what it takes to catch a few hours of sleep, so be it.

His route takes him along the harbor, the gentle lapping of the waves against the seawall providing a soothing soundtrack. The first rays of sunlight glint off the glassy surface, and he finds himself averting his gaze, oddly resentful of the impending sunrise.

It wasn’t so long ago that he scoffed at your eagerness to greet each new day. But ever since you’ve been gone from his life, those brilliant, fleeting moments of beauty have begun to mock him at every turn.

He picks up his pace, as if he can outrun the rising sun and the flood of memories it brings. But there’s no escaping the vivid flashes of you, smiling radiantly as the world awakes in a blaze of fiery hues. Or the hollow ache that twinges somewhere beneath his rib cage whenever he’s reminded of just how little he appreciated you.

So lost is he in his circling thoughts that he nearly runs right into you, appearing abruptly on the path ahead. His trainers skid against the pavement as he grinds to a halt, his heart stammering in his chest.

“Max?” You blink up at him, clearly startled by his sudden presence.

He opens his mouth, an automatic apology rising to his lips — until his eyes zero in on the camera clutched in your hands. Of course. Still chasing sunrises after all these years.

A wry grin tugs at the corner of your mouth as you take in his rumpled running attire. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Max says nothing, his gaze flickering briefly towards the brightening horizon before fixing on you once more. You look … well, radiant as ever, lit by the soft morning glow. A small pang of something — longing, maybe — twists in his gut.

“Out enjoying another sunrise, I see,” he says at last, nodding towards the camera.

You glance down at it fondly. “Well, you know how it is. I have to capture them while I can.” A teasing lilt edges into your voice. “Not all of us are night owls.”

He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I’ll never understand what’s so fascinating about watching the same thing happen day after day.”

“But that’s just it — each one is different. Unique and fleeting and … breathtaking.” Your eyes spark with that gentle wonderment he remembers so well, the sight sending a tremor through his chest. “Like getting a front row seat to the greatest show on Earth, but it’s one you’ll never see again.”

You trail off with a small shake of your head, seemingly at a loss to put the feeling into words. Max doesn’t need the explanation — he’s seen that look of childlike awe on your face more times than he can count.

An awkward silence stretches between you, laden with the weight of history and unspoken apologies. You shift your stance, mouth opening as if to say something more.

But Max cuts you off before you can get the words out, unable to bear whatever sentiments might cross those sweet lips of yours. “Toto not joining you this time?” He asks gruffly.

Your expression softens into a fond smile, and it’s like a physical blow to Max’s sternum. He knows that look, has been on the receiving end of it more times than he cares to remember. The way your entire being seems to brighten when you so much as think about someone you love.

“Ah, you know Toto — he’s more of a sunset person,” you say with a light laugh. “I’ve never been able to drag his grumpy butt out of bed for a sunrise.”

Even as his insides curdle with jealousy, Max can’t help the quirk of his lips at the mental image. He could all too easily picture Toto swatting irritably at you, burrowing deeper under the covers to escape the blasted sun.

“But we make it work,” you continue, that loving glow refusing to dim from your eyes. “I take photos of the sunrise to share with him later. And he does the same with the sunsets for me. That way, we both get to experience it in a way.”

The gentle sound of your voice washes over Max like a salve, momentarily easing the tangled knot of regret and longing that’s taken up permanent residence inside him. He watches, transfixed, as the early morning light bathes you in ethereal radiance.

In that moment, he sees it so clearly — the depth of give and take in your relationship with Toto. The effort, large and small, that you both put into nurturing one another’s happiness.

Even when your desires don’t perfectly align. Even when compromise is required.

It’s such a simple gesture, capturing those magical moments to share with your loved one. But it’s one Max was never willing to make when you were with him.

A lump forms in his throat as realization washes over him with unforgiving clarity. You weren’t too sweet for him, as he had so arrogantly assumed time and again. No — the truth, much harder to swallow, is that he was simply too sour for you.

Too selfish, too wrapped up in his own ambitions to make even the smallest concession. Too blind to recognize the magic in the simple things that brought you unbridled joy. Too bitter and jaded to embrace and nurture the beautiful nature that made you … well, you.

And now, after all his careless cruelties and wasted chances, he can only stand idly by and watch as someone else basks in the sweetness of your affection. As someone else goes out of their way, day after day, to put that blinding smile on your face and those stars in your eyes.

Something in Max’s chest cracks and crumbles at the injustice of it all. At the agonizing truth that he let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he couldn’t be bothered to change his sullen ways.

Because you were never too sweet for him … he was too sour for you.

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bimobuddy · 2 months

Text

Feeling Better

Hazbin TK fic

Lee!Alastor, Lers! Husk and Niffty

Everything in this fic is platonic

Soft and caring Husk :]

CW: Alastor in the bath, but everything is covered and nothing NSFW happens, angst as per usual in my fics at this point, mention of blood, mention of scars and past trauma (brief)

Spoilers

Summary: Alastor, while quite the dapper gentlemen, smells like swamp and deer carcass, as that is what his bedroom is. After some back and forth, his companions decide to take it upon themselves to take care of the issue (and take care of him)

Edit: I dont think this was my best work

It was no secret that Alastor wasn't the cleanest person. He turned his bedroom into a swamp to feel more at home, and often left blood stains from his meals on his suit, leaving it to rot and smell.

However, what many people didn't know, is that he also wasn't the best at keeping up with hygiene. Something that only Husk and Niffty knew about him was that he despised bathing. They didn't know why, they just knew that he did.

And they put up with it.. For as long as they could.

As Alastor sat at the bar, Husk found himself scrunching up his nose. To be polite, he made sure no one was listening first, then he turned to his boss, ears down. "Jesus, Al, when's the last time you bathed?" The radio host stared at Husk, trying to intimidate him, but for once, Husk wasn't budging. "I'm serious, Alastor. Not only does it reek, but I'm sure you don't feel good either. Right?"

This caught him off guard. He wasn't used to people other than Charlie showing him genuine concern. His smile remained as normal, but the folding of his ears seemed to give away how he was feeling. "I'll admit it has.. been a while."

Husk nodded and leaned against the counter. "Then maybe you should do something about it?" He asked, raising a brow. The other demon seemed to go quiet. Husk studied him, as if trying to read his mind. "Maybe... We can do something about it then? Niff and I?"

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, Niffty appeared out of seemingly nowhere, hopping up onto the counter. "You know you can trust us, Alastor! I like cleaning!" She grinned.

"And you know I'm not going to judge or tell anyone." Husk said, looking him in the eye. Alastor thought it over for a moment. Niffty and Husk were two out of a small select group of people he genuinely trusted the most. "Fine." He shrugged, trying to make it appear as if there wasn't a growing sense of unease and anxiety sinking into his stomach.

Husk nodded. "Niffty, why don't you go ahead and go run the bath for Al. Use my room, I don't trust that he even has a tub in his." Niffty gave a quick salute then hopped down from the counter, running off.

Husk turned his attention back to Alastor, lowering his voice. "Is there a reason you don't like bathing, Al?" He asked, catching the demon off guard. "Why Husker, what makes you ask such a silly little-" "Don't think you can fool me, I saw the way you froze earlier. Al, you might own my soul, and you might scare the shit out of me sometimes, but I don't hate you," this surprised Alastor, "I'm only asking so I know how to go about this properly. If there's something about it that bothers you, I don't want to force you into it."

Alastor looked back at Husk for a solid minute, thinking it over. He stood suddenly and started to walk toward the hallway, where Husk's room was, signaling the other to follow, which he did. Once they were alone, Alastor finally spoke.

"What I'm about to tell you does not leave that silly little kitty mouth of yours, understood? If I find out that-" "You have my word, Alastor, you don't have to threaten it out of me." ".....Right. Well- Thank you.. Husk."

It wasn't often that Alastor used his actual name instead of 'Husker,' but when he did, the cat felt a sense of equality between them. No longer 'Owner of Soul and Servant,' but like they knew each other. All the more reason he decided to take this issue seriously, for Alastor.

"While I was alive, let's just say I've been through a lot. In my life, over many years, and many incidents, I acquired many scars. Reminders. Let's just say I do not enjoy them. I hated them, and hated looking at them. I assume that is why fate decided they would stick with me even in the afterlife." There was a moment of silence before Husk replied, "They make you feel vulnerable again. They remind you of those.. incidents.. Don't they?"

Alastor didn't verbally respond, but the glance he gave him confirmed to Husk that he may have been correct about this. Husk nodded. "You can trust us, Al."

As they stepped into Husk's room, they noticed just how much effort Niffty had put into this. She had drawn a bath, filled it with bubbles, already gotten a towel ready, and fresh new clothes for Alastor, folded neatly by the sink. As the Radio Host looked closer, he noticed some of the holes and tears had been mended.

"Wow, Niff, I'm impressed." Husk said, taking his hat off. Another sign that this wasn't between co-workers, but friends. His hair was slicked back as usual, though Alastor hadn't seen it like that since the day he won his soul.

When Husk looked back at Alastor, he noticed the look in his eye, his posture, everything. The look of 'I am trying very hard to be okay with this.'

Husk gave him a slight nod before turning to Niffty. "Why don't we give him some space real quick, alright?" He turned to Alastor. "Go ahead and get yourself ready in the bathroom, we'll be right out here." As he walked past the deer demon, he lowered his voice again, "We won't leave you."

Alastor stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He did deep down truly appreciate how supportive Husk and Niffty were being, it did help him feel less.. anxious about everything. Though he also no longer felt like an overlord. He felt like a kid again. The constant reassurance, the sudden comfort and concern he was being shown.. It reminded him of his mother. It was hard to describe, but if he had to, he would have said he felt 'weak, but in a way that was okay with him.'

He got himself ready and sat himself in the bath, the heat of the water somehow immediately helping him relax more than he thought it would. He was grateful for the bubbles as well, not only did it cover him, but he wasn't able to see his scars that much.

There was a gentle knock, then Husk's voice. "Al?" Wanting to at least pretend he still had control, he replied, "Enter."

Husk opened the door and before he even got a full step in, Niffty darted in, grabbed Alastor's discarded clothes and then ran back out, fussing about the blood stains under her breath.

"... Alright, well while she goes and does whatever it is she's decided she's going to do, I'll get started, if that's okay with you." Husk said, shutting the door behind him. Alastor nodded. It did feel odd to him to have someone elss in the room, but he reminded himself that he could trust the bartender.

As Husk stepped closer, he did catch a glimpse of a couple scars, littered across his skin. He didn't mention them, instead grabbing a rag nearby that Niffty had left out. "I know you don't like being touched, so I'm warning you beforehand that I'm about to, so you don't kill me. Satan knows Niffty would fuss at you over the mess." He said, trying to lighten the mood a little. Though Alastor didn't laugh, his grin did widen slightly, indicating that it had worked.

Husk dampened the cloth and got started, touching it to Alastor's back. As the radio demon jumped a little and suddenly gripped the sides of the tub, he paused, gave him time to calm back down, and continued. He knew he could have laughed at him, teased him for being such a powerful demon scared of something as small as a bath, but he didn't. He wouldn't. Because he understood. Sure, he was a feared overlord, rivaling with the King of Hell himself, but before that, he was a person.

A person that, surprisingly, he had come to understand and even care about. As Alastor suddenly jolted again, letting out a sudden ring of static, Husk thought it was due to him being anxious again, only to see his shoulders shaking a little bit.

At first, he worried that Alastor either was in pain or had started crying (a thought that really concerned him), but as he looked down, he noticed he had the rag placed on the back of his ribs, and that Alastor was arching away from the touch. Now this was something he could tease him about.

"Ticklish, kid?" He grinned, making a point to wiggle his fingers through the rag, making Alastor do the radio feedback noise again. "I-I'm oholder thahan you, you ahabsolute-" "Yeah but you died younger than I did, I'm more of an adult than you are."

Alastor opened his mouth to argue, but Husk had already slipped the rag under his right arm, wiggling his claws through the thin fabric. The radio demon slammed his arm down, trying hard to keep it together. He shook with contained laughter, his grin wide and wobbly, ears pinned back. He was doing quite well until Husk suddenly skittered his claws along the back of his neck.

He scrunched his nose up and broke, giggling hysterically, reflexively kicking a leg out, causing a bit of water to splash over the side. "Hey," Husk playfully scolded, "Keep it together down there, you know Niffty is gonna chastise you about that later." "My floor!"

Husk and Alastor jumped, the latter accidentally letting out more mic feedback, as both startled at the sudden sound of Niffty. Neither had seen or heard her enter the bathroom. She huffed, hands on her hips. "You boys. Always giving me more work." She shook her head, hopping up on a stool left by the tub so she could reach Alastor.

"I swear she appears whenever her name is mentioned, did you do that when you got her soul?" Husk whispered. Alastor shook his head, his eyes showing he was just as freaked out as Husk was.

Niffty ignored them, filling a cup with water. "Ears," was all the warning she gave before she dumped it over the deer's head, giving him a split second to fold his ears back to protect them from the water. Husk had to bite back a chuckle as Alastor's hair fell into his face, covering his eyes. He almost resembled a grumpy, wet dog. He reached up and pushed his hair from his eyes, looking slightly annoyed, but Husk knew he had all the patience in the world when it came to Niffty. She could get away with anything.

Even when she started to work in the shampoo, scritching behind his ears. Alastor visibly tensed up, his cheeks turning pink (something Husk had never seen him do). The cat grinned at him, leaning on the edge of the tub. "Your ears are ticklish too?" He chuckled.

As muffled, staticky snickers bubbled out of the overlord, Niffty just smiled. "Husk, dont tease him when you're worse." This shut him up quickly, Husk pinning his own ears back grumbling. Alastor would have laughed at him, had he not already been fighting it back so hard.

When Niffty started to gently scritch at the base of his ears, he started to crack more, giggling louder, yet it was clear he was trying to sit still for her. "Pff- Hmph.. M-Mhmhmhmhm- hahahaha nohoho!" His eyes flew open to glare at Husk, who had picked the rag up to start at the other side of his ribs now, under his left arm.

Alastor's ears were flicking from Niffty's tickling, as he gripped Husk's wrist, more just to have something to ground himself rather than to push him away.

Husk gently scrubbed lower down his side, earning higher giggles before Alastor gasped and flinched away. He hadn't been hurt, but Husk knew it more him trying to avoid getting hurt before it actually happened. The slash he had gotten from Adam was still healing. "Relax, Bucky, I'm not gonna hit it." Husk said.

"Don't call me Bu-hahahaha!" He had gotten cut off when Husk simply switched to his other side.

"Ears." Niffty warned before immediately pouring water over his head again. Alastor coughed a little before lifting his bangs again. "Careful, Niff, don't drown him." Husk chuckled, giving him a break to catch his breath.

As Niffty hopped down off the stool, Husk tossed the rag to Alastor for him to get his own legs, making a joke about how 'I know neither of us want me reaching down there.'

Husk took a seat on the stool as Niffty ran back in with a jar. "What's that?" Husk questioned. "Hoof polish!" She grinned. Alastor let a quiet growl escape his throat, though it was more out of embarrassment than anger, making the cat laugh a little. "As funny as that would be Niffty, I don't think we need it. I'm not pampering his spoiled ass more than I have to." She nodded and ran back out of the room.

"I couldn't help but notice," Husk started, "That you didn't try very hard to get away from the ticklin', especially around your ears." He smirked. Alastor just threw a soft glare his way and didnt confirm nor deny anything.

Once Alastor was done, Husk turned his head away and handed him a towel, before leaving the bathroom to leave him to it.

Alone once again, Alastor took a moment to take in just how much better he felt. Not only physically, but mentally. In the past, bathing would drain him of his energy, leaving him mentally exhausted. But this time he felt better than ever. He looked over at his newly mended suit, patched up by Niffty.

She didn't have to do that.. But she did. Because she looked up to Alastor and cared for him. And Husk didn't have to sit with him the entire time and help him. But he did. Because he saw him as a friend.

He got dressed and left the bathroom, meeting Husk again in his bedroom. Husk's ear flicked as he heard the door open, and he looked up at Alastor. "Feeling better?" He asked.

Alastor walked past him, quickly scritching behind the cat's ears as he passed, earning a loud snort as his hand was batted away. "Much." He smiled, and headed back out to the lobby.

It may not have been a verbal 'thank you,' but Husk had gotten the message anyway.

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #lee!alastor #ler!husk #ler!niffty

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iicarused · 2 months

Note

More on that whole Alastor having a spouse thing (spoilers for ep5).

A dynamic I've had rotating in my mind is of Alastor having a partner who died and went to hell with him. They represent the stereotypical couple from their time and all around are just happy, despite being in hell. Before they died Al's darling helped him cover up his crimes. Being his alibi, lying to people and cleaning up any messes he might have accidentally left behind. Even on occasions helping him cook or even back using the meat he hunted for. And when they both eventually kicked the bucket they held those values as they did when they were alive.

From an onlookers perspective they come off as a couple who's madly in love with one another, still holding that adoration towards each other through the decades they've been together. They dance together, they hold hands, they kiss… But it's not love. Ok, let me rephrase that for you. They gouge out other people's eyes out of jealousy, they pick their next victims together, they have eachothers back through thick and thin. It's not love, it's deeper.

The thing about those two is that no one can really understand them, as cheesy as that sounds. It gives them a sense of solidarity, that there is no one else for them because there is no one else like them. They are the only ones they would consider… Equals. Heh, one of the reasons why they're so intertwined with each other is because they're both just so terrible. His darling spouse just seems more negotiable, but their passiveness is a ruse. Coming of as motherly/fatherly (whatever the gender neutral term is) easily reeling in any weak minded sinners. Their diabolical antis have Alastor weak. HAH, the demon/angel, whoever has Alastor on contract wishes they had this amount of power over him because he, is, whipped.

Oh, and we can't forget the hotel's residents finding out about Al's little darling doe. Either it was Alastor who mentioned them or Mimzy did through her retelling of how Al rose to power. Or they already meet them (Husker, Niffty), but nevertheless the crew has only heard good things about you. Much to their surprise considering how self centered the dear demon is, while Vaggie is weirded out by this her girlfriend is happy and wishes to meet them someday/night. And when they do meat? They weren't very surprised, they kinda already had an image of who they were due to Alastor's ramblings.

Holding you close he kisses your neck where the burn marks are most visible. You can feel his everlasting smile tugging into a frown against your skin, the mere thought of you taking your own life still makes him sick. How afraid you must have been without him. You lean back cupping his cheek with your hand looking deep into his sorrowful eyes. An unfamiliar look for the usually dapper man, it didn't suit him.

“There's no need to get so worked up over old scars dear, I don't, so why should you? Besides, I'm here now aren't i?”

At your words the radio demon saged and let out a content sigh, his lovely smile returning.

“Your right” he said, kissing the inside of your palm before returning back to snuggling with his lover.

…

I can't imagine the reader not having a twang to their voice, their own vibe, not radio per say but something like from this youtube clip. It probably wouldn't make sense for them to sound like that but I couldn't get it out of my head.

If there's one thing I love , it's when others explore the relationship between the two individuals before they went six feet down under. And one of those versions that i quite enjoy is Deer Dolly by ohproserpine check em out. And also, Where do I begin? on ao3 (be warned, for there is implication of SA in it, nothing too graphic but still, protective Alastro being protective, love it).

I think the appeal of Alastor was how different he was (except for in the creepy ass twink department, we've got plenty of those). Mainly in the way he was presented. “a show made independently, and the voice actors are making streams talking in their characters voices? Ö”. And everyone just ran with what they had, we were given just enough to fall for the colorful cast, enough to make fan content before the pilot was out. Like the dad jokes, fan animations, Alastor saying darling~ and the many accounts of them flustering Ashley, among other things :) (all the letters are links, haven't seen some of these in years dafuq). I'm surprised that not many people use what they said in the streams in their writings, I'd wish to see more of that. There's some real gold in there to be utilized.

But anyways, back to the topic at hand. There's always been one song I've associated Alastor with, since I was like 15 to16 years old, and it's something has to happen. Can't help but imagine a chase sequence whenever I listen to it, and I recently found some more inspiration in the form of this! and that.

He could smell the fear radiating from his prey, they ran with haste, trying to put distance between them and their pursuer. The demon chuckled to himself at their persistence. Such a lively prey they were, truly, he couldn't wait to hold them close to his chest, to trap them in the grip of his teeth, tearing tissue and bones in his jaws. Oh He loves them, he hunts them.

…

Man, I remember back in the day there were so many stories revolving around Alastor appearing in the living world to torment his darling, or to make a meaningful connection with them. But I've never seen one where his darling is his accomplice, helping him spread his “curse” onto unsuspecting victims. I got this idea from this piece of artwork by lanveril.

i remember the days of that too! it was such a great time of alastor and obsession fics yknow, but also small??? since it was just the pilot and we had a lot to toy around with. but you are so right about him and his s/o being a cheesy couple.

the sweetest couple on the block who seem very normal and overall a prime example of love. “darling, i have the meat!” and you would beckon him in the kitchen with a sweet smile so you could prepare it.

i think he would be a cliche husband, but also one who enjoys a little rough housing form time to time.

i had to gatekeep this ask for awhile mb LMFAOO i loved it so much😭

#★*#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader

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blueraineshadows · 11 months

Note

Good morning, lovely lady! I'm very sorry to bother you again!

I have a little request if you find the time :)

I'm going through some stuff in my life atm that's really getting me down, so I need as much escapism as possible! 😅

*******

So after Hogwarts, MC and everybody went their separate ways. She hasn't seen Sebastian for years, but occasionally, they talk via owl. I'm thinking that Seb went on and got a really exciting job where he could travel and explore? Maybe MC got some kind of job at the Ministry that was a little less exciting?

Anyway, MC ends up meeting a handsome man at the office she works at, and he courts her before proposing to her. She says yes, even though she still harbours deep feelings for Sebastian, but she hasn't seen him for literally years.

At first, the fiance is really nice and kind, but he's been wearing her down little by little. A bit controlling. MC feels she's becoming quiet and docile.

There's a Hogwarts reunion in Hogsmeade and MC reunites with everyone. Sebastian attends, and there's still this literal connection between him and MC. They chat, and she introduces him to her fiance, whom Seb dislikes very much. He sees how they interact with each other and is furious.

Seb corners MC later in the night, after a few drinks, and tells her her fiance is an ass. That he's draining her spark. MC is angry at Seb, but there's so much sexual tension between them. Queue elicit affair-y smut between them.

Maybe fiance discovers and tries to drag MC away, but Sebs having none of it? Meh, Im rambling now, but you get the idea 😅❤️

Thank you for the Ask! 💜 I hope this meets your expectations...I got rather into it, so it's quite long!

Emotional/Fluffy/Spicy ❤️🥰🌶

Sebastian Sallow x F!MC x OC William Bennett

Dearest MC,

I hope this letter finds you well. How is London? I hear the weather has been very hot this summer. I can only imagine the assault on the senses a bustling city like London conjures in such heat.

As for me, I have spent three weeks in Italy, and it is beautiful, rich with history. You would have loved the library archives with its relics. It made me think of you and our times together. I wish you could have seen it. Currently, I am making my way back to England, stopping off to meet with Ominis, before returning to Feldcroft.

I hear there is a reunion of our old class mates in Hogsmeade at the end of the month. All being well with my journey, I hope to make it and see everyone. It will be nice to reunite with old faces and hear new tales. Are you attending? It would be lovely to see your face again. If I am lucky enough to attend, then I hope to see you there.

Be well. I miss you, as always.

Yours,

Sebastian.

The parchment was beginning to curl at the edges, she had read it so many times. MC smoothed the tip of her finger over Sebastian's name, signed by his own hand, and felt a weight settle heavily over her chest. His letters were few and far between, but each one woke up the most secret part of her heart. That special place where she kept her feelings for Sebastian curled up tight.

MC had not seen Sebastian for years, not since he had left to travel the world for his new job, leaving her behind to sit at a stuffy Ministry desk all day. She cherished every letter he sent, but her deepest desire was to see him, to hear his voice. It tightened her throat just to think of it.

"Darling, are you here?"

MC jumped at the sound of William's voice and quickly folded the parchment, tucking it away safely inside her blouse. She smoothed her hair and set her face into one of calm sweetness, William did hate it if she didn't look pleased to see him.

She grabbed the pile of files from her desk that needed to be stored and stood up, making herself look busy as William appeared in her office doorway. He looked dapper in his fine suit, top hat in hand, his coat over one arm. He smiled, blue eyes lighting up at the sight of her. "There you are, my love," he said. "Care for some lunch?"

"Of course," she said. She patted the files. "Do I have time to file these?"

He looked at the folders, a slight frown on his lips. "If you must. I will be glad to see the day when you no longer have to be messing about with old, dusty archives."

"It's not so bad," she replied. She attempted a smile, trying to please him. "I quite enjoy it. When I was at Hogwarts..."

"Yes, yes, I know," he said, waving a hand to brush away her words. He moved to tug the files from her arms and dump them on her desk. "Soon you will not need to worry about such things. You will have social events to attend, girlfriends to have afternoon tea with. As my wife, you will want for nothing, I promise you. No need to sit at a desk all day wasting your time with your nose stuck in a book."

He chuckled and shook his head, fetching her coat from the hook. "Honestly, women who read!" He clicked his tongue and held the coat up for her. "I thought we would lunch at that lovely place near the river we like."

"Of course," she agreed. "Whatever makes you happy, my dear."

His smile was satisfied as he took her arm and led her out of the office. She kept her head down and her smile polite, nodding and saying all the appropriate words as they walked from the Ministry towards their restaurant.

Behind this meek mask, her heart was twisting at the feel of Sebastian's letter against her breast. How had she let her old life slip so far through her fingers? How had she ended up so lost?

She tightened her hold on her fiancé's arm, thinking that he might be the only thing holding her up right now. Handsome William Bennett, heir to a railroad fortune, deep in favour with the Minister for Magic, and admired by many. He had charmed her, courted her relentlessly, and then he had proposed. It had been the bottom of a long, lonely, slippery slope and she had accepted.

The huge diamond glittered on her finger, but her heart felt dull, empty. Somehow MC had lost herself and she wasn't sure how to get herself back.

....*....

The train slowed to a stop at Hogsmeade Station and MC stepped from her carriage, hand in William's as he escorted her, the image of the perfect gentleman. Behind his polite demeanour, he was quietly seething. He had not wanted to make this trip, but had refused to allow her to travel alone. It was unbecoming for a young woman, he had lectured. So, despite his disdain, he had accompanied MC.

The Scottish Highlands were looking as beautiful as ever and MC took a deep breath, her eyes drinking in the familiar sights. She felt some of the weight lifting from her heart. It felt like coming home.

The next port of call was The Three Broomsticks. William had reserved two rooms for them.

"We could, of course, share a room," he murmured, near her ear. She felt herself clam up, her fingers clutching his arm a little tighter. He mistook the movement for something a little more desirable and brushed his fingers over her knuckles. "We will be wed come the winter, it wouldn't be the most terrible thing to share a bed, and you could almost say it is a romantic setting."

He gestured at the quaint little village, his eyes warming with desire as he gazed down at her. "I would love nothing more than for you to come to me at night, share my bed."

She flushed and lowered her gaze. William was handsome, to be sure, and MC had shared kisses with him, polite courting touches. But there was no fire there, no burning need to feel him closer. Waiting for marriage was an excuse, and one that would soon be void. MC didn't want to think on it.

"I...I'm not sure if that's entirely appropriate," she said, quickly. "This is a close knit community, people talk. We should wait until we are married, William. It's the right thing to do."

William's lips tightened in disappointment, but he nodded, regretfully removing his caress from her hand. "Of course, my love. Seperate rooms it is."

MC fought back her shiver of relief.

That evening, dressed in a dark green dress with silver threading in the bodice (not in the hope of impressing a certain Slytherin, of course), MC entered the bar of The Three Broomsticks. Her corset was tight, but she was breathless for a whole other reason. Tonight, she might see him. Sebastian might have come.

"MC!" Poppy came bounding out of nowhere, cheeks flushed with happiness, her hands clasping MC's tightly. "Oh, I am so glad you came!"

The girls embraced and MC felt the burn of tears as her old friend squeezed her tightly. "I have missed you, Poppy. And look at you! So beautiful!"

William frowned at such open displays of affection, but he was polite when introduced. MC couldn't help but see the flicker of confused disappointment in Poppy's eyes at the word, fiancé. MC fixed her smile in place and moved to greet the others.

Garreth and Leander were there, Natty and a few others MC was pleased to see, but her eyes couldn't help but stray to the entrance, her heart hoping for a glimpse of unruly brown hair.

William was bored, his face a little sour as he stood by the bar. He watched MC closely, frowning when Garreth and pulled her in for a hug. MC had soothed William with soft touches on the arm, reassuring smiles, but she was tense, afraid of doing or saying something wrong. If only he had let her come alone. If only she could breathe.

And then the doors opened, two men walked through, and MC's heart dropped, stilled and then soared, beating a mile a minute. Ominis looked so dashing, and tall, commanding the space around him as his wand led him further into the bar. Beside him, as always, was Sebastian.

"Oh," MC breathed. The sound escaping her lips without any thought for hesitation. Oh, but he looked so wonderful! Better than she had ever imagined!

Sebastian's face had lost it's smooth roundness of boyhood, but it had filled out in other ways, ways that made MC's mouth feel so very dry all of a sudden. His shoulders, his hips, the length of his legs, the way he laughed at something Ominis had just said, his head falling back just so. Her starved eyes gobbled it all, hungrily. He pushed long fingers into his hair, rumpling the brown locks and MC felt her hands clench into tiny little fists. Oh, how her fingers longed to do the same.

She thought she might cry, faint like some over dramatic socialite, or maybe just lose the entire contents of her stomach right here in front of everyone. Butterflies were flipping madly in there and she pressed a hand to her chest, that heavy tightness seeming to become a pounding thud. Or was that her heart?

"Goodness me, is that the youngest Gaunt boy?" William asked.

Ominis was hardly a boy any longer, and would no doubt frown at the term, but William could be pompous and irritating at times. He had a habit of behaving as if people were below him, and MC wondered how it had not bothered her sooner.

MC tore her gaze from Sebastian to nod at him. "Yes, Ominis Gaunt," she replied. Her words were a little breathless, her eyes desperate to return to Sebastian. "I thought I had told you I attended Hogwarts alongside him."

William's gaze was sharp, almost irritated. "You did not. You must introduce me, MC."

"Of course," she agreed. She took William's arm and they moved to join her two favourite Slytherin boys at the bar.

Sebastian's gaze fell on MC and he stilled, pure delight washing over his features. "You came!" He exclaimed.

Ominis stilled beside him, his head tilting a little in the direction Sebastian had spoken. His words were soft, filled with warmth. "Don't tell me MC is here?" He smiled and held out a hand. "Then I must greet her at once. Where are you, my dear, for I have missed you a good deal."

MC flushed and held out her hand, placing it in Ominis', who then placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. William watched the whole thing, his mouth tightening at the familiarity between his fiancé and the young Mr Gaunt.

Sebastian was watching too, his eyes only for MC, as if he needed to savour detail as she had of him.

"Ominis, may I introduce my fiancé, William Bennett?" She guided Ominis towards William who shook his hand in greeting.

"Bennett?" Ominis asked. "Of the Bennett Railroad family?"

"The very same," William said, proudly.

Sebastian's eyes at darkened at this introduction, his eyes now assessing William closely, his lips thinning a little. Ominis turned to introduce him, and while William was polite, he had no interest in Sebastian. He was more keen to speak with Ominis, to rub shoulders with a well known Wizarding family.

William looked down at MC. "Why don't you run along and chit chat with your little chums, my love, and let the men talk."

Sebastian's eyes widened, his eyebrows shooting upwards as he glanced between William and MC. A flush darkened MC's cheeks and she nodded meekly, unable to even meet Sebastian's gaze. If she had, she would have seen the shock in his eyes at her timid behaviour. The girl he knew would have been spitting fire if someone had belittled her like that.

MC left William to talk to Ominis, every fibre of her being trying to resist as she turned her back on Sebastian. It hadn't been enough, not nearly enough, and she almost gasped at the need to be nearer to him.

They sat for dinner, William dominating Ominis' attention, but he kept a possessive hand at MC's arm or lower back at any given opportunity. When they ordered, MC had quite fancied the chicken, but William ordered the beef for the both of them, not even consulting MC to see if that's what she wanted.

MC risked a glance towards Sebastian and swallowed at the fury in his eyes as he glared at William. Her heart pounded. Shame made her gaze drop to her lap, her fingers twisting her napkin. She felt like an outsider imposing in on her own body. Her very ears rung with the horror of losing her own sense of self.

She looked at the people sitting around the table, chatting, laughing, her own lips moving and attempting to smile, but it felt strange. Her heart craved all of this, these familiar and much loved faces, but her head was warped. She felt trapped.

The only thing that helped was the wine, and even that had been chosen and poured for her by William.

Poppy clasped her arm after they had finished their meal. She leant across to William. "I am going to steal your lovely fiancé for a time, we have some much needed girl talk to catch up on."

A crease appeared on his brow as he stared at Poppy, then he glanced across the table towards Sebastian, who was deep in conversation with Garreth. Slowly, he nodded. "Of course, you two ladies have fun."

Poppy led MC away from the table and outside into the cooling evening air. MC gulped down her breaths and held on to Poppy, grateful for the escape.

Sebastian may have been talking to Garreth, but he had been keeping an eye on MC all night, his fury mounting at the way that pompous bastard had belittled and shamed her. His fingers ached from the need to smash his fist into the prick's pretty face.

Poppy pulled a hip flask from her silk bag and held it out to MC. "Here, you look like you could do with some of this."

MC saw the flask. "That had better be fire whiskey," she said.

"What else?" Poppy grinned.

MC took the bottle and swallowed two long gulps, gasping, but relishing the burn as it went down.

"Why him, MC?" Poppy asked, bluntly. "Why William?"

MC shrugged. "He was kind to me."

Poppy frowned. "That is no reason to sign yourself up to marriage with him," she said. "I mean, you don't look yourself, not a happy, blushing bride in the slightest. And, yes, he is pretty, but he is no Sebastian, MC. Not by a long stretch."

MC gaped. "Wh...what?"

Poppy gave her look. "Oh, MC, really? We're not kids anymore, and you are not fooling anyone, especially me. The tension between you two is so thick, you could slice it with a good Diffindo!"

MC's blush touched the tips of her ears. "Do you think William has noticed?"

"If he hasn't, then he is even more of a fool than I thought."

MC stared at her. Horror was one emotion tugging at her. The very idea of William knowing the depth of her feelings for Sebastian was chilling. But she could also see the ridiculous predicament she had found herself in, and it really was one of her own making. But how would she get out of it?

Maybe it was the alcohol going to her head, or maybe she was going mad. Either way, she started giggling, and then she couldn't stop. And then Poppy was giggling. It felt good, so good. It was a release and MC seized it with both hands. She held up the fire whiskey. "I think I need some more of this."

....*....

The air inside the bar was becoming too suffocating and her corset felt like an iron band. MC was flushed from the whiskey, hot and flustered by the presence of one Mr Sallow, and yet he still wasn't close enough for her liking.

She met his gaze for about the 100th time and he smiled, a delicious, sinfully beautiful smile. Her lips parted. Oh, Merlin. She really might faint this time. And then he was moving towards her. Her pulse picked up the pace and she wiped sweaty palms against her hips.

William was visiting the bathroom, there was no other distraction, and then Sebastian was in front of her. "There you are," he said, softly. His gaze was warm. "Finally, a moment alone."

"Yes," she breathed. She stared at him, inwardly kicking herself. Yes? Is that really all she could say?

A torrent of unspoken words hung between them, suspended, dangling like tempting fruit. Now that he was right there, in front of her, her tongue seemed frozen and all she could do was stare.

A flicker of concern clouded his eyes. "I did worry a little when you didn't reply to my last letter. I had hoped you would be here, even if just to ease my mind that you were alright."

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was rude of me. But, I am glad to see you here. I am glad you made it safely home."

He nodded, a small smile on his lips, but he still looked concerned. "I didn't expect to find you engaged, though. That was a surprise. At least you have someone looking out for you, if that's what he actually does?"

Her lips tried to lift into a smile, but she had never been able to lie to him. The words that fell from her lips felt stilted, wrong. "I'm fine."

His eyes narrowed a little. "You are happy, aren't you? I mean, it's what you want."

She knew what he meant, oh she did. He knew her better than she knew herself, even though miles and time had kept them apart. She needed to smile and nod, the perfect little puppet she had become, tell him that she was happy, she was fine. Her life was all roses and smiles, etc, etc.

Her lips parted but nothing came out. His eyes dropped to her mouth, distracted by their movement and nerves made her tongue dart outwards, flicking over her bottom lip. Her breathing stalled at the way his eyes darkened, a fire building behind them, and her traitorous body responded. Flame, searing and coiling deliciously, overwhelmed her and she actually gasped, because she was leaning forward. Her body, like a magnet, was drawn to him, impossibly drawn to where it belonged.

Shock at the realisation made her straighten and she pressed trembling fingers to her cheeks. Where she belonged!

Merlin, she couldn't breathe. She turned on her heel and made a dash for the door, not caring who saw as she grabbed up the skirt of her dress and headed out into the fresh air.

Of course, Sebastian followed. Hadn't he always?

He caught up to her, took her arm, and spun her to face him. "Please...don't." She gasped.

He didn't let go. She looked down at where his long fingers held her forearm, not gripping her, just holding her. No possession, no demand, just a touch. Her lips trembled.

"I've seen you face countless monstrous enemies, take down the darkest wizards and slaughter trolls in broad daylight," he said. "But I have never seen you cower, or hide as much as you have tonight, MC, and it rips me open. It kills me to see you so, a shadow of your former self. How did this happen? Is it him? Does he hurt you?"

"Of course he doesn't hurt me! Don't be ridiculous."

"You're aren't happy though, are you? Not really," he pushed.

Her chest heaved against the tight laces of her corset, tears stinging the backs of her eyes. He was right, gods he was right and she hated it, because it meant she was wrong, she had failed.

"I...we shouldn't be talking like this..." She glanced around the now darkened street.

Sebastian's face tightened. "Why? Because dear William won't like it?"

She flinched.

He tugged her a little closer. She let him, her eyes glued to his. "Well, I don't give a flying fuck what he thinks."

A small cry left her lips as he grasped her hand and began to walk her away from the entrance of the pub, his stride determined. She had to jog to keep up, her little heels clacking on the cobbles, her other hand lifting the hem of her dress.

He took her to a darker, more secluded corner, and a thrill shot through her despite everything. She found herself backed up against a stone wall, his face inches from hers. He leant a hand against the wall near her head, his other hand coming up to gently cup her face. She closed her eyes, the touch of his skin against hers a forbidden flame.

Merlin, she was leaning into it!

"Tell me the truth," he begged. "Tell me he makes you happy, and I will leave you alone, I promise. But if he doesn't, even if there is the smallest doubt, then tell me. You can tell me."

"Sebastian..." Her voice was a whisper, a plea. "Don't..."

"I cannot bare the thought of leaving you with him if he is going to continue to crush you like he is, because that girl I knew at school, that wonderful, fiercesome girl, who knocked me on my arse on my first day...that girl is going to die if you let him bully you like that."

She stared up at him. Her heart hurt. Maybe she was already dead inside and that was why she had let things slide so far.

He looked down suddenly, and she followed his gaze. Her breath stilled. When had her fingers threaded themselves into his clothing? She was grasping the front of his vest, a fistful of cloth under white knuckles. She couldn't let him go either. If she let him go, then she might just float away, lost to the skies, a drifting ghost of herself.

Their gazes met again. How she had missed those eyes!

"Don't look at me like that." His voice was rougher, deeper, an edge to it that made her skin erupt with goosebumps.

"Why not?" She was playing with fire. She was going to burn herself.

"Because it makes me want to throw decency out the window, and kiss you until I can't breathe," he said, darkly.

Oh, she was definitely going to burn. She realised she didn't care.

The fingers curled in his vest pulled him closer until his lips were a breath from hers. "Do it," she sighed. "I can't breathe anyway."

The moan in her throat was relief. His lips found hers, a soft, teasing taste that promised so much more. Eagerly, she welcomed him, parting her lips and offering her tongue, the taste of him more intoxicating than any fire whiskey.

Her fingers found their way into his hair, sliding through the softness, and it sharpened the ache growing within her. Her body pressed up against his, the solid length of his frame so safe, but exciting. Their clothing was an irritating barrier, her skin screamed to feel his, like she wouldn't feel complete until she could wrap herself around it.

"Gods, MC..." He groaned, his mouth moving to taste her jaw, her throat, his tongue swirling up to flick against her ear. Her grip in his hair tightened. Yes, this was what she wanted, what she craved.

MC closed her eyes, savouring the feel of his lips on her neck, his mouth sucking, tasting her flesh. The warmth of his hand seared through the silk of her dress at her waist, the bones of her corset stressed under the pace of her breathing. "More," she panted. "Sebastian..."

He claimed her mouth again, his hips rocking against her, her back scraping against the stone of the wall. She smoothed a hand down the expanse of his back, melting at the flex of muscle, before drifting lower, daring a squeeze of his delicious backside.

"Fuck," he breathed. The profanity sent a crackling thrill through her, and she moaned. Yes, she would love to do that, craved it even.

He began moving his mouth downwards again, lower this time to swirl his tongue against the tops of her breasts, the flesh moving rapidly above the rim of her corset with every panting breath. His fingers tugged at the damned thing. "I need more of you," he muttered.

And she would give it, gladly, she realised. A pin slid from her hair, a long lock tumbling free to tickle against her flushed cheeks. She was lost, drunk on his kisses, his touch, and it was nowhere near enough. She felt like a woman starved.

A rustle of silk, cool air against her legs and then a warm hand smoothing up the flesh of her thigh. The sound that left her throat was almost feral. "Yes, yes," she panted. She grabbed at him, fingers tugging his shirt free from his trousers, a hand sliding up underneath to explore the hot, firm flesh waiting for her there.

She ached for his touch, her thighs trembled in anticipation as he slid his hand higher. Just a bit more, she begged silently, her eyes squeezed tight. Just a bit higher. His finger tips grazed against damp silk, and then he was gone, ripped from her clutches forcefully, and someone was shouting.

"How dare you!" William held Sebastian by the scruff of his neck, shaking him, fury twisting his face into something terrible, frightening even. "How dare you lay your hands on my fiancé!"

MC was gasping, her hair in disarray, her skirts caught up revealing a bare leg. Red marks of passion bloomed on her throat and chest, all the way down to her neckline. Her legs shook, not from fear, but from a need unmet.

"William!" She held out a hand for him to stop, the other hand hastily smoothing down her skirts. "Stop, William!"

Sebastian shook himself free of William easily enough, shoving him backwards and whipping out his wand. He aimed it at William, his lip curled. "Grab me like that again and you'll know about it!"

William pulled his own wand out, eyes narrowed. A stand off. William flicked his gaze towards MC and his fury faltered, his mouth gaped at the sight of her so dishevelled. "MC..."

She smoothed the loose strands of her mussed hair back from her face, the beginnings of a flush flooding her cheeks. She kept her hand held out, stepping between both men. "Lower your wands," she said. She looked at William. "Please."

"I think not," William said. "He dares to put his hands on you, violating you in such a way. I ought to castrate him for this!"

"I'd like to see you try," Sebastian spat. He adjusted his stance.

"Stop it, both of you!" MC had thought herself in a mess before, but this, this was something else.

"I knew it! I knew he was going to do something like this, just from the way he was watching you at dinner. His eyes never left you," William growled. "Disgusting, loathsome piece of trash. You are not worthy of her!"

MC gasped, her body moving to guard Sebastian. He was more than capable of looking out for himself, but she couldn't help it. Out of the two, she would jump in front of Sebastian first. Every time.

"Did he hurt you? I've a good mind to call an Officer to deal with this," William said. He was trying to aim his wand around her at Sebastian, outrage twisting his mouth.

He thought Sebastian had attacked her! It had not occurred to William that she had been willing. MC put her hands to her forehead. Oh, Gods, this was getting worse!

"There will be no need for an Officer," she said. She backed up towards Sebastian.

"Don't be ridiculous, MC," William snapped. "Now, step out of the way and let me deal with this filthy heathen."

MC went calm. She straightened, her eyes growing hard as an old fire awoke in her, the part of her that had been a fearless fighter. She backed up further still, her hands feeling for Sebastian and he took hold of one, his wand arm coming over her shoulder, still pointing at William.

William's eyes bulged as Sebastian wrapped his other arm about her waist, holding her against him. "What is this!?"

"Lower your wand," she said, coldly.

William hesitated, torn, but lowered his wand. "MC, you better start explaining this," he said. He looked from her to Sebastian, to the way Sebastian's arm held her protectively. "Did you let him touch you like that?"

William looked horrified, disgusted. MC felt a brief flash of shame, but shook it off. "I'm sorry, William," she said, calmly. "But, yes, I did."

William's jaw clenched. He stared at her, his humiliation playing out across his face. She swallowed. And then, William looked a little smug. "What will this do to your reputation?" He spoke with an oily undertone. "Oh dear, MC, rutting with a nobody in the street. Of course, how could I marry such a harlot? Your name will be a shameful piece of gossip whispered in parlour rooms. I expect it would be highly unlikely that the Minister would appreciate such behaviour. Such a shame to lose your pathetic little job over it too."

"You wouldn't," she gasped.

Sebastian moved his mouth closer to her ear, the warmth of his breath brushing her hair gently. "Let me take him," he whispered. "It would be my pleasure."

And he could do it, she knew he could. She had seen him kill before, just as he had seen her kill. She had covered for him, lied, to save him from Azkaban. She did not make that choice only to see him sent there anyway, and for her honour.

William shook his head in distate. "You would honestly choose him, over me?"

Her hand gripped Sebastian's arm, holding it against her stomach. "I love him," she said. There was no doubt, no faltering in her words. It was the truth at last. "I always have, ever since I was a girl."

She heard, and felt, Sebastian's breath hitch, and his arm tightened around her. She hoped with every fibre of her being that he felt the same way, otherwise she was making a monstrous fool of herself.

William flinched at her confession as if she had slapped him. He rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head, and then his wand flicked upwards, a spell shooting from the end of it. His face pure rage.

But, Sebastian was ready. He blocked the spell with ease, and cast Bombarda in return, sending William flying across the street into a stack of crates. The crash echoed across the cobbles and MC gasped. "Sebastian!"

"It's alright, I've got you," he said. "I've got you."

She sagged against him. "Don't let me go," she whispered.

And then the world spun, blackness, and with a pop, they landed onto a wooden floor. MC sat up, disoriented, gazing around. Her stomach still catching up with her after Apparating.

She turned to look at Sebastian. She recognised where they were. It was his cottage in Feldcroft.

She was sitting on the floor with Sebastian, in his home, just the two of them. She had admitted that she loved him. The weight in her chest had lifted. The enormity of the whole evening crashed over her and the tears gathered in her eyes. Her lips trembled, and then she was sobbing.

Immediately, Sebastian pulled her into his arms, kisses rained down over her hair, her face. His lips kissed the tears from her cheeks and his hands soothed her, calming strokes on her arms and hair. "It's alright, you're safe here," he murmured. "You never have to go back there, to him. It's alright now."

She pulled back to look at him, her hand moving to his cheek. It was real. He was real. "You were gone," she sobbed. "You left and I thought I might never see you again."

His face was pained, his eyes regretful. "I had to leave, get away from this house. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

She buried her face into his shirt, clutching him tightly. "I can't believe you're really here."

"I would have taken you with me if...if I had known..." He faltered and took a breath. He leant his chin on top of her head. "Did you mean what you said back there?"

She nodded. "Every word."

He groaned, squeezing her tighter. "Gods, the time we have lost. Years apart...I should have taken you with me."

She looked up at him. "We still have time," she said. She hesitated. "We could have the rest of our lives."

Their gazes locked. "I've always loved you," he said. "I thought it was only in my dreams that you felt the same way."

She shifted up and put her forehead against his. She huffed a laugh. "We're both as bad as each other. Ominis was right, we are a right pair of idiots."

"I won't tell him you said that, he would be far too smug," Sebastian grinned.

He took her left hand and pulled the huge diamond from her ring finger. "Let's get rid of this shall we?"

"I should return it," she mused.

"Not in person you won't," he said, firmly. He twirled the ring thoughtfully. "Wait here."

He climbed to his feet and moved towards a chest in the corner. He rummaged through it until he found a small box and returned to kneel on the floor beside her. He flipped the lid and turned it to face her. "This was my mother's," he said.

MC looked at his face, surprised to see him looking so shy. She couldn't recall a time she had ever seen Sebastian shy. Then, she looked in the box. Inside was a silver ring set with a pretty emerald, a tiny diamond each side of it.

"It's not as big as the one you were wearing," Sebastian said.

"It's beautiful," she said immediately. And it was. Not flashy, not heavy, not a statement. Beautiful, and sentimental to him.

"Would you wear it?" He asked. She met his gaze, lips parted. "As my wife."

He honestly had to stop stealing her breath like this, it really couldn't be healthy for a girl.

He smirked, his eyes playful. "You could come and see the world with me. I think it might look even more beautiful with you beside me."

She smiled. "How can I say no to that?"

"Quite easily," he said. "But I would rather you said yes."

She looked down at his mother's pretty ring and held out her hand, fingers spread a little. "I suppose you had better make sure it fits then."

His fingers shook as he took the ring from the box and slipped it on to her finger. Of course, it was a perfect fit. He smiled. "It's like it was waiting for you."

She took hold of his shirt front, fingers gripping hold of him like she had back in Hogsmeade. "Now, where were we?" She asked.

His lips curved into that delicious smile she loved so much. "Allow me to refresh your memory," he said.

His mouth claimed hers as if he never intended to stop, and she didn't want him to. Ever.

Click HERE for part 2

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #blueraineshadows

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iolypse · 1 year

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qsmp eggs as D&D characters because I can't help but fuse both of my current fixations together

Chayanne — Ive decided that every single egg is a dragonborn for the sake of simplicity, so that just brings me to figuring out class and subclass for each of them. I originally was thinking a simple fighter for Chayanne, but then, upon remembering what was quite literally an oath to protect everyone, decided he'd make a rather good paladin, particularly oath of devotion. he's devoted to keeping everybody safe, no matter the cost. if I were to give him a breath weapon, it'd be fire. he's a dragonborn paladin (devotion)!

Tallulah — Tallulah was always going to be a bard, are you kidding me? from there, looking through all the bard subclasses, I figured lore suited her best. she collects info! she gave qwil that book full of info about marigolds, she asks questions so she can know more about the world. yeah. she's a smart girl. dragonborn bard (lore).

Dapper — this is THE artificer. this autistic fuck (/affectionate bc me too buddy, me too) loves everything machinery, and he's fuckin good at it, too. considering his additional love for collecting animals, I've decided to make him a battle smith so he can have a steel defender. he would take very good care of it. I considered armorer due to the unique sets of armor I've seen him wear, but battle smith suited him just a tad better. he's a dragonborn artificer (battle smith).

Ramón — Ramón is also THE artificer! they are artificer pals. while Dapper focuses more on combat-ready mechanics, Ramon's been doing a lot of work on his elevator. also, bombs! fuck, he and qfit have so many bombs, they're practically their first line of defense. therefore, artillerist. he's good at throwing shit across the battlefield, staying stationary and hunkered down. dragonborn artificer (artillerist).

Leonarda — Leo was a little difficult. from the beginning, I knew I wanted her to be a primarily martial class, but I didn't want to leave her without any magic, either. so I figured a monk could be fitting due to their innate ki. considering. you know. dragon. I just had to give her ascendant dragon. dragonborn monk (ascendant dragon).

Bobby — oh yeah, this boy's a fighter alright. I considered barbarian for his tendency to sometimes throw tantrums, but it just wasn't right for him. I definitely considered gunslinger, but he's not particularly known for his guns, and I was eventually led to banneret, aka the purple dragon knights. he's definitely one of the braver kids, and I think his bold deeds could definitely inspire those around him. Bobby is a dragonborn fighter (banneret).

Richarlyson — he was kind of difficult! Richarlyson has picked up a number of skills from all six of his dads, making him fairly versatile and all-around skilled. I was, however, leaning a more martial class, and looked to monk first. none of the subclasses felt right, so I went bard due to their jack of all trades thing. wasn't right, so I thought about ranger, and that seemed like it could work due to their wide range of specialization. looking through subclasses, I picked monster slayer out of the bunch. just about all of his dads are terrorized by cucurucho in one way or another. he's practically got a sixth sense for the fucker now. Richarlyson's a dragonborn ranger (monster slayer).

Tilín — that's a rogue. yeah. that's a rogue. qQ himself taught them all about lying to other people to get what you want, and you're gonna tell me that's not a fucking rogue? right. rogue has a ton of interesting subclasses, but I felt like soulknife was a really interesting pick for her. soulknife rogues focus on the manipulation of the mind, fucking with a person's head to change their perception or easily slip by them. felt like they could use a little bit of magic, too, so he's got the psionic abilities that come with it. this is a dragonborn rogue (soulknife).

Juanaflippa — considered fighter gunslinger, but this is also a rogue! not a particularly magical one, though. Juanaflippa never really had much, always too busy shooting guns and coping with her parents' numerous divorces. HOWEVER, when you consider the whole necromancy element of her character (died, came back, fucking died again) on top of all the headcanons of her haunting the island, she's a pretty fun phantom. she's got an innate connection to death and the undead, and she knows what's dead when she sees it. I debated scout, but phantom was too cool to pass up. dragonborn rogue (phantom) for her.

Trump — I don't know shit about trump, but I like to think that if he survived longer, he would've taken after the crazy science aspect of both his dads, giving it a magical twist and going wizard. figured either evocation or abjuration would be good subclasses for him. decided on abjuration because damn, that's what this kid needed. dragonborn wizard (abjuration).

bonus:

gegg — plasmoid/changeling bard (valor). if you can find my other post on the English speakers as D&D classes, he's literally just slimecicle. nothing too special here. gegg.

#qsmp #qsmp chayanne #qsmp tallulah #qsmp dapper #qsmp ramon #qsmp leonarda #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp bobby #qsmp tilin #qsmp juanaflippa #qsmp trump #qsmp eggs #qsmp gegg #qsmp slimecicle #qsmp wilbur #qsmp quackity #qsmp fitmc

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ennas-aesthetic · 1 year

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Retired!Dream as a Librarian AU part 2

I am SOOOOOO glad that the reception for the retired!Dream as a Librarian AU was so enthusiastic and sweet! Thank you so much for that (and if you haven't seen part 1 one yet, click here). More snapshots of the AU will be added as we go, because a retired!Dream experiencing the full range of human emotions in a place of community has brought so many stories to tell.

Anyway, a good friend on Twitter asked what happens when Lucienne finds out that Retired!Dream has become a librarian (or at least, a library volunteer) in the Waking World. I DO, in FACT, have a headcanon locked and loaded for that, so here we go:

Sometimes Dream wonders how on earth he has gotten here.

It wasn't like he hates the job. Dream LOVES the local library - loves the staff and the stories and the people. It's the best outcome he could have ever hoped for, really. Like someone has given him a second chance, a renewal. A new purpose where his existence could transpose into a life worth living.

But, OH, the circumstances that it took for him to get here. If only his former subjects could see him now. If only LUCIENNE could see him now.

Dream understands, more than ever, how much painstaking effort goes into even MAINTAINING a functioning library. Running the vastest library he knows in existence WHILE managing the Dreaming when he runs off to brood must have been a herculean feat. Morpheus resolves to be more appreciative of her work over the millennia, if he ever sees her again.

And see her he does. Lucienne comes to the library one day, on the guise of looking for a mislaid book. Her face is wreathed with smiles, looking sharp and dapper in her suit.

"Greetings, my Lord," she beams, eyes alight with fondness and mirth. "You look to be in good health."

"Please," he says, and surprises himself by laughing out loud. Laughing comes easier to him now, he notices. (The first time he did this in front of the library staff it was in response to an incredibly macabre joke he found hilarious. Dream had slapped a hand to his mouth, but the damage had been done: the library staff looked on in ACTUAL suprise, and then they cackled in earnest, delighted that their strange new colleague had a fucked up sense of humor and an absolutely ridiculous laugh. So many more attempts to make him crack up started since that day. Not that he minded.) "Call me Morpheus. I am your lord no longer."

"Hmm," Lucienne says. "Very well. Hello, Morpheus." And all of a sudden she envelops him into a bone-crushing hug.

"That was not a breach of protocol and conduct, I hope," she says, mischievous, as she lets a rather staggered Dream go. "Seeing as I am your librarian no longer."

Dream smiles wide. He does not think he has ever smiled this frequently in his entire existence.

He gives her a tour of the library, introduces her to the people behind the counter. After a few conversations the staff has agreed on one thing: Lucienne may be the BEST librarian there is. Some of them had already asked her to stay. Dream has to interrupt quickly, saying that she is already a hotshot librarian somewhere else, before steering her away from her new admirers.

"They adore you, it seems," he tells her. Lucienne rolls her eyes. Even as his librarian she had always been frank with him, but seeing her be openly candid with Dream, without the barrier of his Nobility and his Lordship between them, pleased him to no ends. If any outsiders could have seen them, they would have thought they are just extremely close friends (and they are. They are.)

"And they are COMPLETELY enchanted by you," she shoots back, grinning, "which is honestly quite the miracle."

She teases him about finally being able to handle his books, and jokingly chastises him about not doing it sooner. Dream, to her (non) surprise, takes this seriously, and admits, rather abashed, that most of his bookkeeping skills are only existent because of her. He concedes that she is still the better librarian between the two of them. Lucienne is very smug over this confession (as she should be.)

"I am forever indebted to you," Morpheus says, and finds himself a little choked up at the last syllable. "You have given me a lifeline, in more ways than one." He shakes his head. "I do not know how I may ever repay you."

Her eyes are overbright, but when she speaks her voice is steady.

"Just live, Sire," she whispers. "That's repayment enough."

It's a blessing, almost. An anointment of old, except his birthright is now renewed. Just live. Dream nods, determined to make the boon stick. To keep the oath for as long as he can.

Before Lucienne leaves she hands him a gift. "To complete the librarian regalia," she winks. And just like that she's gone.

Inside the box is a compilation of all the "Sandman Stories" he has adlibbed for the kids during Story Time Tuesdays. A note taped on the book: 'Matthew is gloating because he gets to be a dragon. Name a raven after me, will you?' Dream laughs out loud.

(Sure enough, on the next Story Time Tuesday a new character -- Lucienne the Raven Librarian -- was introduced. The kids instantly fell in love with her, and the book feverishly codifies the stories Morpheus comes up for her.)

But that's not all. In the box is another pouch - he opens it, and a pair of spectacles tumble out. Another note: 'from one librarian to another.'

Morpheus wears those spectacles till this very day.

---

Want to know more about the Retired!Dream as a Librarian AU? Read part 1 here and part 3 here.

#dreamling #sandman fic #dream of the endless #lucienne #dreamling au #retired!dream #retired!dream as a librarian au #dreamling fic #public libraries #RETIRED!DREAM IS A LIBRARIAN AND HE IS HAPPY #librarian dream #this was such a fun time oh my god I love Lucienne so much and writing this was very cathartic for me #bec i get to give them the closure they deserve

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fandomobbsessedb · 2 months

Text

Alastor x F!Overlord! Reader pt2.

~ this is just a continuation of the bottom half of the previous fic!!! I absolutely adored writing this and I’m so glad ya’ll are liking it too!!

Warnings: dead kid, swears, vomit, bullemia, drinking, insane harm to the body, could be kinda mind fucking,weed, mentions of partying and Valentino wanting to gangbang but not actually getting none.

MORE EASTER EGGS!!!!

Taglist: @genderlessdude92 @projectdreamwalker @whitewolfsoldat @sirens-and-moonflowers

Enjoy~

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“Good morning dear!”

“Good morning darling! I have your eggs and bacon ready for you!” I called out to my husband, taking the coffee pot off the stove and pouring two small cups, wiping my hands off on my apron and calling the children down.

“James, Mary! Come down and get your breakfast before you have to get going for school!”

“Coming mama!” I heard from the top of the stairs, I always end up having their father have to drive them anyways, I think they’re doing it on purpose at this point.

“Mmmmm! That smells delicious y/n!” My husband compliments as he walked into the kitchen, coming up behind me he wrapped his hands around my waist and gave my cheek a kiss.

“Oh Vox! Let me go I’m going to spill the coffee!” I giggled out trying to pour our glasses. He took the two cups along with their saucers and set them at the table.

“Well you look nice!” I complimented, his pinstrip suit and sharp neck tie making him look quite dapper. He sent me a smile and whipped out this mornings newspaper from the dogs mouth. “Good boy sparky.” He patted him on the head and gave him a treat.

“Momma momma guess what!!!” Mary ran up to me with her little hands behind her blue sailor dress. James took a seat at the table next to his father pretending to be him. All gotten and sophisticated.

“What is it my darling?” I asked bending down at the waist inspecting her hair to see if it was fit for school.

“I buckled my shoes on all by myself!” She bounced up and down on her red little loafers.

“Oh look at that! You have!” I smiled at her cupping her hands in my cheeks and giving her a kiss on the forehead. “I matched you mama!” She said point to my own red pumps adorning my feet. “Yes darling, now why don’t you go sit and get some breakfast.”

She ran up to the table in excitement, not yet able to reach the chair. Vox picked her up and placed her in the chair, patting her head and serving her some bacon from the plate in the middle of the table.

“Now James, you have little league after school, so you better be going right to practice, if I get another call from Mr.Johnson saying you where out in the field with those “friends” of yours again, your going to be in big trouble mister.” I sternly scolded him, sitting down to eat my own breakfast.

“Yes mom” he looked down embarrassed from our discussion last night.

“Oh cmon dear, let him have some fun occasionally, but James you really should listen to your mother.”

“Okay dad.” He perked up a little and went back to eating.

Playing with the string of pearls around my neck, a bad habit I developed when I became stressed, I tried to not bounce my leg but I couldn’t help but feel this ugly weight on my shoulders.

Standing with my coffee cup in my hand and I walked to where Vox keeps his good liquor, we usually save it for special events but… this feeling… I have a feeling my regular dose of Valium wouldn’t help…

Taking the pristine bottle from the cupboard, I got a flash in my eyes

~ “here you are darling, I got this special blend from a connection of mine on earth, I figured we could celebrate the success of our deal in a more fashioned manor,”

“Oh Alastor that’s wonderful, thank you!” I took the bottle gently from his hands, the heavy glass weighing my hands down.

Popping the cork and pouring a small amount into eachother glass, we cheered then completely disregarded the drink… instead going for each other’s mouths. Missing it like a drug.

“Y/n-“

Clawed hands grab onto my shoulders and I feel the weight of this bottle taken from me.

“Is everything alright dear?” Vox asked, feigning concern .

“Oh, yes I’m just fine, all the chores I need to get done today just making me think a lot.” I replied leaning on him for support, as his hands go to my waist and my arms wrap around his neck.

“Oh dear, why don’t you let me take over for the day and you just go to the salon and get your nails done, maybe see if you can get some extra time on the massage part.” He suggests, starting to pull me away from the cabinet and sitting me down.

I try to come up with a comprehensive anwser but~ I just feel so…… sleepy. So tired…..

Feeling a soft, plush ground now supporting me, I still struggle to come up with a scentence, my head falls to my pillow and I start to drift off.

“Just relax dearest… I’ll take care of everything… trust me….” I turn over and look into my husbands eyes, feeling the malicious intent behind them, yet not being able to…. Actually move my body…. I can’t turn away—

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~click•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“Hey y/n did you see Vox staring at you during class?” My hellion friend asked me, closing my bottom locker with her tail.

“What? No he wasn’t.” I respond trying to hide my smile behind my books.

“Did you have a brain tumor for breakfast? Of course he was.” Helga said, not even bothering to make eye contact with me as she applied more of her lipstick, then closed her locker. “Cmon, Heathers waiting for us in the cafeteria.” She said taking my arm and pulling me along.

“Y/n there you are, I need you to forge a hot but horny love note from Valentino to Marta Doonstick.” She said, flipping her hair over her horns, picking up her pencil and paper and handing it to me.

“Shit Heather I don’t have anything against Marta…” I cringed, this high school drama bullshit is so not fetch.

“You don’t have anything for her either, cmon, it’ll gets Vox’s attention too.” She smirked looking over to Hattie. “Hattie bend over, y/n needs something to write on.”

With an exasperated sigh she turned around, mindful to keep the bottom of her skirt held down, as she let me use her back to forge this note. In the most cursive stylish writing I could manage, I wrote out a whole letter to Marta, from Valentino asking her to come to his party this weekend.

Helga slowly made her way to Marta’s lunch spot, as we watched with intent, I quick glanced over to where Vox and Valentino where sitting. Seeing him chuckle made me smile, as I dazed off about him however I failed to notice his eyes shift to me. When I came to I realized we were in the bathroom, Hazel puking her guts up, and Heather and Hattie fixing their makeup in the mirror.

“Y/n did you hear what I asked you?” Heather whipped around the look at me.

“Um… sorry what?” I squinted at her before looking to her lipstick. I blinked and suddenly I’m in a completely different room, a boudoir with a giant vanity set up, I’m sat in front of the mirror with the same shade of lipstick in my hand, and my top lip done, only… it’s sneered over my cheek.

“Y/n deer, we have to go or we’ll be late for Carmillas meeting.” I looked over to the right of me, my surrounding sight no longer being blurry but clear as the morning sky. A man in a red coat with furry ears and a cane stood there fixing his coat in the mirror.

“Sorry I just… zoned out. I nicked some weed off of Angel earlier and I am, whew, I am out of it.” I responded, taking the handkerchief he offered me from his hand and wiping my cheek off. Handing it back to him our hands crossed and he came up behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders, I could see his hands… I could feel myself sitting in the stool, seeing the perfume bottles on my desk… yet I couldn’t feel anything.

“Y/n…..y/n………. Y/N!!” I suddenly DID feel the hands on my shoulders shaking me out of it. Heather was still in the mirror, Hazel was in the stall and Hattie was shaking me.

“Huh?” I replied wearily.

“C’mon Hazel let’s take another look at today’s lunch.” Heather smirked and stormed out of the bathroom.

~~~~~

“Hi Velvette, this is today’s lunchtime poll.” Heather said to the pink haired girl, all she could do was click away at her bag phone before rolling her eyes to look at us.

“The exterminators come down unexpectedly, saying their going to kill off all of hell in the next 48 hours, the same day King Lucifer comes to you and gives you 58 million dollars, what do you plan to do?” She asked giving Velvet the handful of copies she printed for her to hand out.

With a forced smile she goes “I would throw and end of the world fashion show, only inviting Hell’s most sovereign overlords and big shots-“

“AND THEN PAY EVERYONE FOR A HELL WIDE GANGBANG” Valentino cuts her off, throwing his hands in the air excitedly. Making a disgusted face Velvet turns away with the papers and walks out going to post them around the school.

I looked over at Vox, hoping he would see it as an indication to answer and not me totally saying he should use the money to whisk me away and go to make our point.

He met my eyes then took a deep breath sitting up a bit more. “Well I for one would want to maybe… find a pretty girl-“ shifting his eyes back to me, “then rent a boat and, row out to the middle of the sea, get some liquor and just, have at it.” He said putting his hands under his chin and tilting to look at me.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“If I was this girl would you keep me safe from the aliens?”

“As long as I could, trust me… with your safety.” His eyes started to become swirly and, my stomach starts to be all twisted… It’s getting like, really hard to… to breath. I feel a weight hold up my hips as I close my eyes and pass out.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\click\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

“Oh hello, did Vox show you around the house yet?” I wrapped around his side, seeing his colleagues in our living room for our dinner party. Perm and Jam brought a nice wine and I had just come back from setting it down in the kitchen.

“So shall we head upstairs?” I asked only for my waist to be pulled back down,

“I’ve got it dear why don’t you go finish making dinner?” He asked adjusting his tie and lighting one of my homemade candles.

“Oh are you sure? it’s really no trouble it’s a slow cooking, the ossobuco won’t be done for another 3 hours.” I double check with him.

“Yes of course go get us some wine or something.”

“But…”

“Trust me dear…. Trust me…. With the tour.” He said holding my face tight and forcing me to look directly into his eyes… from which I can’t look away.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::click:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A ballroom, large and golden and grand awaits me when I get to the palace, my dark blue shimmering dress catching the attention of an elegantly dressed man with a yellow and red suit adorning the space below his rectangular head. We danced through the night yet when midnight struck I suddenly remembered my goal, to come and meet the prince.

*clang* *clang* *clang*

“Oh no… oh dear.” I sat away from the gentleman and stared horrifically at the clock.

“What is it?” My gentleman asked trying to reach for my gloved hand again.

“Oh, I have to go, I have yet to meet the Prince..” I trail off.

clang* *clang* *clang*

“No you can’t leave yet.” He begs trying to follow me.

“Oh no please, I must leave.” I rebound and started to leave… I couldn’t let the Prince see me in rags.

“STOP HER”

I bump into a guard and when I went to apologize I turned to his face and there he was again…

————————click————————

“Alright partner, what are we looking at?” I question putting on some sterile gloves and going to lift the sheet of the stabbed victim when I got pushed away but my asshole of a partner.

“Don’t worry y/n let me handle this.” He said taking the sheet off the body and starting the inspection.

“Ugh, yeah no, last stab case you thought I’d read the neighbor, and Mrs.Santos was an innocent old lady.” I scoffed and shoved him aside only to get elbowed in the ribs. Turning to slap him I looked into his eyes.

“Just trust me….” He spoke lowly, his mouth bleeding just a smidge……..

Why is my stomach queesy-

><><><><><><><><>click<><><><><><><><><

“Get up you peice of shit,” throwing a glass of water on my husband he shoots up wiping his screen off the look at me.

“Who’s Venice?” I yell ready to refill my glass.

“ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND??” He yells back now fully awake, I came storming back into the bedroom. “I don’t even know who Venice is!!! What the fuck does that even mean!!? Venice?? That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard in my fucking life!!”

“WHOS VENCIE?” I yell again throwing another glass at him.

“Oh, baby…. Baby baby, me and Val we, we’ve been investing in, in Italy.”

“Oh, you were investing in Italy?”

“Yeah baby, yeah.” He says shimmy up the bed to where I am at the foot of it still with a glass of water.

“You know what, you, your a big fucking liar!!” I throw the glass back at him and storm away.

“FUCK YOOOOU!!!” he yells, throwing himself around the bed. Having a tantrum like our toddler.

|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-click-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|-|

He leaned in to kiss me with his eyes closed. But I just kinda stood there looking at him.

Quickly sitting his hips back up he looks at me with hearts for eyes on his screen.

“Wow” he laughs out awkwardly.

“You can go now.” I smile at him, my hair bouncing off my shoulders.

“I thought I might stay over tonight.” He smirks.

“Why?” I asked titling my head.

“Cause we’re girlfriend boyfriend.” He shrugs with that smile still on his face.

“To do what?” I ask again still not understanding.

After a pause he shakes his head.

“I’m actually not sure.”

“I don’t want you here.”

“Is it Box?”

“Box is just a really good friend, and this is my dream house, this is y/n’s dream house, this isn’t Vox’s dream house, right?”

“Ah haw haw haw~ right as always”

“Besides its girls night.” I turn to look at the other y/n’s setting up, I see astrophysicist y/n turning on the radio to stream our music when this, earily old love song comes on. I’m meant to turn back to Vox but staring at the radio….. I’m stuck….

“Cmon y/n the presidents here” Hotel owner y/n says going back to brushing bar keeper y/n’s hair.

“She’s right, I am, you’re welcome.” She smiles at me before going back to the hair brushing. I blink out of it and look at my surroundings. I’m standing alone in a dark room… well sitting more like… actually…. I’m tied to a chair. A hanging light turns on and Vox comes into the room.

“Oh Vox there you are, are we in Y/n land anymore?”

“Finally awake y/n.”

“Yeah? I’m so confused where are we?” I ask still smiling at him.

“I want you to tell me where your BOYFRIEND stashes his vault.” He asks swinging a knife around, pulling my hair and nicking my throat.

“OW, what the hell Vox?” I yell at him still struggling against my chair. He pushes my chair down and as I hit the floor, the table to the side of us knocks something over…. It’s my radio!! From y/nland!! It clicks on and as it buzzes through stations my chest starts to feel heavy… wait, where did Vox go? I turn my head to look around for him only to not see him anywhere, sitting up I pick up the radio to try and turn it off.

“Oh hey! How did my ropes come undone?” I ask the air looking around my wrists, not even seeing a red mark. It stopped making noises and just went to static, I saw flashing from the outside of my eyes and turned to look out the window seeing the world flash from a city in the night to …. in between tv stations?

A door to my right creeks open and my curiosity gets the better of me, I leave the radio and make my way to the door, opening it I feel a magnetic pull and fall thro-

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{click}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

“Welcome back we’re here today making a gourmet venison dish, my assistant chef y/n has so graciously prepared all our ingredients.”

I look out to the wall Vox is talking to, I was no longer in my disco outfit, I was in a chef uniform? Looking down my hands were just cutting the vegetables next to me without me even thinking. Vox was preparing the food but I was dazed out… looking past the wall…

“OW!” I yelped, shifting my gaze to my hands when I noticed my hands had been cut…. Multiple times, blinking a bit I realized there were no vegetables…..

••••••••••••••••••click•••••••••••••••••••

“How long has she been in distress?”

“About 22 minutes doctor.”

“Don’t you worry y/n, we’re gonna fix you all up.”

I had blinked again and suddenly I’m being rushed around in a hospital bed, the bright lights flashing above me imparting my vision a bit, but I could still make out two figures, one with big pigtails and one with… a rectangular head…. The only thing really standing out to me was that… I still had my chef clothes on…

——-

I’m wheeled into an operating room where they start to wrap up my hands and….. other stab wounds….

“She’s started on some saline doctor.” I hear a British voice state.

“Good good, let’s get these cleaned out.”

I turn my head over to see a radio in a patients room and suddenly my head goes fuzzy again, I close my eyes trying to drown out the noise, but it starts to grow… and grow… in my head, it feels like my brain is vibrating… I need to get out of here, I… I can’t….

“AHHHHHHH!!!” I sit up, starting to rip the operating sheets that where laying on me off, and running out of the room to the outside of the hospital…. And nobody followed me?

I could feel the stab wounds folding in on my body, like an empty hole all over my insides. I ran, and kept running, not even realizing the scenery changing all around me, all I had was one though, I’m getting the fuck away from here.

Looking behind me I noticed I was quite far from the hospital now, so far I couldn’t even see-

“Ow! What the hell y/n?!” Hazel yelled at me, I had bumped into her on her way out of the cafeteria, her chocolate milk carton spilling out all over her outfit.

“Oh what the fuck.” I yelled to nobody in particular, I looked around seeing I was back at Westbork high school.

“Y/n are you feeling okay? The party you and Heather went to must’ve been a rager. You’ve been off all day.” Hattie comforted, putting my hair up with her scruncci.

“Uhm, I gotta go guys.” I said backing away and trying to run out the door when Heather made eye contact with me.

“YOU! You’re a dead girl walking Y/N!!” She screamed and started chasing me. I booked it towards the door, and tried not to look back but Velvet and Valentino where chasing me too now.

“Y/N darling let’s talk, just stay here at school!” Velvet yelled at me reaching her arm out to try and grab me. I could see the door… it’s right there, so close!

I burst through the door trying to gather my bearings. I reached up to wipe my forehead but my hand was all wet.

I was dripping with water and sitting on my bed,

“Y/n? Baby, are you okay?”

I heard from the other room.

“Oh HELL NO.” I screeched and stood up to try and get out through the balcony in our room. Juuuuuust to trip over something… squishy and hard?

“Hey Mamaaaaaa! You tripped on my baby doll!” Mary scolded me. Sitting up I was now lying face down on our living room floor, Sparky licking at my face… the liquor cabinet open and all the bottles smashed. Sitting up with my hands shaking harder than a washing machine with too many clothes in it, I reached for my baby.

“Mary… sweetie, where’s daddy?” I asked her, scared for the answer but needing to know.

“He’s at James’s game remember?” She said holding onto my chest tight and playing with one of my pin curls.

“He’s there right now?” I inquired holding her head close to my chest. I don’t know what the fuck is going on but I know my babies need me to be there for them. “No he just left a few minutes ago, he said he was going to stop at his office to grab his camera before going to the game. Mrs.Gabole is gonna be here in a few minutes to babysit me.” She responded bouncing up and down in my lap, excited for the sweet elderly neighbor to come and hang out with her.

“Not today baby.” I replied picking her up and scooping Sparky under the other arm, I hurried out to the garage grabbing my purse with my car keys in them.

“Awwww why not?” She whines petting sparky while I buckled her up.

“I’ll tell you later, okay?” I kissed her head and shut the door, jumping into the drivers seat and thinking of the quickest way to get to the baseball field.

In my panic I didn’t even realize how fast I was going through all the stop signs and officers blowing their whistles at me.

“Mommy slow down your scaring me!!” Mary shouted from the back. Snapping out of it I took my foot off the gas and turned to console her.

“I’m sorry baby mama’s just worried for Jam-“

“MOMMY” was the last thing I heard before we were rammed by a large produce truck.

There was smoke clouding my vision, I could feel the blood dripping front my forehead, I couldn’t hear Mary anymore…. But when I turned around she wasn’t in her seat… she was stuck in the back window

Stepping out I saw the damage to my car. I walked over to a field near the intersection and laid down. I feel like I’m in this weird dream, all I can hear is ringing… faint voices of officers and the guy I hit and pedestrians… static…. I could see my vision start to go blurry again, grasping the ground beneath me I tried to stay on this plane… I’m done… I don’t wanna do this anymore….. I want my kids….. I want my bed….. I want…. Alastor……

Closing my eyes I succumbed to the feeling just so that I wouldn’t have to fight it anymore, but when I opened my eyes… I had that. I had a blaring headache, as the feeling came back to my body it felt like I was stuck in a lightning storm and my whole body was electrocuted. But out of all the faces stood above me, painted with worry, there was only one I could pick up on…. His pointy ears and sharp smile standing out amongst the rest.

“Hello deer! How are you feeling?” He questioned, his smile never faltering.

Sitting up I looked around, I was back in the hotel, Husk holding a glass of water for me, Angel dust comforting fat nuggets and the grey one calming the princess.

“You were asleep for a loooong time y/n.” Husk said non-cholantly. “Are you okay?” He got closer to me. Taking a deep breath and not feeling like my chest was duct taped closed, I took another panicked look around…

“……….WHAT THE FUCK”

[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]•[]

AN: HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE I LOVED WRITING THIS I HOPE YA’LL LIKE IT TO

MWAHAHAHAHAHGAA IVE LEFT YOU ON A CLIFFHANGER NOW YOU’LL HAVE TO COME BACK FOR PART THREE 😘 SEE YOU THEN!!!

If you can pick up on any of the Easter eggs, (places y/n was, objects, storyline) within this chapter or the last one, leave a comment and you can get a sneak peek for chapter 3 ;)

#headcannons #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel vox #creepycore #idk man #viva las vegas #ahhhhh #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #part 3?

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zer0expektation · 1 year

Text

forever thinking about early season 3 nygmobblepot:

Oswald saying "I must say, you are looking quite the dapper fellow." when he sees Ed in his fitted suit for the first time (s3 e4)

constant shared chuckles and smiles

Oswald calling Ed "My dear Ed" (s3 e4)

Ed constantly trying to prove his own and others care and love for Oswald (s3 e4 & s3 e5)

their shared mornings where they get dressed and Ed helps pick out Oswald's tie (s3 e7)

Ed always making sure Oswald looks good for the cameras (s3 e5)

Ed immediately moving to help when Oswald spills alcohol (s3 e5)

them sharing robes (s3 e5 - s3 e6)

Ed telling Oswald every time he is "in awe" of him (s3 e6)

Ed being willing to do literally anything for Oswald

People constantly underestimating just how capable Ed is at manipulating other or making plans for himself / without the go ahead from Oswald - him being called Oswald’s lap-dog and "his guy" - and him proving them wrong not only by showing them how easily he can turn on Oswald; he can ensure that he says terrible things that Oswald will never even know about, he can disappear for a whole night and Oswald will be nothing but happy to see him when he suddenly appears, and proves that if Ed keeps Oswald from moving away from a loaded gun he will be pliant. Ed simultaneously proves that he will go to gar lengths for Oswald, and that he is someone to be wary of in one fell swoop. (and foreshadowed his eventual betrayal/revenge on Oswald rather well in my opinion) (s3 e5)

I think this is what fucks me up most about Isabella - she could have so easily been a clone that was either there to get better information on Oswald and Ed and their relationship, or to put a wedge between them to weaken their manpower, or to destroy Ed and weaken them both when Isabella inevitably dies or leaves, or to test Oswald's self-control when made to come face to face with having to share the most important person in his life.

But instead, she is none of these things, she's a random woman that just so happens to look like Kristen Kringle put into the story to kickstart Oswald and Ed's rivalry by getting between them and dying.

This could have been so much more interesting if she'd been a clone; both her existence would have been well foreshadowed with Five's introduction and adoption into the Court coming just before this and it overall would have felt less homophobic of the show and instead more homophobic of the Court of Owls lmao.

#gotham #gotham tv #edward nygma #gotham fox #oswald cobblepot #the riddler #nygmobblepot #riddlebird #gotham isabella #gotham season 3

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mysticstarlightduck · 3 months

Text

OC Smash or Pass

I was tagged by @writernopal (here)! Thank you so much for this fun Tag! I think I might do a few of these for my OCs, because I adore this tag game (:

Rules: pretty self-explanatory. include physical descriptions or pics, and propaganda. the “other” label can be used for “sexuality misalignment” (ie: oc is femme and you’re gay, vice versa or you aren’t into smashing but a specific thing you wanna do with them like perhaps hug or study them under a microscope idc)

Augustus Grimmure

Description (I haven't completed his character art yet): Augustus is a tall young man with dark skin and long, curly ashen brown hair - which he usually styles into a very neat ponytail with a purple ribbon. He has hazel eyes that can glow red or purple depending on which magic he uses. Augustus usually wears a long dapper suit/coat (in the colors of either white, dark purple, green, or charcoal black), along with a silk ruffle tie and other Victorian-style clothing, he also has dark circles under his eyes and may wear gloves from time to time. Has a sharp smile. He is heavily near-sighted and often wears spectacles/glasses (when possible) reinforced by magic - which might be because I wanted a glass-wearing protagonist in this book because I personally can't see shite without my glasses IRL (:

Basic Facts:

Height - 6 ft (around 1.80m)

Age - 19, soon to be 20

Gender - Male

Pronouns - He/Him

Occupation: Necromancer

Sexuality - An extremely hot, very romantic, Asexual straight man

Pros:

HUGGER! Once he's grown to love you that is. Augustus loves to show how much he cares by holding hands, cuddling, running hands through your hair, and (especially) hugging. He wants a relationship to be something special.

Augustus is very brave, and it takes a lot to faze him, especially since he is one of the most powerful beings in Ansburke, but even if he weren't he doesn't hesitate to face risks if it means doing something he considers right - especially when it comes to protecting the one he loves.

Dark Academia aesthetic (more like Chaotic Academia lmao) incarnate, and very gothic-coded. A romance with him has strong Gomez/Morticia vibes (this is legit the best way I could describe it), it's all about finding love in the dark and even macabre. He's also hopelessly devoted, and quite the romantic underneath his chaotic exterior.

Intelligent and witty, with a wild sense of humor. Will not hesitate to pull a carefully thought-out prank on someone if it makes you both laugh. Is also known for his clever comebacks, especially to those who already have it coming.

A good listener. Even if he is not particularly interested in whatever it is you are talking about, he will lend you his attention and let you finish your vent, however long it may be. He's also very good at problem-solving, having a scholar's mindset.

Neutral Facts (that may be pros or cons to some):

Augustus is somewhat inspired by the story of Victor Frankenstein (this character was born of the question I once asked myself - "What if Frankenstein wasn't insane and was a sorcerer instead of a scientist?"). This means he inherits a bit of a mad scientist's disregard for rules and tradition.

He doesn't enjoy sexual intimacy or acts of that nature at all, even though he isn't particularly sex-repulsed - he's asexual, and personally just finds sex a useless and slightly disturbing waste of time. That doesn't mean he doesn't like other kinds of intimacy - as mentioned before, once he gets truly close to someone, he's quite the hugger. (Btw, his love languages are Quality Time and (non-sexual) Physical Touch.)

Cons:

Has severe trust issues. While on the surface Augustus has a very personable and polite behavior towards anyone that doesn't personally irk him (when he isn't feeling particularly petty), he believes that "everyone is out to achieve their own personal goals at all costs" and that in their cutthroat world, everyone is looking to get the upper hand on someone else, so the walls around his heart (beyond a superficially friendly relationship) are quite tall and armored. He would never betray someone who trusts him but is constantly expecting to be personally betrayed. It takes a lot to prove that you truly care for him with no strings attached, but it is worth it when you finally do!

Extended lifespan - while it means no human can truly kill him (whilst he is under the constraints of his contract to the Deathbringer, a fae demon he made a deal with) during your adventures, it also means that you, a human, will eventually get older much quicker than him and die long before him - unless he's broken his Oath, which would return his lifespan back to a normal human's.

Does have a bit of morbid/dark humor natural to any necromancer so, while it can lead to funny and slightly unhinged interactions, he doesn't quite understand why some people consider his deathly jokes as inappropriate (even though he means no harm, that's just his sense humor and how he views te world).

His devotion has a "dark side" (to him) that comes out in the form of self-sacrificial tendencies and will fight Gods if prompted, with no second thoughts about his own safety, if it means keeping the select few people he trusts away from harm. Has no qualms about killing his enemies to achieve that as well.

Tagging (gently, no pressure): @lassiesandiego, @oh-no-another-idea, @writernopal, @tabswrites, @rickie-the-storyteller, @steh-lar-uh-nuhs, @little-peril-stories, @clairelsonao3, @jasperygrace, @jay-avian, @forthesanityofstorytellers, @aziz-reads, @doublegoblin, @gummybugg, @autumnalwalker, @olivescales3, @junypr-camus, @ashen-crest, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @bardicbeetle @talesofsorrowandofruin, @mitchell-nihil, @pluttskutt, @saltysupercomputer, @stesierra and @dreaminggoblin

#oc smash or pass #tag games! (:#wip: enchanted illusions #writerblr #my wips #writers on tumblr #character writing #my characters #my writing #writers #writeblr #writing

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avatar-anna · 2 years

Note

ooh could you do something w harry x black reader where she has a bunch of insecurities because of harry’s dating history, and he reassures her that he loves her so much just the way she is and it is just a bunch of fluff with a lil angst:))) such a good writer!!

ok so this is not...exactly what you requested, but i was feeling inspired, so this is what i got!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked down at your dress, the intricate jewelry that started at the neck and fanned out across your chest and shoulders. You looked beautiful, you felt beautiful, but you still couldn't get rid of the knot tightening in your stomach.

You were going to the Met Gala, and you were terrified. For multiple reasons.

For one, it would be the first ever public outing with Harry, which in and of itself was a huge deal. You and Harry had been dating for about a year, and it was pure bliss. Secret dates, holding hands when no one was watching, kissing behind closed doors, it was all perfect. Harry was perfect. You'd been dating in secret for no other reason than to have a little more privacy than Harry was typically allowed. You weren't part of the celebrity world, not even close, so when he offered to keep things just between you and close family and friends, you agreed.

Little by little, you were slowly introduced into each other's worlds. You toured around with Harry, he came home to meet your family, and when he got invited to the Met Gala again one year after you started dating, it just felt right that you would go as his date.

And you were excited, of course you were, but now that you were minutes from leaving the hotel to walk the famous carpet, nerves were everywhere, and it wasn't just because you were about to make millions of heads turn.

Well, it was, but not just because everyone would suddenly know Harry Styles had a girlfriend.

You were a woman of color, an Indigenous woman of color at that. Your culture and ancestry was part of your identity, it was something you were proud of. Harry embraced it, only ever asking questions to learn and not to criticize, but he was one of very few, and you were about to be introduced to the majority.

You were suddenly aware of all the things that separated you, that made you different from what society deemed beautiful. Your darker skin, your angular face, the piercing that went through your nose, and your face tattoos.

When you were old enough, you got the traditional face tattoos specific to your Indigenous culture. You got them to honor your ancestors and to feel more connected to them; you got them as a reminder of the traditions and practices that people have tried to erase from history. You were proud of your cultural identity perservering, it was certainly nothing to be ashamed of.

You knew the tattoos set you apart, you noticed the strange and disapproving looks wherever you went. But you would never apologize for who you were, or for taking part in a 10,000 year old tradition.

So why did you want to hide in the hotel suite's bathroom and not come out all of a sudden?

Maybe it was because it wasn't just the grocery store, but the whole world. Or anyone who paid attention to the Met Gala, but that was still a lot of people.

"You are an absolute dream."

Hearing Harry's voice startled you, but upon seeing him, your face lit up completely.

He was in the perfect mix of modern and 19th Century menswear. Baby blues, light grays, gingham and plaid, he looked perfect, nailing the theme for this year's Met Gala on the head.

"You look great, H," you said, taking his hand in yours and kissing his palm. "So dapper."

"We make quite the pair, don't we?" he said with a grin. He spun you around playfully so he could see the entirety of what you were wearing.

Now that Harry was here, your nerves settled the tiniest bit, but they were still there. You were just so nervous about being so exposed, about being criticized and inspected under a microscope. This was a huge moment for Harry, and an incredible experience for you to share with him, but you felt ashamed to realize you were getting cold feet.

"You know you don't have to go if you don't want to," he said.

Not caring about whether your makeup would smudge or if an article of clothing would wrinkle, you slumped against him, your shoulders relaxing the second his arms were around you.

"How do you always know what I'm thinking?"

You didn't have to see Harry's face to know he was grinning. "Because I know you, Y/n. I could tell you were nervous the second I saw you."

"I love you," you said. You felt like you suddenly had to say it.

"And I love you, which is why I won't be offended if you don't want to come tonight," Harry said, tipping your face up so you could see he was being sincere.

"What about you?"

"I'll stay too if that's what you want," he said. "Though you should know I will be bummed that I won't get to show off my astoundingly beautiful girlfriend. Truly, Y/n. You look out of this world."

You blushed, but couldn't stop a smile breaking out onto your face. Harry took pride in his ability to give a good compliment, and took even more pride in making you smile and seeing you happy.

You knew he was telling the truth when he said he would stay home. Harry liked getting dressed up and going out as much as the next person, but you spent lots of nights in over the last year. It was always fun, and you enjoyed every minute of it, but this was different. This was meant to be a special night, and you were letting nerves and insecurities get in the way of it.

"I'm just...scared I guess. I'm worried about what people will think about me, about you and me, the way I look—"

"Hey," he said, holding the side of your face gently. "You are incredible, you are beautiful, and I love you. I'm not naive enough to promise that everyone will be kind, but what I can promise is that I will be with you and stand by you no matter what. You're my love, and I'll always defend you. You know that, don't you?"

You nodded, but it wasn't enough for him. Gently, Harry turned you around so you were facing the mirror you'd been standing in front of for the last twenty minutes.

"I love your hands. They fit in mine so perfectly, and they make the best food," he said, kissing the tips of your fingers. "I love your arms, especially when you wrap them around me after a bad day. I love your shoulders. So strong and beautiful. Perfect for kissing. Like this,” he said, pecking each shoulder a couple times until you giggled. “I love your hair and how soft and silky it is. I love that you taught me how to braid it properly."

And on and on he went, confessing what he loved about every part of you, sealing it with a kiss. Some were silly, some were naughty, some made you want to cry, but all of them were endearing and blush-inducing. Most importantly, though, he filled you with the confidence that you'd lost while getting ready for tonight.

"And I love these tattoos. I love that you love who you are and where you come from," he said softly, placing delicate kisses to the dots by your eyes and the lines on your chin. "I'm so thankful that I met you, Y/n, and as much as I want the whole universe to know just how happy you make me, I won't. Not if you're not comfortable."

It was safe to say that tears were threatening to spill down your cheeks. You knew Harry loved you, but no one had ever taken the time to express it to you that way before. He truly meant each word that he said, and he could come up with more if you asked him to.

“Why are you so perfect?” you asked, voice muffled as you turned around and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck.

“Perfect for you, my love,” he said softly. “And you’re perfect for me too.”

He spent the next couple minutes just holding you, swaying gently to music that wasn’t playing. Both of you knew that you were late, and that you had to make a decision soon before someone came up to your room to ask what was going on.

“I want to go,” you said.

“You sure? We don’t have to.”

With a small smile, you looked up at him. “I know, but I want to. I want to support you like you support me.”

To keep up appearances, you didn’t go to a lot of Harry’s shows while he was touring, and if you did, you were often backstage. It was simply the reality of your situation, but you were proud of him too, and you wanted to show him off as much as he wanted to.

“You sure about that?” Harry asked again, thought this time he was teasing. “Because last time there was karaoke, and I might just have to serenade you in front of all those people.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed him gently. “You’re crazy.”

He ignored you, though, taking the opportunity to give you a snippet of his karaoke performance.

“Cause I’m your ladyyyyy, and you’re my maaaaan. Whenever you reach for me...I’ll do what I ca—”

“Okay I get it. Please never sing that again,” you said, trying to get the words out through your laughter.

Harry merely grinned, his mission to lighten your spirits complete. “No? What would you have me sing if not ‘The Power of Love?’ ‘Drunk in Love?’ Ooh! ‘Lay All Your Love on Me!?’ Or—”

You shut Harry up with a kiss, knowing he could list love songs for hours if you let him.

Humming with delight, he mumbled, “Well now I don’t want to leave.”

But you did. For all the reasons Harry listed and more. “Let’s just get through the carpet, and then we can talk karaoke songs, okay?”

You and Harry finally made it out of the hotel and into the limo waiting to drive you a few blocks to the Met. Cameras had been waiting outside, and the shutter clicks and flashes only increased when Harry took your hand and pulled you to his side. And once inside and safely buckled into your seats, he made sure that you were okay.

“Cause I’m your lady,” you sang quietly, grinning when a smile flickered on his lips. “I love you baby. I’m just fine.”

Harry himself looked a little frenzied, perhaps having already heard an unsavory comment from one of the people trying to get his attention. He was very protective of you, and while he did his best to hide it so he could comfort you, you knew he needed some comforting too.

Harry leaned over and kissed your temple. “Celine Dion, man.”

“Celine Dion,” you agreed, rubbing your thumb along his cheek as the limo crawled through traffic.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

as usual, i try to be as respectful as possible, but please lmk if there's something wrong💕💕

#harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing

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alexthebordercollie · 1 month

Text

To Love at all is to Love Entirely

Chapter 4: Transients

Warning contains homophobic slurs.

︵‿୨ - January 14 1951 - ୧‿︵

“You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Wilfredo stiffened up as he straightened his bowtie. Jacqueline’s snickering brought a grin to his face despite himself. Stop that! Don’t laugh, don’t encourage her!

“It’s not like you were gonna make a move. Still need your hermantia to play matchmaker for you, eh? How sad.” She teased.

Wilfredo shook his head and sighed. “No one is making any moves Jacqueline.” Much as he liked what he’d seen of Bruno, an attractive, funny, creative man... He had no expectations. “This is a small town. We can’t afford to be causing trouble. If we get kicked out we’ll be stuck on the streets for the next three months. We need to save our money for travel expenses.”

“UGH!” Jacqueline groaned loudly.

Wilfredo shoved aside the curtain that separated the tiny guest room. He pointed a stern finger at his sister. “I mean it, Jacqueline. Sin travesuras.”

His sister leaned back on her elbows on the mat that had been arranged on her side of the room. She glared up at him indignantly. “If no eres atraído, why are you getting all dressed up?” She complained.

“Cállate.” He blustered before scurrying back behind the curtain to collect his coat.

He wore a tweed suit. It had been tailor-made many years ago. Once it had been a perfect fit. He looked quite dapper in it. He’d gained some weight since then and the way the seams rode up slightly too high on his shoulders bothered him. He’d have to see a tailor again once he got his first paycheck. He was still a stocky fellow though so perhaps it was a fool's errand to try so hard. In truth, he wasn’t trying to impress the attractive man who’d caught his eye. Rather he hoped he could win over the town's stern matriarch after his clumsy introduction. Besides, he preferred to maintain some presentability.

“Apúrate! The festival’s already started and I’m not going to bed tonight til I’m good and drunk.” His sister griped as she burst through the curtain to get him.

︵‿୨ - January 6 1951 - ୧‿︵

Wilfredo was in no hurry to be back on the road. Not after Jacqueline's affair with a local politician got them run out of the last town. Three years. They managed three years this time before needing to move. Ever since leaving Bogotá they never could settle in one place for too long. There always seemed to be some reason or another to leave. This time Jacqueline was caught by a wealthy man's wife. The kind of family more than capable of screwing them both over. They were in quite the sorry state when they found El Encanto. Trudging through the jungle with all the possessions they had left in a rickety wooden cart. They’d lost their horse a few miles back. A horse Jacqueline stole no less. Most of their money had been seized in an unrelated incident. If Wilfredo saw that wretched banker's face again he was sure he would send the man home with a black eye and few missing teeth.

Despite being mostly responsible for their current predicament Jacqueline wasn’t slow to complain. Whining all the way as they dragged their cart along by hand. She suggested dumping their things on more than one occasion though Wilfredo was in no hurry to be even more broke than they already were. At least some of their possessions could sell for decent when they made it to another town. If they made it to another town. After a day and a half with no clean drinking water, Jacqueline drank from a stream. Very much against his advice. Suffice it to say it didn’t help their situation. Wilfredo was nearly on the verge of setting up camp somewhere for his hermanita and running ahead to try and find the road they’d lost track of. That's when he’d caught a glimpse of light on the horizon. Civilization. They hiked all night before reaching a crack in the mountains that overlooked a valley and its vibrant little town.

Wilfredo wasn’t sure he’d ever been so grateful to see other humans as he and his hermanita made their way into town. Still pulling their cart behind them. Folks in town gave them odd looks as they passed.

“Necesito un baño.” His sister groaned as her face grew a sickly color.

Wilfredo kept looking around for signs of anything that might signify a place of business. Everything looked residential or at least unmarked. “I know, I know.” He was really starting to worry.

Before he could bring himself to break down and ask someone for directions, a local family stopped them in the streets. A man, his wife, and teenage daughter by the looks of it.

“Ey, you two alright?” The man asked with genuine concern and a bit of surprise.

Wilfredo hadn’t really thought about how rough they looked. He suddenly became very self-conscious. His clothes were filthy. He'd stripped down to just his pants and a now very sweaty undershirt. His hair was matted and he was covered in all manner of scrapes and bruises. Jacqueline had navigated the woods a bit better though she looked like she would vomit at any moment. She was barely conscious of the worried bystanders.

Wilfredo adjusted his crooked reading glasses. “Oh, uh. We’ve been walking a while and could really use a place to rest for the night.” He was hesitant to ask because he knew his wallet was light, but Jacqueline needed somewhere to rest. It was unavoidable at this point. “I don’t suppose you folks have un hostal or something?”

Jacqueline groaned as she hobbled to the edge of the street to vomit in the family's flower bed. The woman let out a worried shriek and he couldn’t help but mutter curses under his breath.

“I told you not to drink the river water!” He scolded. This family certainly wouldn’t be in a hurry to help after an introduction like that. The locals surprised him.

“Oh, pobrecita.” The woman cooed as she held his sister's hair back while she wretched. “Come with us. We have someone in town who can help.”

Wilfredo felt a pain in his wallet. He pulled it from his back pocket to double-check their funds. They had a doctor? How much would a doctor cost in a small town like this? Surely not that much? They really couldn’t afford more than a bed right now. “I don’t think that’s necessary. She just needs to rest for a bit.” He attempted to dismiss. Looking at his hermanita... he didn’t sound as confident as he would have liked.

He nearly jumped as the strange man put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s no trouble hombre. We’ll heal you guys up. No charge, bueno?”

Wilfredo turned to see the wife heading down the street supporting a very sick Jacqueline.“I’m taking her to see Julieta.” She explained to her husband.

A woman. So not a doctor. A curandera... great. He highly doubted a few rituals and prayers were going to treat his hermanita's dysentery. These people were trying to help so he bit his tongue. It would do him no good to insult their superstitious practices. Wilfredo looked back to the man then to his daughter. The girl was watching them both intently. She looked both fascinated and terrified. As if Wilfredo were some rare specimen.

The man gave him a kind smile. The whole family seemed kind if a bit... fearful. It was subtle but Wilfredo didn't miss the undercurrent of apprehension under their generosity. This town probably didn't see outsiders very often.

“Oh, you don't have to do that.” He fumbled out. He meant to sound more cherry, more grateful. To decline them politely. He was running on fumes and the words came out more frazzled and worried.

“You said you need a place to stay for the night?” The man asked.

“Uhm, sí. That is what I said.” Wilfredo replied as he took his glasses off to clean them. Realizing his shirt was entirely too damp to be of any use. His vision wasn’t the worst but he couldn’t help resenting his current sorry state.

“Let me take you to see the council. Estoy seguro pueden arreglarlo con un lugar para dormir.”

The man gestured for him to follow. Wilfredo was about to grab his cart again. The friendly stranger called out to his daughter.

“Ayla can watch your things. You look like you could use a break.”

Wilfredo looked back at the dark-haired teenager. He was deeply anxious about the prospect of leaving all of his worldly possessions in the hands of strangers. They had just whisked away his hermanita... With the current state of affairs, it hardly seemed like the bigger problem.

“The council?” Wilfredo inquired.

︵‿୨ -❇- ୧‿︵

The man led him to the plaza. He explained how the town's founders still ran the place and oversaw all of the town's day-to-day logistics. Thankfully it didn’t take long for his new acquaintance to flag down a group of elders overseeing some sort of construction project.

“Señora Madrigal, perdone.” The man got the attention of a stern elder woman in a black shawl.

Wilfredo stood just far back enough he didn’t hear exactly what all was said. He could feel his blood run cold when Señora Madrigal looked his way. He was quick to straighten up as the woman approached and put on his most marketable smile.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had an outsider in our community.” The woman opened sternly though not incurious. It was clear from the way she carried herself and the finery she wore, she was someone of influence in this town.

“We don’t mean to intrude.” Wilfredo explained smoothly. Despite the exhaustion that had seeped into his bones. He was going to fold his arms behind his back before realizing that an overly straight poster would draw attention to his filthy shirt and unsightly belly. He settled instead for tucking his hands in his front pockets in an attempt to look relaxed. “My sister and I got lost and this is the first town we’ve come across in days. I was hoping we might find someplace to rest for the night.”

He watched as the old woman's face softened a bit. She eyed him up and down with an unmistakable hint of pity in her eyes. Pity was the last thing he wanted. At least it was better than hostility or suspicion.

“You certainly look it.” She waved to the other council members. “Let’s move this conversation inside. Arturo, could you get this man a glass of water.” An older man took off his hat and nodded to her as he led the way into a large stone building. Some kind of town hall by the look of it. The interior had a collection of tables and chairs filling a large open space with a vaulted ceiling. A podium was set up on one end and there appeared to be some doors leading to other spare rooms though Wilfredo couldn’t tell what their functions were.

The inside was thankfully cool and Wilfredo was immensely grateful for a drink of clean water. He hadn’t realized just how dehydrated he was until he found himself chugging the glass in one swig. He looked back at the elders who had sat down with him around one of the small round tables. They looked confused and worried. He almost felt too embarrassed to ask for another glass.

“I’ll get you a refill.” Arturo offered gently as he reached for Wilfredo’s glass.

“Gracias.” He replied sheepishly.

He could feel all the eyes in the room boring holes into him. Especially the Madrigal woman.

“I feel as though I’ve intruded.” Wilfredo apologized.

The Madrigal woman stiffened for a moment. “We don’t see outsiders here often. No obstante, it would be wrong not to help considering your condition. Do you mind explaining to us how you found this place?”

Arturo returned with another glass of water and Wilfredo thanked him. He sipped slower this time while he considered his answer. Wilfredo was sure a full explanation of how they ended up in this predicament would certainly not charm this guarded old woman. He’d have to tread carefully. “Mi hermana and I were traveling to a neighboring city when there was an accident on the road. Our horse got spooked and we got lost in the woods. I saw the light of your village through a crack in the mountains last night.”

The elders exchanged worried glances. A woman with silver braids whispered something to the town's matriarch and was reassured with a whisper.

“Cómo te llamas.” She asked him.

“Wilfredo Fontana Alfaro.” He answered. “Mi hermana Jacqueline was taken to see your curandera.”

The matriarch cut him off with her hand. “Julieta, my daughter. She’ll see to it your sister is well. Will you be ready to leave when she is?”

Wilfredo thought for a moment. “Well…”

“Do you know where you are going?” She asked sternly. What kind of a question was that? He felt like he was being scolded. Who was this woman to scold him?

“If we had a map, I’m sure we could find our way back to the main road.” He replied calmly despite his indignation. The last thing he needed to do was offend the people offering him assistance. Even if it meant swallowing his pride.

“What were you doing traveling the forest on foot?” She asked.

Tread carefully. “I lost my job, Señora.” That was technically true. “I have a new job arranged in Cali, but I don’t start for another three months.” He sipped his water quietly.

"And you didn’t think to take a train?” The woman asked skeptically.

Wilfredo nearly choked on his drink for a moment. How stupid did this woman think he was? “With all due respect, mi hermana and I have fallen on hard times as of late. We were hoping to conserve our funds.” Also partially true. Though he would probably have taken the train had a vindictive mother not hunted down his sister with a shotgun.

The woman rubbed the bridge of her nose irritably as though she’d been struck by a migraine. He could swear he heard her mutter “Idiota”, under her breath, but made no comment. This woman seemed to be the one running things here. She asked every question while her companions regarded him with worry and suspicion.

“What is it you do?” She asked.

“Me?” Wilfredo was a little surprised by the question. It hardly seemed relevant. “I’m a teacher. University level usually. I have taught children before.” A bit of an overstatement. His experience teaching children was very sparse but he was in the habit of saying whatever would expand his job prospects.

The elders whispered amongst each other again for a moment before the Madrigal woman waved him away. “Take him to see Julieta. This man could use something to eat.”

Aurturo offered a hand to help Wilfredo to his feet. He really was exhausted and it was definitely sinking in just how obvious it was. Arturo spoke softly and seemed like a gentle, kind, old fellow. A pleasant contrast to the cold woman.

He brought him to a little stand on the edge of the plaza. There was a bar with a little television where a few people sat. None were watching it however, their eyes were elsewhere. A woman in a blue dress was talking with his sister who seemed to be in much better spirits.

“Wilfredo you have to try this!” Jacqueline gushed as she ran up to him bright-eyed. Attempting to shove an arepa into his face.

Wilfredo waved her hand away in frustration. “I’m not hungry.” Of course, Jacqueline had been exaggerating. Why was he surprised? What had he just agreed to? Was that humiliating inquisition all for nothing?

“I’m serious hermano this food is amazing.” She insisted.

The old man Arturo laughed. “She’s right you know. You should have a bite. You’ll feel better.”

Wilfredo grumbled as he took the arepa from Jacqueline. He somehow doubted a bite to eat would heal his wounded pride. He didn't need food right now he could do without. It wasn't the priority.

He found an open seat at the bar by the television and took a bite of the as his sister watched on with suspicious enthusiasm. He usually was very careful and particular about what he ate and when. That said given their two-day trek in the woods he could afford to be a bit careless today. “Why are you-” He stopped as a wave of relief washed over him. He swallowed the fried bread and stared down at his bruised and battered forearms. Watching the marks disappear from his skin.

He adjusted his glasses and examined himself more closely. The old man laughed again. “Bienvenidos a El Encanto.” He beamed as he took in the newcomer's astonishment. “El pueblo de los milagros.”

“Ciertamente.” Was all Wilfredo could say as he sat in utter bewilderment.

Arturo bid them a friendly farewell before leaving to return to the council.

He looked around as if expecting some explanation to present itself in his environment. The town looked ordinary at first glance. As if the lifted fatigue had sharpened his mind, he only now realized the exceptional feats that surrounded him.

The woman in blue he learned was Julieta Madrigal. She could apparently heal any sickness or injury with her food. Apparently, all the Madrigals were magical as far as his hermanita told it. Though she was easily carried away so perhaps there was something she was missing.

“There has to be some kind of explanation.” He argued with his sister who groaned in frustration.

“It’s magic, it doesn’t need an explanation.” She insisted. She gestured his attention to a puppet theater in the center of the plaza. He only just now realized that was what the adults around him were watching. A gaggle of children sat on the cobblestone laughing at what looked like rats in little costumes. Strange. He watched a curly-haired boy pop his head out from behind the stage only to transform into a middle-aged woman.

Wilfredo sat dumbfounded.

He squinted through foggy lenses. “That’s an impressive trick I’ll give them that.” He mused as he tried to think of how such a transformation could be achieved. He took another bite from what he was quickly realizing was the best arepa he ever tasted. Though perhaps he was just starving. He'd have to factor it in if he had dinner later. Some kind of mask change? Though he could spot no seams or devices that might be used to remove it so quickly.

“Magia! idiota! Why do you have to overthink everything!?” His hermanita whined. Why did she have to act like such a child? This is how he enjoyed things. He liked seeing how things work. Discovering the hidden mechanisms behind the world. Not everyone needed to be as whimsical as her. Perhaps she should have been more grateful for his pragmatic approach to life. It was what kept them both alive all these years.

Wilfredo was quickly distracted from her complaints however as he spotted a new face. When the rats on the stage hit their marks two actors would emerge from either side of the stage to deliver lines. The boy whose face kept changing, and an older man.

The older man looked about his late forties. He had a short scruffy beard and his hazel eyes glimmered with mischief as he delivered his lines. He mostly seemed to play the male characters while the boy played the women. Every line he delivered was enthusiastic and eccentric. He seemed to relish his role as the cartoonish villain of the story they were enacting. He didn’t recognize this story, something original perhaps? He couldn’t help but smile as the man slipped in little jabs no child would have caught onto. The adults around all got a laugh, but there was one joke he wasn’t sure anyone else caught. He felt a kind of childish glee in that moment. A little joke just for him.

“Enjoying the show?” Jacquline disrupted his thoughts with a playful nudge.

He looked over to see a wry grin on her face. Oh no. Was he really that obvious? Or did he really smile so little she could think of no other reason for him to enjoy the presence of another human?

“The jokes are clever.” He retorted stubbornly. He took a large bite of food so as not to have to talk anymore.

The play came to an end with the villain's very melodramatic death and he couldn’t help but resent Jacquline for distracting him from the ending.

“Oh, es bastante gracioso bien.” she agreed.

They both watched as the two performers took a bow. The rats all clambered up onto the older man's shoulders. He bowed low and rewarded his actors with pets and treats from his pockets while the boy began deconstructing the stage.

“Is that it!?” Whined one of the children.

“Hey take it up with Tío Bruno.” The boy replied with a grin. The gaggle of little ones proceeded to bombard the man with questions.

These performances were apparently a weekly occurrence and the kids were used to longer shows. Bruno, the writer, had been short on ideas as of late. He didn’t say as much, but it was easy to infer from his timid half-answers. He really was a small man by the look of it. Amazing how much he could shrink in the face of such juvenile confrontation.

“That’s enough niños.” The healer lady shooed the children away. “Go play. There’ll be plenty more shows in the future.”

Wilfredo couldn't help but find the whole affair endearing as he watched Bruno smile sheepishly at his sister. What an adorable little grin.

“You should go talk to him.” Jacquline whispered to him.

“What? No!” He spun around and scolded his sister in hushed tones. “You’re still in trouble you know! Don’t think you can distract me.”

Jacqueline feigned innocence. “Who me? I was just trying to encourage mi hermano hacer amigos nuevos. We’re in a strange place. It's not a bad idea to be friendly.”

He knew full well what she was really insinuating. He certainly wasn’t engaging with such indecent impulses at a time like this.

He was about to say something else but a stern voice cut him off.

“Señor Fontana?”

He turned to see Señora Madrigal approach with the rest of the council. They seemed to be of mixed emotions. At least kind old Arturo offered a friendly wave as they approached.

The matriarch still lead the conversation.“We’ve been discussing your unfortunate situation.” She looked his sister over. “We thought given the circumstances we might make an offer. We are willing to arrange a place for you to stay for the next few months. Just until you’re ready to start work.”

Wilfredo was deeply put off by the unexpected proposition. “Oh, oh no, no gracias. That isn’t necessary really. We can’t really afford-” The woman cut him off again. All it took was a wave of her hand. The authority she emanated was palpable.

“Save your money. You will work for your room and board. You can save for a train ticket.” There was an edge to her words. He was certain he was being scolded this time.

“That’s a very generous offer.” He replied. Frustrating as it was to be talked down to. “but I would hate to be a burden.”

“YES!” Jacquline insisted enthusiastically. “Tu pueblo is so beautiful! It would be a privilege to live here. Even if it’s just for a little while.” She gushed. Pulling out her polite voice for once.

“Jacqueline!” Wilfredo hissed. He pushed his sister off his shoulder. She had a habit of perching there. “Con el debido respeto, I think this is something we should consider carefully before rushing to a decision.”

The Madrigal woman seemed somewhat pleased with his caution. “Desde luego. Take your time. For now, you two can spend the night with Señor Robledo and inform us of your decision tomorrow morning.”

“I suppose if it’s no trouble. That is very kind of you.” Wilfredo replied. Maintaining a calm friendly smile despite screaming inside. This wasn't part of his plan. None of this was. Jacqueline had thrown a wrench in all of his plans yet again. At least this was better than being homeless.

As the Madrigal woman turned to leave he realized she hadn’t actually told him where he could find her. “Will you be coming by to ask or-”

“Call for Dolores. She’ll relay the message.” The woman replied over her shoulder before nodding to Arturo who led them off.

︵‿୨ -❇- ୧‿︵

Señor Robledo as it turned out was the town's very aged librarian whose home was a narrow two-bedroom attached to the library. The second bedroom had belonged to his late daughter. Wilfredo and Jacqueline had quite a time on that first night squeezing all their belongings into the small space. They set up a pallet on the floor and a curtain down the middle of the room. Wilfredo was going to take the floor himself, but his sister volunteered. She insisted she wouldn’t get much use out of the bed once she got acquainted with the town. What was he going to do with her?

︵‿୨ - January 14 1951 - ୧‿︵

“I’m telling you el hombre es un mariposón.” Jacqueline insisted as they made their way toward the town center.

“Baja la voz!” Wilfredo hissed in frustration. “You can’t let people hear you talk like that.” It baffled him sometimes his sister’s lack of situational awareness.

“The Madrigals are magic. They’re obviously the most influential family in town. Pero Bruno? I don’t see a ring on that man’s finger. At his age?”

Wilfredo straightened his cuffs irritably as they walked. No matter how often he tugged at them his sleeves fell slightly short of where they should rest. “There’s a lot of reasons for a man to stay single, Jacqueline.” He was growing increasingly impatient with this conversation. His sister was a promiscuous type and seemed especially committed to roping him into her antics ever since she caught him staring.

“I don’t know why you’re playing dumb.” Jacqueline insisted.

“Because I don’t want to sleep in the woods.” He replied dryly as they approached the bustling plaza.

Wilfredo rolled his eyes as his hermanita trotted off ahead of him. She could have her fun. He wanted no part of it. He took the opportunity to enjoy the momentary quiet and take in the town. Most of the games and music and food were further down the road. Every house was decorated with candles in windows and on doorsteps. They all had patterns carved into them. Some detailed and carefully crafted others had crude children's drawings. It was charming. He couldn’t help but smile a little as he leaned down to get a closer look at a candle that had been decorated with little stick-figure donkeys. At least they looked like donkeys. As someone who never really got to be a child, he was always so endeared by childish things. He envied those who knew how to embrace life's pleasures with reckless abandon. As much as his sister could be a pain, his life would be so much emptier without her in it.

︵‿୨ -❇- ୧‿︵

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been taking in the scenery when a timid voice called out to him.

“Oh, there you are.”

He looked up to see the man who’d captured his fascination on his first day in this town.

Bruno was short and lithe. His dark curls flecked with salt and pepper were tied back in a small tuft of a ponytail at the nape of his neck. The ruana he wore was colorful and filled with a childish spark though his soft eyes had a faintly haunting look to them. Almost as if he were some specter trying his best not to frighten people. The tender smile on this man's weathered features was something he hadn’t been prepared for.

Wilfredo pushed himself up from the crouch he was in and put on a polite urbanite smile. A relaxed, practiced, posture that concealed the embarrassing way this man's face affected him.

“You were looking for me?” He asked. Flattering as it was, he hoped the answer was no. He hoped he was of no special interest to Bruno. Bruno was a good man. A good man shouldn't be interested in him.

“Oh, uh, no I mean, well… Sort of?” Bruno started pulling on his ruana as he took a step back. Wilfredo froze up a little in place. He hadn’t meant to frighten him. Had he given something away?

“Tu hermana already stopped by to say hi and told me to see what was taking you.” He explained finally after a rat emerged from his collar to nibble at his cheek. Bruno took the rat down from his shoulder and stroked its back gently before looking back up at Wilfredo. “You said you didn’t mind the rats.” He smiled awkwardly. As though he felt the need to justify enjoying his pet in public.

Wilfredo adjusted his glasses before composing himself. Finally taking a step closer. “Por supuesto que no. Don’t neglect your furry friends for my sake.” He laughed in the hopes of disarming the delicate creature in front of him. “Mi hermanita’s always in such a hurry to party. We should try and catch up to her before she causes any trouble.”

“Trouble?” Bruno inquired.

Wilfredo cursed himself for his choice of words. “Don’t tell Señora Madrigal, but mi hermanita has a bit of a history. I’m sure la matriarca would be less welcoming if she knew.” Bruno seemed like someone who would be a bit more understanding. He wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was his eccentric nature that led Wilfredo to assume he was no stranger to misunderstandings.

“Oh, mi madre. Sí, she’s a strict woman. I wouldn’t worry too much. Mientras la trates bien you should be fine.” Bruno seemed awfully quick to reinforce Wilfredo’s assessment of the woman. Bruno looked back up at him as they walked along. Still slouched terribly. “So what held you up?”

“I was just admiring the decorations.” He explained.

“Right. Every year people like to create their own little miracles. Almost makes the town feel like family for a night.” Bruno mused as he doted on one of his furry creatures. Wilfredo noticed a couple more rats hiding out on his person but chose not to draw attention to them.

“Miracle candles?”

“Oh, sí. Mi familia, we were given a miracle. An enchanted candle that gives us our gifts. It’s uh... m-maybe that doesn't make that much sense to an outsider.” Bruno seemed to grow shy at the mention of their “gifts” as he put it. Wilfredo wondered if it would be imprudent to press further. He was curious of course. No, curious was an understatement. He recently discovered real magic! Deep down he was dying to know. It was eating away at him but the need for self-preservation exceeded his thirst for knowledge. If asking too many questions could risk his security in this place then he would refrain as best he could.

They walked along in silence for a moment before Bruno peered up at him again. His eyes shimmered a vibrant emerald green whenever the warm candlelight hit them. He gave Wilfredo an awkward smile. Clearly trying to keep the conversation going. “Really making the rest of us feel underdressed huh?” He laughed awkwardly as he set the rat he was holding scurry back up his right shoulder.

Wilfredo folded his arms behind his back as he walked. He flashed a confident smile. “I’ve not gotten a chance to properly introduce myself to the town as of yet. I thought it best to make a good impression. I pride myself on such things.”

“Ah, sí. That makes sense. I mean what would I know about that?” Bruno rubbed his arm and looked away. He looked insecure. “Mi hermana Pepa says I look like un vago. I can’t exactly say she’s wrong.”

Bruno’s self-deprecating remarks hurt to listen to. Even if it may have been partially true. Admittedly Bruno was a rather disheveled person. Clean though they were, his unruly curls refused to stay in his ponytail and still hung in his face most of the time. Wilfredo wasn’t sure if that was simply their nature or perhaps his clumsy flailing was so commonplace as to make maintaining a proper hairstyle near impossible. If their meeting at the library was anything to go by, it seemed a distinct possibility. His scruffy beard also looked less like an intentional style decision and more like he struggled with a razor. He was tempted to suspect the latter as he noticed slightly uneven patches in the salt and pepper that flecked the man's jawline. His clothes were nice, though it looked like he never ironed them. His ruana was covered in chaotic, colorful, doodles. A cacophony of seemingly disparate imagery. Animals, butterflies, rainbows, flowers, herbs, and geometric patterns all danced around the hourglasses that made for the only uniform pattern.

“I think your sister lacks gusto.” Wilfredo replied after giving it some thought. “Some people lack an eye for beauty.” Bruno really was beautiful. Disheveled and timid, but he was perhaps the prettiest man Wilfredo had met. Sure he'd seen more conventionally attractive men. He'd been with more conventionally attractive men. Non that captured that same fragility. He had a keen awareness of just how little men tended to read into such statements. Perhaps it was a gamble to be so forward, but he highly doubted he’d given anything away. This man could clearly use the confidence boost. Even if a part of him knew such words would have meant more had they come from a woman.

Bruno nearly tripped over his own feet and face-planted into the pavement.

Wilfredo couldn’t help to reach his arms out to catch him. thankfully Bruno managed to steady himself just shy of making contact. He felt a panic creep in as seconds felt like minutes. Had he just made a mistake?

“Estoy bien.” Bruno let out a nasally honk before clearing his throat and regaining his balance. “Estoy bien.”

Wilfredo stayed frozen as he was. Awaiting some sign he was safe.

Bruno seemed to fumble backward a bit. Making eye contact and he seemed suddenly aware of the close proximity between them.

“I think beauty might be a bit of an overstatement don’t you think.” He chuckled awkwardly. The same anxious laugh he’d heard multiple times now. The laugh he gave when he was looking to defuse a situation. That laugh put Wilfredo a little at ease. Only a little.

Wilfredo straightened up and brushed a few creases from his suit. He replied cautiously. “I am rather fond of the arts. I appreciate creative people.” That wasn’t what he had meant. Looking at those glittering emeralds that stared back at him... He knew that wasn’t what he had meant.

“ah s-sí. That makes more sense.” Bruno grinned sheepishly as he rubbed his arm.

“What did you think I meant?”

“Oh hey look, a distraction!”

Wilfredo stood dumbfounded as Bruno darted off into the plaza. Waving back for him to follow. Despite himself, Wilfredo darted off after him without thinking. Why were they running? What just happened?!

Bruno was surprisingly quick on his feet. Wilfredo had to stop to catch his breath once he caught up to him. Bruno looked around the plaza excitedly and Wilfredo tried to compose himself enough to get a sentence out. The plaza was filled with laughter and music and dancing. Twinkling lights and colorful decorations.

“What are we looking at exactly?” He finally asked. Trying his best to mask his confusion and irritation.

“Oh, uh, I thought I saw Jacqueline, but I guess not.” Bruno replied awkwardly.

Had Bruno known what he meant? How was he meant to interpret this distraction?

A pair of children darted between them. Covered in some colorful substance and squealing wildly.

“You think you can escape?!” Came raucous woman’s voice.

Wilfredo turned to see a young woman bombarding laughing children with bright mists of color. The cobblestone had been consumed with succulents and flowers where she stood. The colorful woman laughed maniacally before her eyes locked onto the two men.

“What’s this? A new challenger approaches.”

Bruno held his hands up in front of him in surrender “Ey sobrina, you seen Jacqueline?”

The girl's hands filled with what looked like seed pods though Wilfredo couldn’t identify the species from the distance she was standing. The foliage at her feet expanded outward. Roots and vines creeping over the cobblestone. More magic. Don't ask. Just accept it.

“All I see is mi Tío in need of a new coat of paint.”

Wilfredo adjusted his glasses as he took in the sight. Attempting to formulate a response. It had been a little over a week and he’d seen shapeshifting, healing arepas, a child who could talk to animals, a woman carrying buildings and beasts of burden all while hardly leaving the library. Still this would take getting used to. He straightened up and attempted to introduce himself.

Before he could open his mouth to speak he felt a soft slightly clammy hand grab hold of his own as he was yanked violently to the side. A massive cloud of blue erupted from the ground where he had been standing. It took a moment to register what just happened. He'd been spun around to the opposite side of his scrawny companion.

“Ten cuidado con él.” Bruno requested gently.

“NO! SIN PIEDAD!” She cackled before bombarding them with more explosions of vibrant color.

Wilfredo barely had time to register the chaos. He found himself being dragged, pushed, and shoved about the plaza as Bruno dodged his niece's attacks. Eventually, Wilfredo found himself unceremoniously shoved into a stand full of firecrackers. The two Madrigals seemed to lose track of him completely and ran off without him. The man at the fireworks stall laughed heartily while Wilfredo tried to collect himself.

“Struggling to keep up?”

Wilfredo grumbled as he cleaned a bit of stray pollen from his glasses. He looked around for the infamous rat-man. “Are all your festivals this chaotic?” He grumbled despite his usual propensity for self-restraint.

The pudgy mustached man walked over to pick up a few sparklers that had fallen on the ground in the collision. “Didn’t use to be this wild. Isa’s really been letting loose these days. The kids love it though.”

Wilfredo finally spotted Bruno. He managed to swing up onto a nearby balcony to taunt Isabela. He was somewhat astonished by the man's athleticism. Not something he would have expected from such a shy clumsy person. Amazing how much his demeanor seemed to change under the right conditions.

Bruno blew farts with his tongue down at the frustrated girl. “Is that the best you can do? I’m falling asleep over here.” He gave an exaggerated yawn. “At least give me a challenge.”

Isabela stomped her foot. “Get down from there. Abuela says I’m not allowed to aim too close to the windows.”

“Well that sounds like your problem, doesn’t it?”

Wilfredo sighed with relief. He ran his hand through his hair and considered his options. It looked like whatever moment the two of them had shared earlier was over. Perhaps that was for the better. Bruno would forget about their awkward interaction and he could go back to babysitting his hermanita. Speaking of, they were supposed to be looking for Jacqueline. He figured he should probably find her before she got into some sort of trouble.

He made his way over toward the bickering Madrigals to inform his new friend of his departure. “I think I should go find Jacqueline and see what she wants.” Isabela turned to smile at him wickedly before he could finish the thought. It didn’t take a genius to see what she was thinking.

“Oh, no it’s fine I was just leaving.” He attempted to decline politely. Taking a tentative step back.

PFSHH!

Great. Who knows how long it would take to wash the stains out? When he opened his eyes, however, Wilfredo found he was surprisingly clean. Bruno as it turns out had jumped down to block the attack and was now coated in purple.

Bruno stood there with his arms still extended as he blinked the purple plant matter from his eyes. Letting loose a little puff from his mouth.

“HA! I win.” Isabela chirped as she trotted up to them gleefully.

Bruno dropped his arms and rubbed more pollen from his eyes.

“Only because you cheated.”

“That sounds like your problem.” She retorted as she grinned back at her tío. She looked past Bruno and made eye contact with Wilfredo. Her manic glee seemed to die down as she properly registered his personhood. “So you’re the new guy huh?”

“Oh, yes. I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.”

“This is Wilfredo.” Bruno interrupted. “We were trying to track down su hermana Jacqueline. Now that you’re done using me as a canvas, I don’t suppose you’ve seen her around?”

Isabela seemed to think for a moment. “Hmm, she’s the blue-eyed woman in the red skirt, right? I think I saw her head towards the bridge with a couple of cabrons earlier.” Isabela didn’t sound impressed with her first impression of Jacqueline.

Typical. Leave it to his sister to sour the opinions of the most powerful people in town.

“I’ll see if I can’t track her down.” Wilfredo turned to Bruno. “I’ll let you two enjoy your night. It was nice seeing you again.”

Bruno looked hurt. It surprised him a bit. He figured this wild distraction had just been an opportunity to put some distance between them. He was wrong. Why was he wrong?

“W-we can look together. I didn’t mean to get sidetracked.” Bruno attempted to brush the purple pollen from his face only to smear it around. “I kind of assumed I’d be showing you around town.”

Bruno began to stumble over himself. “I-I mean if you j-just, if you don’t want to…”

Isabela prodded her tío’s back forcing him into an upright posture. He had begun to shrink again.

“Tío already told Camilo he was spending the festival with his new friend and wouldn’t have time to do a show together. Mi primo’s gonna be real disappointed in him if he doesn’t follow through.”

Was this girl seriously talking about her uncle like he was a shy little boy? Bruno looked embarrassed but just let that slide. Wilfredo would never let a child talk to him that way.

“Vamos, en camino.” Bruno gestured towards a bridge that left the plaza.

Isabela teased her tío playfully as they made their retreat. Returning to a few little ones who caught her attention once they were out of range.

“I didn’t mean to get distracted.” Bruno said once they were out of Isabela’s earshot. “She’s been expressing herself a lot more lately. I’ve been doing my best to be supportive. You know how it is.”

“That’s very sweet of you.” Wilfredo watched as Bruno’s rats licked at the purple mist only to screw up their faces.

“Not really. That’s just what you do for family.” Such a simple answer.

Wilfredo looked around till he spotted a table with drinks for folks who wore themselves out dancing and playing games.

“Hold that thought.”

Bruno looked a bit confused as he went to fill a paper cup from a pitcher of water and searched his front pockets.

He quickly found his handkerchief and gestured Bruno over towards the bridge. He hoisted himself up onto the wall to keep out of the way of foot traffic. After setting the water down he gestured to the spot beside him. Bruno did as instructed and sat on the wall next to him. He clasped his hands together between his knees and looked up at Wilfredo expectantly.

Despite his apparent age, he looked almost childlike. His eyes were round as dinner plates. The lights were dimmer here and his hazel eyes turned a warm brown. Wilfredo cleared his throat and reached down for the water. He’d have to minimize eye contact if Bruno was going to look at him like that.

“I thought we were looking for Jacqueline?”

Wilfredo dipped his handkerchief into the cup. “Between you and me, I have a sneaking suspicion she won’t be missing our presence.”

Bruno let out a charming little half laugh half snort.

Wilfredo reached out towards his face with his now wet handkerchief and Bruno pulled back in surprise at first. Wilfredo pulled back as well. He was about to ask. To his surprise, Bruno, seemingly having registered what he was trying to do, leaned in closer.

“You can do it yourself if you want.” Wilfredo offered. He felt a little ashamed of himself for being so eggar to touch this man’s face. He'd have to restrain himself. He could look. That was all. He couldn't let himself forget that.

“It’s fine. It’s not like I can see what I’m doing.” Bruno made a fair point. Or perhaps Wilfredo couldn't resist the selfish urge to touch him.

Despite his consent, Wilfredo couldn’t help but notice how Bruno would flinch under his touch. Every time it felt like a thorn pierced his chest. One of Bruno’s rats scurried into his arms and began receiving absentminded pets. It seemed as though the animals could sense their owner's distress. He did his best to be gentle and try to make conversation in the hopes of easing the awkwardness of the situation.

“Miracles huh?” He asked.

Bruno looked up at him with a pensive expression. “I guess you’ll want to know the whole story?” He asked.

Wilfredo was curious, but Bruno’s timid demeanor earlier had caused him pause. “This is the celebration of the town's founding.” He said carefully. “Maybe you could tell me about that?” Bruno didn’t seem to want to discuss the magic and Wilfredo didn’t want to push him any further out of his comfort zone than he already had.

Bruno chuckled. “Pues, milagros, El Encanto, it’s all the same thing really.”

Of course it was. Wilfredo pulled back as he finished cleaning Bruno’s face.

Bruno nuzzled the rat in his hand before he spoke.

“I should probably start with introductions.” Bruno smiled proudly as he pointed to various family members scattered about the plaza and down the busy main street. The girl assaulting the town with color was Isabela as he’d already learned. Bruno’s oldest sobrina could grow plants and “has a real wild streak in her.”

The boy putting on a one-man show down the street with his many faces was Camilo. Bruno had introduced him before. The little one who flooded the space around his stage with animals was his hermanito Antonio. Wilfredo met him once before when he came to visit the library. According to Bruno, he was a very sensitive and kind child. Camilo seemed deeply supportive as he managed to work his hermano's animal friends into his improv routine.

A large woman, who he’d seen doing manual labor around town a few times, was trying to learn a dance from a woman in yellow. Luisa and Pepa. His hermana and sobrina respectively. Bruno was quick to clarify she was not Pepa’s daughter however but his other sister Julieta's daughter. Luisa was the strong one, Pepa could control the weather “When she’s in the mood.” and Julieta could heal the town with her cooking as Wilfredo had learned on his first day.

Bruno seemed to beam when he talked about his family and their amazing talents. He pointed to a dunk tank where a smartly dressed man had his suit ruined much to the amusement of a stocky fellow in yellow. “Those are mis cuñados.” He explained. The stocky one Félix was married to Pepa and Agustín, the clumsy one, had married Julieta.

“Then there’s Dolores of course who’s…” Bruno looked around curiously for his sobrina. “Actually I don’t know where she is right now.”

Wilfredo did his best to listen attentively and try to remember every Madrigal. He wanted so badly to pull out his notebook and write it all down but he'd left it at home. Besides, he was well aware of how dehumanizing it would probably feel to have someone taking notes on your family like a science experiment.

“Tío Bruno!” Came a voice that cut through the night like a beam of sunshine. That must be Mirabel. Bruno had mentioned her multiple times amidst his rambling. He seemed to love all his sobrinos but Mirabel somehow made it into every anecdote.

Wilfredo looked up to see the curly-haired girl trot over. She hugged her tío and smile at him from behind green round-rimmed glasses.

“This must be tu nuevo amigo.” Her smile was infectious. Wilfredo couldn’t help but smile back and give her a gentle little wave.

“Uh, sí. Mirabel, this is Wilfredo.” Bruno introduced him awkwardly.

Wilfredo offered her a hand to shake. She seemed a bit surprised by the formality but took his hand with a surprisingly firm grasp.

“Su tío speaks very highly of you.”

Bruno and Mirabel both looked away from each other shyly. He wondered if he’d said something inappropriate.

“Is that so?” Mirabel gave her tío a cheeky smile.

“I was just telling him about la familia.” Bruno clarified.

“Before you ask. I didn’t get a gift.” Mirabel intruded.

Wilfredo wasn’t going to ask but that did send him reeling with more than a few questions. He opened his mouth as if to ask a follow-up but closed it when he couldn’t think of where to start.

Mirabel gave Bruno a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Abuela is going to want to talk to you both before the night is out.”

“Oh, estoy seguro.” Bruno sighed.

“Just making sure you're ready for that.”

“I’m fine.” Bruno insisted before playfully waving off his sobrina. “Now go, shoo, go play, have fun while you still have the time.” He insisted.

Mirabel chuckled and rolled her eyes before returning to the festivities.

“So what was that about? If you don’t mind my asking.” Wilfredo inquired.

Bruno looked out at the twinkling lights and thought for a moment before he responded. “Mi Madre… She's a difficult woman. I don’t make many friends so mi familia’s made somewhat of a spectacle of me. It’s no wonder she wants to talk to you. Don’t feel too bad if she’s not impressed.”

Wilfredo looked back at Bruno. His eyes traced along the subtle age lines on the man's face as he stared into space with a stoic expression. That explained a lot. A domineering mother. A timid son. Bruno wasn’t so timid when he spoke of the things he loved. Wilfredo loved seeing that light in his eyes. Hearing the cheer in his voice. The mention of his mother dimmed that spark so quickly.

Wilfredo didn't make many friends either. His mother wouldn't have allowed it. He has many acquaintances. People who might have called him a friend, but no one stayed in his life for long. It was how he preferred it anyway. Life was easier that way.

“She seemed friendly when last we spoke.” He still recalled the Madrigal woman. His introduction to the council the day he and his hermanita came to town. The woman seemed condescending and cold that first day. He wasn’t going to tell Bruno that.

“She is.” Bruno corrected anxiously as if he thought he might have given the wrong impression. “She’s just strict is all.”

“Then I better be on my best behavior, eh?” Wilfredo laughed as he nudged Bruno playfully.

Bruno rubbed at his arm with an awkward smile. He struggled to maintain it though. “She’s the reason this place exists.” He explained.

For all his enthusiasm bragging about his family Bruno had yet to explain how the town was founded. One of the few questions Wilfredo had actually asked. He suddenly suspected the answer might not be a pleasant one.

“Guerra de los Mil Días.” Bruno spoke softly. “They lost their home, everyone did. I was just a baby when it all happened. I lost mi padre that day.” He paused for a moment as he looked down at the cobblestone below their feet. “The miracle was born out of his sacrifice, mi madre’s prayer…”

“Lo siento.” Wilfredo was at a loss for anything better to say. He had so many questions in the back of his mind. The academic in him was reeling at the evidence of honest to god divine intervention. Unfortunately he revelation had to wait. The pain in his companion's eyes drowned out all other thoughts.

“Oh, no pasa nada. Estoy bien. It’s not like I knew him right? You can’t miss someone you never knew.” Bruno didn’t seem very convinced by his own words. A cold shiver seemed to overtake him for a moment as he hurried out a stipulation. “Don’t tell Ma I said that.”

“I would never.” Wilfredo purred. Bruno smiled back and it felt so warm.

Bruno seemed to regain his focus and gestured around the space. “The miracle gave us all of this. The mountains. The magic. Our Castia…” Bruno stopped and his eyes lit up as though he was about to launch into another familiar introduction “You haven’t seen Casita yet have you?”

Wilfredo had already lost track of his thoughts. His mind had wandered somewhere unexpected. “Tu padre debe haberte amado realmente.” He couldn’t help the words that tumbled out.

Bruno froze. His hazel eyes grew glassy in the low light. Wilfredo immediately regretted his lack of self-control.

“I-I didn’t mean to..” It was his turn to stutter for once. He'd surprised himself with his own sincerity. He wasn't expecting Bruno's story to hit him the way it did. He wasn't prepared for the places his mind went.

“No, no te preocupes.” Bruno replied gently.

There was an odd silence. Almost deafening before the sensation of tiny paws on Wilfredo’s hand nearly made him jump. He lifted his hand to find a small rat clinging to it. The little creature examined him as he lifted it up to eye level.

“Oye vaya!” Bruno exclaimed as two other rats stared Wilfredo down from either shoulder. “Beatrice is usually very shy. She must really like you.”

Wilfredo eyed the little rat curiously. She sniffed at his nose. He gently reached a hand up to pet her with the tip of his finger. She ducked first and he was about to pull away before she reached her head out to receive his pets. It was oddly soothing. She was small. Almost blueish in color.

“You’re lucky. My parents never let me have any pets. I'm pretty sure a rat in the house would have given mi madre a heart attack.” He replied sadly.

“Why didn’t you get one when you moved out? A pet I mean, not, like, a rat specifically.”

“Oh, we weren’t in a good place at the time. It’s never really been a good time.” Wilfredo felt a bitterness rise in his chest. “You have a good life here. A stable home with good people. Never take that for granted.”

“I don’t.”

Bruno’s reply was surprising. Not what he said, but how he said it. Bruno had this oddly intense look in his eyes for a moment as he looked him over. There was something bitter in that gaze. Bruno was often timid and unsure of himself but this was something else. It looked like he might have been considering his words before he looked away and returned with something that seemed unrelated.

“H-Have you ever felt... out of place, in your own home?” He asked as he looked up at the stars. His tone was shockingly cold.

Beatrice the rat leaped down from Wilfredo's hand and ran back to Bruno. She snuggled into him agressively. The rats on his shoulders seemed to grow similarly affectionate all of the sudden.

Wilfredo considered those words carefully... “Everyday.” He finally replied. He wasn’t normally one to open up too much about himself. Something about those words struck so close to his core. He couldn't help but give this man something. Something of himself, if only just something small.

“I attended a boarding school.” He explained. “My parents didn’t live far but they weren’t very interested in seeing me most of the time. Whenever I was home it was mostly for show.” He paused and contemplated how best to share. How much. “Leaving was… The best and the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

Bruno looked back to stare into the river bitterly. “So they just let you leave?”

Wilfredo was hesitant to answer. “Something like that, sí.”

Bruno took a deep breath in before tucking Beatrice back into his front pocket. He hopped down off the wall. “We should go see what Mamá wants.”

Wilfredo felt a little sad the conversation was over so soon. It was for the better. Best to keep things breezy after all. Best not to dwell on the painfully familiar bitterness that had passed over his companion like a specter.

︵‿୨ -❇- ୧‿︵

Bruno led him down the road to a more open space where the town bordered the woods. Tables had been set out for people to eat and drink. It was quieter here than in the noisy plaza where people danced and played games. It didn’t take long to recognize Julieta and Señora Madrigal chatting by the buffet table.

“Bruno there you are.” The elderly woman called out.

“Sí Mamá. You wanted to talk to me?”

Señora Madrigal patted some of the purple dust from her son’s clothes as he approached. “I just wanted to see how you and the newcomers were getting along.”

She looked over at Wilfredo. “You clean up well, Señor Fontana.”

Wilfredo gave her a courteous nod. “You caught me on a bad day, Señora. I’d hate to miss a chance to correct any misgivings you may have had.”

The elderly woman eyed him up and down skeptically.

“Your son’s been teaching me about the town and its history. The way he tells it you sound like a truly incredible woman.” Wilfredo smiled confidently. Feeling a slight twinge of pride as he watched her face soften. She straightened her shawl as she smiled back.

“We all do our best.”

His flattery had the desired effect. Unfortunately, he couldn’t help but notice Bruno’s expression out of the corner of his eye. This confused wide-eyed look. Just subtle enough his mother didn’t seem to notice. Bruno had caught him being just a tad dishonest. He wondered if that would hurt Bruno’s impression of him. No matter. This woman ran the town and impressing upon her was of greater importance. It still hurt though, knowing Bruno would know he was a liar.

Wilfredo reached out to grab a snack from the table. He didn't intend to eat more than a bite or two. Just to share in the festivities. He felt a slight anxiety as he caught snickering from his new companions. He tried not to second guess himself and took a bite. He turned to shoot Bruno a confused glance before the taste hit him. This was not the wonderful food that had healed his bruises. This was something else entirely. Something entirely rotten and foul. A creatively horrible assault on the senses that boggled the mind. He cleared his throat slightly as he struggled not to make a face and risk insulting the cook. Julieta was standing right there, and she was... laughing? It was slight as she tried to hide behind her hand.

Bruno burst out into roaring laughter. Julieta joined in shortly after. Even frigid Señora Madrigal seemed to stifle a snicker.

“I don’t get it.” He choked out as politely as he could manage. “What’s so funny?”

“That’s not Juileta’s cooking hombre.” Bruno managed to compose himself enough to get the words out.

Julieta passed him a pastry from a different tray. “Here these are mine. I wouldn’t recommend you taste the other contestants' food unless you’re muy valiente.”

“Contestants?” He repeated cluelessly as he took a cautious bite of her offering. The delicious coconut flavor was an amazing relief.

“We have a cooking competition every year, but Juileta kept winning so folks started competing to see who could make the worst dish.” Wilfredo couldn’t help but notice the adoring look he gave his sister. Bragging lovingly about her skill.

“I think it’s all very silly.” Julieta blushed as she adjusted the bun at the top of her head.

Señora Madrigal cleared her throat. “Agreed. Sino the town seems to enjoy this silly tradition and there’s little harm in it.” She looked around for a moment curiously before changing the subject. “Where is tu hermana? I keep hearing whispers about her around town. I’ve yet to check in with her.”

Whispers. Of course. Why did he expect any different?

“Whispers huh?” Wilfredo hid his anxiety with great expertise.

“She does seem to leave a strong impression on people.” Señora Madrigal was difficult to read.

Sensing the tension Julieta was quick to interject. “I heard from Antonio about your work on the library. He really likes the reading space you set up.”

The littlest madrigal had come to visit him in the library before looking for books on animals. Wilfredo had been making some quality-of-life changes to the space once he’d finished organizing the place. He refurbished some old chairs and set out some rugs and pillows in the corner of the library. The boy had come by looking for something to read to his pets. He spent the whole afternoon cleaning stains out of the rugs. Still, he had to admit the child was rather charming.

“I’m glad. I’ve not had many kids come by the library. He seems like a bright child.”

“Oh, he is. He came up with half the stage commands we use in our shows.” Wilfredo saw that light in Bruno’s eyes that prepared him for an exciting ramble. Turning vibrant green under the lanterns as he bragged about his sobrino. It was terribly sweet how much he beamed over his sisters' children. Tragically, before Bruno could launch into an explanation of rat dances, a loud crack ripped across the space and disrupted his rambling.

The sound of thunder was startling absent any natural context and drew Wilfredo's attention to the end of a residential street. There she was. Jacqueline had finally rejoined his night. He felt a pit in his stomach as he watched her rush over with her hair standing on end.

“WILFREDO! ESTA PERRA LOCA!”

And there went any attempts at endearing himself to the town's matriarch...

Jacqueline rushed over and grabbed him by the arm. She was barely shorter than him but hid behind him all the same. Hissing back in the direction she came. “This woman’s trying to kill me hermano!”

Wilfredo let out a deep exasperated sigh. He pulled his arm away and turned to look his sister over. He took her arm aside to find burn marks. When he pulled her pouty face to meet his it was clear she’d been drinking.

“Jacqueline, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” She replied indignantly. “These people are completely unreasonable.” She pouted. She turned to notice the matriarch standing beside her. “Oh, hola Señora Madrigal.”

Señora Madrigal leaned in slightly to get a look at the burns on his sister's arm. Wilfredo was about to apologize for his sister's misbehavior only to be surprised by what came next.

“This looks like Pepa’s doing.” She remarked.

“Here.” Julieta passed Jacqueline one of her confectioneries, “Perdón, mi hermana has a bit of a temper.”

“Sí, she threw me into a tree once with a hurricane. Took Ma all day to get me down.” Bruno chuckled.

Wilfredo watched the burns on his hermanita's arm heal and slowly released his grip on her. He hadn’t meant to grip her so tight. The reassuring smiles from Bruno and Julieta were a relief. Their mother groaned as she recalled the tree escapade.

Then there she was the woman in yellow herself. Pepa stormed up to the group in a rage. A dark thundering cloud followed overhead and a delicate girl in a red bow followed behind.

Jacqueline nearly dropped her snack as she let out a terrified squeak and hid behind her brother’s ample mass.

The girl in the bow tried to soothe her mother but to no avail.

“If you ever go near el novio de mi bebé again I’ll make sure you regret ever setting foot in this town!” The enraged mother stormed. Pointing a judgmental finger at the offending woman.

Jacqueline nibbled at the pastry in her hand and glared back at her over Wilfredo’s shoulder. “How was I supposed to know he was spoken for?”

Pepa looked flabbergasted as she stammered, grasping for words, “He’s a baby you should know better tu puta!”

“Pepa! Language.” Her mother chided.

“He’s twenty-three Pepa.” Her brother corrected. It was obvious Pepa wasn’t being literal but Bruno seemed frustrated with her exaggerations.

“Sí! And he’s too young to want anything to do with la solterona!”

“Oh really?” Jacqueline was clearly offended as she emerged from her brother’s shadow to confront Pepa.

Wilfredo impulsively took his sister by the shoulders, “Tranquila hermanita.” He soothed as she growled under his grip. She let her hackles down a bit. Eying her aggressor up and down. “If I’m so old and ugly then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about right?”

Jacqueline was thirty-eight and she was far from ugly. Not that Wilfredo was the best judge of female beauty. He didn't have to be. He was well aware of the dark magic she cast over every man within a ten-mile radius.

The two women stared each other down. The electricity crackled around them. Pepa was tall but only an inch or so taller than Jacqueline. She may not have had any magic but this insult to her womanly wiles had given her newfound confidence.

“Pepi, mi amor, what happened?” The husky fellow Wilfredo saw at the dunk tank earlier came over with a worried expression and a gentle tone.

“This-” Pepa cut off as she looked back at her mother who shot her a stern look. “Chica!” she spat out finally. “Was trying to flirt with Mariano.”

Félix chuckled as he took hold of his irritable wife. Gently brushing a clump of stray curls from her face. “Easy mi vida. It’s a party. I'm sure she didn’t mean any harm.”

Wilfredo quickly cupped a hand over his sister's mouth before she could reply. “Jacqueline’s an overly friendly person. It’s not the first time there’s been a misunderstanding like this.” He glared down at her. “And I’m sure she’s muy arrepentido.” He warned. Jacqueline glared back at him but got the message.

“Perdóname.” She sighed once he released her face.

“Sí, don’t let it happen again.” Pepa huffed before allowing her husband to lead her away to calm down.

The girl in the bow watched her mother leave then looked back to the rest of the group.

“Dolores I assume?” Wilfredo offered her his hand. “Lo siento. We didn’t mean to disrupt your night.”

Dolores eyed him for a moment with a look that was difficult to read. Then it dawned on him.

When they had made up their mind to accept the council’s offer Señor Robledo had dismissed his concerns over meeting with the council. He simply asked, “Dolores, did you get that?” Seemingly to no one in particular. At first Wilfredo had thought the old man might have been a bit senile. That was until he explained to him. Dolores hears everything.

She took his hand gingerly. “It’s no trouble. It’s good to finally meet you both. You two have been the talk of the town lately.” She glanced back over to her tío for a brief moment.

Did she know?

#encanto #bruno madrigal #encanto oc #encanto original character #wilfredo fontana #tlaa #jacqueline fontana

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