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sleepyhollands · 9 months

Text

false god

PAIRING harry styles x reader

SUMMARY harry’s having trouble finding enough time to spend with y/n, even after she drops everything and joins him on tour. when they talk, they only seem to argue. when they don’t, they only seem to fuck.

WARNINGS she’s an angsty one— lots of miscommunication, poorly executed arguments, and general couple fighting content. BUT!! there is lots of really cute fluff at the end :> also, beware of smutty content such as soft!dom harry (my favorite), oral (f!receiving, implied m!receiving), unprotected p in v, a brief hesitation to get naked on y/n’s part, an even more brief mention of bondage play, harry leaves like one love bite, and tooth-rotting holding each other while having sex content. lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT 5.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE fun fact this was supposed to be done months ago and then literally everything that could have gotten in my way did just that. but she’s here now!! writing this was a challenge but i feel so good about it now that it’s complete and i can’t wait for you all to read it. please lmk you enjoyed by leaving feedback and/or reblogging!! special thanks to @cherryjuiceblues for beta reading for me <3 ily <3

LOVER SELECTION one-shots here.

“harry, it doesn’t matter if—”

“it does to me!”

“hey, there are two people in this relationship, you know.”

“yeah, an‘ one of ’em feels like right shit on what’s meant to be the greatest tour of his life! doesn’t that mean anythin‘ to you?”

“of course it does, i just—”

“really? ’cause y’could’ve fooled me, love.”

“harry, i swear, if you interrupt me one more time, i’m booking the next flight home.”

… tour had been going really well for harry! he was playing back to back sold out shows in some of the biggest cities in the world, with adoring fans lining up by the thousands, itching to hear him sing live. he’d already had some really sweet interactions on stage, and no crazy mishaps had occurred (he was especially proud of himself for having ensured everyone’s safety so far). just in the last week alone, he’d been nominated for three different awards for his newest album and performances. anyone could see that he was living a dream— the dream, really. the kind that only comes true once in a blue moon.

and yet… tour had been going really poorly for harry. now, he doesn’t like to complain about much; he knows just how fortunate he is, and actively tries to see the bigger picture when frustrated. but it was really hard to zoom out of his particular situation when he was so zeroed in on a particular aspect that had been bugging him for weeks— y/n.

don’t get him wrong! y/n herself wasn’t what was bothering him. it was more so her presence, and his… lack thereof.

if there’s one thing harry prides himself on more than anything, it’s being an attentive lover— even in the most innocent and platonic of ways. he tries his absolute hardest to be a supportive brother, a considerate son, a (hopefully) decent role model to those who look up to him, and especially a present, loving boyfriend. and for the most part, he’s just as successful in those aspects as he is in his career. in fact, y/n regularly speaks of how harry treats her like she hangs the stars in the sky just for him, how he makes her feel like the most special girl in the world.

but this tour was taking its toll, and harry was taking it out on y/n. he’s never been great at communicating everything in the most positive of ways— that’s where he turns to songwriting— and he’d let his emotions get the better of him after letting them build up for the past couple of weeks. he wasn’t proud of himself, but he needed an outlet.

harry didn’t mean to start the fight. but when y/n asked him where he’d been after a last minute management meeting following that night’s show kept him an extra half hour later than he said he’d be, it was like all the frustration just erupted. inadequacy is one of his least favorite feelings (next to loneliness), and being a barely-there or only-sometimes-there boyfriend couldn’t be more of a trigger for that particular emotion.

now here they were, vexation filling the tour bus around them like a fog they could barely see through, inhaling it with every breath and releasing it back into the atmosphere surrounding them. harry huffed out a sigh, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he angrily looked out the window of the tour bus to distract himself for a moment, having to mentally step away from the argument at hand, even if just for a few seconds. watching as the dark streets outside shined with the headlights of other vehicles, he found himself wishing he were in one of them. it would be nice to be in a car alone, nothing but his thoughts and some music to keep him company.

but he had real company. she was standing not six feet away from him, emulating his defensive position with her arms drawn across her own chest, jaw clenching and relaxing every other moment. when he finally turned to look at her again, he exhaled loudly.

“we were crazy to think that this could work,” he mumbled, barely audible to y/n, but she was able to make it out.

even when they fought, the girl seemed to be in sync with him, inhaling deeply, subconsciously countering his previous expulsion of breath. the yin to his yang.

“what are you talking about?”

harry groaned at her words. how didn’t she get this? “y/n, i’m never around! i wake up when you’re still asleep, prepare for the day, go to the venue, help set up the stage, sound check, rehearse a bit, and then ’m off t’go get ready for a show that lasts two hours. almost each night! i come back exhausted and aching to sleep! where d’you see yourself fitting in there?”

when y/n realized it was her turn to speak again, she said, “first off, do you think you could please calm down a little? i can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

his eyes narrowed. “like what?”

“when you’re acting like a child, harry! i mean, for god’s sake, i’m not nine! i can handle hanging out on my own for a few days at a time and just getting to cuddle with you at night until you have a day off. it’s not like i don’t have things to do throughout the day, too.”

while harry tended to say things he didn’t exactly believe in the heat of the moment, y/n meant every word she uttered. she really was content relaxing in the tour bus or a hotel room taking care of work on her laptop, catching up on new episodes of her favorite shows, or even going out to explore whatever new city they were in by herself. harry had breaks between show days once or twice a week, and the thought of having those days to themselves was enough to sate her desire to spend time with him. it annoyed her that he didn’t understand that, as she’d never been the clingy type and was always very self-sufficient.

“oh, i’m acting like a child, am i? right, i didn’t realize that wanting t’be present in my relationship with my girlfriend was childish, but hey, you learn something new every day, i s’pose.”

oh, y/n was really starting to seethe now. letting her arms fall to her sides with a frustrated puff, she began again.

“god, harry, you’re not childish for wanting to spend time together! i’m saying you need to realize that i’m perfectly capable of waiting for your days off to really spend time with you. you’re acting like we can’t function without each other!”

“the whole idea of you comin‘ on tour with me was to have this time together, y/n,” harry fired back. “if we’re barely going to get to see each other anyways, then what’s the bloody point?”

…

harry might have spoken too soon. at least, that’s what he thought as he laid overtop y/n on the tour bus couch, because now the point might very well be getting to just feel her lips on his every now and again.

it was late; harry had just come back from a show. usually, he’s too tired to do anything but crash onto a cloud-like mattress after all the jumping around he does on that stage, but this time all he wanted was his girl. it’d started innocently enough, with harry pulling y/n into his lap on the worn, red leather of the couch. his hands roamed along her hips and down to her waist beneath her soft hoodie (which wasn’t even technically her’s, but is it really theft if harry just leaves his clothes lying around for her to nab?), exploring the soft expanse of her skin, not straying any lower. her own hands were hidden in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp in what she hoped were soothing motions.

harry knew he was done for once he initiated the kiss. tentative at first, he pressed light pecks along the corner of her mouth, quick and feathery, like he didn’t really care if he got to kiss her so much as he got to hold her, or simply be with her. but soon, the eagerness set in, like he wasn’t sure when the next time he’d get to have her was, and suddenly he was capturing her mouth with his own, barely giving her a chance to breathe as he tasted her. while harry never really believed in a higher power, he could have sworn he found religion in her lips.

things only escalated from there. it wasn’t long before harry was wrapping his muscular arms around y/n, so tight that he accidentally squeezed too hard, earning a squeak from the girl. he muttered a hushed but sincere “’m sorry, darling,” to compensate. one hand supported her head, the other splayed across her back as he laid her against the cushions so that he could keep loving on her on the way down. he relished her little whimpers that she tried so hard to suppress, grinning against her jawbone, her neck, any skin he came across on his journey south to more pressing territory.

harry didn’t bother removing y/n’s hoodie, opting instead to push it up past her naval in favor of gaining access to the waistband of her fluffy sleep shorts. he felt her hands tighten their grip ever so slightly on his shoulders as he hooked his fingers under it, relaxing again when he rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along her hipbone, reminding her it was only him.

it was a thing with y/n. she loved harry, of course she did, and she trusted him more than anyone. and maybe it was the way she was brought up, or perhaps a few poor experiences with sexual partners in the past, but there was always a fleeting moment of anxiety before shedding the clothing barrier before sex. like dipping a toe into a cold lake and hesitating a little, then ultimately deciding that jumping in wouldn’t be so bad.

harry never pried. the first few times they’d slept together, he noticed her nerves, and asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. y/n had said yes each time, and after a while, he stopped asking. but still, whenever he noticed that brief nervous shift, harry gave her a chance to change her mind.

this time, he bided his time by sponging tender kisses right above where his fingers were still half hidden under her shorts. he wanted her to feel safe, and taken care of, and he hoped his gentle touches and even breathing could remedy her anxiety. as he waited, harry’s mind drifted…. he was getting lost in the feel of her soft skin, its dips and curves and blemishes. he thought about her waist, how his hands fit so perfectly against its sides; her tummy, and how the muscles there jolted when he tickled them; and her hips… god, if y/n’s body was a church, her hips could be the altar. harry was ready to say a prayer right then, thanking every higher power for blessing him with this gorgeous girl—

“harry?” his love’s melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, and harry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, his nose continuing to skim just above her navel. “um… you can keep going. please.”

the corner of harry’s mouth quirked upward, and y/n could have sworn she caught a glimpse of mischief in the jade of his irises, but it was gone in an instant, as he wasted no time in stripping her of her bottoms.

…

“god, h-harry,” panted y/n, her grip on his curls constricting with every lick to her core, “’s so good, oh—”

“would feel even better if y’stopped trying t’run away from me, wouldn’t it? don’t wanna have to tie you down.”

y/n couldn’t help it! it wasn’t her fault if harry’s tongue was just too good and her body’s natural reaction was to attempt to escape his grip for a little relief. if anything, he should be happy— they’d been at this for so long y/n lost count of the minutes, and after two toe-curling orgasms, one would think harry’s jaw could use a break.

but that thought flew out the window when y/n remembered who she was metaphorically in bed with.

“’m sorry…,” she whimpered, gripping the side of the couch cushion as her eyes squeezed shut.

“don‘ have to be sorry, darling,” harry mumbled against her folds, chin glistening with her arousal as he placed a soft kiss to y/n’s clit, making her jolt in his hold. he breathed a short laugh, adjusting his arms so that one held her upper thigh next to his head, while the other pinned her hips to the red leather, restricting her ability to move. “jus’ wanna make you feel as good as possible, is all. will y’let me?”

harry turned his head, nipping at the inside of the girl’s thigh, and she gasped at the brief assault on the softest skin of her body, now adorning the mark of his front teeth that she loved so much. she shuddered a breath as best she could, and harry could tell by the way her knuckles were turning white in their grip on the couch that she was trying her best to be good. feeling a twinge of guilt, he figured maybe he should offer her a second to breathe. y/n opened her eyes when she felt harry’s lips retreat from her aching cunt and the weight of his head rest against the love bite.

“hey.”

y/n cast her gaze down upon the boy (who looked far too innocent, considering what they were doing) with his cheek laid on her inner thigh, stray hairs tickling her just a tad. playfulness swam in his eyes, but there was an underlying current of concern.

“doin‘ okay?”

she nodded, gulping. harry noticed.

“because we can take a break if you want to. just say the word, okay?”

“i will, i-i promise. but… can you please keep going?”

that was all he needed to get right back into it, only with even more fervor than before. when y/n reached her third and final peak of the night, her whole body shook, and harry had the pleasure of getting to watch as he helped her ride out her high. he almost came in his pants, rutting his hips into the sofa, moaning against her core, begging her give it t’me, love, that’s it.

harry pulled back when she started pushing at his head, whining for relief as he gave one final lap at her core. he grinned at her fucked-out figure as he wiped his face on his forearm, then took her hand that had been grasping at the cushion in one of his, bringing the back of it to his lips for a gentle kiss.

“feel all right, baby?”

“mhm,” she hummed between heaving breaths, glancing at what she assumed could only be a quite painful stiffy between his legs as he sat up, “do you?”

harry followed her line of vision, offering her a chuckle and an i’m fine, using his free hand to smooth his thumb along her brow. before he could even register it, her palm slipped from the grip of his other hand and traveled down to rub against the bulge in his pants, earning a sharp hiss from her boyfriend and a deep groan soon after.

“why don’t you let me repay the favor?”

…

harry was pretty sure y/n was asleep. if she wasn’t, she was definitely on the verge— her breaths were deep and even as she laid in his hold, her head on his chest, ear pressed overtop his steadily beating heart. and who could blame her? the evening’s activities had worn her out, which meant harry had done his job properly. he was more than happy to be wide awake, running his fingertips up and down her arm, inhaling the sweet scent of her fruity body wash while she dreamt if it meant she was rested and content and happy.

moments like these made harry think they could get away with it. the long hours spent apart, the hectic schedules, the fighting. sure, it was tough, and yes, they both had a temper that rivaled one another’s for the ‘least amount of patience award’ on any given day. but every missing ounce of patience was compensated by double its weight in love. they loved one another enough to make it work.

they could make this work.

right?

…

“jesus, harry, how do you think that makes me feel? you’d honestly rather i not be here? are you actually that insecure?”

“c’mon, y/n, you know tha’s not what i meant.”

y/n felt like they were going around in circles, having the same fight over and over again. only this time, the couple found themselves in a beautiful hotel room, with a beautiful view overlooking a beautiful city. and instead of getting to enjoy it, y/n was glaring at harry though the vanity mirror, his back facing her as he tamed his wild curls for tonight’s show… which he had to leave for in just a few short minutes.

the balled up fist on y/n’s hip flew up to her face, fingers flexing to pinch at the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.

“i can’t believe this. i dropped everything to be here with you— to support you on the most incredible tour of your career— and instead of being happy i’m here as opposed to the alternative of thousands of miles away in a different time zone for months, you’re sitting here bitching about being too tired?”

harry sighed deeply, only infuriating y/n more. “you’re missing the point. ’s not that i don’t want you here, or just that ’m too tired. ’s knowing you’re sitting around by yourself, waiting on me while ’m working, when you could be out with friends and family, or sleeping in the comfort of your own bed—”

“that you’re not in!” the girl loudly interjected— how didn’t he get this? “i put all those things aside for us, har. it’s not like i’m leaving my life behind for years. christ’s sake, the tour is over in two months! but somehow, being away from my home and routine is easier than being in the same room as you right now.”

harry contemplated his next words carefully, turning them over in his head a few times and editing any obvious mistakes, leaving the pair of them to marinate in suffocating silence for a good ten or so seconds before he finally spoke.

“y/n… i can’t be a good boyfriend and a serious artist simultaneously, okay? not while ’m on tour. i can’t keep losing sleep over how well i’m balancing—”

“okay, you know what, harry? you know what? maybe you should just leave me, then. wouldn’t that be easier? you’d be able to sleep better at night, right?”

they both knew she didn’t mean it, though harry couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to hear. but she was pissed, and harry knew better than to try to reason with her when she was like this.

when she realized he wasn’t going to respond, instead electing to stare brokenly into the mirror, she continued. “you know damn well how hard i work for this relationship. i’ve flown across the oceans that have separated us, driven for hours just to get to see you for, like, one— hell, i’ve skipped some of my most important classes so we could go to shitty dive bars in the middle of the day together! yeah, remember that? i love you, okay? people who love each other are supposed to be grateful for any time they have together at all, no matter if it’s every day or once a year.”

y/n took a breath, finally cooling down after her heated rant. she took a moment to take in the sight of her boyfriend, dressed so vibrantly, feeling anything but.

“they warned us about times like this,” the defeated tone of y/n’s whisper was enough to finally get harry to say something.

“what was that, love?”

the girl swallowed the little saliva in her mouth before speaking up a mere decibel. “remember what my parents said? ‘the road gets hard, and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith,’” she imitated her father’s deep voice, and if not for the circumstances, harry might’ve laughed.

they weren’t lost, were they?

…

if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, y/n is pretty sure she’s been there. in fact, she goes there whenever harry so much as touches her.

when he kisses her shin as they lay watching a movie together on the couch, pulling her leg up off his lap and craning his neck downward to meet it in the middle. when he runs his fingers down the bridge of her nose, making an exaggerated boop! noise once he reaches the tip, gently pressing against it like a doorbell. and especially when he has her like this.

harry’s arms felt secure wrapped around y/n’s torso, her hips moving back and forth atop his own. the feeling of his cock twitching and shifting inside her while her nipples rub deliciously along his chest made her dizzy, like she had just gotten off a loopy rollercoaster. harry’s back arched just slightly off the plush mattress of their hotel suite’s bed when y/n gave a little bounce, arms constricting around her and forcing a pleased sigh to fall from her lips.

the girl hid her face in the crook of his neck, and harry could feel each and every hot breath against his skin. lost in pleasure, he let his large hands migrate from her hips down to her bum, where he gave a small pinch to the flesh, eliciting a yelp and a small jolt from y/n.

“sorry, baby,” he laughed, “couldn’t help m’self.” harry gently flattened his palm against the now tender skin, rubbing there softly in an attempt to soothe the little ache he left. when he felt satisfied, he shifted to rubbing between her shoulder blades instead, his other arm still wrapped around her lower back as she returned to her previous rhythm above him.

y/n could tell harry was enjoying himself. his groans alone were evidence enough, not to mention the little utterances of “shit, darling,” and “so good t’me,” he frequently let slip. but perhaps he just needed a bit more to reach his high, because without warning his hands were on her thighs, gripping tightly as he began to thrust upwards into her at a much quicker pace than she had originally set— it had her seeing stars in a matter of mere seconds.

“oh, god— harry,” y/n gasped out, gripping the edge of the plush pillow by harry’s ear. she could feel him hitting that special spot inside her with every snap of his hips, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back into her head, muscles tightening all throughout her body.

“almost there, angel… just…,” harry’s thrusts began to slow, becoming more deliberate, and now he was moving her hips to grind against his each time they met, sending y/n over the edge.

y/n’s moans were long and drawn out as she came, body spasms making her hold on more tightly to harry for stability. she didn’t even hear him finish, too busy reveling in the euphoric feeling of cumming in his arms, surrounded by warmth and love and feeling the safest she had in a long while.

it was moments like these where y/n couldn’t fathom how she’s ever been upset with harry. he was perfect, lying here under her unsteady body, breathing deeply not only to catch his breath, but to take in the smell of her. she wanted this for eternity. and if this was heaven, then surely hell was when they fought with each other.

…

y/n thought she was dreaming at first, not used to being roused from her slumber by anything other than her well-timed alarm and the occasional bark of a dog on a nearby street. she expected that after blinking the sleep from her eyes a few times, the vague image of her favorite boy would dissipate, and she’d fall back into the comfort of her warm pillow. but when she squeezed them shut once, then twice, and her boyfriend’s face was still a foot away from her’s, brushing his fingertips up her nose and along her brow, she set aside her exhaustion in exchange for confusion.

now, harry knew better than to wake y/n up. in most circumstances, she’d tell him off, or gently kick at him to get him to leave her alone. he found it rather endearing, and it’s one of the reasons he’s so protective of her in her sleep— always holding her close to keep her safe, shielding her eyes from any light intruding on the space she lay, making sure both their phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’ but he had to make an exception, just this once.

“darling,” she barely registered his whisper, “wake up f’me, please?”

a whine fell from y/n’s lips, her eyes scrunching shut as she turned her body away from him, which harry knew was code for let me sleep, for fuck’s sake! a smile graced his lips at the action, jotting down a mental note to make this up to her later.

compensating for the newfound distance between them, harry scooted closer to her. he kneeled on the floor next to the bed, close to the pillows she rested upon. he laid one arm against the mattress, perching his chin on the back of his wrist. using his free hand, he continued to brush his fingertips lightly against his love’s cheek, her jaw— all along her face, really. god, her loves her face so much.

“please, baby?”

harry had just come back from one of his best performances yet— the crowd’s energy was unmatched, the chemistry between him and his band members was palpable, and he’d managed to not get hit with any flying objects all night! but what really did it for him was the fan project he was surprised with at the end of the show. thousands of people in the room wore light-up bracelets that shone pink and blue during one of his favorite songs, ‘love of my life.’ if harry’s heart had been any more full in that moment, it might’ve exploded right there in his chest.

he had been on cloud nine for a moment. but soon, realization washed over him in a way that squeezed at his lungs, stealing his breath for a second. the love of his life was somewhere miles away, probably sitting in their hotel room watching a comfort film, oblivious to anything he was feeling on that stage. he just wanted to go home to her and gush about what had happened, and how he wished she’d been there, and how it made so much sense that it would happen during ‘love of my life’ because it was the perfect representation of the amount of love he had for his, and how if she’d have been there, he would have looked directly at her and smiled the whole time.

it made him realize how bloody stupid he was.

in retrospect, the conversation he’d needlessly just woken y/n up for could have waited until morning. but then harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t tell her he was sorry right away.

a groan sounded through the room, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets as the girl turned back over to glare annoyedly at harry. he let out a soft laugh at her behavior.

“’m sorry, baby. know you jus‘ wanna sleep right now, but ’s it okay if we talk for a mo‘?”

“now?” y/n asked in a gravelly voice.

“now, m‘ love.”

with a soft sigh, she relented, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles. harry caught the motion, bringing his hands up to pull hers away from her face. he didn’t like when y/n did that, as she always managed to do it too roughly. instead, he held her smaller hands in his own, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her.

“what is it?” y/n asked through a yawn. harry looked at her for a moment— really looked at her— before responding.

“i’m sorry.”

it took her a moment to register his words. “for waking me up?”

harry laughed that dreamy laugh she loved so much, and it almost made up for the fact that she was up at twelve thirty in the morning. “no, y’little minx. not for that. well, yes, for that, but that’s not what i meant.”

“what are you sorry for, then?”

harry looked at her with an expression y/n couldn’t place. it look him a few beats to speak. “i… i’m sorry i was such a prick before. i love that you’re here, an‘ that i get t’see you when i’m off. know you put aside a lot for this, an‘ i ruined it with m’own problems. didn’t mean to.”

y/n’s features softened at the boy’s sincerity, and if it weren’t for the warmth his hands encapsulating hers provided, she’d have reached out and held his face, peppering kisses over every dip and curve.

“i know you didn’t…. i’m sorry, too.”

“for what?”

“i should’ve listened better. you were trying to tell me how you felt and i just disregarded it. that wasn’t very nice of me, either.”

the right corner of harry’s lips tugged upwards, morphing his mouth into that little half-grin y/n adored so much. “think we can get past it, darling?”

the girl scooted forward the tiniest bit, harry’s magnetic pull too hard to resist. though they were the only two in the room, she whispered, “i’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” harry liked how she made something so simple sound like a secret deal between them.

harry’s half-smile quickly quirked up, completing itself, and y/n swooned over his dimples and adorable bunny teeth. a short and quiet breath of a laugh fell past his lips, and for a moment, he just looked at her. but his gaze caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, and his grin faltered a bit.

y/n was always good at hiding her true emotions when she wanted to. not when it really mattered, don’t get her wrong— she wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit. but at dinner with her parents or meetings at work, she was able to pretend she wasn’t exhausted or annoyed. it never worked with harry, though. he could read and understand her like his own lyrics, and tonight was no exception. he saw through the mask of humor at her uncertainty, and a pang of guilt bloomed in his chest.

he let out a sigh as he beckoned her forward by gently tugging her hands, still in his, toward him. “c’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling his love into his lap. y/n curled into him, knees tucked upward into her chest as his strong arms found purchase around her frame, holding her tenderly but securely. one of harry’s large hands held the back of her head against him, her ear right over his heart, listening to it beat for her.

“love you like crazy. you’ve no idea.” he peppered light kisses to the top of her head, so softly she might’ve missed one or two. “thank you for comin‘ an‘ s’porting me. means the world, honestly.”

“i’m happy to be anywhere with you, har,” she replied in a voice honey-thick with sleep. “even if it’s just for a few minutes. always so happy to have you.”

harry closed his eyes, laying back into the pillows, bringing y/n down with him so that she was laying overtop his sturdy body, inhaling his every exhale.

“you have me,” he said, though he was almost certain she didn’t hear him, likely already pulled into the void of sleep, drawn in by the comfort of harry’s arms, his smell, him.

“you’ll always have me.”

taglist (final time using the old one, see new link in bio): @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

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noodlesarecheese · 7 days

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So Watcher is launching a Dropout (it's not called Dropout but they're clearly using the same template format platform thing idk what it's called, and the same pricing structure), and the reaction so far has been wildly different than what I remember from Dropout's launch. I was curious about why that was or if I was just misremembering the Dropout launch, so I went back to the Dropout launch video to compare them and I think I can see where some of the difference is coming from.

If you want to make the comparison yourself: Watcher's Video, Dropout's Video.

I wanna clarify first though that this isn't a knock against Watcher or the fans who are reacting one way or another or anything like that, I genuinely am just fascinated with how different the reactions are to what seems to be the same business decision. This also isn't a 'wow watcher sucks and dropout is so much better' I'm just using them for comparison because they did the same thing with different results. ALSO this isn't about the business decision itself, just the presentation! Disclaimers out of the way, here's the analysis.

Title and Thumbnail So the Watcher.tv announcement video is titled "Goodbye Youtube" and the thumbnail is Ryan, Shane, and Steven sitting on a couch looking serious, with a dark background. That really makes it seem like they're quitting (which, ok, they are quitting youtube but not quitting quitting). Viewers are already primed to be upset, and it's easier to go from upset to angry than upset to excited, curious, or neutral.

Compare to the dropout announcement video: "How the Internet is Ruining Comedy" - inline with other collegehumor video titles, might make you curious. Thumbnail - Big News! with Sam smiling and a bright background. We know its big news, but he looks happy, and the exclamation point let's us know they want us to be excited. Viewers are primed to be curious and excited.

Tone The Watcher announcement has 2 main tones. The first half is very sentimental, almost sad or wistful at times, and while there are parts that veer into pride at achievements, it's mostly bittersweet and sentimental. The second half is a bit more uplifting, but still quite serious. It reminded me of a tech announcement, like when they introduce the new iphone or something like that. Very professional, sleek, and serious, which isn't automatically a bad thing! But I do think that's not the vibe a decently-sized chunk of the audience expected or wanted. Many people watch Watcher for the cast's dynamic with each other, humor, and the more relaxed/conversational/friendly feel that most of the series have.

Compare to dropout - excited and comedic tone. Still professional, but also fits the expectations of the viewers. People watch collegehumor for the humor (it was in the name, after all). They also poke a bit of fun at themselves, which lightens the mood, shows self-awareness, and alleviates some of the bad feelings about paywalling.

Focus The Watcher announcement focuses a lot on the creative journey of the cast and company, as well as how this move will benefit them. Which isn't a bad thing, that's actually quite interesting! The problem here, I think, is actually more about what isn't here - a solid explanation of how this will also benefit the viewers and why the viewers should be excited. There's a brief description of one new show, and the promise that existing shows will get an upgrade, but we weren't given many specific details about how they'll be improved, and there's only one new show to tempt us into subscribing. Some people will be excited for that, some people won't, and some people will be excited but not enough to subscribe. Having 2 or 3 series (even if it's 1 fleshed out plus a few teasers of what's in production or what is being planned) plus some more details about how existing shows will be improved would've helped. Without that, it really does seem like it'll just be the same stuff viewers were getting for free, but now paywalled, rather than new and exciting stuff. That makes a big difference. I think with the fans not getting as much focus, this also led to some (accidental, I hope) hurt feelings. Based on what I've seen from fan reactions, all the talk about hitting the peak of what they can do on youtube and wanting more, translated for many people to 'youtube isn't enough' which became 'you (the current viewers) aren't enough.' Which I don't think was their intent! But I also don't think fans are wrong for feeling hurt by that.

Compare to dropout: They clearly explain how the move will benefit fans, and reassure viewers that existing content will stay where it is, and only new content will be behind the paywall. (Watcher clarified this too, but in a comment. It's not in the video itself, which is a huge problem.) They include clips of several new (at the time) series that would be premiering on dropout, including things that specifically could not be made on youtube (due to weed, violence, and sexual humor), so the reason for the shift is clear to the audience.

Advertisers Both videos contain the sentiment that being monetarily successful on youtube means working to appease the advertisers, and that over time what the advertisers want and what the creators want drifts further and further apart, putting strain on the creators.

However, I think the message gets lost a bit in the Watcher vid. Instead, it leaves viewers with the idea that the main problem is just ads are annoying instead of advertisers putting constraints on content. I'm not even sure what the specific constraints are for watcher, because they didn't give any examples. And the focus on ads being annoying leaves viewers frustrated because people typically either don't mind ads or they already have an ad blocker.

Timing and Size Okay, this isn't exactly about presentation, but it is still a factor that impacts perception so I'm tackling it. And I'm actually going to do dropout first. CollegeHumor launched dropout in September 2018. Pre-pandemic, but also pre-Sam Reich as CEO. The company was still owned by IAC. It was a Company, and while it wasn't huge it wasn't tiny either. So launching dropout was a Company Decision, a Business Strategy. Some people were upset about, but it wasn't a personal betrayal (generally, anyways). If I remember correctly, this was also not a high point for the company. They kinda needed dropout to do well to keep things running smoothly (which is why they shut it down and sold it to Sam just 1 1/2ish years later), so the sudden shift made sense.

Watcher Entertainment is a company, but it doesn't feel like one. Ryan, Shane, and Steven own and operate things, but they're also the faces, and they're youtubers. Which makes every business decision they make feel more personal to viewers, especially those who have been watching for a long time. They've also seemingly been doing well on youtube, which makes it more difficult for viewers to understand why the sudden change is happening now. They do talk a bit about it, about the company expanding and wanting to do things that advertisers don't like (which I've already covered). However, mostly the choice to start a streaming platform is framed as 'the next big step' without much clarification on why it's the next big step. Plus, it's post-pandemic, and a lot of people are still struggling financially with the ripple effects of that. Yes, $6 isn't a wild amount of money, but there have been some months where $5 absolutely meant the difference between paying all my bills or not, and I know I'm not the only one. This, coupled with a lack of clarity about why exactly they're doing this, leads to fans feeling hurt, betrayed, bitter, and frustrated.

Now, presentation and framing isn't everything. No matter how perfect your announcement is, some people are still going to be upset. It's a big change, of course people will be upset! But I do think a more careful presentation would've alleviated some of the hurt and anger that fans are feeling. While I do think a lot of the reaction we're seeing is due to the decision, I think (based on what I've seen) that some of it is also based on the poor communication in the video itself, and that could've been avoided!

So I'm gonna get a little speculative and describe what I would've done. In this hypothetical, they've decided to launch the streaming service and brought me on just for the announcement.

Firstly, switch the title out. If they're married to Goodbye Youtube then add a (and hello...?) after so it's at least obvious they aren't fully quitting. The dark color scheme of the thumbnail fits their regular vibe, but they want everyone to be excited so they should look excited. Next, let's lighten the tone up. Being proud of what they've done so far is great, but we don't need the sentimental music and bittersweetness. Remember, the goal is to get viewers excited about what come's next - so let's focus on what actually comes next! Talk about specific show plans and mention why they wouldn't work on youtube. Then, take some time to reassure the fans. Predict a few likely worries and address them in the video. Acknowledge that it's a big change, that it will take time to get used to, and that not everyone will be onboard, and let the fans know that it's ok if they aren't onboard.

Like I said, this wouldn't fix everything. There are a few differences in between dropout and watcher that don't have anything to do with presentation. Dropout launched with primarily new shows rather than new seasons of existing shows, and they continued uploading to youtube relatively regularly in addition to the content behind the paywall, which I do think went a long way to keeping fans happy. At this point it's unclear if watcher will do either of those or not. But, while I don't think it would fix everything, I do think improved communication in the announcement would've helped.

#watcher #feel free to share your own thoughts but please be nice #I just like communication ok! And I really enjoyed the 1 marketing class I took in college #and it's pretty rare that you get such a clear comparison between 2 unrelated companies!

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star-anise · 2 years

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This is what the fight is like

Sooo, apparently the extremely tenuous and recent nature of the LGBTQ+ community's legal right to exist was not actually super widely known to a lot of people on Tumblr?

Which clarifies some stuff in retrospect. I have so often wanted to grab people by their lapels and shout, "Stop picking on someone for not meeting your entry requirements! We need everyone we can get, you asshole! DON'T YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THEY HATE US OUT THERE?"

Aaaapparently... no, they did not know. Or they knew and were a conservative psyop preparing the ground for our loss of legal rights. Fun times!

So: Look, it is bad. Shit is scary. They really do hate us out there. You're not wrong.

But: This is what we've always fought. This boat we're in with its antique fittings and strange markings on the floor is a battleship. Work has always been going on in the basements, and when shit gets tough, we clear away clutter and roll out the cannons.

I found this chart a couple weeks ago and hung onto it because it felt like the map to my first 25 years on this earth:

[Image description: A graph titled "Same Sex Marriage: Public Polls since 1988." It is from FiveThirtyEight's NYT column. It records the percentage of US Americans polled who would say yes or no to legalizing same-sex marriage, from 1988 to 2011.

The two lines begin with roughly 10% saying yes in 1988, and 70% saying no; the two lines gradually draw closer over the years, until by 2011, the percent saying finally dips under 50%, and the group saying yes makes a tentative reach for the majority. End of image description.]

After some great social change has happened, when everyone has admitted that gay marriage is very cute and Pride is a colourful parade, hooray, people like to pretend that it was just natural and inevitable and happened on its own. People just became less prejudiced! Courts just decided on a case! Governments just passed a law!

In reality, it was a vicious fucking fight, every fucking time. Every fucking where. There are a lot of people who deeply, sincerely believe that a hundred years ago, society had good rules about sex and gender and intercourse and marriage, and that changing those rules has made the world worse. They don't always agree on the specifics, but they can work together far enough to fight anyone with new ideas.

This is why we are a community. Even when we don't have the same experiences of attraction or identity, even when we don't do the same things, even when we have wildly different ideas of a good time. Because when these groups take aim, we're all under fire, and none of us is responsible for why they hate us.

In some ways I think it's a miracle that there seems to be a generation that did not grow up, as I grew up, constantly glued to news reports about What Percentage of Society Hates Us this month. I can't imagine who I'd be if my brain and heart and soul hadn't been tied up, that whole time, in the political question of whether I'd get to dream of a decent future.

I think that it will give us strength to have people who can imagine a world where no one hates us. Who believe in it so strongly they can taste it. That's my prediction: If you didn't know this was coming, you'll be a boon to us, because we have always needed joy so fiercely, in this fight, to keep us going on. We have needed drag queens and punk bands and "her wife" and safe space stickers. Parade floats and wedding days and little dogs with rainbow collars, badges and banners and meetups, because more than anything else we need to fight our own despair, and our fear that the world will never get any better than this.

It will. We know it will. We can taste it.

Look up to the history, organizations, and people who've got us this far for information on what forms of activism will actually advance our political goals. Look to the side to make sure the comrades within reach are keeping their heads above water, and that you're keeping enough joy going to stay alive. Look back to see who's more vulnerable than you are that you might have forgotten or been tempted to leave behind. Look after each other. Look after yourself.

We can do this.

To your battle stations.

#lgbt discourse #staranise original

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ginnsbaker · 1 month

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (5/?)

Part summary: With Leigh, it feels like for every step forward, you end up taking two steps back.

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 5.600+ | Warnings Some angst, het stuff | A/N: Texts in italic indicate they happened in the past. We get an insight about R's past with Matt and a little surprise at the end.

Masterlist | Part I Part II | Part III | Part IV | Next part

You'd hardly expect to meet a decent guy on the street nowadays.

Though, to be fair, it's less about meeting him and more about running straight into him. At the moment, you don't give it much thought. You distinctly remember wincing from the impact, feeling solid muscle and jutting bones, and a surge of irritation bubbles up inside you because you're not exactly having the best day. But then, the man you ran into looks up, and his face is all apologies.

He looks like he might cry if you don't forgive him, so you do. As you stand there, trying to process the situation, he notices the coffee spilled all over the floor—your coffee, which has now created a sad, dark puddle around your feet.

“Can I buy you another coffee?”

Despite the kind gesture, you find yourself shaking your head, more keen on changing out of your coffee-stained coat than sticking around any longer.

From a few steps away, his impatient friend calls out, “Are you coming, Matt?”

“Yeah, just wait a sec,” Matt responds, his attention still on you. You usually don’t trust men running into you without an agenda, but there’s something about him that tells you he didn’t mean to, and that he’s more than willing to make up for it.

“No, thanks. I got it…”

He looks unnecessarily worried as he leans in a bit closer. “You sure about that?” he asks.

His brown eyes are the friendliest pair you’ve seen in a while. And being essentially alone in this new town, they pull you in like gravity.

“Y-Yes. Just watch where you’re going next time,” you stammer, attempting to stabilize your shaky legs.

“Matt!”

Matt nods hesitantly, then mumbles, “Sorry, I have to go. Again, I'm really sorry,” before his gaze releases you, and you feel its force that held you in a vice-like grip easing away.

As you're walking away, you keep having to tell yourself not to look over your shoulder, even though every part of you kind of wants to.

You guess you must be really lonely, to cling onto the first bit of kindness someone throws your way.

Your deliberate attempts to bump into Leigh finally pay off one brisk Friday morning. But it’s not in the way you’ve imagined it would go.

The town is just waking up, the chill in the air biting at your cheeks as you take your routine jog through the quiet streets. You've discovered that running suits you better than yoga, mainly because it's something you can do solo, and you've always leaned towards activities where you can be by yourself. You’re tired, but you try to lift your knees higher with every stride, keeping your cadence in check.

Turning a corner, a sudden commotion catches your attention. A group of rowdy teenagers barrel down the sidewalk, loud and oblivious to anything but their own world. One of them, a bit too caught up in the fun, nearly crashes into you, forcing you to swerve unexpectedly.

In your effort to dodge, you step right into the path of Leigh Shaw.

It all happens too fast; there's no chance for either of you to do anything else. You crash into each other, the impact sending a jolt through your bodies. You tumble sideways, your arm shooting out instinctively, breaking your fall and softening the impact as you land. Leigh lets out a sharp yelp as she staggers forward from the force of the collision, a look of shock quickly spreading across her face. As she falls, her knee scrapes against the rough concrete, and when she finally sits up, there's a noticeable gash, bleeding freely.

“Oh my god, I am so, so sorry,” you blurt out, horrified at the sight. “Are you okay? Can you stand?”

She grimaces, glancing at her knee, then back at you. “Well, I've definitely been better,” she says, trying to keep her voice light despite the pain. You give her a hand up, and as she leans on you for support, you can't help but notice she's dressed in denim shorts, a blue parka, and flip-flops—not exactly the attire for a morning jog. The sun's just starting to show its face, and you're left wondering where she's headed so early, if she's not out for a run or something.

Looking around, you notice the roll-up shutters of nearby establishments are still down, indicating they won't be opening anytime soon. It’s apparent that there's nowhere immediate to find help or a first-aid kit. You scratch the back of your neck, an awkward idea coming to you.

“I don’t think there’s nowhere we can ask for help,” you start, trying not to sound too anxious about what you’re about to suggest. “I've got a first-aid kit at my place, though. It's not far. We could fix you up there, if you're okay with it?”

Leigh takes a beat, and then gives you a nod. “I guess that's my best option right now. Lead the way.”

As you start walking, Leigh instinctively grabs your arm for support. Your foot have barely hit the pavement when she suddenly grips tighter, fingers clawing into your arm as she lets out a hiss of pain. The wound must have stretched as she bent her knee to take a step, and with the way she's limping, you realize making her walk is a bad call.

“Shit, I'm really sorry,” you apologize again, the situation dawning on you. This isn't at all how you wanted to run into Leigh again, especially after trying to find a way to reconnect since the dinner in her car. “Let me get an Uber.”

Leigh starts to object, but you're already pulling out your phone. The last thing you wanted was for your attempt to help to end up hurting her more.

“So, where were you headed earlier?” you ask casually, hoping not to pry too much. “Doesn't seem like you were out for a run like I was.”

Leigh’s injury is more severe than you first thought; after hitting a rough patch on the pavement, her knee took the brunt of the fall. The skin is scraped away in several places, revealing angry, reddened flesh beneath.

“Grocery, or something,” Leigh mumbles, distracted and wincing a bit as you ready another dab of antiseptic for her knee. The moment the cotton touches the wound, she can't help but jerk away slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” you murmur, soothingly, noticing she's struggling to stay still. To help steady her, you gently hold onto her calf, and that's when you feel your cheeks start to warm up. “I'll be as quick as I can,” you promise, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

“I’m okay. You're doing...fine,” Leigh sighs between clenched teeth, obviously trying to downplay her discomfort.

You know you're not fine, certainly not in the way Leigh means. All you can hear is yours and Leigh’s breathing, and your heart stuttering in your chest, because despite barely seeing Leigh in recent weeks, this annoying little crush won’t go away. It’s weird enough that she’s Matt’s wife, and you can't shake the feeling that you’re probably the last person she’d ever look at that way. Not to mention, you're not even sure if she's into women.

Once you’re done cleaning her wound, you carefully wrap a bandage around her knee. Then, you head to the fridge to grab some ice, noticing Leigh's puzzled look when you return.

“What’s that for?” she asks, tilting her head slightly.

“I have a feeling you're going to have a bone bruise after that fall,” you explain, handing her the ice wrapped in a cloth. “This should help with the pain and keep the swelling down.”

She accepts it, a small smile of gratitude on her face as she says, “Thanks.”

“No problem, it's my fault anyway.”

“It was an accident,” Leigh points out.

An accident that, if I'm being honest with myself, I was somewhat hoping for, you reflect with regret.

Leigh looks relieved as she presses the ice against her knee, eyes closing for a moment. With the immediate pain taken care of, you can't help but wonder again where she was headed earlier as you start pulling ingredients out of the fridge to whip up some breakfast.

“Hope you're hungry,” you say, flashing a smile as you fire up the stove.

“I'm fine, really,” she says, but the moment the bacon starts sizzling, she caves. “Actually, I could eat.”

With your back to her, you could smirk all you want at her change of heart. After frying up the bacon and eggs, you pull out some leftover rice and begin chopping garlic.

“What are you making?” Leigh asks suddenly from behind you.

“This is something I picked up on my travels through Southeast Asia,” you share as you cook. “Can't do bacon and eggs without it anymore. But I'll get some toast going for you.”

Leigh's face lights up, almost childlike. “Toast sounds great.”

You and Leigh settle into your meal, you with your plate of garlic rice, bacon, and eggs, and Leigh with her toast done just right alongside her bacon and eggs. She surprises you by complimenting how you cooked the eggs, noticing they're slightly burnt to a crisp around the edges.

“I've never had my eggs quite like this before,” she says.

“Oh, that?” you chuckle. “Learned the technique by accident some time ago. Got distracted and ended up leaving them on the heat a bit too long.”

She laughs too, and soon enough, you're both just talking like old friends, the conversation breezy and effortless. You begin to get a real sense of Leigh's sense of humor and it complements yours in the best way. Leigh loops back to when you mentioned visiting Southeast Asia, and you're more than happy to share your experiences, considering she's never left the country.

“...I’m pretty sure Hawaii counts, right? With the weather and everything, plus it’s really far—”

You’re still cracking up over some joke she made moments ago, and now you’re wondering if you’ll ever stop.

“No way, Leigh, it doesn’t work like that!” you get out between laughs, holding onto your stomach as you shake with laughter.

The more you talk, the more Leigh hangs on every word, making you feel surprisingly at ease. Sharing stories about places you've been and things you've seen becomes less about bragging and more about just sharing your adventures with someone who’s really listening. It's kind of refreshing, actually, feeling this free to dive into your memories with someone so interested.

That is until the topic eventually shifts to your fitness routine. It's then that Leigh offhandedly mentions, “You'll probably see more progress with the new instructor next week. I heard she’s got a certificate and all.”

You pause, fork paused mid-air. “New instructor? You’re not leading the class next week?”

Leigh simply shakes her head no.

“Then, when are you coming back?”

Leigh takes a breath before saying, “I actually quit.”

Hearing her say she’s left the studio nearly makes you spit out your breakfast. You're halfway through a bite, trying to wrap your head around the news, when suddenly, Leigh checks her phone. Before you can even dive into a million questions about why she quit, she's saying she needs to head home.

Your thoughts are spinning, but you don’t miss the opportunity to offer her a ride.

“You drive?” Leigh looks surprised.

“Yeah, just got the car this weekend,” you manage to say, still reeling from the shock that Leigh won't be at Beautiful Beast anymore.

“Are you sure? I can just call a cab,” Leigh mutters, probably noticing you're a bit out of it.

“No, really, I insist,” you say. Making her walk on that knee seems like the last thing you should do.

Leigh tries to brush it off once more, “Again, an accident.”

You ignore her, grabbing your keys from a dusty fishbowl. “Doesn't mean I won't be kicking myself over it.”

She lets out a sigh, and you can't quite tell if she's resigned or just annoyed.

As you pull up in front of Leigh's house for the first time, you're immediately taken in by its typical three-bedroom layout. The lawn, however, looks like it hasn't seen a mower in quite some time, giving the place a lived-in, somewhat neglected feel. You quickly get out of the car to help Leigh to the front step.

Then, out of nowhere, Leigh curses, patting down her pockets in a panic. “Fuck, I forgot my keys.”

“But someone should be home, right?” you ask.

Leigh rings the doorbell, her expression turning sour. “Yeah, my sister,” she mutters, clearly not thrilled at the prospect.

You're taken aback when, a few seconds later, it's Jules from the studio who opens the door. The sharp look they exchange isn't lost on you; it's clear there's more to the story than just Leigh coming home without her keys. You're gearing up to say goodbye, assuming Leigh will head inside, but instead, she turns to you and says, “Wait right here.”

You do as she says, glancing at the ground, shuffling your feet back and forth.

“Hi, I'm Jules, Leigh's sister. I've seen you around at Beautiful Beast. You're one of Leigh's clients?” Jules smiles at you, politely offering a hand for you to shake. You accept it and introduce yourself in return. Watching her face, you see the moment she puts it all together.

“Oh, you're the vet who Matt had—I'm sorry. It's just, I wasn't expecting to see you here, helping Leigh home.”

You knew where that first sentence was going, but you're silently thankful Jules decided to pull back and not finish it. You force a smile as you explain how you got here. “She was out for groceries, and I kind of ran into her, leading to a bit of a fall, and now—”

“No, she wasn’t,” Jules cuts in sharply.

“Sorry?”

“Leigh didn't come home last night,” she says. But before you have a chance to process this new information, Leigh returns, clutching a fifty-dollar bill.

“For the trouble,” she tells you, getting in front of Jules.

You attempt to wave it off. “Hey, you don't have to do that—”

But Leigh isn't taking no for an answer, she presses the bill into your hand. You never see it coming what happens next: she plants a quick peck on your cheek, effectively shutting down any further protests. The spot where her lips brushed against your skin tingles, and it’s all you can think about for a moment. Without waiting for you to react properly, Leigh starts herding Jules back inside the house, throwing over her shoulder a quick, “Thanks again, Y/N. Bye.”

You're left there, holding the bill in one hand, touching your cheek with the other, and staring at the closed door, suddenly very aware of how little you actually know about what's going on in Leigh's life.

Suzie shoots you that knowing look again as you head out of the clinic decked out in your active gear.

This time, a blush creeps up on your cheeks, memories of your chat with her about someone “making those sweat sessions worth it” floating back, and you try your best not to let your thoughts drift to Leigh. But then it hits you that she won't be there. Despite your dedication, the sheer excitement of going to the studio isn't quite what it used to be without her as your instructor.

Just as Suzie is about to lock up, the door bursts open. A man rushes in, cradling a small dog in his arms, panic written all over his face. He explains, breathless, that his pet is struggling with labor.

Suzie looks back at you. “I could call Foreman for this,” she says, already reaching for her phone. You stand there for a second, deliberating. Leigh won't be at the class; she's no longer at the Beautiful Beast.

Then, making up your mind, you hold out a hand to stop Suzie. “No, there’s no need. I've got this.”

It feels like you've just walked into one of those old-timey romantic movies, where chivalry isn’t dead and everything turns out way better than you could've ever hoped. In hindsight, it’s better. Because it’s real, and you're right in the middle of it, living a dream you didn't even know you had, with the kind of guy you thought only existed in those movies.

The night air is cool and light, brushing against your skin as the car slows to a stop in front of your apartment. To say the least, it's been an unexpected evening for a first date, and easily one of the best.

As Matt pulls up to your building, he turns to you, a sheepish grin lighting up his face. “Well, here we are,” he says, as if surprised you've arrived so soon.

You don’t want to say goodbye. Not yet. So you stay put in the passenger seat, doing your best to draw out the last strands of the evening.

“So, Nick was the mastermind behind all this?” you tease, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you two.

Matt chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, about that... I had no clue he asked for your number until he handed it to me and said, ‘You owe me one’.”

“He’s the perfect wingman, then?”

“I guess you could say that,” Matt agrees, smiling. “I didn't tell him about my interest in you, but Nick knew anyway. He's good at reading people, always has been.”

“I see,” you say, your gaze following the contours of his cheeks, which carry a soft pink blush. It could be from the red wine you both enjoyed at dinner, or, you find yourself hoping, it might be because of you. “Well, he has my thanks. I really thought he was the one interested in me though.”

Matt laughs, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. “No, it was always me. Since the moment I, uh, ran into you.”

There’s a moment where you both just stare at each other, tacitly acknowledging the serendipity of it all—the accidental meeting that could've ended with a simple apology and nothing more.

Yet here you are.

“You know, I'm glad it was you,” you profess, feeling a boldness that usually isn't there.

Matt breaks into a huge grin, but it's really in his eyes where you can see just how happy your remark has made him.

“Would you... maybe want to do this again? Without the running into each other part, I mean,” he says softly.

You laugh, nodding. “I'd like that. Just maybe start with coffee next time. And no spilling.”

“Deal,” he says, his grin infectious.

As you step out of the car, a proposition forms in your mind and you backtrack.

“Would you like to get that coffee now?”

Sometimes, you find yourself dreaming about your memories with Matt, particularly the part Leigh interrogated you about. Even though you stuck to the facts, you couldn't shake off the feeling that you were somehow deceiving her.

You wonder if this is why you haven't been able to sleep for days. That, coupled with the fact that you've been handling emergencies yourself instead of calling Foreman as you used to. Suzie has mentioned that since you're taking on all the emergency cases, you might be overcompensating your intern. You don’t tell Suzie though that your work has become a welcome distraction from the realization that your new hobby no longer holds your interest, leaving you with extra hours to fill before returning to the solitude of your apartment.

And without seeing Leigh, there’s only your own head to get your fill of her. You find yourself thinking about her now and then, about what she's been doing, wondering if she's found a new job after leaving her yoga instructor position. She crosses your mind at the most random hours of the day, take right now, for example—staring at this little 8-day-old Shih Tzu puppy in the incubator, its fur somehow has you thinking of Leigh's hair color.

The puppy was part of a litter brought in for a C-section. Tragically, its mother didn't survive, and the owner, possibly overwhelmed by the situation and the impending bills, abandoned them. Out of four puppies, this one, the runt of the litter, was the sole survivor.

“What are we going to do with you, huh?” you muse aloud, the puppy blinking back with innocent eyes. “I can't take you for myself; you'd just end up living here in the clinic with me. And let's be honest, living in a hospital can't be much fun, right? It’s not safe either, exposes you to diseases.”

You sigh, brushing its length with your forefinger. “The other choice is to send you to a shelter. I'm sure someone would fall head over heels for you and adopt you in no time. But,” you sigh, your heart heavy, “I can't guarantee that'll happen quickly, as much as we both might want it to.”

“Finding where you fit in this big world isn't easy, you know? It's like searching for that one place, or that one person, where you could simply just… belong to. But I guess when you finally find it, it feels like winning the lottery, right?”

The puppy makes a noise, automatically bringing a smile to your lips. You wonder if Leigh has ever thought of the same thing—about searching for where she belongs after losing her home and everything familiar when Matt passed away. Perhaps it's even scarier for her. The thought of finding that one thing that's uniquely ours, only to lose it forever. What if we're only given one thing that's truly meant for us?

And once it's gone, what does that leave us with?

One sleepless night, after deciding to bring the puppy home for a more personal touch in its care, a thought crosses your mind. What if you could restore some of what was inadvertently taken from Leigh? Maybe bring back a piece of home and purpose that seemed to have slipped through her fingers when her world turned upside down?

It’s true, the puppy's late-night energy partly nudged the thought your way, but deep down, you believe Leigh will be perfect for him. You're sure she'll adore him, and he's bound to love her just as much.

Just as you're settling back to attempt sleep again, your phone starts ringing. You blink at the screen, disbelief washing over you as you see it's Leigh calling—the same woman you've recently realized you have feelings for, and who's been on your mind just moments ago. A part of you wonders if she dialed the wrong number by mistake, but it keeps ringing, compelling you to answer.

“Leigh?” you answer, the name almost a question in itself.

On the other end, you hear her take a deep breath—an ironic move given how the call exudes a vibe of urgency. Then, she speaks, her voice clear yet carrying an undercurrent of something you can't quite place.

“Y/N Are you available to talk right now?”

“Yeah, I am. What's going on—”

“No, not on the phone. Can you meet me right now?”

You glance down at yourself, noting your sleep shorts and tee. You're so comfortable and cozy in bed, and the puppy had just gotten to sleep. It's tempting to reschedule this some other time. But the thought of Leigh Shaw on the other end of the line, coupled with the worrying nature of her request, tilts the balance. The idea of saying no, only to find out something bad happened to her, is something you know you wouldn’t forgive yourself for.

“Yes, I can meet you,” you say, hurrying your movements and snatching your jacket from the cabinet. “Where?”

The date doesn't end with just late-night coffee.

Matt's hand is on your ass, fingers digging in like he owns the place. You’re gripping his tie, pulling him in, again and again. Both of you are still wearing all your clothes, but they're starting to feel like barriers as you both lean into each other, striving to get as close as humanly possible.

The invitation for a nightcap, decaffeinated per his request, had both of you sitting a bit too close on the couch, sharing silly smiles over steaming cups as if you were already lost in love. When the cups were drained, conversation drifted dangerously towards the topic of sex, and that's when you caught yourself staring at Matt's lips. Before he had a chance to react, you were going for it, giving into weeks of pent-up sexual tension.

Matt's lips find their way to your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. Encouraged by the heat of the moment, your fingers start to work on the buttons of Matt's shirt, eager to explore further.

But then his hands caught yours.

“W-Wait…”

You’re stunned, pulling back almost reflexively, feeling a bit embarrassed as you tried to figure out if you crossed a line.

“Did I... do something wrong?” you ask.

Matt shakes his head and then kisses you on the forehead. He further reassures you by saying, “No, no, it's not you. I just think we might be rushing things a bit. I really like you, and I want us to be sure about this, you know?”

Inside, you’re a mess of wants and needs, but as much as you want him tonight, you realize you want him even more tomorrow, and the day after. You won't rush this, especially if he's not ready. So, you nod, squashing down the throbbing between your legs as you try to concentrate on anything but his half-open shirt.

“I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or anything,” he adds, wearing that apologetic look on his face that got you the first time.

In response, you hold Matt's face gently, giving him a quick, soft kiss on the lips. “I really like you too,” you say, despite feeling like those words pale in comparison to what you truly feel for him.

Standing up, you figure he'll say his goodbyes and head out. But instead, Matt looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

“I don't want to rush things,” he repeats. “But, I also don't really want to leave just yet. Would it be okay if I stayed the night?”

The request takes you by surprise, a warm fluttering sensation bubbling up inside you at the thought of him wanting to stay. “Of course, you can stay,” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips. “But I hope you're okay with the couch.”

Matt laughs and starts pulling off his socks. “There's nowhere else I'd rather be.”

Ever since Leigh asked to meet at a gas station on the sketchier side of town, your anxiety hasn't settled. It's a part of town known for trouble, somewhere you'd rather not be, especially in the dead of night. It doesn’t matter, because you’re hopelessly driven by concern and an unspoken affection that won't let you say no to her, no matter the time or place.

You walk up to the convenience store next to the gas station, its fluorescent lights flickering ominously, almost like you've just stepped into the opening scene of a horror movie. It's dead silent, aside from a radio playing inside the store, turned up by the person manning it in a feeble attempt to fill the silence or maybe to keep company. Leigh is inside, visible through the large, pane-glass window, nursing a coffee, alone. The way she's standing, something's off.

You make your way towards her, hands buried deep in the comfort of your hoodie's pockets.

“Hey—”

She's like a coiled spring at the sound of your voice. That should’ve been your first clue.

“Why did you lie?” Leigh asks point-blank.

“Leigh, I—What do you mean?”

Leigh's face twists into a grimace that chills you to the bone, a clear sign that tonight's going down one of two paths: either you both find a way through this mess, or she cuts you out for good. But you're lost, genuinely clueless about any lie she's accusing you of. You've been straight with her, at least you think you have.

Her nostrils flare, her eyes burning holes into you as she waits for some sort of confession. But all you can give her is a dumbfounded look.

After a while, Leigh's patience wears thin. “We're not doing this here,” she growls, glaring at the lone store clerk, who seems amused and makes no attempt to hide his interest in eavesdropping on the conversation.

“Leigh, I seriously don't know what you're talking about.”

“Just come with me,” she snaps, ushering you back outside, pulling at your arm with a grip that leaves no room for argument. It's painful, the way her nails dig into your skin, but you suppose you deserve it, whatever it might be. If it helps her release her anger, you're willing to bear it.

Leigh stops, plants her hands on her hips, and just looks at you, like she's waiting for something to click in your head. “Leigh, please—” you start, but you're cut off not by her anger this time, but by the sight of her eyes glistening, fighting back tears.

“You're really going to make me say it?” she manages to choke out, before giving a humorless laugh and running a frustrated hand over her face. Before you can protest again, she thrusts a phone into your hand. It's lit up, a text conversation open and waiting. As you scroll through the messages, your mouth opens in shock. They're from Matt.

Skimming through the texts, your jaw nearly hits the ground. He's recounting your first date, detailing how the night ended with him at your place. He admits nothing happened, but not for a lack of desire. Instead, he confesses he held back because he's still wrestling with the fact that he's married to Leigh. He mentions wanting to make sure when he jumps in with you, he's not dragging any “chains” along.

He goes on, saying he felt you were on the same page, ready to go further, and implies the only reason things didn't heat up was because he had self-control. Reading this, you can't decide if Matt's just showing off or if he's trying to justify his half-steps to whoever's reading this on the other end.

“Whose phone is this?” you blurt out, the only question that registers in your brain. It turns out to be the wrong thing to say, though, as it’s precisely the spark that ignites Leigh's fury, sending it cascading over the edge.

“Don’t fucking change the subject!”

You press your lips into a thin line, your own frustration simmering. “I didn't lie to you, Leigh.” You wave the phone with Matt’s messages like some kind of proof, arguing, “He even says here nothing happened!”

“It's not just about what did or didn't happen!” she fires back, her eyes blazing. “You wanted it to happen. You were ready to go there with him. You wanted more, and you're still not owning up to it.”

At this point, keeping your emotions under wraps isn't an option anymore.

“Yes! Of course, I wanted to go there with him,” you explode, your hands coming up in the air in surrender. “I found him attractive, thought he was a great guy, and—single, Leigh! I thought he was single when I was falling for him, okay? Are you happy now?”

Leigh's response is to laugh, but it's not a happy sound. It's bitter, mocking, and it just keeps going.

You're standing there, breathing hard, your breath visible in the chilly air, when it hits you why she’s so upset: When you were telling her the details of your affair, you made it sound as if what happened—or almost happened—was just a casual fling. And Leigh, she just soaked up that version. In doing so, she somehow managed to forgive Matt, forgive you for your role in it, and even toy with the idea of being friends with you.

You made her believe it didn’t mean anything more than what she meant to him. It ripped off the bandage and thrust a knife back into her wound.

After Leigh's laughter fizzles out, the cold seems to bite a little harder, and you notice her shivering—whether from the cold or the tumult of emotions, you can't tell. She's just in shorts and a thin shirt, unprepared for the temperature drop.

Seeing her like this, vulnerable and cold, you feel the urge to just hug her and make her feel a fraction of how badly you regret deceiving her all along. Because saying “I'm sorry” feels way too small for the giant mess of feelings you're dealing with, especially the ones about her that you didn't even realize were piling up until now.

“Leigh,” you whisper, bargaining for something you don’t know.

She meets your gaze, a bit more peace in her eyes now, but that doesn't stop the tears from finally rolling down her cheeks. She's about to speak when suddenly a car pulls up in front of you, its headlights flashing across your faces, momentarily blinding you both.

A man steps out of the car, and Leigh recognizes him immediately. You do too, although it takes you a second longer to realize. Before either of you could react, he's already launching into a tirade. “Leigh, what the hell? Leaving in the middle of the night, stealing my phone—”

“Not now, Danny.”

You freeze, every fiber of your being locking onto the newcomer—because you're almost certain Leigh misspoke.

His name is not Danny.

It’s Nick.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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spearxwind · 8 months

Note

I’m just curious but do you have examples of good dragon anatomy in media? It’s ok if not or you don’t wanna share I’m just curious.

In media? whew, really hard to say. Often in media dragons will either have spoon wings (even if the rest of the dragon is good, like in hotd) or be shrinkwrapped :[

Toothless from httyd got it PRETTYYYYY CLOSE, the big wings dont go all the way down to the base BUT the secondary wings he has actually finish that part of the base and fill in that gap, and the fins on the tail tip are just so swag because they add lift to the tail tip as well

Saphira from the Eragon movie actually had GENUINELY TURBOSWAG wings!!! Like these are genuinely damn near perfect for the time. They're missing the wing slots on the tips BUT WE'LL ALLOW IT. Especially when these are so hard to make and back then especially

They could genuinely have more base to them, she does have a mild case of spoon wings but they are MUCH more proportionate than like... most others lmao.

uhhh uhhhh. I'm... actually REALLY struggling to think of basically any other media with good wings LMAO... the wing industry is in shambles. Most of the media with dragons in it has spoon wings (or worse). I feel like I've talked about one thing or another with good (or decent) wing anatomy but I cannot for the life of me remember anything right now.

Soooo...... to make up for that here's some BAD bad dragon anatomy in media:

From "dragons a fantasy made real". 1. what the fuck. 2. ???? i just dont know what to say its got it all. Shrinkwrapping, small spoon wings, nonsensical attachment to the back, etc. I love this movie to death but watching it when im older and Know Things is a curse

Dragonheart. I have not seen this movie but What The Fuck is going on there. Attach those wings son!!!! Theyre just flopping around!!!

Every single monster hunter monster with wings is uh. Very questionable. None of them have the patagium either which is A Crime. As much as I love the franchise TO DEATH the wings is something that irks me constantly lskdhsdfklj

They did actually do rathalos better for monster hunter world though! but its still got a bit of spoon wings. Its better, but still not very good

Malefor from spyro <3 what the fuck <3 we forgive him because its a stylized came but he's flying on sheer willpower those wings are doing nothing for him. Nor for every other dragon in the franchise

And last but certainly not least:

Why. Just why. That's not a wing anymore.

#ask #wings #anon #anyway. this has been my ted talk

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rustytrident · 1 year

Text

mc's ultimate guide to visiting the devildom!!

a comprehensive guide to being an exchange student to the devildom by yours truly, mc.

ch: diavolo, barbatos, lucifer, mammon, leviathan, satan, asmodeus, beelzebub, belphegor

cw: none (relationships between the characters are meant to be platonic, though i could make a nsfw version of this)

a/n: this is a long ass post ‼️‼️ i tried to be as objective as possible but idk if any biases came through. i also literally thought of this while i was cleaning my bathroom so the idea may be shitty,,, get it?? cause i was,,, cleaning my bathroom,,,, , , the idea may be shitty,,,,,, ,,,, okay so the punchline is that since i was cle-

lifestyle:

wear gloves. for everything

trust your sense of smell. if something smells too good or too bad, get the fuck away from it

write your name on the hem of your clothes

always check if something can be consumed by humans. trust me, you'd rather go hungry for a little longer than grow a limb from your stomach

don't look people in the eye when walking past them. stare straight ahead, shoulders square

learn who you can lie to and who you can't. trust your gut with that, though most demons have tells you'll need to learn

keep track of your health and request check ups from human doctors

generally, don't be afraid to ask for anything. you deserve nice experiences, as well as, ,,, yknow,,,,, checkups

take pictures of everything

don't touch books unless a trusted demon tells you it's okay

don't lose touch with your culture. implement it everywhere, from your room to your food to your music. teach your housemates all you know about it

remember you are surrounded by demons. don't tease them, don't tempt them (unless you have a pact or a pretty decent relationship with them)

the royal family:

the devildom is currently under monarchy. you will only interact with the prince, diavolo, and his butler, barbatos.

diavolo knows. he always has, he always will. don't lie to him

don't be too friendly with him for the first four months

absolutely be friendly with him after those four initial months

between us, he needs friends. and beings who don't treat him like he's fragile.

he likes games of any kind. use that to your advantage

barbatos seems scary, and he is. but you can trust him

do go over for tea if he invites you. he has an affinity for cooking and baking (mostly baking – teach him any cool recipes you may know!), and likes to serve whatever he makes with a warm cup of tea

do not, under any circumstances, even so much as mention anything about rats to him. for interworld peace

diavolo will always come first for him. don't test or question their bond, our brains are probably incapable of perceiving its magnitude

the king is just. there. but like, not even there. currently asleep

the queen is dead (unfortunately, this phrase is not seen as something positive in the devildom. don't ever say it)

the brothers:

probably the ones you'll be living with. then again, maybe not. part of the student council, and diavolo's closest companions (you'll be seeing a hearing a lot from them).

lucifer is... nice. once you get to know him. give him some time

he's very sad, very overworked. kinda like a wet cat with a family to feed. stroke his ego about twice a week and you'll be good

don't put up with what he says if it makes you uncomfortable, and don't be afraid to speak up. if you need backup, go to satan and/or belphegor

he loves music. if you want to get to know him better, ask him if he would like to talk to you about his favourite songs (they're most likely from cursed records, so listening to them is not an option)

mammon will most likely steal from you. again, put your name on everything, take pictures of everything.

the friendliest of all of them, along with beelzebub, and one of the most loyal ones

loud and a tsundere. don't ask how that works. also, very funny (laugh at his jokes even if you don't like them)

he doesn't know what boundaries are. set yours early and don't follow along with his schemes if you don't like them. he's got puppy eyes, don't fall for them

leviathan is an introvert, and antisocial. don't pressure him to talk to you.

if you're dead set in getting closer to him, do it through asking what game he's playing, or what anime he's watching. his interests are the only way he will open up

he will talk a lot if he likes the subject. he also knows every meme out there, so you can be free to say anything

he's very insecure, and will sometimes guilt trip you without realising. stay firm in your beliefs and be honest with him (do not anger him unless you know how to swim)

satan being the avatar of wrath shouldn't scare you. just don't mention anything good about lucifer during the first few months of you being there, and you'll be good

he likes books, and has learnt to be very open with his affections through them. if he likes you, you will know

again, he likes books. want him to like you? ask for recommendations, plots, ideas, poems. he's got you covered

he also loves cats. like, a lot. so if you're not the biggest reader it's time to be the biggest petter

asmodeus is touchy, but he never crosses any boundaries once they're clear to him. if you don't like physical touch, make it clear to him

the first being you should go to if you want to have any sort of physical relationship with someone there. it could be awkward to just... ask, but he's not held back by any prejudice, and would love to help

pay attention to him when he speaks. he may seem like too much sometimes, but he will be even more if you don't look him in the eye and nod (at least).

tell him he's beautiful, cause he is. and also cause who would call aphrodite themselves ugly like??

beelzebub is chill, for the most part. just don't disrespect his family or eat his food.

he's the number one demon to go to when you're having issues and want to vent it out. doubles as someone you could hug after and get a pat on the head from, but only if he's comfortable.

always have a snack in your pocket for him, you'll never regret it (but don't make it a regular thing)

he will eat anything. that is both a warning and a piece of advice.

belphegor can have a sharp tongue, so if you're sensitive it's better to either be vocal about not liking certain things he says or not be around him all together

very knowledgeable about the human world, probably the most out of all the brothers. go to him if you feel homesick

also a scholar. no he won't do your homework for you. yes he will pass every class even though he's asleep in all of them. just don't pick him as your study buddy.

doesn't hide his feelings well – you can tell what he's thinking about just by looking at him

enjoy your stay, little sheep~

#obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #obey me leviathan #satan obey me #obey me asmodeus #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #diavolo obey me #obey me barbatos #sing me a song // the song of our glory

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akutasoda · 6 months

Note

This is my first time requesting here, so

Hi! Mind if I send in an Obey Me request? How about this: Asmo, Mammon, Simeon and Solomon with a reader who makes jewelry. And one day they make a cute little accessory especially for them, like a keychain, a bracelet, or a pin or something

eye of the beholder

synopsis - your very good at making jewelry, how would they show interest?

includes - mammon, asmodeus, simeon, solomon

warnings - gn!reader, reader makes jewelry, fluff, wc - 906

a/n: hello!!

mammon ★↷

↪now, upon learning of your hobby of making jewelry mammons initial thoughts - which he will deny - is how much he could make off your little trinkets and jewelry.

↪while he does admire how dedicated you are to making them and sercretly honours your skills and dedication, at the end of the day the avatar of greed is namely know for one thing in particular. especially when your not that close to him.

↪however that attitude mostly shifts as the two of you grow closer and eventually the deciding factor is when you gift him a small gift of his own. i could definitely imagine you making him some sort of crow feather keychain.

↪he flaunts it off on everything. anything he can attach it too that's with him, always making sure it keeps close to him as he never wants to lose it.

↪and he even would absolutely treat it as the most valuable item. because it means the world too him, would honour it even more if perhaps you both had matching keychains. and no matter the temptation to seel it for a quick buck, he would never for your handmade gifts.

↪although sometimes he can't help but pose the idea if you two becoming so called 'buisness partners' to sell your jewellery and such. however under no circumstances would he get rid of his personal gifts as he would most likely become very, very upset.

asmodeus ★↷

↪he was absolutely enamored and so interested in your little hobby. especially because you were so good at it and he did always have a thing for collecting various jewellery and similar trinkets for his various outfits.

↪if he was honest he did sometimes always think about making his own because sometimes he wanted a very particular thing and could never find it. but then he realised how much time that could take and that would put him off.

↪but as he got closer to you he realised you vould help him with that issue! upon your choice to do so if course. but still, he would never forget the first time you gifted him a very precious handmade gift to him. one that made his heart absolutely soar.

↪i could see it being something along the lines of a bracelet. a bracelet signifying either his significant or favourite colours and finished with a very nice charm. and you bet it would receive better looking after than his actual very expensive ones.

↪during the day, he would wear it proudly and happily recite its origins should someone ask. and during the night he would safely store it as to avoid unwanted damaging. similarly to whenever he did something that may damage it. eventually he may subtly ask you to match with him.

simeon ★↷

↪initially and throughout, he absolutely admired your work. while he may be a writer he understood that making the things you made probably took alot nore precision and time. although he could understand and admired you more.

↪as said, because he is a writer he understands you time and dedication to something that you love and take pride in. meaning you two often converse about various works you two are occupied with and sometimes tips to help manage.

↪and so when you handed him a piece specifically for him, he was overjoyed. i could imagine it would be something along the line of a keychain or those little pen charms you can attach. mainly because he would carry it everywhere or keep it on his favourite pen at all times.

↪so everytime he would write, he would spend a decent amount of time staring at the charm and thinking of you and how much he treasured it. which often lead him to being more proactive as he imagined it was your way of cheering him on.

↪and if it were a keychain, he would love to have matching. something so small yet so meaningful hand crafted by you felt so nice to him that he wouldn't have it any other way.

solomon ★↷

↪if he were to be blunt, he did feel a bit conflicted on your little hobby. while he admired your dedication and pure skill, his long life as a sorcerer meant that he didn't understand why you wouldn't just make it that way.

↪but you did explain to him and he knew that was his issue and confliction not yours. and after seeing you so happy, pouring your life into making them he did start understanding why and he did like watching how you did it.

↪he finally truly loved your hobby when you gifted him his own personal piece. i would feel like it would be either pins or a necklace.

↪mini pins that could start decorating the white neck piece he wears, each ranging in colour, size and design. or simple necklaces with a small trinket on each. either way he would treasure them nonetheless.

↪although considering he isn't the most tidy especially during experiments, he does sometimes get them damaged or destroyed completely. he lacks the ability to maintain their condition iften going back to you asking for another.

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doublekanble · 20 days

Text

Ghost in your home.

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic-platonic

word count: 8.5k

or, ever since you came back into his life, you came back wrong. And every attempt to understand or to fix you only ever serves to widen the distance. (have you ever love someone who died and came back so much you try to forced them into the mold of who they used to be without considering the fact they're no longer the same person? instead of learning to love them again? well have i got good news for you.) tw: toxic relationship (what's new). 2-4 have a progression of injuries and gorish talk. semi unreliable narrator alastor

1. His house is always at a pleasant 20 degree Celsius, but it always feels like 0.

“Now, I’m sure this is a bit upsetting, yes. But I assured you it’s for the better— “

Sharp yellow teeth grinded against each other, Alastor do his best to keep his own temper in check when another pillow hit his chest. The sounds of radio dials going haywire blares out for a second before evening itself out and turn to a low frequency hum. He picked these because he knows you would’ve love them, seems your tantrum triumph your love for the colors, after all. Standing a respectable distance away from you, at the door, he simply tries to focus on the positive.

“Shut the fuck up!” you roared, whipping your head around to stare into his eyes from where you’re hunching over, he would try chiding you for your nasty mouth, but that can wait until he’s sure you won’t rip the carpet apart. “What are you even trying to do?! Was killing me before not enough for you? You just have to hunt me down and make me lose my job— “

“—An extremely unnecessary and useless job that you’ll never have to bother with ever again!” when he starts to walk towards you, arms open and still trying to put you above himself, your snarled at him and lowered yourself, as if ready to lung at any minute. It wasn’t until you bring your hands up that he realized what you were doing, your fingers clutching the duvet below you tightly. Almost like a wounded animal retreating into its hiding spot before choosing to fight, you sat on your knee with sharp fingers, and in a single tug, you tear it into two.

“I wanted that job, Alastor! That was my job!” bellowing out at him with a fury he have never seen in you while bunching however much of the useless cotton that can fit in your hand, you tried to throw it at him again. It fell just below his feet and bloom open instead. Alastor doesn’t bother kicking it off to the side, opting to step over it and the other mess you made in your room. “You go and get yourself one that can guarantee you decent rooming and livable wage in this hellhole without selling your soul you dog!”

His shadow covers your figure as he look down at you with what he hoped is a more than amicable smile. That duvet and the torn books, the lamp and the drawers, everything, was picked out just for you. Now it’s all on the floor, even before he got to your room. He laughs.

“That’s absurd, love! Are you really trying to justify working in that pigsty for nickels and dimes? And even so,” Judging from the way you cowered and the interference in his voice, Alastor made a wild guess that he failed, but there’s no need to dwell on the specific. Light escaped to the corners when statics runs through the air before cutting off completely and red stares back at him from the bottom of your irises, you grow just a tad smaller in his eyes. “There is absolutely no need throwing such fits over minor disagreements. We’re both decent folks raised right, aren’t we?” you winced visibly when he cranks his neck to a sharp ninety-degree, he almost feels bad for you.

“It’s not ‘minor’, everything I worked for is gone. You scorched them like they’re nothing…” You grumble out and break the eye contact, tone spiteful but small. There’s a tinge of cautions in it now, like a dog with tail in between it legs, still growling from it belly but caution of the fight.

“I wouldn’t have burn anything that meant something to you, love,” Cooing at you, he can feel his bones shifting back into place as Alastor reaches out a hand to smooth out your hair, finally able to frets over your messy and unkept state from the morning outburst. You keep absolutely still under his hold. “All those frivolous rubbish you kept in that tiny living quarter of yours combine won’t worth half as much as a single item in this room! And look at where they all ended up…”

“They meant something to me, Alastor.” He glances down at his hand, your sudden grip on it was tight, with the nail on your thumb pressing right at his vein as a warning. He can tell when someone’s doing something to scared him, this isn’t that at all. You seem to almost be unaware of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Alastor finds the notion of you needing to know how to do this —or the fact you’re even doing it out of habit— wholly annoying and unpleasant. “I like them, and I worked to buy them with my own means.”

At that, he smiles, such a messy little thing, you always are. Awfully sentimental and always get caught up on the wrong thing. Alastor gets it, he really does. He gets sentimental over stupid, silly little objects and items too. The rock he picked up somewhere when he was five, placed in the corner of the drawer that he threw out once he found it again as an adult. His first tailored suit that he worked day and night for, collecting dust in his closet by the time he looked back. That letter of acceptance kept in a box, the one he burns the day that lousy owner of the radio station was discovered at a bottom of a creek and got replaced with someone much more pleasant.

Alastor has things he treasured too, and unlike you, he knows when to let something go and when to take a hold of it. That’s why your old place stand as nothing more than ashes blowing in the wind. You always have a knack for frantically holding onto your romanticism and the nonsensical. He honestly would rather be giving you more time to adapt, but not only are you horribly fussy about it, Alastor now has his good grace thrown in his face.

“Well then, if you’re so hung up on them, then you’ll feel more than at home to work for everything you’ve wrecked today, yes? Afterwards, we can get talking about getting you something else.”

You’re a terribly lucky thing, still able to even breathe where Alastor maimed so many for much less. He thinks you know you are, that’s only why you’re so insistent on being so difficult, glaring up at him with hate in your eyes and a such a rotten attitude.

“Get out,” your voice was small, but far from scared. With fingers curling around his wrist uselessly, you all but snarled, “Get. Out.”

“They’re awfully expensive, as you already know. They’ll do good to motivate you too. One stone two bird, as they’d say~” ignoring your silly attempt to provoke him into losing his temper again, Alastor wrapped his free hand around yours, and with what he thought was a gentle tug, pulls it from his wrist. He releases it when you winced, almost caught surprise by the change in the way you sit. Slightly hunching over, you held your hand close to you. His index nicked your wrist, and a bead of red ran from it.

Although it was no more than an accident, he knows you’re more than familiar with the ensembles of screams and cries running from the radio he placed in your room. You don’t need to know he will never let you join in with the harmony, but it’s nice to keep you on your toes sometimes.

“Stay good for me. Will you, darling?”

2. He gives you everything you could’ve ever wanted and more than you could ever need. He remembers your rapidly cooling body underneath him.

“Dearest,” sweetly, he calls out for you, gripping onto your shoulder, “Why are all the books in your bathtub?” he can tell it’s hurting you, but you keep your gaze far beyond the window and into the cityscape.

It wasn’t only the books, all of your lovely stationaries and art supplies and music sheets and what-else swims in that damned bathtub like a bloated corpse. Your room, although not as clean as it was before your little fit, it’s still a substantial improvement. It also gives you little to nothing in terms of fun aside from the lonely cacti sitting silently on a table with scratch marks, you’d refuses to step foot outside unless he needs you at the dinner table. Say whatever you want, Alastor is everything but heartless when it came to you, so he starts coming up with ways to give you some fun in your life.

He thought it’ll be the right thing to do, gifting you something for you to spent your times on and make a home out of your room. Which, in turns, might be the first push he needs for his home to become yours, too. He couldn’t really give himself too much credit, though. If anyone were to pay attention, they would all come to the same conclusion about you. Terribly restless and honest little thing, always on the move, always doing something. That’s what he loves so much about you, you can’t hide a single thought from him with how you can barely keep yourself together at times. Anything you feel always came up to your face. And if you were to dislike someone, he will know.

Even by the end, where you eventually grew quieter and more muted, looking behind your shoulders and fretful over invisible shadows hiding in the dark; your heart still stays so comically beautiful and kind. So lovingly, you still use the same fountain pen he gifted you. You were still you. So when he got you those things, Alastor was somewhat hoping to see just what you can come up with to further antagonized him. He’s not delusional as to hot-blooded and petty you are. You can hate him in this moment, but he knows you well enough to know you’ll never be like him. Always the kinder of the pair; you were never one for outright belligerent.

“I don’t know,” your voice was airy and light, then, “I don’t like any of them.”

But now, without him noticing, your eyes somehow carried the same glint as he does.

Down here in Hell, the day always been just a little bit brighter than the night. Obnoxious red always painted the sky, it’s really the furthest thing from the scenery back on Earth. Even then, the evening shade reflected in your eyes almost reminded him of the lovely days of being alive. With his red thumb practically piercing your collarbone with how hard he’s pressing down on you, sitting on the only chair in the room that’s still intact, by your half clawed-up desk, face sitting all neatly in the palm of one hand; you can almost be considered graceful like this, body lax and a wistful gaze. Alastor can almost be taken by the sight. Almost.

Although Alastor was only trying to turn you towards him for yet another scolding, for a second, he’d forgotten just how easy it is for his claws to tear. One moment, you were on the only chair left in the room, staring out a window and paying no mind to his growing ire. Another, you crumbled on the floor, hand replaced his. Slightly dazed from what just happened, he stands and watches on while you clutch at the bits of tendon and bones showing through skin, trying to squeeze the opening together with shaking hands. Red streams through between your fingers without a care as the familiar smell of metallic fills the room. You now faced towards the floor, frozen stiff like a scared little fawn. Alastor couldn’t bring himself from the sight. Right, you’re made of flesh, too.

He clenched the hand that touched you once to get rid of the ache soaking itself in his bone marrow, opens it, then twice, as if testing out the way your blood settles on his blackened palm. Shaking himself awake, he can almost feel the hunger clawing through his throat and molding itself into the will to bite. You really are lucky, if you were any old Joe, you wouldn’t even have a shoulder to rest that stupidly stubborn head of yours on.

“Darling,” a knee touching the floor, he kneels at his spot and reach a bloody hand out, moving the tip-over chair out of the way with another. An apology on the tip of his tongue, he bites and swallowed it when you inched yourself back just a bit with eyes still glued to the stained carpet. You wouldn’t really deserve one anyway. Long, heavy breath seeps through your bared teeth, your hold on that obnoxious gash tightened while the floor beneath you catches the blood that fell in droves. He sighs. “Come now, I’ll help clean you up.”

He can hear the sound of your heart, still frantically beating as you refused to answer or take his hand. Through the curtains of your bangs, he spots wild eyes darting to the door, before settling on his patiently waiting red claws. The moment you looked as if ready to bolt away, Alastor decides that he have been more than patient with you – seizing you by the elbow and dragging you up, he took you to his room for the day. You made a weak attempt at fighting out of his grip before giving up entirely. When your footstep slowly catches up to him, he thanked Lucifer.

In his well-decorated and tidy bathroom, over your humiliated protest and pitiful whine, Alastor forced a proper apology from your mouth while he scrubbed away the urge to sink his teeth into something and the crusted brown clinging to your flesh with a sponge and a grip too tight. You couldn’t complaint, too focused on what must be one of the worst pain you’ve felt since the day you were reborn. There’s nothing he can do for you, he thought to himself – you can handle a little more pain, you were so insisted about being so unfairly difficult despite his multiple humbling attempts at a peace offering or at least a truce. A brat until the end of time, no matter the length he’d go through for you.

Alastor would’ve wondered over and over to himself about just what was it that makes you so incredibly indispensable to him, but he knows why already. Standing by his window after patching you up and sending you back to your room with a “gentle” warning, leaving the bathtub ordeal to be dealt with tomorrow and having nothing else to do, he let a familiar tune plays from the neglected microphone leaning on his bed.

As a person, Alastor knows not of regrets. Everything he does since the day he buried his bastard of a father below the soil of the earth have been mark and marred with several distinct goals in mind. So that his mother can finally live the life God owed her, so that he can live the life he deserves, Alastor cheated and lied his way through life and climb up the social rank. With bloody hands and a silver tongue, he bought a house in a nice neighborhood and became well known amongst the community for his charm. And somewhere along the way, with dirt caked under his nails, he finds you in his life and you stayed until the day you died.

Life in New Orleans was always colorful, even when he was surfing through the night alone. But with you, it’s like getting to live through the good part twice. The day you died, a part of him died with you on the forest floor. Blooming under rotting leaves and buried below the rocks is the one other person that Alastor dare entrusted with his heart. It rots too, along with you, but he never really minded it all. Alastor knows you; he knows why you’re utterly indispensable to him.

As a person, Alastor knows not of regrets. But as Alastor, he finds that thoughts and daydreams can never talk and laugh like you do. In your absence, his thoroughly decayed heart only grows fonder of the you he remembers. When he came down here, he wasn’t able to bring a single thing of you with him. When he finds his way back up there, everything of yours was burnt and destroyed. So for the longest time, Alastor lives on with the thought of you in his mind and your warmth in his heart.

It's awfully painful, he quietly admitted to himself, it’s awfully painful how, even though you’re just a walk away now, room set right next to his, divided by thick wood; Alastor has never felt so much further away from the life he envisioned. His claws, clean of your blood, dance on the windowsill as he hummed along to a tune from the older days, the better days. He’s willing to wait, however. You surely will come around, you have to, and when you do, you’ll laugh about your stubborn streaks and poke fun at his willingness to let you trampled all over his ego like this. Surely.

For now, for the rest of the night, Alastor sat and stare out the window with nothing in mind. He hopes this feeling of fulfilled emptiness can leave before it takes roots in his heart.

3. The AM radio frequency only read white noise. He can’t hear your voice.

Your miserable sobs don’t get any quieter, even when he slammed the door closed.

Leaning against it with a huff, Alastor brushes off the familiar and unwelcome fatigue settling in his mind and adjusted the collar of his vest with one hand. There’s no use in going in there again for the night. If there’s one thing he can ever be sure of, it’s that you would throw yourself out the window the moment you see him again and made an even bigger mess for him to clean up. It’s shameful to admit he ever lose control over himself like that. In a perfect world, nobody should know the exact buttons to push like you do, no word should ever get to him like yours does. But Alastor long since accepted that if you were to ask for his heart, you’ll have it on a silver platter. You’re very firm on taking the stand of martyrdom before you ever ask him for anything, but he likes to think that he’s working towards that.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alastor started towards the kitchen. He hasn’t cook anything for the day yet, and he’s sure that the first-aid kit was still in there from your last tantrum. All this trouble, and he can’t even make a roast out of this. He knows you’re not too fond of meatloaf – or anything he made for you nowadays – but it’ll have to do, since you’re so keen on wrecking his schedule with your childish attempt at a spat and your nonsensical sentimental for that useless life you kept insisting you want back. Despite all of it, he does feel just a tad bit of pity for you. You, and your right arm, the one sitting silently in his left, bleeding all over his carpet floor. Hopefully this will teach you to stop moving around so much next time, you’re not unfamiliar with a broken wrist, but you just kept writhing and clawing at his hands, and his slipped.

Quite frankly, this is still a much better life than for you to be in the same room and so close to those revolting roughnecks and floors stained with Satan-knows-what. He can’t even fathom just why you’re still clinging onto it so tightly when there’s so much for you here. When he’s here.

He stills remember the sinking feeling in his chest when he makes his way to a figure quickly retreating behind the counter, under the dim lights and the rowdiness of a dingy café that barely qualifies as one. He wasn’t sure at first – Hell has a way of masking one’s appearance with a roulette game, and despite his growing contracts and connections, information might just be wrong. You could’ve been exorcised, or even worse, managed to wrangled your way into Heaven somehow and left him down here alone. But he placed his confident in a good friend, who promised him that if this isn’t you, then nobody else can be.

Bless the Christian God himself for his mercy, the moment he let that familiar name fell from his lips again after so many years of living without it, Alastor find himself staring into the same gaze that haunted his waking days and sleepless night. Holding onto you with a bruising grip, when you finally bring yourself to stare back at him like a deer in front of head light, his rotting heart comes alive with a fervor and he knew you’ll never be separated from him ever again. Back in his arms and under his wings.

Despite the time it took and your less-than-ideal reunion, he was more than thrilled to show you he finally made good of himself down here, just like he said he would. As Alastor lead you back with a smile splitting his face open, he tells you all about what he’s been doing. In his house is a room prepared just for you with everything you’ve ever love that he can get his claws on. It used to sit there and taunt him in the night where the silence stretches on and on and nothing in the underworld can distract him from the idea of your separation lasting until the end of time and the end of his life, that for all his preparations to make sure you two will never parted, he managed to miss the one chance he had with you in life. His halls echoed a voice that he barely able to recalled while he chased a shadow he desperately tries to remembers in whatever he can remember of you. The passage of time and his work might take your lovely voice and visage from him, but it will never let him forget how you feel about dark coffee or your favorite composer.

The time he lost being far away from you, the time you both lost being away from each other, Alastor was ready to make up for all of it. With good food, good wine, a good home and a good life. Finally, nobody will ever be able to turn their nose up at you both. If they do, he has more than enough means to fix it. His broadcast station no longer stays dependent on some white hotshot he needs to keep in a good mood at all time, it now plays only the things Alastor wants it to, forever. And now that you’re back, it’ll plays whatever it is you want too. All of it, just for yours and his sake alone. And then you turn your nose up at him, demanding for your old pathetic life back.

Ever since Alastor found you and took you home, you’ve been nothing but ungrateful, unpredictable, and downright hazardous to yourself and his furniture. Nothing like the darling he cared for from way back then. All bites and no barks, that’s what your silly threats and your mischief used to be in life. It’s nothing here, too, but he can only get so far restraining you to your bed until you learn how to break your own hands and slip it through the cuffs. You were always a lot of things, but this vindictive side of you still are so incredibly off-putting to him.

And yet, even with all of this, Alastor’s eroding heart breaks for you. Recently, he discovered an old book, one he took with him from the burning pile of your apartment and kept in his overcoat for a long time. It was a book that you shared with him when you both were alive, he was more than elated once reminded of the fact. Stained with black on the cover and slightly misshapen, the book must’ve gone through so much, considering your occupation at the time. Alastor remembers just how hard it is to get used to the disrespectful crowd down here, even for someone like him who can simply waved his hand and turn them into red paste on the filthy streets. You must’ve been so confused and scared, having to re-familiarized yourself to a new and much more unwelcoming world, making your way through an utterly horrific landscape without him there to help you with.

Naive, kind hearted and gentle you, even when you’ve killed before, you’re an easy prey in an awful, awful world. Mother always reminded him that wounded animal takes time to trust and they bite and clawed their way out of hands that moves too fast, so he need to make good by her words and keep on giving you just that, time. No matter the fact you barely improve, no matter how much time he gave you, or the fact it was him who clawed off your arm in the first place.

So, with a bright attitude, Alastor strides to your shut door with the sounds of your hysteria long gone. He knocks three times and calls out to you, then leave you alone with the first-aid kit. He’ll give you until midnight to do it yourself.

4. Love and hate are a hair away, he realized he hates loving you at times.

You’ve been improving, day by day. You stop biting back so much and starts to listen more, you sit when he asked you to and learned not to talk so brazenly while you’re at it, too. You don’t ever smile, yes, and his hallways still feel so cold at times. You walked as if you’re on eggshells, and you sleep with your body huddled under the blanket, as if there’s something hiding in the dark that will take you away if you dare peak out from it. You stacked books and boxes underneath your bed, too.

At times, Alastor felt like he’s having a guest staying over, maybe it’s because you’re acting more and more like one. Someone whom he knows well enough to accommodate their every need, but there’s an air of unfamiliarity, of the fact they’re not a close enough friend to stay over for so long, and their every decision needed checking. The thought itself is beyond ridiculous, he knew you for years before you died. He’s the closest friend you have, alive or death. He knows how you like your eggs; he memorized your voice; he knows when you need to sleep and when you like to wake up. But he digressed. Progress is progress, you’re getting better day by day, and he only ever have to threatened you a bit at times.

Which must’ve been why it felt so wrong, holding you like this.

He can only hope you won’t be able to discern his heavy panting over your own growing panic. Alastor could’ve sworn that he’s a better man than this, that he has more patience and more tact, already lived through a childhood with his head down and a smile stitched neatly on his lips. But he rationalized the way his pointer and thumb pinch together with the same compassion he have for a stray dog, separate only by your tongue, slowed and unmoving only by his own desire to give you another chance to explain yourself and take back your word and let him returns to his days of thinking you’re getting better, never minded the fact he’s not hearing anything out of his good ear right now. It’s not that he’s drawn to the way your pupils dilating and turned pinprick as your near incoherent pleading slowly cut itself off, realizing this might not end well. It’s not that he’s intently observing the trickle of blood running into the back of your throat, or the way your hot breath hit his hand, unable to close your jaw from the grip he has on you.

From the first dawn of this day until mere minutes ago, things were just lovely. Alastor managed to hold a ten-minute conversation with you in the morning, and by noon, able to coaxed you out of your hiding spot and onto your seat at the table with the promises of getting you whatever else you requested, as long as you keep your manner in check. You raised an eyebrow at the unusual and grand display of dishes for what you must’ve thought was a normal meal, but you stay silent. The four walls in your room had to be decorated by his own hands, and anything you refuses to keep, you throw into the toilet or buried under your growing number of plants out in the garden he’s not allowed to step foot in; thusly, there’s no longer a calendar in your room for you to keep tracks on dates.

When he pulls out a bottle of wine – full bodied, his favorite from when he was alive, it feels like blood sliding down his throats at times – you look at him, your eyes tells a world of distrust as he smile at you and pour it into two glass and hand you one. Alastor could’ve cried true tears of joy when you accepted it without making a fuss and simply placed it by your left, picking up a fork with your dominant hand. You waited for him to say something, before quietly thank him for the food and starts to eat.

For most of the meal, you work away at your own plate while he talks for the both of you. Alastor doesn’t mind, the fact you bothered to pay attention is good enough, occasionally nodding along or giving him a small huff or two. You’ve been doing a great job at staying in line ever since a year ago, especially once you learned you’re also made of flesh, just like the rest of the voices stuck in his broadcast. Alastor would’ve gladly taken this, if not for how you’re glancing off every now and then, contemplating something.

Particularly, you’ve been holding onto your glass for an awfully long time now, drifting off in the middle of him relaying an encounter he had the day before. Alastor pauses when you take it near your face and cleared your throat.

“…It’s not your birthday today.” You said, nonchalantly staring into the bottom of the glass, spinning it to and fro between the middle of your pointer and thumb.

“I’m glad you still remember my birthday, dear. But yes, it’s not! It’s surprising you can even tell what day it is!” he laughs.

You only glance up, before letting out a deep sigh, “You’re way more eager on your birthday.”

“Well then love, would you care to enlighten me on how I am today?” Alastor leans over the table with a smile, mood light and hoping you stop with the implications. You look angsty, however, gently lifting the glass up to your lips and take a small gulp. When you finally look at him again, Alastor felt his smile strains, he knows what that look means.

“What day is it?” with a clink, the glass landed on the table and stay there, “It’s not my birthday, nor is it yours. It’s not a holiday, too, far as I know. “

The corner of his lips pulls taut, his half-lidded eyes stare straight into yours. The sounds of something sharp pulls through the radio, but you refuse to back down. Alastor caved and took his own glass into his right hand.

“I was going to keep it a secret until we finished with our meal, but if you’re so insistent on spoiling the surprise—“ taking a long sip before continuing, if this goes south, he might need something stronger, “—It’s been a year since the day we reunited, right on the dot. I figured we should do something to celebrate, but you’ve always been such a stick in the mud about your past. So, I was going to have us finishing the meal first— “

The clanking of silverwares being drop onto porcelain plate was the first thing he catch, the ear-grating sound of your chair scrapping harshly against the kitchen floor’s the second. With both hand bracing against the table, you look half ready to launch yourself over it and kill him with your bare hands, but you breathe in, back straight, and simply look at him.

“Your mother would be livid if this is the you she knows.”

You looked as if you still have something else to say, but in a second, he have your face in his hand, grinning down at you while the base of his horns itch and creaks.

“Apologies, dear. I think I’ve heard something wrong,” the lights in the room flickered, in between the burning bright and the cold dark, he can only see red, “Do you want to try and repeat that for me?”

“Your fucking mother would’ve hated you.” Over the radio static bursting his own eardrums and your lovely voice spewing utter putrid, he tucked a thumb in before you can properly close your mouth, you clamped down onto it and grinded your teeth. He laughs.

“Oh~ you think you’re so incredibly brave, aren’t you?” sticking in another thumb, Alastor slowly pried your mouth open, the more he does, the quicker your attitude change, “So strong and so special. You can handle yourself just fine without me, can’t you? nothing I do will ever be enough for you.”

“Al—waih—“ you choked out, desperate. But he’s not having it today.

His pointer and thumb pull on your tongue.

Alastor swore up and down, he was raised a tactful and patient man. He followed his mother‘s word very carefully and tries his best to be charitable with you.

With eyes glued onto the trail of his blood, quickly drying on your chin, then to your tongue, with increasing pressure, he can feel his smile splitting open his own face, but there’s no joy to be found in his woeful, heavy heart.

It feels so wrong, holding you like this. He feels so wrong, looking into your eyes. You almost certainly accepted your fate by now, he feels a bit bad for you. So utterly helpless in his hold, realizing just how little power you truly have without his generous love, giving into you and letting you plays out your fantasy, even after everything you did. He knows you’re still getting used to this, he knows you needed more time. Alastor would almost consider this a lesson learned, but the statics blinds him to your pain, and for a moment, all he knew was that he wanted you to feel the same pain as he does.

So, because he loves you so much, because you want to hate him so badly, he ignored your hysterical cries as he pinches down on your tongue, then in one motion, he rips it from your nasty, bitter mouth.

5. Before he realized it, you weighted 21 grams.

It’s almost like he’s haunted, at times. The thought would’ve been amusing.

Humming a tune and walking up the three steps leading to the front door, Alastor eyed the Ficus sitting on either side of him, a brown leaf fell from the lulling branch while he fetching the keys from his pocket with one hand. They’re wilting faster than he can water them. What a shame it really is, not only have you lost your will for everything, you also lost the mood to take care of tacky house plant decor. Maybe he should try for some Begonia next?

“I’m home, love!”

Alastor is greeted with an empty corridor and a faint melody dancing through the air. He can only sigh and step further into his home, heading for the kitchen. Every day he hoped something would magically change, and every day Lucifer laughed at him from the top of his luxurious throne.

You can hear him, he knows you do. You managed to crawl all the way into the studies just to put on a song the moment he steps foot outside the house, after all. It’s a blessing, how you haven’t bolt right back into your room the moment you hear the door opened, you must’ve been in a good mood. He hopes you can stay that way until tomorrow, but it’s fine if you don’t, as long as you’re willing to eat whatever he puts in front of you. He peaked into the spotless kitchen, and with nothing out of place, he stepped inside.

Setting the groceries down, he pulled out everything he needs for dinner. Already with a dish in mind, Alastor whisked out an iron cast pot and set it on the stove. He shooed his shadows off and away, he can prepare for this recipe himself, and he want to be alone for a while anyway. He prepares all the ingredients before getting to the rice. The music flows from upstairs as he works in silence, mindful of his own microphone and keeping it off.

He doesn’t remember this song, it must’ve been one of the newer ones Rosie gave him to give back to you, assuring him you “just need more fun things in your life, then you’ll get to talking again”. Alastor wasn’t sure if you would’ve like it enough for him to keep it, but he wasn’t going to bother fighting with Rosie.

Turning the fire down, he closed the lid and set the kitchen timer to twenty-two on the dot. It should be enough time for him to make the roux, but he can check the rice early. Pouring oil into a pot to his right, he turned the fire up to max and began whisking the flour into it, when it turned brown, he drops the onion in and lower the heat to medium.

If not for him constantly reminding you, you would’ve ignored the needle-like pain in your stomach. Granted, you ignore it even when he did remind you, so he took to just make things and leave it in your room until you’re in the mood to eat. It’s been going on for two years now, enough time for him to regret playing into your hands and losing his temper. Alastor had hope that if he were to deprived you of everything he’s willing to give you for some times, you would finally get it through your thick skull that he only ever wanted good for you. Only, the you that greeted him after three long month was silent and still, lying on your bed with close eyes. The only sign you’re still alive in the first place was your breathing, almost invisible to the common eye.

He remembers hovering over you, a finger set on your chin and pulls it down. With an odd lump in his throat and a heaviness he rarely knows of, Alastor let out a weak chuckled, watching as a reformed lump of meat pulsates and weakly twitching in place of your tongue. Turns out, without the correct nutrients, the citizen of hell could only pray that whatever injury they obtained will kill them faster than they can heal it. And just as fate would have it, you’ve been holding onto such a thing ever since he locked you in.

Maybe that’s why your eyes haven’t change since, maybe that’s why you refuse to talk, maybe it still hurts, and maybe you afraid of getting used to the comfort he provides you. Or maybe you hated him for it, he wouldn’t know, you never really made yourself clear since that day. It’s the longest you’ve ever gone without anything that he gave you, and he’s trying his best now to make sure it’ll stay the longest you will ever go without anything ever again.

The roux turned a dark, shiny brown. He added almost everything else and stirs it for five minutes sharp. Quickly checking the rice once the timer calls for his attention, Alastor turned off the fire and reaches for the tomatoes and stocks. The music from upstairs come to a halt.

It’s became synonymous with you now, silent and stillness. Somewhere in the middle of an evening, Alastor came to the oddly upsetting realization that you just as well never return to the same you that he was trying so hard to recover.

Throwing in the two ingredients, he raises the heat back to high. When it began to boils, he puts it to medium and let it simmers for six minutes. A shadow came by and whispered winds and chimes into his flickering left ear, you’re back in your room with the gramophone.

When he was alive, every moment spent with you was bright and different. You were a wild spark of fire in the cold city, silently chasing after dreams with a caring and delicate heart. Your shared mirth used to fill the room as you talk over jazz and the constant chattering from loudmouth patrons. Those days became the only thing he held onto in the midst of his busy life down here.

Then one day, within his first few years of working his way up the ladder, still without your shadow haunting the empty room in his house; Alastor looked back on those days, the better days, and realized he can’t remember the exact note of your voice, he can only recall that you were happy. So he hunts down every corner of hell in a rush, afraid that the rest of you will slip away again. He laughs silently to himself; a meaningless thought crosses his mind. Is there even any of you left to fall through his fingers?

Putting the heat to low and adding in butter, he stirs until it blends and throws the shrimps and scallions in and something else hit him. He hasn’t been able to pin down the exact note and tone you tend to laugh in yet, nor have he able to watch any of your painting comes to life. He kept on stirring, after three minutes, he added seasoning. He catches a faraway song, barely making out the notes, he thinks that’s your favorite.

For weeks now, he kept going over everything he could’ve done wrong. Although he tries to ignore it, the animosity you shown since the second you saw him in Hell, maybe even before you’re dead, it might’ve stemmed from before he chased you down in the woods. But you know what he can do even in life, and you should’ve known Alastor would never hunt you down just to lock you inside the cacophonies he broadcasts on the daily. Alastor can at least understand that he struggled between giving into you and maintaining control. Perhaps that’s where your path diverts, perhaps you’re not meant to be by his side after all, ever since the day you die. Maybe you died before he even got to buried you, but Alastor can no longer pinpoint since when you died because he doesn’t know since when you started to play along with him. All he knows is that if he were to stops your breathing today, you’ll wake up tomorrow with no faith lost in him. The thought sits in his stomach and made itself home. But that’s alright.

Alastor rather stomached the idea of breaking you, the alternative was worse. If a life time of chasing your shadow only resulted in endless hate, that’s alright to him. As long as you’re still breathing and by his side, there’s surely a place for him in your heart. Surely.

His microphone sudden sparks up to life and died again. Right, the food, dinner. He gets to setting up your plate.

Having lived for this long, Alastor’s used to playing along and getting along with the oddest of crooks. He’s unsure of how to ever get along with you, though. You have been nothing but nasty and callous before, but at least you talk and react. Now, you walk at a slowed pace, no longer making any sort of distinguishable noise as you do. Less of a guest, and more of a transparent image of someone he barely able to call himself an acquaintance to.

Or more precisely, it’s as if he’s fostering a ghost in his own home, and now he’s going through all the troubles that came with one. At first, the ghost thrashed and trashed everything, confused and in pain and determined to hurt. Then, the ghost calmed and it starts making compromises to try and look for a way out. What he have now, Alastor muses as he plated your meal and ready his heart, is the melancholy of the ghost. When the grieving and the anger and the bargaining and the hurt passes on and left the shell behind, there’s only ever the emptiness lingering.

The stairs creaks under his shoes, shadows hanging around the corner and slowly melts back under Alastor as he walks by. One in particular waits on your door and chirps when he stepped towards it, seemingly in a good mood, its laughter akin to windchime as it reconnects itself to him. He ignores it and knock three times to give you time and hide away whatever it was you’re working on. The music kept on playing, a vulgar but joyous song burst through the door the instant he opens it, Alastor swallowed his disdain and step inside with a smile.

“Lovely tune, dear. Is it one of Rosie’s discs?” facing out the window, you sit at your desk, long void of the marks from your first tantrum. From here, he can see your index finger tapping gently to the beat, you must’ve memorized it. “Certainly interesting taste you both shared…but I’ll make sure to ask her for more.”

Living with the melancholy of the ghost means you know there’s something there, behind the peeling wallpaper and below the hollowed floorboards. You talk to it every day. You tell it about the dreams you abandoned on the sidewalk since you were a child in favor of carving out a path for yourself, you tell it about your day. You whispered words heavy with affection in the morning and practice your apology to it in the night. You do all of it, knowing it doesn’t have the vocal cord to formulate words, knowing even if it does, it won’t talk to you anymore. But you have hope.

Akin to whispering into an empty seashell, he supposed, there’s always the sounds of the waves hiding deep inside, but there’s no voice. He should get you some seashells, maybe that can give you some joy.

“I figured you’d like something a bit more filling, so shrimp étouffée it is! I met sir Vox on the way to the grocer, and we have a rather pleasant chat. He mentioned some talkies I think you’d quite enjoy, too.” he laugh, standing behind you. Alastor catches the charcoal line on white paper, knitting together to create a familiar figure that he just can’t quite put together yet, more taken aback by the fact you haven’t bothered to cover it up at all. He divert his eyes and place the plate down, right by your left hand. “But you wouldn’t ever be in the mood for it, and it sounds far from my taste, so I turn down the offer to go with him.”

Living with a ghost means you see shadows in the corners of your eyes and hear your familiar home echoes a thousand scream at night, but living with its melancholy means plunging deep under the ocean floor and hearing nothing but the silent of the water. Where there’s supposed to be sound, there’s only the slight echoes of one, barely reaching your ears under the blue. You learn to embrace the silence and linger in its weightlessness.

His ears flickered twice when a sigh escaped your lips, barely audible under the belting of a jazz singer. Alastor let his right hand lingered by your shoulder, you shrink a bit under his touch, he doesn’t move.

“The Ficus died. I was hoping they last longer than the roses would, but you were right,” Leaning in just a bit closer, Alastor laugh, “I never really have a talent for cultivating plants, it seems.”

And then one day, you look back, and maybe you’ll finally see that there was no ghost. And you’re all alone in a house that used to be a home, with dirt under your fingernails and blood leaking under your door. And while you drag a corpse to its final resting place, you hear dogs barking and feel rows of sharp teeth bit into your arms, there’s a familiar clicking sound. When you look up, the world embraces you in a white and burning pain for a single tick of a second. And then you came back to life, just as new. In a new house, in a new world, you do it all over again, you go and look for the ghost.

But a ghost is see-through and rigid cold and it held onto regrets it can never fulfill with cold hands and misty eyes. You’re warm and tangible and alive under his hands even after everything but he’s not sure if you still have any regrets you haven’t given up on, other than meeting him. Having a ghost haunts him would’ve bring less heartache, too.

Ever since you came back into his life, you came back wrong. And every attempt to understand you, to bring back the old you, the you he adores, the you he longed for, only ever serves to buried that you six more feet under the ground. He hates to admit defeat, but he thinks you won’t ever be the same anymore.

“I’ll think I’ll get some Gardenia and Begonia tomorrow for the front porch, but you should keep some in here. It must be boring only seeing the same five things a day, love.” With that, he slinks back out the hallway. Taking a final look of you, he closed the door without a goodbye, he never felt well saying such a thing to you anymore. As Alastor walks back down to the kitchen, another song plays out from your room.

Like the rest of the plants Alastor inevitably rots but refusing to stop holding onto, you also rot. His dinner table is set for two, and one of them is for a corpse. For the rest of the night, like every night, he drowned out the sound from your room with a bottle of whiskey and the thought of a you he can barely recalled. Without knowing what he’s holding onto, Alastor came to an oddly hallowing realization that he might've never know you at all.

He hoped you won't know, but maybe that's why you let him see your sketchbook.

(if he’s a ghost, will you let him hold you again)

#alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshot #hazbin hotel oneshots

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teddybeirin · 6 months

Text

if you have the means, please help us escape our abusive family

the short version: we need out of here, and if you have the means to comfortably help us, you can help us with getting together the funds to try again to escape here (I will edit the goal when I am able to, the progress shown is for our first attempt earlier this year, which did not last)

the long version.. I don't even know where to begin. Our name is Teddy, and we're living in hell, again, and trying to escape it, again. It was so amazing to be out of here. It was better than anything we'd ever experienced before, in our entire life.

I have been so angry with myself for being unable to keep things that way, we undershot the goal by so much that time because I felt ashamed to ask for more than the bare minimum to get out - no leeway for job searching time, or anything else. It was a mistake to do it that way.. following shame usually is, but what's done is done now, and I am trying not to add any more hurt onto my plate beating myself up over such mistakes.

an update was written for the fundraiser itself, I won't copy it in its entirety to here. I know that everyone has it hard right now, and there is so much hurt in the world, mine is only a drop in an ocean - but I am choosing to believe my loved ones when they say that my life is worth trying to save, and so I am asking for help doing that.

we're doing what we can do on our own - I am back to work that I walked away from for the sake of my mental health before on top of trying to build up less ptsd-exacerbating works, because I feel it is maybe my only shot at a decent steady income, to prevent the same from happening again if I manage to get out of here in the first place. I was not even up to snuff to sell burgers.. It is difficult to cover up bruises in order to look appealing.

but for so many reasons, I can't do this on my own. the hurdle is too high to get over to get out, even though I have by now proven that I can do quite a lot in terms of providing for myself - it's hard to keep anything together when you are also constantly in fear, and hurting, and being threatened, and having to hide any money we make and limit what we do to only what can be hidden, so many obstacles, that we are having any success despite them is proof enough to me that I can continue with this if we can get out. but that's if we get out.

that we even had our first time out of here, was a miracle. I am so eternally grateful to everyone who helped us have that, and to everyone who has been encouraging me and helping to support us while we are here again, it means the world to me, it is everything to me. It feels so amazing to be an adult, and be alive, and have people who care for me, it's so much different from how I understood my world to be before in all the best of ways.

if you are safe, and if you have enough for yourself as well as to extend help to another, please consider helping us. 💟

thank you for taking the time to read this, for even considering to help us, for all the ways you all have shown me the warmth of the world.. words cannot express how happy I am even to be able to continue to struggle forwards.

thank you for your kind words, and for sharing this, for helping in what ways you can, I hope that your kindness is returned to you tenfold, I hope that if you are in a situation like mine that you also can have a way forwards, I hope that you are all safe and well-fed. 🧸💗

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absurdumsid · 3 months

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I need info on saejun an you obviously know him better than me, so can i have you favorite hcs, theories (how he joined the mtt), or interactions on him w/ the mtt :)

OF COURSE U CAN !! so sorry, it took me a bit to compile all of this from my older notes aaaa have a compensation doodle bc i took SOO long GHGHHHGH

anyway saejun nation pspspspss

saejun !! THE beloved if u will

he regularly speaks korean but learned english after meeting nightmare and killer

i love to think he's very very strong, he can beat the mtt in a fistfight kind of strong (not like he would, but he'd win)

he can cook decently but he'd choose his brother's cooking any day (even if pilsu is still um learning)

he also really likes spicy dishes !! he bonds over that with dust !

he'd forgive ppl who steal from the farm but he wouldn't forgive harming the crops

he HATES pesticides (i think this is canon actually) but also really hates strong smells in general

sleepy 24/7 he lays in the grass to photosynthesize (he just passes out, pilsu wakes him almost every time)

probably knows a lot of offhand herbology/biology trivia (he can explain the aerobic and anaerobic cycle by heart)

his general attitude toward the mtt/bad sanses is not to pry unless they're the ones who open up to him (even now he only rlly learns about their situations through nightmare who doesn't talk that much about it anyway)

he accepts mtt with open arms and its that accepting (almost forgiving) nature that makes them so super attached to him !!

for me, it's the concept of meeting a version of yourself that lives the most peaceful life and being happy for him, but ALSO not being shunned by that alternate version for being violent and hurting the people that you both love

as for how saejun met mtt, my general interpretation of it is that nightmare struck a deal with saejun for food supplies in exchange for manual labour (so mtt and nightmare help a lot with the harvests! the only ones who really know about it is pilsu, saejun, anseung, and suggu)

killer // 고통씨 (Mr. Misery/Grief)

saejun meets killer first and was the only one helping around the farm

i don't think saejun would be the type to pry into their pasts so he doesn't question killer about himself or anything

killer is the one who opens up to him one stormy night after a stage 3 episode where he holed himself up in the shed and saejun found him cold, shaking, and curled up embracing himself

he calms killer down and tells nightmare abt it and that's how he finds out about killer's past (he doesn't bring it up, but he's always there to help killer after his panic attacks)

he likes to do the chores with killer most of the time just in case he has a run in with chorongi or suggu (the kids are very silly and tend to mess with him and he doesn't know how killer is with children)

they photosynthesize together and sometimes nightmare just comes to get killer in the evening and finds them in the grass

horror // 취급주의 (Handle with Care) or 주주씨 (Mr. Vermillion)

he meets horror second (after he gets kidnapped by nightmare) and saejun isn't really scared of him because he figured that he probably has some hidden issues like killer

saejun thought horror was really fragile at first (because he was very thin and had a skull injury) so he actually had him do mostly little chores like going to the market or gathering eggs from the chickens

after a few months killer doesn't come in (was sent to a mission somewhere else) and saejun needs someone to handle the heavy hay bales (<- he could've done it himself but hes lazy) and horror just kinda Does It and surprises saejun

he starts to depend on horror more and actually admits that he was underestimating him out of concern for his wellbeing and horror says its ok because he was also underestimating saejun (until he saw him carry killer AND a bunch of crops home that one time)

they start to cook together and do the heavier chores (while making silly jokes abt killer) together

horror starts to learn korean by talking with dorihye, saejun, and pilsu as well as asking nightmare for some reading material ! (after finding out that dust also speaks korean, he starts practicing conversation with him !)

dust // 유골씨 (Mr. Ashes)

saejun's meeting with dust was noooot planned at all, nightmare just kinda forced mtt into a portal to farmtale during one of errors visits

horror mostly stayed with dust at first who was just dead silent and stayed in one spot (saejun asked if he wanted any drinks and it took ten excruciating seconds before horror had to answer water for him)

its not until pilsu comes into the house and greets killer and horror and makes a remark about a new brother that he starts to actually talk

dust doesn't exactly warm up to pilsu and more like forces himself to because pilsu starts to ask him what his favourite pasttimes are, his favourite food, if he wants any snacks, etc (killer and horror went through the same thing)

dust eventually gets carried off to the kitchen to cook with pilsu and that's how pilsu finds out dust speaks fluent korean even though they have different dialects

saejun goes into the kitchen and has a little talk with dust (where he learns they both speak korean !! and that that's why dust wasn't speaking that much !) and they bond over pilsu's silliness (dust talks about how his papyrus also loved to cook etc etc, saejun notices that its in past tense but doesn't dig any deeper)

dust eventually starts to visit farmtale with horror frequently to exchange makguksu and ramyeon recipes with pilsu !!

dust is also relatively close with dorihye, anseung, and suggu who tend to remark that "the other saejuns dont really talk much" to which horror always chuckles

that's all (for now) !! TYSM FOR ASKING ABT MY BLORBOS BGHGHRGRHG

#farm sans #saejun #saejun park #farmtale #<- because this mostly occurs in farmtale #killer sans #horror sans #murder sans #dust sans #undertale au #murder time trio #bad sanses #sans au #sid rambles #sid answers #i FUCKIGN LOVE SAEJUN PARK FROM HIT UNDERTALE AU FARMTALE BY GUINONGTALE_AU #long post

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huhjxn · 1 year

Text

eavesdrop part II

kim chaewon x fem!soloist!reader

chaewon realized her mistakes and now her mind is plagued with the thoughts of you. she wanted nothing more than to apologize for the damage she's done but it isn't as easy as it seems.

! : swearing, angst (with fluff), harassment, stranger danger, chaewon is sleep deprived

4.0k words

read part I here.

"I'm craving pork belly right now," you said as you looked at your best friend, Kim Sunwoo. "Dude, same. I dreamt of eating pork belly and kimchi last week and I've been craving since," he replied.

"I ate pork belly yesterday with Sooyoung unnie and Hyeju," Park Chaewon said with one of her eyebrows raised as though it was such a big deal. Actually, it really was for both you and Sunwoo.

"Wow, I don't mind you ganging up on me in PUBG but this?" Sunwoo said, rolling his eyes, "Traitor." Gowon smirked as she saw how you looked so betrayed, and continued raising her brow to further provoke you.

"She's so annoying, I swear to god," you said, turning to face Sunwoo, making sure to sound like a Regina George dupe, "Like that face that she makes? Chaewon seriously gets on my nerves every single time."

As a result, Gowon shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes at you. You gave her a look that she always does, which made Sunwoo laugh.

Twisting and turning on her bed, a frustrated Chaewon finally sits up and grabs her phone from her nightstand. The glow of the screen was burning her eyes, partly because of its brightness and partly because it's 3:09 a.m. and she hasn't gotten even a minute of sleep. Yena's words kept echoing in her head together with the cruel words that she uttered to you which was accompanied by her bitchy actions.

To say that Chaewon felt guilty would be an understatement. It's been four days since Yena visited her in HYBE and she's been having a hard time sleeping, her mind replaying her encounter with you endlessly. She knew that she needed to make things right but how could she?

Chaewon remembered how she wanted nothing more than to apologize to you when she saw you at Music Bank two days ago. Seeing you stand there laughing with Gowon made her freeze; she watched how happy you looked, your eyes sparkling with joy, the smile on your lips were reaching your eyes, and your overall aura just looked so at ease. It was the complete opposite of you back when she confronted you in her dressing room. Chaewon also knew that if she interrupted you, that beautiful expression plastered on your face would leave faster than the speed of light.

She didn't want to do that; the expression that you wore made you look like a ray of sunshine, and Chaewon doesn't want to be the reason why thunderclouds would dull you up, even if she knows that she already plays that role in your life.

Looking back at her phone, Chaewon felt awful because she wanted to have a decent rest but the thoughts in her mind won't let her. Suddenly, she felt her stomach grumble. 'Well, I don't have anything better to do anyways,' she thought.

Chaewon got up from her bed and grabbed a stray hoodie from her desk chair, and got out of her room, making sure that she wouldn't make any sound. As she was about to go out, she heard footsteps shuffling behind her, "Are you going out?"

The short-haired girl turned around and was faced with their tallest member. "Yeah, I couldn't sleep," Chaewon said exasperatedly, "So I decided to go out and get food."

Yunjin nodded tiredly, rubbing her eyes, "Can you get me some chips too?"

Chaewon smiled at the girl before responding, "Of course, I'll be back in a bit," she said as she exited their dorm.

In all honesty, Chaewon had no idea what she wanted to eat. She is starving, yes, but the amount of thoughts that were already occupying her head was so much that she couldn't think of what to get despite seeing numerous convenience stores as she walked.

The girl decided to enter the next convenience store, knowing that she doesn't have enough energy to walk any longer. Grabbing the basket, she browsed the shelves and searched for the chips that she knew Yunjin liked.

While checking every aisle, Chaewon felt goosebumps all over her skin, which was somewhat unusual. She dismissed it because it was probably just because of the temperature. She then proceeded to grab a few snacks for Eunchae, and decided to settle for a packed meal that needed to be reheated at the counter.

As she was about to pay for her stuff, she could see a figure of a person by her peripheral vision, but decided to pay no mind to it. Besides, it's normal for sleep deprived people to buy at convenience stores at this time… right?

The girl handed her card to the cashier. After paying, the cashier left to microwave her food, so she decided to look behind her and just as she expected, the figure was gone. The cashier returned to the counter to hand her the food, which Chaewon grabbed with a small smile that reflected her exhaustion.

Chaewon left the store and opened her phone to send a quick text to Yunjin,

are you still up? i just left the store, i'm omw back

After hitting send, she placed her phone back in her pocket. It was still relatively dark, and most of the stores were still closed which meant that there were only a few sources of light on the street. Suddenly, she felt goosebumps once again and the unsettling feeling of someone staring at you. As she was about to look behind her, she felt a body collide with hers.

"Kim Chaewon," The girl felt her whole body freeze. She dreaded for something like this to happen, and she now regrets going out, "You're Kim Chaewon, right?" The strange man asked her, his hand on the girl's shoulder, hindering her from making any sudden movements.

She knew how risky it was to wander through the streets at this time, especially since she's alone. Chaewon could feel the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. 'This is all my fault,' she thought. For once since meeting Yena, her mind was occupied by something that wasn't you, but this frightened her. Nothing could ever prepare her for the danger that she's faced with right now.

Due to her lack of response, the man forcefully shook her, and that's when the tears ran down her cheeks, then suddenly, she heard a voice speak.

"What do you think you're doing?" Chaewon shut her eyes tightly, she felt the man shuffle behind her before he spoke, "Oh, I'm just talking with my girlfriend, we were just arguing but everything's fine and there's nothing here that concerns you."

Chaewon felt the man grip her shoulder tighter, which made her groan in pain, "Are you sure about that? She doesn't seem to be fine."

Suddenly, it clicked. Chaewon did her best to look behind her, and despite her blurry vision due to the tears filling her eyes, she was able to meet your worried pair of eyes. Then, it felt like everything happened in slow motion. Chaewon saw you clench your jaw before lunging towards the man and grabbing him by the collar.

"I swear to god," The short-haired girl shuddered at the calm yet threatening tone you used, "I may not look as strong, but I can definitely take a scrawny guy like you, so unless you want to end up with broken limbs, I suggest you to leave."

You felt immense anger as you stared into the man's eyes which was filled with both worry and annoyance. He tried to pull back, but your grip on his collar was too tight that your knuckles turned white. Suddenly, you let go of his collar which made him lose his balance and fell.

"Fucking bitch," you heard him mutter as he dust himself off then ran from the scene while you made sure to watch him leave. Chaewon stood there silently, not knowing what to do nor what to say. She was grateful for your help but now she doesn't know how to deal with you. With all the pent up stress both from the fears from her situation earlier and your presence, she felt herself cry harder that she couldn't contain the sobs that she let out.

Suddenly being aware of your surroundings once again, your eyes traveled to the girl and you could feel your heart break at the sight. "Chaewon sunbaenim," you said, unsurely. The said girl looked up to meet your eyes but all you could see was the pained expression that she wore. You opened your arms with uncertainty but all the hesitation washed away once the girl lunged forward and wrapped her arms around your waist in an embrace.

Chaewon could feel your arms wrap around her body tightly, and at that moment, she knew that she was safe. No one could hurt her. You were there.

"Are you hurt? Did he hurt you? Should I call the cops?" You asked calmly, but the short-haired girl could hear the concern laced in your tone, and she couldn't help the fluttering of her heart accompanied by the warmth of her cheeks, "No," Chaewon answered weakly, "I'm fine, I just—"

Chaewon was interrupted by her own sobs. She felt embarrassed that you had to see her in such a state but the negative thought quickly left her mind as she felt your hand caress her hair and your other hand rub circles on her back, "Let's get you home, okay?"

You waited for the girl's response and you felt her nod. She untangled herself from your embrace and you couldn't help but miss the warmth that she provided. Chaewon started walking before you, and as she was about to reach for the food that she bought which were now on the floor, you held her hand and grabbed the bag with the other.

Chaewon looked up to your face but your eyes were already locked on hers, "Lead the way," you said with a small smile, and the girl could feel her heart explode.

The two of you walked in silence and Chaewon could feel your grip on her hand tightening every now and then as though reassuring her that you were there and that you wouldn't leave her side.

Eventually, you arrived at their dorm and Chaewon slowly unlocked the door before stepping in. "Chaewon unnie, what took you so long?" Yunjin asked before seeing you at their doorstep, "Oh, Y/N-nim, hi!"

You smiled in response as the taller girl ushered you into their apartment. "I was confronted by a stranger, but Y/N saved me from getting harassed," Chaewon said, the exhaustion in her voice was obvious even as she tried to hide it.

Yunjin's eyes widened at the revelation, but decided to drop the topic after getting a look at her leader. She knew better than to pry. The said leader went straight to her room as your eyes were locked on her. After seeing her enter, you handed the bag to Yunjin who accepted it with a smile.

You were about to leave when Yunjin's voice interrupted the silence, "Thank you," she said, quietly. You stared at her in question before she continued, "I heard from Yena unnie that you and Chaewon unnie aren't on good terms," she mentioned, and you wanted to give Yena an earful for not knowing how to keep a secret.

The taller girl smiled at you before continuing, "But I'm really glad that you helped her out." You gave Yunjin a genuine smile before replying, "Of course, I'm sure that if the roles were changed, your leader would've done the same."

She nodded at your words, "You should stay," you stared at her with wide eyes before she tried to clarify what she meant, "If you're not busy, I mean. I think you should stay with unnie for a bit, until she realizes that she's safe."

You nodded before agreeing, giving her one last smile before going towards the direction of Chaewon's room. The pounding on your chest was pretty much uncontrollable, but you chose to ignore it and knock on the girl's door.

"Come in," you heard Chaewon's muffled voice before your hand reached for the doorknob and entered her room. Her back was facing you but it did nothing to ease your nerves, "I just wanted to make sure that you're all settled before I leave," you uttered, hesitantly.

There was a long silence, and you were just about to retreat and leave when you heard her respond, "Can you stay?" Chaewon's voice was soft and unsure, and deep inside, her fears were eating her alive because why would you choose to stay with her when the last time you spoke with each other, she was such a douchebag to you. Despite that, she decided that there's nothing more to lose, "Please?"

With her back still facing the door, Chaewon could hear her heart pounding. After a few seconds, she heard shuffling and the sound of her door closing. She expected it. You didn't have any reason to stay. Her shoulders dropped at the realization that once again, she's all alone, just as she expected.

What she didn't expect though is for her bed to dip behind her, and for a hand to reach out and stroke her hair. Chaewon's tears began to resurface.

"Of course," you said, glancing at the back of her head, where your hands were playing with some of the strands of her hair, "I'm here."

You stayed.

Her tears started to fall and all she could feel was how drained she was with the week-long overthinking and the incident earlier, but at the same time, you were there with her. She had you, and it feels like that is all she needs at the moment.

You heard a quiet sob coming from the short-haired girl, and you have never felt so lost than you did at that moment. What happened earlier surely struck terror into the girl, and you had no idea how to console her. As a soloist, you were simply responsible for yourself and you didn't have other members to care for. On the other hand, Chaewon came from a 12-member group and is currently a leader of a 5-member group; the difference between the two of you is very noticeable.

All of a sudden, the girl turned and in an instant, you were met with her tear filled eyes. It was cut short because Chaewon wrapped her arm around your torso in a flash, hugging your body closely as though she was clinging for support. And at that moment on, you wanted nothing more than to hold her close regardless if you were on good terms or not.

Chaewon didn't know what came over her; with a sudden boost of confidence, she wrapped you in an embrace, knowing that it is all she needs to get rid of the unwanted thoughts that were clogging her brain. Unexpectedly, she felt your arm drape on her back, pulling her closer to your body as the other hand stroked her hair calmly, and Chaewon could swear that she's never felt more comfortable than she did at this moment.

"You should get some sleep," your quiet voice echoed in the silent room, "You don't have to worry about anything, I'll keep you safe."

The short-haired girl nodded weakly as she felt more tears fall onto your shirt. Chaewon was glad that her face was buried on your body because without a doubt, you would have seen how red she was if her face wasn't hidden.

Despite the fatigue that she felt, Chaewon didn't want to fall asleep just yet; she wanted to enjoy your company and how you held her so tightly against your warmth. Unfortunately for her, the exhaustion is already taking a toll on her and as the minutes passes, her eyelids started getting heavier, and she couldn't help but succumb to the deep sleep that awaits her.

Her body felt heavy all over as she awoke. That was the first time in a short while where she was able to get a good and uninterrupted sleep. However, instead of feeling recharged, she felt as though her body was underneath an elephant and she refused to get up.

But as she was just about to go back to sleep, she realized that her comfortable source of warmth was gone. She tiredly looked around her room and saw that you were nowhere to be found, and there weren't even any signs that you were there.

Chaewon felt disappointed but there's really nothing she could do about it. It's not like you were obliged to stay with her. Heck, she was a bitch to you, you didn't owe her anything. Perhaps she just might even be too spent last night that she imagined everything that happened in her room.

Knowing that there's no way she could sleep without your presence, Chaewon groggily got up from her bed before exiting her room. As she stepped out of the comfort of her private space, she was met with the scent of cheese balls, ramen, and fried chicken which made her stomach growl, 'Right, I wasn't able to eat my food,' she thought.

She then went straight to the kitchen area where she froze at the sight. There you were, cooking instant ramen while your back was facing the girl. 'She really stayed?'

"Y/N?" Chaewon called out hesitantly. You turned around, a bit surprised at her voice suddenly appearing behind you, "Hey," you said, a small smile forming on your lips, "You're awake."

Chaewon mirrored your expression as she slowly approached you, "Yeah," She looked at the wall clock that showed 12:56 p.m. "I'm sorry, I overslept, where's everybody?"

You returned your focus to the ramen, transferring the contents from the pan to the bowl, "Don't worry about it, I'm glad you were able to rest," you said, "Yunjin and Eunchae went to Kazuha and Sakura sunbaenim's dorm."

Chaewon nodded before taking a seat at one of the chairs. You placed the bowl on the table and prepared the plates and utensils that you and Chaewon were going to use.

The two of you ate in silence aside from the noise coming from the utensils and Chaewon humming at the cheese balls that you made. After having your meal, Chaewon picked up the used dishes and placed it on the sink. You followed her, watching her movements closely.

"I don't mean to pry," you spoke softly, "But how are you feeling?"

Chaewon leaned on the sink as she faced you, "I'm feeling much better now," she uttered softly, she looked up to meet your gaze and it took everything in her to maintain eye contact. She watched as you grinned, "That's a relief."

There was a short moment of silence until the girl cleared her throat, "Listen, Y/N," she started, "I would like to thank you," Chaewon said, studying your face, "I don't know what would've happened if you didn't show up."

You responded with a tight-lipped smile before speaking, "You shouldn't worry about it," you sighed before continuing, "You're stronger than you think, I'm sure that you would've been able to take him down even without me," you said, light-heartedly.

Chaewon gave a small chuckle before getting serious once again, "Also, I've been wanting to talk to you," she started. The short-haired girl lowered her gaze to the floor, avoiding your curious eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Chaewon prepared herself to finally say what she's been meaning to tell you, "I wanted to apologize," she said, softly, stealing a glance at you but immediately returning her gaze to the floor as though it is the most interesting thing that she ever laid her eyes on.

"I was so rude towards you after the shoot, I said mean things, I–" Chaewon inhaled deeply before speaking, "I'm really sorry. I was such a jerk."

Chaewon finally found the courage to meet your gaze and continued, "You didn't deserve any of that, and I'm really sorry," she felt her heart pounding, finding your expression frightening because she couldn't read you one bit, "I overheard you talking in your dressing room once, and I thought that you were slandering me."

"It was wrong for me to immediately assume that you were talking about me without properly confronting you about it, and my actions during our confrontation were inexcusable," Chaewon dropped her gaze once again, her hand subtly shaking because of the nerves, "I'm really sorr–"

"I know."

Suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around Chaewon's shaky ones which caused the girl to widen her eyes in disbelief, she looked up and was finally met with your eyes, "I know the reason behind your meltdown," you started, "I was just waiting for you to approach me and apologize."

Chaewon stared at you curiously, "What do you mean you know? How?"

You chuckled at her confused expression and the absurdity of your answer, "Yena unnie," Chaewon already knew what you were about to say, "Our friend can't really keep a secret, you know?"

The short-haired girl nodded, her cheeks tainted with pink hue due to embarrassment as well as realizing how close your distance was, "I can see how you could misinterpret what I said that day and why you were upset."

You grinned at her and said, "But you still have to make up for it, don't you think?"

Chaewon smiled shyly before asking, "How can I make it up to you?" You could feel your cheeks heating up; the way Chaewon looked at you made you weak in the knees.

"That depends on you," you said, your voice was barely audible, but due to your close distance, Chaewon was able to hear you loud and clear, "How do you plan to make it up to me?"

Chaewon's right hand let go of yours which she quickly placed on your shoulder. You stared at her in question, but she only grinned in response as she moved her hand onto your neck.

"Does it really depend on me?" she asked looking into your eyes for the go signal, "You might not like it," she said, with a hint of hesitation in her tone.

"Try me," you could feel your cheeks heating up and you're scared that Chaewon might take notice of it as well, "I am an appreciative person, I'm sure I'll be grateful regardless."

The short-haired girl smirked, taking that as her go signal. Chaewon leaned in closer and you could practically hear your heart pounding, so you closed your eyes in anticipation.

'She's so adorable,' Chaewon thought, rubbing small circles on your neck with her thumb. She leaned closer until she finally planted a soft kiss on your cheek which barely touched your lips.

After a few seconds, the girl pulled away, searching for your eyes to see your reaction, and she was met with a somewhat disappointed stare, "You know what?"

Chaewon tilted her head in question like a lost puppy before you continued, "I take it back, I don't think I'm an appreciative person," the girl laughed at your statement, her eyes twinkling with joy, "You weren't grateful with what I gave you?" she asked light-heartedly.

You shook your head no, "Definitely not," you said with a pout, and Chaewon wanted nothing than to kiss it away.

And so she did.

Suddenly, you could feel her soft lips on yours and if Chaewon didn't hold onto you, you were sure that you would have melted right then and there. You removed your grasp on her hand and held onto her waist for support, before kissing back.

You could feel her other hand travel to your cheek to keep you closer. Chaewon tilts her head to deepen the kiss, and you just let it happen.

When the both of you pulled away, Chaewon was breathing heavily while you chuckled, "What's funny?"

"We finally did something about that annoying tension," you said, still chuckling. Chaewon laughed with you before replying, "And I'll do it again and again."

And so she did.

#iz*one #kim chaewon #le sserafim imagines #le sserafim scenarios #le sserafim #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon angst #kim chaewon imagines #chaewon scenarios #chaewon x reader #chaewon #chaewon angst #huhjxn

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sharkboywrites · 5 months

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"You're Just a Boy, You Are No Man, And Nobody You Know Will Understand"

Twst staff finding out stealth ftm reader is trans (platonic)

Reader is a trans man and implied to pass, misgendering, mentions of dysphoria and periods

A/N: Back with a part two to this post after the poll came out mostly positive. I really love the staff taking on a parental role to Yuu/player, its just so sweet.

Dire Crowley

Getting teleported to twisted Wonderland was a very difficult experience, and of first the first person you met, and the one causing most of the problems for you, was Crowley. As the headmage of the school, he had to do something with you and generally take care of you. it was only a matter of time before you had to tell him the truth.

This doesn't mean you avoided the inevitable conversation as much you could. You were able to go a few weeks without running into an issue, that being the dreadful natural process that comes once every month.

While you could run to Sam, there was the small issue of the right clothes to wear, after all boxers won't really cut it in this situation, so unfortunately you had to go to Crowley for the right things to wear.

It was definitely an uncomfortable situation , sitting in Crowley's office, having to explain the situation to him. He was also, clearly, made a bit uncomfortable by the situation, but as headmage of the school, it was his job to provide you with what you needed.

you could already sense that dreaded feeling coming in the back of your throat as you explained. You really didn't want to cry in front of him, it was embarrassing, but there was really nothing you could do to stop it. In all honesty, Crowley doesn't know how to react in this situation, he's not really good with comforting and all that, so he isn't sure what to do once you get up and leave once the conversation, tears threatening to pour from your eyes.

You do find the next day, however, the clothes you requested, although you're decently sure he made a guess on the sizing, and a small chocolate bar. A small note sat with the items, reading "You've been excused of all chores for this week, take the break you need". Truly a bird dad at heart, even when he's not good with the talking part.

Divus Crewel

While Crewel can be seen as, well, cruel, he's taken a liking to you as you've made your way into Night Raven College. Now obviously he hadn't thought much of Crowley, knowing he did the bare minimum keeping you at the school, but he didn't expect this.

Other than your school uniform and the clothes you showed up in, you really didn't have anything else to wear, and he was not having it. Of course once he found out he dragged you to the nearest clothing store. Caught up in his anger and disappointment with Crowley, he didn't see how nervous you actually were about getting new clothes.

It wasn't until you had to make decisions did he pick up on your hesitation. he was a bit pushy with trying to get you to pick out things, but it wasn't until it came to trying thing on he realized just why you were so hesitant about this whole thing. It really all had clicked the moment you had to actually try things on, but he had reassured you that everything was fine and took a different approach.

He started to prioritize clothes that would make you feel comfortable over the ones he thought looked fashionable, although don't doubt for a second fashion won't still be considered.

Once you're all done you've got a new wardrobe and Crewel understands you a lot better. After this there's very clear favoritism once in the classroom now, which Ace will complain about until the day he dies. But that's alright, it's worth it to put with the complaining now that Crewel's you're new dad figure who's willing to do anything to make you feel comfortable with the other boys

Mozus Trein

Out of all the staff at Night Raven College, professor Trein is the most of a dad, quite literally, after all he had three daughters. Because of this, he can pick up on those small things that make you different from the other male students at Night Raven College. While he had his assumptions, he never outright said anything. He decided it was none of his business, and that if you wanted him to know, you would come to him instead.

it was during one of his classes that he noticed you seemed really uncomfortable. Not just uncomfortable physically, but mentally. It looked like you were ready to burst into tears with one wrong move. When class ended, he told you to stay after.

In that moment it felt like everything had gotten so much worse. Had you messed up? Were you in trouble? That's really not something you could handle right now. but to your surprise, he asked if you were alright instead.

You couldn't help when you started to cry a bit at that moment, although you did your best to hold back as much of it as you could. this caught him off guard, he didn't want you to cry. After reassuring you that it was alright, you explained to him what was going on. You told him how you were trans, how you were trying so hard to hide it, and how dysphoria had really been eating away at you ever since you got there.

Fortunately, when raising his own daughters Trein had to comfort them plenty, so he was able to calm you down enough to once again reassure you that everything would be alright. He told you that if you had any issues, to come to him and that he wouldn't tell anyone if you didn't want to. if you wanted the rest of staff to know, he'd help you slowly come out.

After that, he's very attentive to you in class, always making sure you seem alright. He really just wans you to be okay, even if he doesn't know that much about being queer. he starts to see you as one of his kids, and he wants to protect and help you in any way he can.

Ashton Vargas

Out of all the teachers you weren't very exited to learn about your identity, it was Vargas. He's like the average intimidating man that you're not sure if you want him to know you're queer. his reaction would either be super supportive, or he'd be the most transphobic person you'd ever met. teaching gym, it was inevitable that he would eventually find out you were trans.

When it came to locker rooms, it was really a challenge. there was no way you could change with the rest of the guys, they'd figure it out in seconds, and no you can't get out of changing for gym. So you had to go to Vargas to ask if there was somewhere else you would be able to change. Of course, he made you explain. it wasn't in a mean way, but he wants to push every student to being the best version of themselves, and being too scared to change in a locker room was not going to help that, a least according to him.

So, you had to tell him. You explained to him that you were trans and not only were you not comfortable changing with the rest of the boys, it would be unsafe for you if in the room with the wrong person. he's very taken aback by this. he probably isn't the type of teacher to think about students being queer, not in a homophobic way, just not something he generally thought about. So he offered to let you use one of the bathrooms nearby, as long as you didn't tell anybody about it.

This does not mean, however, that he'll suddenly go easy on you. you're still expected to do the same exercises as the rest of the boys. you are a boy and therefore will be pushed just as hard as the rest of them. Sorry, no getting out of that one. Vargas doesn't really see you any differently. You're still one of his students and need to be pushed to your limits, no matter how much you may dislike it. In fact, this makes him even harder on you. he's strict about making sure you don't exercise in a binder and gives you work outs that would make you more physically masculine.

So congratulations, you're given even more work than all the other students, but it's in good intentions from Vargas.

Sam

In the end, it was inevitable that you would also have to go to Sam at some point. I mean those period products aren't gonna buy themselves. Even though it wasn't really an ideal situation, Sam seemed like the person who'd you'd rather come out to than everyone else.

He's a bit odd, but he doesn't seem like the type to be judgmental, although he might bug you a little bit about it, not in a mean way though, the way he does to everybody. He's a bit of a sassy guy and that isn't going to stop for you.

When you first ask if he has anything that could help, he simply laughs. yes, it's an odd request that he wasn't expecting, but of course he has some. In fact, he even has enough for you to pick out a preferred size of whatever it was that you wanted.

he doesn't tell anyone if you don't want him to, although when you show up, with friends or not, he'll make a few sly jokes about it. Not enough to out you, just enough to let you know that he knows, and it doesn't bother him at all.

this took me a lot longer than I thought I would, probably because I kept goofing off and getting on my phone instead of writing. I feel like Sam's part is really short but at this point I'm pretty tired and need a hot chocolate lol. ty for reading and have a nice day <3

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f1nalgirlz · 8 months

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sleepovers are fun! | Charlie Walker ♡

In which Charlie and y/n have a special moment at Kirby’s “kick off for October sleepover”

≪warnings≫ sexual content, nsfw, feminine pronouns, alcohol

≪ contents≫ Charlie Walker x you, Charlie Walker x Reader, exhibitionism kind of??, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, kinda dom charlie?

The sun was setting as Y/N walked to Kirby’s house, it being the first day of October the air was cool. As she tracked along, she examined all the trees that were shifting in color smiling to herself. Y/N absolutely loved this time of year, and she was excited to be going to a sleepover that celebrates it. It was Kirby’s annual kickoff October sleepover that she’d came to every year since 8th grade. It was a tradition they were happy to continue every year being best friends, of course more people joined over the years. Y/N broke from her thoughts as her shoes hit Kirby’s stairs, instantly running up them and knocking on her door. After a few moments the door swung open and there stood her very best friend, Kirby, who pulled Y/N into a tight hug, dragging her inside. She looked around and smiled. “no one else get here yet?” she asks, looking inquisitively at Kirby. “Nope. Not yet! You’re first as always, Y/N.” she grinned at her and began leading her to the kitchen. “Shall we have a few drinks on this fine night?” She asks, leaning on her counter. Y/N nodded. “Yes, please.” She said happily as Kirby started making the drinks. Soon, familiar faces started pouring in. Jill and her douche boyfriend Trevor, Olivia, Robbie, and last to arrive was Charlie. Charlie was probably Y/N’s closest friend besides Kirby. What she didn’t know however, was how big of a raging crush Charlie had been harboring for her for years. He hid it decently well, not daring to speak it out loud to anyone, but he jumped at any opportunity to be alone with y/n or even just near her.

The night had gone well so far, everyone was having fun and gotten a few drinks in them. It was at this point in the night someone, maybe Olivia, had expressed they should play truth or dare, which everyone happily agreed to in their slightly inebriated shape. A few turns went by, daring a few people to take shots or silly secrets being confessed. When it was Charlie’s turn, Kirby asked him the question that lit everyone’s nerves up. “Truth or dare, Charlie?” It seemed like he was thinking before answering, “Dare.” As he answered Kirby face changed a little, a mischievous smile working its way onto her lips. See, Kirby had kind of sussed out Charlie’s crush on her best friend. Of course he’d never said it out loud to her, but she could just tell when things shifted. When slowly Charlie’s crush on her had fizzled out, yet he still lingered closely around her and her best friend. She’d never told Y/N about it of course, she believed herself to be a better person than someone who’d rat out someone’s crush. “Charlie, I dare you to kiss Y/N. Not a peck either really plant one on her!” She said, laughing happily.

“Kirby!” Y/N gasped, shooting her a look. It’s not that she’d had anything against Charlie, far from it, but she was a little nervous something as silly as a truth or dare kiss would jam a wedge in their friendship. “You guys have to, it was a dare.” Olivia chimed in, gaining nods in agreement from Jill and Trevor. Charlie, who was sitting beside you just shrugged, trying to act cool on the outside even though his insides were burning up. He was genuinely having an internal freak out. Getting to finally kiss you had NOT been in his plans. “Let’s just go for it,” Y/N mumbled, leaning in towards Charlie. He slightly panicked but shoved their lips together, the kiss lasted for a few moments before they both pulled away. The group around them laughing, cheering, and clapping at the two. As much as y/n really wanted to deny it, she felt something…it felt different. It felt good and she liked it, maybe it was because she was slightly tipsy but for the rest of the game she found herself craving more, glancing over at Charlie. Nobody really noticed.

It had gotten much later, everyone had found their way to a place to sleep. Robbie had taken his sleeping bag into an office room, closing the door behind him. Kirby went to her bed, inviting Y/N and Jill to go with her as they slept every year but only Jill accepted. Olivia followed the two up the stairs, sleeping bag in hand. Trevor had found his way to a spare bedroom quickly, as if he didn’t want anyone to steal it.

Y/N simply needed to clear her head alone, worried about what those feelings from earlier meant. She’d walked into an empty room, changing into some shorts and taking her bra off, just wanting to be comfortable. As she laid on the couch, her thoughts were cut short as Charlie walked back in from the bathroom where he’d been. Hair still damp from the shower he’d been taking. He was grabbing his sleeping bag off the floor and walking right towards Y/N. She sat up. “Is it cool if I sleep in here? I don’t want to bother you.” He said. She nodded, her heart speeding up. Why? Why now? “Uh yeah sure.” She said,looking at him as he began to lay out his sleeping bag on the ground next to the couch. They’d slept like this before at different sleepovers throughout the years, so why now did it make her heart beat out of her chest? As Charlie sat down onto his sleeping bag, sorting himself out for the night, y/n got up rather abruptly. She walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring herself at least 3 shots, gulping them all down at once. Charlie noticed, but chose to not chase after her, simply watching from the living room floor. Y/N made her way back and sat down on the couch, looking down to Charlie on the floor. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, his lips, the way his lips felt on her own… she felt like she was going crazy. “Are you okay?” He asked her, but he didn’t receive an answer he got met with lips against his own. Her hands grabbed onto his cheeks as she made her way onto the floor with him. While he was internally freaking out, he was incredibly excited, grabbing onto her waist and pulling her into him. They continued like that for a while until Charlie rolled her over onto her back, hovering over her as they stared at each other. “I want you.” She whispered, staring at him, it’s like all the internal tension has solved itself and she knew exactly what she wanted. He gave her a nod and dipped back down for a kiss, trailing those kisses down her neck, his wet hair making her shiver as it touched her arm. He slowly pulled up her tank top, attacking her, now bare, chest and stomach with slow kisses. Both of their cheeks were burning red at this point. As he made his way down to her waist band, he looked up at her to see her nodding, almost pleading. His fingers latched on to her shorts and tugged them down, panties coming with them. He stared at her heat for a moment, cheeks burning but it didn’t take long for him to enthusiastically bury his face between her thighs. He’d never done anything like this before, but he had watched hours of porn and tutorials, hoping and praying that one day this moment would come. He began licking her folds, making his way to find her clit. When she gasped a little louder than previously, he assumed he’d found it, beginning to lick at the bundle of nerves. Y/N’s body reacted so well to him, she felt like her whole body was on fire. As Charlie licked more aggressively, beginning to suck on the bud every now and again, she could feel slick dripping from her hole. She was doing her best to stay quiet but let out a low moan when Charlie sank a single finger into her, continuing with his mouth at the same time. The one was followed by another and soon Y/N was gently shaking all over. He pulled his fingers out, moving his head down to her hole to get one last lick, filling his mouth with her wetness. She whined when he stopped and looked at him. “Why’d you stop?” She huffed out, but he just smiled softly. “Do you want to go further?” He whispered, she caught on and nodded. He pulled down his plaid green pajama pants and underwear. His cock bounced out clearly already hard, just from eating her out. He grabbed his dick with one hand lining it up with her hole and pushing just the tip inside her. She moaned, feeling like her insides were just throbbing for him. He continued to push his cock into the warm embrace of her wetness, grabbing under her knees and pushing them back, exposing more of her. He nearly drooled at the sight of his dick buried in her pussy.

Y/N felt like she could barely breathe, her cunt ached around his cock, needing movement or she felt like she would explode. As if reading her mind, Charlie slowly started thrusting into her, the wet sound her pussy made as he fucked into her, just made him hornier. The two tried to remain quiet, only letting out soft moans and grunts. Charlie had sped up, removing one hand from under her legs and moving it to almost grip onto her pussy, locating her clit with his thumb and rubbing it, this sent a shock through her body and her legs twitched. She felt so close to an orgasm she could hardly think, gripping onto Charlie’s sleeping bag with one hand and digging her nails into his shoulder with the other. She soon felt a hot liquid shooting deep into her, filling up her insides followed by the sound of Charlie moaning, body shaking. This sent her over the edge, her body shaking as she orgasmed, pussy clenching around Charlie, milking every last drop from him. When he finally pulled out, they were both panting. They kissed again, another slow kiss. Charlie pulled his pants back up, as well as Y/N’s trapping his cum that was flowing out inside her panties. She sat up and pulled her tank top down, blushing deeply. “So um..” she started but was interrupted by the sound of feet coming down the stairs.

R: Soooo… idk if anyone will actually read this, I need to express my hyperfixation somehow. I haven’t written anything like this in years so please bare with me. If someone does read this I’d love more ideas please please please!!! 🩷

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