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safination · 2 months

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Partners in Death…and Life

Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself

| Part 1: Radio's Not Dead |Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From The Radio Should be Trusted| Masterlist | ao3 Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Hello, I’m back :D This was supposed to be published yesterday, but I got busy. Anyway, thank you for all the likes so far. It motivated me to really finish this chapter. Also once again, I have everything planned out, it really is just a matter of writing it down. *Updated 28/02/2024 Just added some stuff that I thought made sense*

Flick…

Lights flicker above you with a slight buzz. You drape an arm over your eyes when the gleam of the bulb blind you.

The hardwood floors chill your skin, but it’s the sensation of casual loose clothing on your back that warrants your exhale in peace. Just a second. You just need a moment on these hard and chilling floors to ground you… just… one … single … moment to…

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

A stray feather pricks into your arm. The vane tickles, but the barb digs your skin. You’ve called this body ‘yours’ far longer than your human one, yet the feathers that grow on your skin still astound you. You twirl it around your fingers, and wave it in the air like a wand—it’s a proper animalistic feather.

Your nose scrunches into a hard scowl, and you jump up, stomping into the kitchen toward that untouched coffee mug on your counter. Grabbing it, you splash the contents down the sink, letting it flush down the drain.

The sponge is rough against your hands as you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub and you scrub a̵̯͒n̴̤͝d̶̫͌ ̶͚̇y̶̤̎o̷͔̓u̶̢͐ ̸̓͜s̵̪͗c̸͎͂r̷̀ͅṳ̴̎b̸͖̀ ầ̷̩̯͍̙̳̍͗͘ń̵̰̞̰̕d̴͇̻̮̫̝̓̎̈́ ̶̡̬̬̮̺͗͒́̌͑y̴̙̘̻͇̿̉̐͆ǫ̷͉̟̍̅̑̏ŭ̸̖͓ͅ ̴̛̝͇̭̥̌́́̂s̸̠̑̽̏́c̷̥̺̃̾̊r̶̲̯̈́̈̄͆͊u̵̼̝͕̼̇̍̈́͘b̶͍͖͖̐̾͝.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You rinse the mug, slamming the cupboard door shut when you drop it next to your own clean one. Fingers run through your feather-hair…hair-feather, or your ‘whatever that grows on your scalp’. Some questions you’ve stopped asking.

An audible grumble… well, uhhhhh…. grumbles from where your stomach is placed in this body, and you munch on your lips to keep the inhumane screech from erupting into the kitchen and breaking all kinds of glassware and little knickknacks that Alastor filled your home with.

(These days, the old trinkets collect dust on your shelves. There haven’t been any new ones in years.)

Chopping Hell’s equivalent of carrots calms you. (It’s honestly the use of some type of razor-sharp object that calms you. You’d prefer a different razor-sharp object, but a sharp knife is a sharp knife, no matter the size.) You chop until there’s enough food to make a proper and decent meal that your stomach will accept.

You crash on the couch, dinner secured on a plate, and flip the television switch. Light flashes into the room when you do.

Ad about some impish business—Not interested.

‘Yeah, I fucked your sister, So what?’ — Boring.

Cooking Venison with Vox— Lame.

Settling on the lifestyle network, you munch on your food. Some poor slimy creature flashes across the screen, and it's her home that will be remodeled because of…something. You’re not sure what that something was. You don’t care enough to find out.

The sounds from the television swap with the silence of your living-room as you take each bite. It’s one of the sadder habits you’ve picked up since purchasing this noisy picture box.

Your eyes wander to that half-filled coat rack, while your ears listen in on the show and that woman did not just say that pink would go with brown. Only your singular coat drapes on the hinge, when this particular design was made to hold two.

A commercial plays for some-thing called the Hazbin Hotel.

Your eyes are stitched to the screen until the final note of the song plays, and a different advertisement takes its spot. You take a sip of your drink. Just ą̷̖̯͈͂ ̷̡̧͚̤̩͎̙͇̞͓̟͈̤̝͉͉͉̘̉͐̓́̆́̇̍̐̿̈̄͜͜͜͝͝s̶̨̢̛̥̣̻̱̰̬̩̹̥̞̟̳̝͔͓͙̗̗͕̟͇̆̉̿į̴̡̢̠͇̱̤͔̙͎͕͛̑̓̒̀̔͆̓͂̃̚͘͘͠ṗ̶̡̢̨̳͙̦̮͍͓̻͎̲̪̲͕͛̔̐́̐̈́̒̒̉̎͛̆̈́̈́̉̔̑̃̕ͅ.

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

You blink, and you find your keys locking your front door. Already, your legs are trekking down the garden stones. A flower snarls at you as the gate locks with a click.

Another blink.

Huh…you’re on the bus.

The sign says it’s headed into the city. Living on the outskirts has always been beneficial for you. Not today, though. Today, the one-hour commute makes your feathers bristle.

You read the barely eligible address scribbled on the note, and pat your hair, smoothing the flared feathers sticking out. It seems…

Hmmmmm.

It seems you did not think this through. H-how…How are you going to get to the hotel?

Tagatha calls you a fossil for using one of those flippy telephones. You considered purchasing those fancy telephones with the lights and screens, and loud robotic voices telling you where to turn left, but learning to use a flip-phone brought enough stress for two lifetimes. You’ll happily stay a fossil.

Turns out, you don’t even need the address.

The Hazbin Hotel sticks out. It’s a humongous building with its name written across what you call the sky in blinding neon lights. Your vision zooms in, and you see that the hotel rests on a giant hill at the other edge of the city. Three large neon-lit arrows point to a crudely attached radio tower. Below it, a wooden ship hangs to the side. Circus light bulbs flicker with electricity.

The Hazbin Hotel is an eyesore – it’s exactly what Alastor prefers.

You reach the dinged-up metal gate on the bottom of the hill and reset your hand on the rusted latch. Trekking through the city took a lot, and you were already here. So, why are your legs frozen to the cement? Why does your heartbeat thump in your ears?

“Excuuussseeeee me.”

A snake towers over you. It’s your first time seeing such a slithery specimen as large as him. His hat rests on his hold, and it blinks at you. His hair … or was that skin … puffs out with two red sets of red eyes.

“Can I help you?” you say, warily. Sinners are in hell for a reason.

“Yessssh,” he says, his tongue slithering out. His flaps stick out, all four eyes staring right into your own. “I’d like to be a guessst at this hotel!”

You glance at the eye-sore that’s called a hotel. “I don’t work here.”

His flaps droop. The snake takes a deep breath, and slides the gate open, slithering in with determination in his … er… snake body.

You follow in silence.

The snake matches your pace. “Will you be a guest at this establishment as well?” he asks you. “Or were you given the same sssssuper secret mission?” Just like before, his tongue slithers out—what a funny little odd man.

Bangs grab your attention. When you focus your vision, you see an inky shadow servant striking a nail into broken wood. “Not at all,” you say slowly. “I’m just here to visit someone.”

His flaps open, and three pairs of eyes and a hat meet yours. “I am the great Sir Pentious!” he says with a proud hand on his puffed-up chest. “Inventor. Architect of destruction. Villain extraordinaire!”

You give him your name “….Doctor.”

“It is only the coward who attacks a battler of health.” His flaps droop as he sinks into himself. “You cannot be my rival, I’m afraid.”

“I guess that makes you brave,” you say, humming. The decorations for the hotel are rather dull. Drawn on the middle of the hill, a giant pentagram is etched on the ground. The flowers dwindle on the cliff edge, and do little to combat the grayness surrounding you. “What a shame to hear—I rather love good rivalries.”

The eyes on Sir Pentious’ hat brighten at the same time his own do as well. “Ssssso do I!”

One of the inky shadow servants waves at you.

You wave back.

Light streams from the glass doors. You blink a few times, adjusting to the sudden change of brightness. Circus-themed stained glass decorate the front entrance. One of the less tacky – but still tacky – designs of this hotel.

Sir Pentious taps the glass with the tips of his finger, clinking with each tap, and his eyes water in excitement. His nose crinkles when he takes a deep breath. You weren’t aware he even owned a nose. Sir Pentious fiddles with the flap of his hat, and bangs on the door.

Your smile strains after a minute of banging.

A young lady with long, white hair creaks the door open. You recognize her from the commercial.

Sir Pentious’ flap open and close with each word as he says, “Why, hello, my dear –”

A punch to the face is his reply.

“Oh dear!” you screech. Sir Pentious drops to the ground, and you kneel next to him, a steady hand on his slimy shoulders. “Have you no manners?”

This insolent girl points her spear and stomps a foot on Sir Pentious. She snarls, and her glare hardens.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Sir Pentious’ tongue slithers out as he holds a peace-sign. “I come in peacccccceeeee”

“What are you doing here?” Her spear inches closer.

“Vaggies,” another voice calls out. A blonde with a red pantsuit and a bowtie pokes her head, eyes in a squint. O-oh! You know this lady from the commercial. The Princess of Hell … Cady … Char …Charlie Morningstar! “What’s the problem?” Charlie’s eyes widen when she spots you and Sir Pentious, an honest smile drawn on her face. “Oh, hello again! And hello to you as well!”

“Can you please tell this insolent girl to get her food off this gentleman,” you spit, tilting your nose into the air. Your feathers sharpen when you bristle. “And your weapon away from my face.”

Vaggie takes her foot off Sir Pentious. She holds the spear close, but it’s away from your face.

Sir Pentious straightens into a stand, and the group prattles on.

No one bothers to help you. A huff escapes, and you brush the dirt off your skirt. Absolutely no manners. Insolent and ill-mannered. Would Alastor stay in such a place?

You’ve never laid an eye on someone as unique as this Vaggie. Her hair patterns are similar to wings. It’s almost unheard of to see such a prominent ‘x’. Her flared eyelashes resemble a bird. It strikes you silly. Almost everyone in hell resembles a human body with animal characteristics hidden somewhere. This insolent girl doesn’t appear to have any of that – only miniscule feathers made to appear native to Hell.

“Absolutely!” Charlie exclaims to who you think is Angel Dust. (The porn-star, not the drug. Obviously.) Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile on his face. There’s a squeak every time he bobs his head. That hat of his looks nervous. “This place is about second chances and who deserves one more than this…slithery…slippery…special little man.” Charlie takes a peek at you. “Oh, and this feathery…sheddy… and round-eyed woman.”

You do not shed.

You smile at Charlie, and give her your name, “…and I expect it to be used.”

Angel Dust whips to Vaggie. “Aren’t you supposed to protect this place?” he says and turns to you. “How are we even sure we can trust this lady – no offense, toots.”

“None taken,” you say, dryly.

Charlie’s eyes water when she turns to Vaggie, who easily relents with a sigh.

You’re thrust through the apple and circus-themed doors, squinting at the chandelier. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the design—it reminds you of those old rolled films. Charlie leads you and Sir Pentious further down the hall, all but pushing you in. Vaggie and Angel Dust lag a few steps behind.

Charlie waves her arms to go into an enthusiastic point. “So…this is our bar,” she says. Husk drops his drink, a scowl on his face, “and the bartender. This is the curtain, and this is the new wall after Sir Pentious broke the last one. And this is—”

Vaggie calms her down.

The bar clashes with the red wallpaper of the hotel. It’s almost as if someone just dropped it there, and etched it to the very wall. The wood is firm underneath your touch and feels exactly like what wood should feel.

You turn towards the bar and take your seat. Husk focuses on his drink. “Hello,” you say with a gentle voice that should not be mistaken for kindness. “It’s good to see you, old friend.”

Husk chokes and splatter out his drink, but you only smile at him. He coughs and his ears droop low. “Uh…yes,” he starts. “Good to see you as well.”

“There’s no need to be nervous.”

“I’m not.”

“Good.”

You run your finger across the skeleton wrapped around the bar post. A memory tickles your brain. This is one of the many specimens you owned. It took one whole month to strip the muscle off its tight hold on the bones, and another month just to clean, bleach, and wire together. The heads above the bar sign were a gift to you, and the skeletons were your gift back.

The neural spine pokes your finger as you tap each one. “I see you’ve set up shop here.”

Husk scowls, taking another swig of his drink. “Not much of a choice.”

“And tell me,” you start, “how long have you been here?”

Husk doesn’t answer you.

Charlie calls your name, and waves you over. “Over here,” she says pointing to where Niffty plays with some kind of one-eyes cat, “we have our maid—Niffty!”

Niffty hops on Sir Pentious. “The bad boy is back!” she exclaims, pulling him closer, eyes wide and shaking. A bead of sweat drops from Sir Pentious’ hat. “Never leave me again.”

“We’re about 80% sure she’s harmless….” Charlie prattles on.

“Hello, Niffty.” You smile at her.

She jumps off Sir Pentious, landing with a small ‘humph’, and strides to you with her pointy short legs. She calls out your name.

You squat, meeting her eye. “It’s great to see you again—Is Alastor forcing you here?”

Her eyes shine with an innocent type of glee. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” She claps her hands. “I get to chase all the bugs here.” Nifftly leans closer to you, giggling. “Can I be strapped to your table again? I love it when you slice me open.”

“Maybe next ti—”

Charlie grabs your arm, hauling you forward. “Oh! Uh, Alastor! Our gracious facility manager! You've met our newest guest Sir Pentious…hehe…,” she tells him. Charlie keeps pulling you, only stopping when you stand before a grand staircase. “These two will be our special wonderful guests!”

Alastor does little to show you what he feels, there’s just that same empty grin.

He bought a new coat, you note. This new one has white streaks on the new collar and less stripes. Guess some things were more important than others.

You slip out of Charlie’s tight grasp. “I think you’re mistaken, my dear,” you say. “I’m not a guest— just a visitor.”

You hold your husband’s gaze and greet him.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“It’s good to see you,” you say, a smile drawn on your lips. “How are you doing on this wonderful morning?”

Alastor turns to you, drops an item into his grocery basket, and blinks. “I am amazing!” he says. He grabs your hand with his gloved ones and shakes it. His hands are warmer than you expect them to be. “Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite the pleasure.”

You chuckle at him. “Yes, I’m aware of who you are.”

“Oh, how lovely!” He waves his fingers. “ are you on of my many fans?” His smile strains, and there, you see it, on the corner of his cheek. His nose flares and his smile takes the appearance of a snarl. Maybe it was the other way around.

“A bit,” you admit, adjusting your hold on the basket. “How are your stitches, Sir?”

His eyes widen—brown eyes, you note. “The good doctor!”

“I think you mean the good nurse.”

“Oh yes, yes,” he hums and inches the basket away from your gaze. “I’ve been taking my medicine, and replacing my dressing every three days, just like you said.”

“Good—that’s great to hear. No more accidents?”

“None!” He laughs. “And if one does happen, I’ll be sure to present you with an injury that is only hours old.”

A giggle slips through your lips. “That’s even better to hear,” you say. You clear your throat, tightening the hold on your basket. “I’d hate to take even more of your time. I’ll let you go on with your day.”

A firm grip on the basket handles keeps your feet planted on the glossy floor of the general store. “Not so fast, my dear. I think you still owe me,” he says. Your teeth bare into what you hope is a polite smile. “You promised to show me your marvelous embroidery the next time we meet! You’re not the type of lady to go back on your word now, are you?

“You sure do know how to put such ladies into a tight spot.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light. “I assure you; I don’t mean to. I tend to get very excited about art

“Well, with you holding my integrity hostage, and the addition of such lovely enthusiasm, I find myself having trouble refusing.” You reach into your purse and pull out a clean handkerchief. “Sadly, I wasn’t expecting the general storm to be an art gallery, so this will have to do.”

And there it is again, that same breathy and light laughter. “They really do have everything in here

Alastor takes your handkerchief with steady enthusiasm, studying each stitch carefully. It’s one of your simpler designs—tiny flower bouquets scattered across the fabric. Your eyes are drawn to the contents of his basket: rope, strong acids, latex gloves, rolls of plastic wrap, and other such interesting items.

“You have such beautiful handiwork.”

“You can keep it if you wish,” you tell him. “I have thousands back home, and I’m always weak to such flattering compliments— a real boost to my ego.”

“Splendid!” Alastor slips the handkerchief into his coat. “I love receiving gifts from fans.”

You smile at him to hide your frown. You are not some fan-girl. “Of course.”

Alastor is following you.

The conversation ended several beats of silence ago, but he trails behind your every step. You skip the aisle where they sell produce, stop to grab some eggs, ask the butcher for 50g of chicken liver, and smile back when he smiles back. You sigh and lead Alastor to the end of the general store, and into an aisle.

You snatch a glass bottle of chemicals off the shelf—they really do have everything here. “Going for a hunt soon?” you ask, and read the label.

His smile brightens as he says, “Why yes! There was this wonderful prey that I spotted the other day, and I’m just dying to have his head hanging on my wall.”

You offer him the bottle. “You have a lovely coat. It would be a shame for it to be ruined by stains,” you say. “This always does the trick when dealing with the redder parts of my job.”

He takes the bottle from you.

“Take this as well,” you say and reach into your basket. “It’s the last bottle of 12% hydrogen peroxide in this store, but you need it more than I do. A ratio of fifty-fifty of this and a bit of hair developer in a bucket of water should brighten up your bones. Just let it soak for a day. Oh…and just in case, those two chemicals are safe to mix. You should avoid doing so, but an accident wouldn’t hurt you.”

Alastor offers his basket, and you drop the bottle along with the other hazardous substances. “You sound certain.”

“That is because I am.”

Fate has granted you a humorous shopping companion, and you decide to stop fighting it. Alastor follows you to the bread aisle.

You point to the top shelf. “Can you…?”

He drops the bread into your basket, and stares at you with what you think is curious tenacity.

“My father works as a butcher,” you say, sighing. “He prides himself on catching the venison he sells. We don’t believe in wasting a precious body, so we use it until there is nothing left to give. He came back from his own hunt and wanted to add another antler to his display

Alastor hums. “Won’t you need these then?”

“There’s still a bit leftover sitting in his workshop. I just came to get an extra bottle.”

Alastor continues to follow. “Do you often aid your father in his work?”

“Not as frequent as when I was a teen, but I still aid him when I have the time to do so,” you say. “It’s how I got to be so normal around a knife —the sharp ones are the best, they cut right through the skin, and with enough force, the bones as well. I keep a little collection of bones at home.”

“Such interesting hobbies you have.”

You pick up two coffee bags and hum. “Thank you.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him and reach out to straighten it. Alastor jerks away and spins to reach into the shelf behind you. “I rather detest owing favors, and you have done me two,” he says, offering you an entirely different brand of coffee beans. “I suggest you try this one. It’s flavors are far richer.”

You offer your basket and Alastor drops it right in.

You eye his basket once more. “Will that be all you’re purchasing?”

He nods, smiling at you.

You smile back.

Well, isn’t this just lovely? Well-dressed gentlemen really are your favorite.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie whips her head, mouth wide as she stares at you and then at Alastor. Angel Dust has an arm on his hips, his brows furrowed and mouth quirked to the side an awkward but rather cute frown. Sir Pentious’ hat squints at you with what you assume is confusion—you can’t really tell. Sir Pentious’s tongue sticks out of his bewildered and crooked frown. “Oh! How nice,” Charlie says after a beat. “So, you two know each other?”

“Partners,” you say

“Friends,” Alastor says

Your smile strains as you say, “To be called a friend by the Radio Demon is quite the honor.” Alastor wipes his monocle with a proud puff.

Angel Dust whistles, leaning on the railing with the first set of arms crossed, and the second propped on his hip. “Didn’t think Freak would be the type to have friends.”

“Neither did I!” You say with a loud laugh. “Well, that’s what I am – a f̵̼̎r̴͔̃i̶̦̍e̶͕͠ṋ̸̀d̶͚̋.” You smoothen your puffed-up feathers. “Apologies.”

More introductions are done. Charlie insists on giving Sir Pentious his first lesson on apology. It goes about as well as you think.

Charlie winces a bit “….Ooooookay,” she says and inhales to plaster a huge smile. “Why don’t we… uh… take a look at the kitchen!”

Angel Dust takes one look at Charlie’s enthusiasm, winces, and says he’s getting a drink.

Charlie’s death grip on Sir Pentious stays firm as you trudge to the kitchen. She stalls at every painting to explain its history, and introduces every crack on the wall, showing it off with an enthusiastic glee. Even the water-stained wallpaper gets its own special moment during the tour. (Where is that ill-mannered girl when you need her?)

You lag a few steps behind. “Alastor…”, you say as a greeting.

Alastor matches your pace, using his microphone as a cane. With the very tip of his fingers, he plucks a stray feather off your hair with a coy smile that reaches from ear to ear. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering how I’ve been fairing these last few years,” he says, spinning that microphone of his and waving his hand like some kind of street performer.

“Has it really been that long?”

“Yes, I know I’ve been absent for some time,” he starts. “It’s nothing serious; I assure you. It’s nothing I cannot handle as well.”

“My goodness, and here I thought you were occupied at work.” Your teeth flash when you smile. “But in any case, it’s quite… kind… of you to soothe what little worry this friend might have for you.” Alastor and his microphone laugh at you, but you hum with satisfaction when his eyes narrow into a glare.

Charlie and Sir Pentious wave their hands, calling you from across the hall, and you hasten your steps.

The kitchen intimidates you. So many large and metallic machines. You’re sure it would be a living hell should you ever need to operate such an unorthodox set of appliances.

Copper-red tables fill the space, and similar colored cabinets stick to the wall. Such peculiar stoves they have in this establishment. There seems to be no space for the gas tank, nor a gas burner, just some flat glass with weird markings. You prefer the appliances stashed at your home.

“This…,” Charlie starts, winding her arms to a point, “…is the kitchen!”

Sir Pentious’ flaps extend, his arms rocking with excitement. “Such lovely metallic inventions.” He slithers to counter with a dip that appears to mimic some kind of skin. There’s some type of yellow liquid. “This bubbly torture deviccceeee is my favorite.”

“Uhhhhhh…I love that you love the kitchen appliance,” she says with an honestly gentle smile. “But that’s actually an oil fryer.” Charlie crosses her arm into a big ‘x’. “But no torturing is done here, no siree.”

“What a peculiar shape for an oil fryer to be,” you say, taking a look. Alastor glances over your shoulder to take a peek as well. “And there’s so much metal around—did you run out of paint, perhaps?”

Charlie frowns, her shoulder dropping low. “I’d love to add different colors to the machine, but Vaggie says it would take up too much money and time.”

Her frown lasts a second before she’s smiling again.

“Oh oh oh! You should take a look around. See if there’s anything you might want to add.” Charlie drags you towards one of the cabinets at the back. “We each have a shelf dedicated to our own snacks, but I always love to leave cookies on the communal snack pantry.”

Charlie prattles on, introducing each section of the cabinet. You watch Alastor warily when he shows his teeth. He wiggles his fingers across the air, reaching towards the shelf where Charlie just mentioned Vaggie storing her personal snacks. You slam the cabinet door before he reaches them.

Soft static fills the kitchen air.

“Go on,” Charlie urges. “Take a look around – I know some species of Sinners have specific dietary needs.” She props a hand on her chin. “Like Angel! He can’t seem to be able to have any milk—I wonder why? But he just keeps drinking it anyway for some reason.”

Does the Princess of Hell not know what Lactose Intolerance is? Maybe because she’s never lived as a human. It’s quite humorous, you suppose. A hell-born trying to guide a human, with little to no insight about humanity. Could this be the reason why she’s so naively optimistic?

Sir Pentious’ smile widens, and so does his flap. “You’re… giving…me permission to poke around?”

“Er…yes?”

You open a random cabinet door, and huh…

On the shelf, towards the back, you have the same set of spices in your own kitchen. One of the bottles here has its label stained and fraying at the edges. Another bottle is nearing empty, and the corner of the cap has been chipped off. There was a time, when your own set of spices was stained with oil, and its label frayed because of the constant picking to the edges.

Yesterday, you threw out a set of unopened bottles of spices, its seal still clinging to the caps and brimming with unused flavor, and replaced it with the same set of sealed spices. It’s a waste of your money to keep throwing out something that you never use, but…but…you find it in your grocery basket every single time.

Alastor closes the cabinet with a gentle click.

Your smile fades, and he holds your gaze.

“You are shedding all over my kitchen floors.” Alastor presents you with a bundle of your feathers bunched up on his palm. His grin mocks you.

You turn away, heading where Charlie and Sir Pentious converse. You do not shed.

Alastor pops out of your shadow, towering over you as he inches closer. “Long day?” he says with a hum, that smile still on his face. “You don’t usually start molting until the mid-summer.”

“Oh yes,” you say with a hum, that frown still on your face. “This day has been quite long. How very generous of you to check up on this friend of yours.”

He holds the feathers he’s collected, examining them with a careful eye. “With this rate, you’ll be able to gift a whole pillow.”

Your frown deepens. “Lovely,” you murmur. “I’ll make sure to do so.”

Alastor twirls his microphone and lands it with a soft thunk. He studies you for a second. “Rosie’s last husband got eaten by a shark,” he says. “Not even a loan shark—just a proper dead shark. She swore vengeance on the creature for taking a bite before she had a chance to.”

“What?” you say, and you can’t help but chuckle. “Is that what happened to him? She would be so vague about it when I ask.”

Alastor draws a line along his face, mimicking a smile with his fingers. “Much better, indeed.”

Charlie insists on showing the view from the top of the Hotel. Her arms cross around your own as she chatters about everyone and everything. It’s refreshing to meet a soul as honest as hers.

The elevator ride is painfully slow. The music strains your ears, and this battered metal death box jerks with every floor.

Sir Pentious and his hat scowl at the ‘absolutely inferior ssssmmelting of this handle, Charlie’ and ‘this piss poor wiring. The endsss are not aligned to the proper sssssafety guidelineeeesss’ or something.

Charlie listens in on every word, nodding to indicate that she hears each and everyone. It makes you smile. Alastor picks at your stray feathers with the tip of his fingers, preening the areas you have difficulty reaching.

Moments too late, the elevator doors open with that heavenly ding.

“The view up here is helltastically a-mazing!” Charlie informs the group. “Alastor, you often hide up here or inside the radio tower. It’s really good, right?”

Alastor switches his hold on the microphone, swinging to catch it. “Quite helltastic indeed!” he says. “ I get to see the whole city underneath my very feet.”

Sir Pentious nods. “I, too, would love to sssseee the city underneath me!”

Alastor swings a door open, gesturing for the group to enter like a gentleman. Charlie whispers an audible ‘awww’ at the sight and saunters right in. Sir Pentious follows along, slithering behind her.

He shuts the door when you take a step forward, separating you from Charlie and Sir Pentious.

There’s still that never ending smile on his lips as Alastor strides to the other end of the hallway, playing with his microphone. You follow behind in silence. Alastor opens a different door, and this time, you step through.

Alastor closes the door, leaving you and him together, alone, on this flimsy balcony. He beams at you, taking a step forward—

You slap him.

Radio static glitches from his microphone. There, on the corner of his cheek, you see the strain in his smile. His eyes harden into a glare, his nostrils flare, and his smile takes on the appearance of a snarl.

The air around you starts to gray with static. Symbols carve themselves into the space.

You slap him again, staring down at him.

“Is that all you came to do?” Alastor says to you with a low snarl, but the symbols dissolve and his antlers shrink.

You turn towards the view, propping a hand on your chin. “Such harsh words for a friend,” you say with a sarcastic smile. “It’s a wonder why you don’t have more with such a dazzling personality. At any rate, it’ll be impossible to find yourself a wife.”

His eyes twitch, and Alastor strikes the ground with his microphone. “Well, consider it an honor,” he says, inching closer, mimicking your smile. “Not many can say such words to me, much less be able to strike my flesh

“Maybe they should—someone certainly has to.”

Alastor still has a smile—he always has a smile. You watch as his eyes morph into radio dials, and the absolute audacity of that man to look at you like that.

Your feathers sharpen and crack at the sight. “D̷̝̈́o̷̞͊n̷̟̂'̷̗̏ť̵͔ ̴̱̀f̷̳̓u̴͍̓c̷̛͕ḳ̵͝ ̴̲̽w̸̞̑í̵̞t̴̼̐ḥ̷͝ ̵̫͌m̸̻̔e̸̡͘!— you never have, so don’t start. Don’t test me—not today, my deerest,” you say, hissing at him.

“What is it that you want, exactly?” he says, glancing down at you. “Unless you are a child, I expect you to use your words.”

“You know I’m not just some friend — you do not allow yourself to make such connections. We’re partners,” you tell him, and you don’t know why you remind him when he should already know. Was it in fear that he forgot? “But you left without as much as a word.”

“Was it that I left? Or was it that I left you?” Alastor says with casualty as if to show you such dismissal, and oh…yes, your husband can be a cruel man, indeed. Time and sweet smiles made you forget.

You rub your hands on your face, taking one deep breath. “I want what I deserve—an explanation,” you say. “That’s all I need as your wife.”

It’s his silence that makes you turn away.

“I see…” Your face falls. “Perhaps, it was a mistake to seek you out. A fool’s errand.”

You study the sinners below. The whole city really can be seen from underneath your very feet. (You ignore the trembling of your fists. You’re a doctor, for fucks sake. Your hands don’t tremble…at least, they never have before.)

Hesitant, but gentle touches pick at your feathers. Alastor preens you with warm hands. “You are not a fool, my love,” he says. “I would not be yours if such were the case.”

You harden your heart for you cannot let this man see the cracks. “This is not what I wish to hear,” you say, voice steady.

Alastor does not answer you.

“Will you just stay silent every time?”

“Yes.”

Finally, you meet his gaze. You hold it as much as he holds yours. “ There is not a thing in this world that you do not do without reason,” you say slowly. “However, I’m not sure if your silence is because you cannot or if it’s because you will not explain yourself to me. Which is it?”

There is nothing on his face that you can read, just a small steady smile that tells you nothing. “I will not.”

“I know you, my deerest, and I know that you’ve never once led me astray.” Your grip on the railing tightens painfully. This day has been long. “Then all I need is your word that you will return to me with that smile of yours when you’ve accomplished what you need to do.”

Alastor smiles at you, twirling his microphone. “We can even shake on it.”

You shake your head. “This is not a deal,” you say. “This is your wife demanding that you do so.”

“Then it shall be done,” Alastor says, inching close enough for his warmth to spread. He turns to you and pokes his cheeks to indicate a smile. "You look much more radiant with one."

You bare your teeth at him, giving a dry smile. “Much better?”

“Indeed.”

You study the sinners below once more, but this time your hands stay steady next to Alastor’s own. Well, Charlie was correct, the view is helltastic. The entertainment district blinds you, but only for a second. And when you sharpen your vision, you can faintly make out acid clouds forming on the outskirts of the city. You should have grabbed an umbrella on your way out.

“I heard you on the radio today,” you say.

He glances at you, his smile widening ever so slightly with smugness. “And you came all this way for me?”

“Well, that is what good friends do for each other.”

Alastor points his nose to the air with a huff.

“I only jest, my deerest,” you say, chuckling at him. “ I came all the way here to see if I’ve been widowed a second time, or just dumped like a common rag.”

“Is that so?”Alastor hums with dissatisfaction. “I’m sure you mentioned something about not noticing such a long disappearance.”

You hold his gaze, inching your hand to cup his cheek. You stop inches above his skin, and your palm hovers enough for Alastor to feel the warmness you hold on your hands. “Don’t pout, my deer,” you tell him, softly, oh so very soft as you caress the air. “Of course, I noticed your absence.”

You clap your hands together with the brightest and most innocent smile you can muster.

“But if I told you that, my deerest,” you start, “I feared that big head of yours would implode if I fed your ego.”

Alastor laughs, and his real voice bleeds in as he does. “That humor of yours has been my most wonderful companion all these years.”

You smile with satisfaction. “My, my, you make such fine compliments.”

His smile relaxes. “I do, indeed!”

“Just as you say that my humor makes a fine companion,” you say as you laugh, bright and heavy, “that smile of yours has been mine.”

A knock breaks the moment.

The door swings open, slow and hesitant. Charlie pokes her head, and her hair droops to the sideways. Behind her, Sir Pentious waves at you. You wave back.

“Oooooooohhhh….yikes,” Charlie says, shrinking deeper into the door. “Am I interrupting? I could just go an—”

“Not at all my dear,” you say. “Come right in. You have such a lovely view, and things like this are better when shared.”

Charlie swings the door wider, sauntering right in, and grabs your hand, squeezing it. “You could live here as well!” she says. Behind her, Sir Pentious nods with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. “We accept everyone.”

You flicker your gaze to Alastor. “I already have a home,” you find yourself saying. “And this place is far too close to the city. So much honking and blasting aren’t good for my ears.”

Charlie pouts, but she doesn’t press you.

The view is better when shared. Charlie points at every detail and explains everything you see. The sky darkens to a red, and too soon, it’s time to leave.

There’s a warm, but firm, hand resting on your back when you walk out the door, down the hall, and into the elevator. Alastor keeps his hands steady, even when you reach the common room.

Vaggie is the first to greet your group—well, it’s more appropriate to say she greets Charlie, and you just happen to be there. There’s a bag by her feet. “I was able to find the costumes you need for the exercise,” she says. “Even the giant lollipop is here.”

Charlie squeals. “Thank you thank you thank you!” Her excited gaze filters to you. “I have this wonderful game in mind, and then we could fo a bit of some of that good ol’ roleplay.” Angel Dust quirks a smile from the couch. “You should totally sta—”

“I’m afraid not,” Alastor says, drumming his fingers on his microphone. “I think it’s time for our visitor to head home. She’s had quite a long day.”

“Oh, of course. No worries!” Charlie says, giving you a bright smile—a real genuine and honest smile. “Feel free to come by anytime. The Hazbin Hotel’s doors will always be open should you change your mind.”

Vaggie scratches her face. “Before you go, I want to apologize for this afternoon,” she says. “It wasn’t right of me to be so hostile—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, my dear. I understand,” you say quickly, ignoring the static behind you. “You were protecting something you cared about. I find great value in those who do.”

Vaggie smiles, and maybe she’s not too bad after all. “Thank you.”

From the couch, Angel Dust props his legs and waves at you. “And you’re welcome to open these doors any day.”

Alastor leads you to the door. You wave back at Niffty and Sir Pentious, whose eyes water as he frowns. Alastor’s hand stays firm as you trudge down the hill, past the rusted gate, into the city, and to the correct bust stop.

“You sure know how to find the most interesting groups of people, my deer,” you say. “Charlie and that hotel of hers are wonderful.”

Alastor adjusts his monocle. “Well, you know me. I see potential, and I follow it wherever it leads.”

“Should I be worried?” you say, chuckling. “The last time you saw potential, it ended with us married.”

“Not at all, my love.”

“You should continue to stay at the hotel,” you find yourself saying. “There’s just something about it—I think you’ll pick up quite a lot from your time there.”

His bowtie is crooked. You point to inform him, and reach out to straighten it. Alastor inches closer. The fabric is smooth underneath your touch. There’s stray lint on the shoulder of his coat, and you brush that away. You grab the lapes and adjust its fit, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingers.

“Much better?” he asks.

“Indeed,” you say, softly.

“I will see you soon,” he says, and you hear the unspoken promise and question hidden beneath his words.

“Good.”

Alastor tilts your chin with the tips of fingers. (And oh…oh. His gloves are off, and his hands are warmer than ever) He presses his lips on your cheek.

That blasted bus arrives too soon. You step inside, but turn to your husband and say, “Next time, when you disappear for several years, I expect to be informed and not just left with a vague note,” you say with a huff. “And when you return, I also expect to be the first to be informed.”

“Of course.”

“See to it that you keep your word.”

The bus door closes, and you take your seat. You smile to yourself and lean back on the crusty bus fabric. Patting your pocket, you take out a single gold band, slipping it on your finger.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

That habit of recklessness in moments of excitement was something your father hoped you’d grow out of. Thinking things through never really was one of your many strengths when such an exhilarating opportunity presents itself.

You scold yourself for not double-checking for gloves. Measure twice, cut one, and all that. But no matter, you’ll push through as always, clawing and digging to unearth the treasure left behind.

Your scalpel fits into your palms. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You sigh, breathy and exhilarated, and begin.

‘First, do no harm’

But this…this does not harm a single living being.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

If you guys know who Olivia and Stolar are, that's what I imagine when I think about the reader's hair. Also, maybe some of you noticed, but I'm very relaxed when it comes to formatting my writing. Its why I use quite a lot of ellipses and em dashes and utilize italics and spaces. But the one thing I was very strict about was not to use the word, "miss". So there are no "You miss..." and "I miss..." But the words are there and spoken beneath actions and thoughts, hidden and unspoken, but known. My inbox is always open because I'd like to know what your favorite unspoken "I miss you" is/are. I have my own favorite ones as well.

#alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #Hazbin x reader #Hazbin Hotel imagines #Hazbin imagines #Hazbin Hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x wife reader

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cherubfae · 2 months

Text

Alastor's Lament || Jack Skellington!Alastor x Sally!AFAB!Reader

What if all this power as an Overlord has grown tiring for Alastor? Sure, he likes it. But can he even hope to yearn for something different? Could helping the hotel be his missing piece? Could you?

tags: gn!afab!reader, half-ragdoll!sinner!reader, Jack Skellington!Alastor, hurt/comfort, loneliness, implied abuse, blood/gore, protective!Alastor, friends to lovers

a/n: Tim Burton still has some of my favorite films and I'm also going to be working on a Victoria/Victor Al x afab!reader, so please look forward to that! ^~^ Sally's Song belongs to Disney!

From his little corner of Hell, Alastor could see the pale white moon embedded in the red sea sky from his radio tower. On a rare night where the moon could be seen so clearly, it left a deep sense of melancholy within his chest; even his dead heart ached.

All of his years as an Overlord seemed to drain him. Bartering souls had been his greatest pleasure, and sure, he was rather powerful but now that he had all this power; what was it worth to keep gaining? He was already one of the most feared. He sought out a new career path, to become Hazbin's hotelier to rehabilitate demons! It gave him a spark of interest that had been lost in him for centuries. Everything came easy to Alastor. Everything except you.

What a simply fascinating creature you were! Able to unstitch your limbs and sew them back together good as new! He considered you one of his dearest friends, a lovely thought always lingering in the back of his mind. Yet time and time again you seemed to slip away into the night before he could say anything, or even thank you for the lovely vintage wine you'd gifted him. Like a whisper in the dark, you had disappeared.

Not even Rosie had seen you. Which was growing more and more worrisome with the more the hours ticked on by. Where could you have gone? Were you alright? It was an uncommonly chilly night in Hell, thanks to an ice demon casting a spell over the lands as of recent. It was certainly no weather to be out and about in if one could help it.

The Radio Demon was aware of the unsavory living conditions you kept living with your adopted father and self-appointed 'creator' (which was wholly untrue), Dr. Twisttike, having invited you to live at the Hazbin Hotel. Even Charlie, Princess of Hell, had cordially invited you but the two were unaware of just how tightly you were bound to an over- controlling demon. One who claimed that he made you, therefore you were his.

Shaking his head, Alastor fretted over his blueprints for a new radio tower design, yet that inescapable feeling of dread continued to gnaw at his bones like a starved dog. He runs his hand over his face, down the red pinstriped suit, stopping to adjust his black buck shaped bowtie. Its glimmering red eyes blinked. This will simply not do. He needed to find you.

Hidden away, locked inside of your 'room' once more by the demon who held your chain so tightly, you weep silently to yourself. "And will he see how much he means to me?"

"Will you stop that dreadful singing?" Dr. Twisttike hissed, grasping your glowing pale blue chain and yanking you harshly. You fall to your knees, scraping your hands against the dirty concrete. Red abrasions collected on your palms, threatening to break the surface of your skin. "Your lover boy, Alastor, won't be coming for you, dear. You think you can keep up with a demon such as him? Look at yourself. You can't even keep your stitches together. Next time I make a ragdoll, I'll make one out of proper cloth and not flesh like you. All you do is cry and bleed." Clicking his tongue, he leaves you crying on the cold ground.

With your knees tucked to your chest, you sigh. That brute of a man--demon, oftentimes left you more undone than anything else did. Constantly pulling apart your stitches and not letting you put yourself back together. He almost let you catch fire a few weeks ago. Sure, none of this could kill you. But that didn't mean that it doesn't hurt when it happens.

Standing to look out your window, you hum to yourself. You could see the peak of Alastor's radio tower from here, the full moon rising behind like a great beacon. An immense sense of longing filled your body, you hoped he was looking at the same moon and feeling the same way as you. With a gasp, you slip through the partially opened gap and allow yourself to fall to the cobblestone. More abrasions and bruises from, your blood coagulating from your missing limbs.

Plucking out a needle from behind your ear, you begin to sew yourself back together, hissing softly around a particular tender area. Standing on rather wobbly feet at first until you break out into a sprint before your Overlord can know you've left. Your other arm was left behind, but you couldn't be bothered with that now. You needed to get away, heading towards the highest hill of town, near Alastor's tower.

Alastor frantically searches around town. There's still no sign of you anywhere. Dread continues to eat away at him, until he finds himself standing outside the gates of your home. The dread boils away into anger. Your sweet scent lingers in the air mixed with the scent of blood and fear. You were hurt. Bleeding. He wills himself to calm down, his claws bending through metal gates as he pushes them open with brute force.

"Ah, Alastor! Welcome, welcome, come in my dear boy!" Dr. Twisttike's serpentine tail swishes behind him, allowing the tall redhead into the cramped and dingey house.

Even for Hell's standards, the old and decrepit house was absolutely deplorable. A sulfuric musty smell hung in the air, damp with black mold and cobwebs clinging to every viable rafter.

Tension wafted through the air, Alastor's scarlet eyes turning into radio dials. In an instant, he's turned into his full demon form, mouth sewn by green stitches. A glowing green chain wraps taught around Dr. Twisttike, sending him to the ground with a harsh thud.

"Where are they?" Alastor's neck cracks at an ungodly angle, the echo of screams surrounding him. When Twisttike fails to speak, Alastor yanks the chain harshly, his heeled shoe slamming down onto the demon's claw, snapping it clean off. Black inky blood oozes from the putrid wound. "I won't ask again, good man. Where are they?"

Dr. Twisttike rasps, "Upstairs! Their bedroom! Please, stop!" Alastor snaps his fingers, the demon's limbs and extremities are bound by glowing green rope.

Alastor thunders up the spiral staircase. "My dearest! Are you here?" His eyes are frantic, wild. His ears stand alert, waiting for any sign of your lovely voice calling out to him. The only answer he receives is a perplexing silence. He rounds the corner to enter your door lies and snarls. "A cell? You keep my darling in a goddamned cell?"

Blowing the door off the hinges, Alastor surveys the small, cramped room. There's a bare bed with a single flimsy blanket and ragged old pillow. Small splatters of bloodstains stain those sheets. A tiny dresser to the right of the bed holding a single analog clock that seems to have stopped working long ago. The walls are bare of any color and character, with peeling paint and black mold scuttled around the corners of the ceiling like soot sprites. Everything he knows that you love and adore does not reflect in your room. There was no personalization, there was no you. It's uncomfortably damp. It was nothing short of a miracle that you weren't sick.

"You pitiful creature, keeping my beloved in such conditions. Why I should--," Alastor's sentence does in the back of his throat, noticing something half-hanging out the window. A dismembered arm, the thread of your stitches caught on a rusty nail. Carefully expecting it, he gently traces the stitch marks. "Hmm, it appears I have no more use for you, Dr. Twisttike."

A sickening squelch echoes throughout the house as Dr. Twisttike's body splatters all across the walls. Alastor's slithering tentacle removes itself from the corpse, shaking off the blood before retreating into his back. There isn't much left of the poor fool other than the remains of his guts and brain matter. Alastor carefully dabs his cheek free of blood, holding your severed arm close to his chest. He exits, form swallowed by darkness and shadow. Behind him, the home ignites into hellish green flames.

It did not take long for Alastor to find you. You nearly took his breath away. Your gaze is so beautiful and forlorn, sitting on a hill with the clearest view of the large full moon. The silver light casts delicate shadows against your skin as you hum a soft song to yourself. What a true, ethereal beauty you are.

"My dearest friend," rumbles Alastor, his tone a delicate purr. You stand in surprise, which quickly melts into a delicate smile. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you by your side. Where we can gaze into the stars," Alastor gently reattached your arm, green magic carefully sewing it back on you.

"And sit together."

"Now and forever."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"For it as plain as anyone could see, we're simply meant to be." With a gentle embrace, Alastor presses his lips to yours, tugging you into his arms and off the chilly ground.

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagines #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #cherubfae 2024

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siphvns · 2 months

Text

IN THE ALCOVE

azriel x reader

summary ; reader owns a shop in velaris that azriel happens to stumble upon. he can’t seem to stay away.

a/n ; gonna be so fr with y’all. the ending is not my favorite, but i’ve rewritten it a million times so please let me know what you think!

word count ; 2.2k

warnings; none!

Azriel isn’t sure what called him to this little shop hidden in an alcove somewhere along the Rainbow. He doesn’t remember much of what happened while walking here, only that he was in an entirely foul mood after an unsuccessful scouting in the Autumn Court. But that doesn’t matter to him now.

No, the moment he set foot in the Palace of Thread and Jewels he felt it. Something telling him to go this way, then turn the corner, keep walking, turn again, until finally he stood in front of the door to your shop. His hazel eyes glance to the intricately carved wooden sign hanging above the door.

Velaris Thread & Stitch.

The Shadowsinger peers in the window first. There are mannequins in the window—one in a suit, the other in a dress—and behind those mannequins he spots different articles of clothing hanging on the walls, displayed on the racks placed in the space between.

He enters without thinking any further, taking in just how many pieces there truly are on display. Then he sees you.

Pretty little you, brows furrowed as you lean over the checkout counter with your face near buried in the pages of a leather-bound book. You’re wearing an outfit similar to what Amren would wear—baggy pants and a cropped shirt, true Night court fashion—with your hair falling in your face, one hand barely keeping the locks from your eyes. You don’t seem to care, though. He’s thankful you haven’t noticed him yet, thankful for his stealthiness because he can spend a while longer admiring you.

He stops himself before his staring would turn creepy to fold his hands behind his back and tentatively clearing his throat. “Excuse me,”

Your yelp makes the corner of his lip twitch, but he’s quick to shove the smirk away when you finally meet his gaze.

“Mother above,” you rasp, the hand that previously held the hair from your face is now clutching at your chest.

“I apologize,” Azriel expresses, though his amusement is barely hidden. “I did not mean to startle you.”

You smile and gods he’s not sure what’s taken over him. He breathes in sharply to suppress the beat of his heart.

He watches you take him in. How it takes you barely any time to recognize who he is, ow your spine straightens moments after. “Shadowsinger—how may I help you?

Azriel considers your words, feeling your eyes track his every movement. From the back of his head to his neck, his wings, the length of his powerful body, he feels your gaze take him in when you think he won’t notice. “I,” he pauses. His hesitation is both from your staring and that he really hadn’t thought about what he would say. New tunic? New pants? New…socks? Fuck. “Show me your finest…tunic.”

If you sense his hesitation, you don’t speak on it. Instead, you nod warmly and shut your notebook. “Any color or fabric preferences?”

“Just your finest.”

Humming, you stroll to the back. It’s Azriel’s turn to watch you, eyes tracking the sway of your hips and the swish of your pants. He takes pride in the way you shiver before disappearing behind the curtain.

You emerge from that same curtain minutes later, a pile of tunics layered on top of your arms. “These are my latest additions,” you explain, laying the garments on the counter. “The embroidery on the neckline and tops of the sleeves of this one is a work in progress…I have yet to decide how I want to finalize the design. But you’re free to try them on if you so wish. Dressing rooms are down the hall.”

Azriel inspects the tunic with your embroidery on it first, tilting his head in thought. The design is similar to that of his own Illyrian whorls, and he’s in awe of how well you managed to capture the essence of it, even if you hadn’t realized what you were designing.

He decides to try them all on if only to spend more time in the shop, so he gathers the up with one hand and sets for the dressing room without a word.

He hears you huff a quiet laugh before the rustling of pages follows its melodic sound.

+++

“Shit.”

Trying to stitch the design you and Azriel had come up with for his latest purchase, a custom suit jacket for Starfall in a month, was a nightmare. You’re sure the sharp needle has pricked your skin at least seven times within the past three minutes, and you’re starting to lose your sanity.

Azriel’s come into your shop frequently as of late, each time an excuse rolling off the tip of his tongue the moment you ask how you can help him.

“My leathers need mending.”

“That sweater you made me—I would like to purchase more.”

“I..need a…scarf?”

The last one had you grinning, tilting your head at him while you asked, “Well, do you?”

He shrugged then, asking to see what you had. You spent the next hour going through the scarves you already made, then you went through yarn in the back of the shop, and finally, after another twenty minutes of just chatting, he left. The scarf was forgotten and Azriel never mentioned it again.

Safe to say, he didn’t need the scarf.

You scrub your eyes to rid the memory of that night from your mind. It would do you no good to involve yourself with the Shadowsinger anymore than you already were. He was near royalty to you: a member of the Inner Circle, a close friend of the High Lord…he was something out of your reach. It didn’t matter how much he frequented your shop, nor did it matter how many times your friends told you he clearly was interested. Just because he came to the shop almost every day that doesn’t mean he likes you, right?

Maybe he just needs clothes.

The fabric of his suit jacket under your fingertips does little to distract you. You let Azriel know when he came in a few days ago that his sweaters would be ready today, and that he could come in to pick them up whenever. He nodded in understanding, saying he would be here before he left without another word.

A ring pulls you from your thoughts. The bell on your door—Azriel.

His work-in-progress order almost falls to the floor with how quick you jump up. You place the jacket on the table hastily, hands smoothing the fabric of your pants and brushing your hair from your face to look somewhat presentable.

Your appearance is forgotten when you exit the back room and see those wings, that face.

“You’re early today,” You remark, smiling softly at him as you slide up to the register.

Azriel shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I wasn’t lying when I said I liked those sweaters.”

“Are you sure you aren’t in need of a new wardrobe?” You tease the Illyrian whilst gathering his latest order from under the counter.

Azriel cracks a smile. It’s one that you’ve been blessed with seeing as of late: gentle, relaxed, joyful. His hands drag along a rack of dresses mindlessly as he makes his way to you. “Nothing I own is as beautiful as what you have made for me.”

Your hands falter. “Well then,” you dip your head to try and hide the heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m honored, Shadowsinger.”

He makes it to your counter, leaning against it with his head tipped sideways as he studies you in a way that makes your heart race. “Azriel.” He speaks after a long stretch of silence. “Call me Azriel.”

Again, you dip your head. Is it possible for your cheeks to get any hotter? “Of course.” You mumble, fingers fumbling for a bag to put his sweaters in.

The colors are…very Azriel. One dark blue, one ash grey, and one inky black. His original sweater was dark blue as well, but a shade darker than the one he recently ordered. Shocking.

It’s silent while you package the sweaters, but Azriel’s eyes on you is loud enough. You know if you squirm, he’ll clock the movement and you would rather not have him knowing just how much of an affect he has on you.

After what feels like an eternity, you slide the bag of sweaters over to him.

“Here,” Azriel grunts, pushing you a pouch containing an excessive number of marks. He holds up a hand as you begin to protest. “It’s a thank you on top of my payment.”

You frown, brows knitting together. “That’s—

“Please,” He whispers, eyes pleading with you. “I’ve made some absurd requests since I’ve been coming here, and you’ve fulfilled all of them. It’s a thank you for my…bullshit.”

Your lips slowly stretch into a smile before you’re taking the pouch of marks from him with a hum. “Your bullshit is appreciated.”

“Is that so?” Forearms now resting on the counter, he gives you a lazy smile. You curse him internally for it.

Coughing, you turn from the counter to busy yourself with cleaning. “Yes,” you hum. “You’re a nice change of pace compared to my typical customers.”

You see him nod but he doesn’t say anything, another round of silence stretching on between the two of you. This is something you’ve grown to like. Azriel looks around at your work, you fuss about brushing the dust from racks and the wiping away the smudges on your store front window, and the both of you enjoy each other’s company.

“I’ll be gone for a few weeks.” He says quietly, as if he was hesitant to break the comfortable silence. There’s no explanation to follow it because you already know what he means.

“I see,” you mumble, shuffling back to the front counter. The room seems gloomy now, knowing that you won’t see him every other day disappointing you more than you would ever like to admit. You try to smile at him, but it’s forced and there’s no doubt he notices. “How very boring my job will be without you asking for special projects.”

Azriel gives a hint of a smile, leaning against the counter as he does whenever he’s giving you his full attention. “I have one thing to request of you before I leave.” He cocks his head, inky black hair falling from its haphazard style. Your fingers itch to reach out and brush it back. “If you’re willing, that is.”

“You know I am.” You shrug, trying to give that impression of carelessness that you’ve seen him pull off from time to time.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“What?” you choke, blinking rapidly. All your disappointment is forgotten for the time being and replaced by a racing heart. “What about your…duties?”

A shake of his head. “Rhysand can come find me if he really needs me.” He gives you that pleading look again, twin to the look he gave you earlier. “A new place on the Sidra just opened. I’ve heard it’s lovely.”

“Oh,” you breathe, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. It feels strange to hear that Azriel, the Night Court’s feared Shadowsinger and spymaster is asking you on… “A date?”

“If you want it to be.”

Folded in your lap are your hands, fingers messing with the fabric of your pants. Azriel leans closer, and it’s harder for you to focus the closer he gets. A date. If your friends were here, they would be screaming at you to say yes. After they all laughed and said, “I told you so!”

Maybe you would wait a bit to tell them. You’re not sure your want to give them the satisfaction yet.

You clear your throat, meeting his gaze. “I…that would be nice.”

Azriel smiles brighter than you’ve ever seen, straightening to his full height. “Alright. I’ll pick you up tomorrow after sundown?”

“Sure,” you grin. “Don’t be late.”

“I would never,” he says softly, giving you one last smile before he turns to the door.

He barely makes it our of view before you’re running to the back so no one could see you squeal and dance in a circle.

+++

Azriel shoots to the skies after rounding the corner, thanking the Mother that you said yes.

He’d told no one, but Nesta was able to spot his odd behavior with ease. She pestered him weeks ago about it, saying he was acting like a “lovesick fool”. He spent the night talking about you, about how many random clothing items he’s gotten rid of just to replace with your pieces. She’d laughed so hard that he nearly threw himself out the window.

“So, you aren’t just acting like a lovesick fool, you are a lovesick fool.”

He’d rolled his eyes and wrapped up their conversation quickly, claiming he had a headache. Her knowing scoff followed him all the way back to his room. It was the same scoff she gave whenever he came back from his visits without asking you to dinner.

Nesta would be pleased to hear that he did, in fact, ask you to dinner this time. And you said yes.

Azriel lands on the balcony of the House of Wind, making his way into Nesta’s home with a grin. She’s sitting in a cushy chair next to the window, a book in her hand that she snaps shut as soon as she spots the look on Azriel’s face.

“Well?” she asks, humor lacing the single word.

Azriel flops into the chair across from her and he launches into the story.

Who knew that little alcove would lead him to his mate?

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #azriel acotar x reader #azriel acotar x you #azriel acotar x y/n #azriel fanfic

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 20 days

Text

In Stitches 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

We've all agreed that The Quiet Ones, Follow You Anywhere, Hidden Treasures and this fic (maybe more) have built the deluluverse.

Summary: You find your work hindered by your client's son.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had to do it.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You’re not late, but you’re too dang close! You pride yourself on being at least fifteen minutes early wherever you go. Being self-employed, you make a point of always being on time. And you are but that long hand is a bit too close to the tick mark.

It doesn’t help that Mrs. Odinson is one of your best and favourite customers. You hate to let her down. You shake off that rattly feeling as you pull up to the gate and glance at the time again. Still a couple minutes to spare.

You buzz in with the button and wave at the camera. You’re never quite sure who’s at the other end but they always just let you through. You suspect it’s standard business and all the help know every face that comes and goes.

You roll through and steer around towards the vehicles along the east side of the curved driveway. You’ve never seen the sleek silver car you pull in next to but you know Mrs. Odinson’s pear-coloured porshe and Mr. Odinson’s slate grey beemer. They must have company. You can’t remember if she said there was a special occasion.

You slide into the space and grab your bag from in front of the passenger’s seat. You push open the door and gasp as the seat belt keeps you from climbing out. How forgetful! You unbuckle and untangle yourself, stepping out in your heeled oxfords and cigarette pants.

Your reflection looks back at you from the sleek polish of the unfamiliar silver car. You smile and shut your door, locking it with a chirp from your key fob. You tuck the key ring into your blazer pocket and bounce up towards the front door. You climb the stone stairs, broad and trimmed with curled railings. You stop at the top and clang the large knocker, a raven’s head with a ring in its beak.

A man in a dark suit answers the door. You’ve seen him before with his steely hair and sleepy eyes. He’s often the one who opens the door but he says nothing and shows you to Mrs. Odinson’s salon, as she calls it.

As the man leaves you just outside, you peek in through the open doorway. You see your client before the standing mirror in the corner, swirling as she checks her reflection. You cough and give a gentle knock on the door frame.

“Ah,” she spins to you with her pretty smile, “just in time, darling.” She struts over breezily, “the hem has come undone on this.” She smooths her elegant hands over her bodice, “so much for designer, eh.”

“Oh, my,” you give her a look up and down, “shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Thank you, darling,” she trills and strolls back to the mirror. You follow her and pull up the stool you often use for such a fix. You have a routine between you, you know what she expects and you do it.

You sit and open your bag. You pull out your needle and stir through your spindles to find a matching thread. As you thread the eye, she continues to preen in the mirror.

“Something special going on?” You ask in your usual small talk.

“Didn’t I mention? My son’s come home at last.”

“Your son?” You look up as her curiously.

“Oh, not Thor,” she laughs, “no, no, he’s always about, isn’t he?” She tugs on a blonde wave, trying to make is stay in place, “my other son. Loki. Finally decided to move back home. Not here, certainly, but close by. Near to his mother.”

“Mm, that’s exciting,” you comment as you grab the hem and work around her movement.

“Isn’t it? We’re having a little luncheon. At the tea room, I feel a public place will deter an outbursts,” she pouts at herself, “you know how family can be.”

“Erm, sure,” you agree dulcetly as you tie off the thread, “all done.”

She swirls, her skirt nearly hitting your face. You lean back on the stool and wiggle your nose. She admires herself. She is beautiful. Her age takes nothing away from her natural grace. You could only dream of having a similar bearing; you’re a bit too short, a bit too clumsy.

“Mother,” a voice drawls from the hallway. You glance over as you wrap up the thread around the spindle, “we’re due to be off.”

You don’t know that timbre. It isn’t Thor’s rumbling baritone, rather something smoother, something refined. You tuck away the thread as a slender but tall man appears in the doorway. He tugs at the cuff of his jacket as he furrows his nose.

“Ready, just needed a touch up,” she faces him, “darling, I’ve a rack for you to take. Wouldn’t want you to make the trip just for a loose hem.”

She points to several garment bags hung from a rack against the wall. You stand as her son’s green eyes find his mother then drift over to you. His sharp features turn imperious.

“Must you trouble so,” she swats at him as a loose thread dangles from his cuff.

“Wasn’t me, mother, I only just purchased the piece,” he counters, “quality, these days.”

“Darling, come, you’ve some scissors,” she beckons you forth with a flutter of fingers.

You reach into your bag and take the silver scissors from their sheath. You approach them with a smile as the man stares at you, eyes narrowing. He’s much unlike his brother. Much calmer.

“May I?” You ask and Mrs. Odinson forces his arm towards you.

He hums but offers no protest. Your fingertips brush his shirt sleeve as you roll back his jacket cuff and snip the offended thread. You feel the seam with your thumb.

“Should do for the day,” you advise, “but it’ll come loose eventually. I could do a quick sew-off...”

“We’re already late,” he declares and rescinds his arm. “Mother.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” she pats his chest gently, “go on then, get yourself off. Your father and I will catch up. Oh, are you taking Thor with you?”

“I believe he is capable of tending to himself--”

“Yes, but... he does enjoy indulgence,” Mrs. Odinson girds.

“He is an adult and it isn’t yet noon,” Loki reprimands, “I shall drive on my own, then.”

“You always do as you wish, don’t you, Loki?” She rebukes playfully.

He grumbles again and his eyes flit toward you one last time, “you might have the tailor see my brother. Perhaps she could sew his lips shut so we might have a peaceful lunch.”

Your cheeks bulb a bit larger at his joke. You can't entirely disagree.

“Eh, don’t begin,” Mrs. Odinson giggles as she snaps shut a compact and shoves it in a clutch, “you’ve only just returned.”

“Mm, yet it feels I never left at all,” he frowns, still watching you.

You chalk it up to curiousity, perhaps he feels it improper to ask, you do feel it a bit much to introduce yourself without prompting. The Odinson household always holds an air of formality you can never quite riddle out. You keep a smile on your face as his cheeks dimple and he tilts his head.

“Right then,” he straightens his posture and tugs his jacket straight, “suppose I should go and hold our reservation before they think to give it away.”

He inhales and pivots away, striding off with long, stiff steps. You watch after him before you turn back to the room. You go to slip your scissors back into their sheath and drop them into your bag before lifting it. Mrs. Odinson holds a cape and a jacket before her.

“Which do you think it better?” She asks as you cross to the rack to gather the waiting hangers.

“I think the cape would be better, it is rather warm. It shouldn’t rain I think,” you proffer, “is this the hounds tooth?” You peek through the opening of one of the garment bags.

“Yes, dear, it is so lovely and yet that dang clasp is giving me such trouble,” she sounds ready to swoon at the tragedy, “might you replace it? Perhaps a button might do instead?”

“I’ll have a look,” you fold the bags over your arm and hike up your bag, “I’ll be off then. Hope you have a good lunch.”

“Thank you. Don’t you work too hard, dearie,” she trills after you, “much too nice a day to be pent up.”

You sweep off with your armful. The dresses are heavier than one might expect. You find it surprising how fabric can add up. You go downstairs and once more find that stoic man in his dark suit. He opens the door for you and you thank him brightly.

You amble down the steps, looking around your load to keep from stepping on the treacherously low edges of the bags. You would hate to trod on one of Mrs. Odinson’s dresses. You’re so distracted with your efforts to keep from mussing up the hems that a honk has you jumping in your boots.

You yipe as you turn to face the silver car, its bumper stopping just short of you as the headlights flash. Your lips make an O and you quickly scurry out of the way. You dip your head down guiltily. You should’ve been paying attention.

The car door opens on the other side as you approach your own. You peer over with a sheepish look, “I’m sorry--”

“You should be careful. I could’ve hit you,” Loki says, more accusatory than concerned.

You smile, “I know, I’m sorry. I was distracted--”

“Certainly, you were,” he affirms, as if telling you exactly how the world works, “and what would I do should you be caught under my tires? Can you patch yourself up so easily as a stray cuff?”

“No, sir, I’m sorry. Again, I wasn’t meaning to get in the way--”

“You don’t look very sorry. Not so many people smile in the face of mortal injury.”

Your cheeks wobble but you keep your smile. You can’t help it. When you’re happy or nervous or even confused, you just tend to smile through it. A smile makes everything a little better.

“I’m not smiling at that--”

“Then what are you smiling at?” He hisses harshly.

You bat your lashes and look side to side, “you.”

“Me?” His forehead wrinkles. “Are you being smart?”

You shake your head and your lips twitch, “smart? No, sir, I’m only... I suppose I just smile at everyone.”

“So you would,” he mutters and angles back to his car, “be sure to stand back then. Wouldn’t want to run over your toes.”

He drops into the car seat and slams the door. You stand back and watch him buckle in. He takes his time, adjusting his mirror, then his long fingers tap his shifter before he cranks it into reverse. He swerves around and hug the pile of clothes.

You don’t blame him for being agitated, you’ve had a few close calls yourself. Accidents are never fun. His adrenaline was just going and at least he cared enough to be upset. It’s a good reminder to be more aware.

🪡

The fabric store isn’t very busy. The higher-end boutiques never are. You don’t often come to them yourself but you desperately need a yard to match Mrs. Odinson’s crushed velvet jackets. You need to replace a full panel and you can’t compromise; she’ll notice. She has a good eye. She never seems to miss.

Time is hardly on your time. You agreed to drop off the lot the next day. She has a gala and needs that one dress in particular. You know she’ll expect the rest.

You walk around with a swatch in hand, comparing the hue and feel. You don’t want the new material to contrast. You can’t forget the thread; you don’t have quiet that shade of magenta.

You stand amid the velvets, flipping over the large rolls, tugging the end, rubbing the fabric between your fingers. Your advance is patient even as your inner expediency nips away at you. As you come to the end of an aisle, you stop short as you look up. There’s a shadow there, waiting.

You stand still, waiting for them to come down that aisle. You’d hate to get in their way. But they don’t and in an instant, the shadow flickers away. You hear them retreat down the next row and you curl around, seeing no more than a leather heel before the figure disappears.

How odd.

The mysterious entity doesn’t distract you for long. The pinks are close, each of them seems just a shade off of what you’re looking for. You sigh and breathe out between your lip, rolling your tongue around the tip of a needle that isn’t there. A habit.

You lug out each roll and carry them down to the front counter. You lift each up as a woman greets you from the other side. You smile and clear your throat.

“You don’t happen to have any in the back,” you wonder, “I’m looking for something in between.”

You show her the square of crushed velvet and she sucks her teeth, “not quite, I think. I think we’ve something close in our catalogue but it wouldn’t be at this location. The north end may have it but I can’t confirm.

You sniff and nod, still smiling. It isn’t her fault she doesn’t have it. You remember the days you worked in a fabric shop, though it wasn’t as nice as this one. You thank her and take the rolls off the counter.

“I’ll just put these back then. I need thread anyhow,” you announce.

“Wonderful, you just let me know if you need anything, hon,” she beams at you.

You nod and turn back. You take the rolls back and set them away how you found them. When you spin, you feel something shift, as if there’s a breeze in this stagnant shop. You peer around. It’s strange, it’s as if you’re being followed but you haven’t seen a single other customer in the shop.

You tilt your head and cluck your tongue as you carry on to the racks of thread near the counter. You dive into the search for the perfect thickness and colour. It’s a much more fruitful hunt. As you pluck out the very strands you need, you hear the door. Your head pops up and you glance behind you curiously. You don’t see much of the other person as they leave the store, you never even saw them pass.

You shrug and take the spool to the counter, “thanks again,” you say to the associate, “better get out of here before temptation gets the best of me.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #in stitches #mcu #marvel #avengers

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neoplatinum · 1 month

Text

hold me tight - bts | kim dahyun

summary: maybe cupid could save us

pairing: dahyun x fem!reader

themes: angst, fluff, tension, use of flashbacks in italics, marriage counseling, reader insecurity, past physical violence (against original male character, not any member of twice), implied sex, some of twice!

wc: 7.2k

polished silverware, two table napkins, two sets of forks, and knives. a draped tablecloth, and the long wooden table stretching down the dining room. on two ends are two lost souls, once connected with bountiful joy and prosperity. now sat farther apart than the two ends of a colossal ship. barely stitched together by unspoken words and exhaustion.

"what time?" you dig into your steak, back and forth sliding it down the tender meat.

"2pm tomorrow. should i call your assistant?" dahyun digs at her roasted potatoes, a little sweet, just the way she likes it.

"no need, i'll be there." you counter, stabbing the slice of steak, digging into it. pushing the green peas a bit to the left, and sipping the wine. a delicacy truly.

"good." she says quietly, "pass me the pepper?" you look up, the bottle is in the middle.

the dmz line, you lean foward, grabbing a hold of the glass bottle, placing it into her hand.

"here."

"thank you."

the rest of the dinner is followed by the sounds of silverware, and only silverware.

dr. yoo jeongyeon, phd, lcpc

you stare at the plaque, gold serif lettering, bold face on top of a black rectangle, sitting directly in the middle of the edge of her desk. your loafers gently tapping the carpeted floor, in time with each tick of a second.

she looks confident, shoulders back and sinking into her leather chair. glasses perched on her nose, a montblanc in hand. eyes a little empty, but inviting, a little too inviting.

"thank you both for joining us today, first time?" dr. yoo starts, eyes taking a slow drift from dahyun to you.

dahyun's legs are tucked together, low heels and a brown suit. she leans forward at dr. yoo's question. "yes, first time."

a simple nod, and a scribble along her notepad. you tilt your head to the right.

"each session with me runs fifty minutes, no longer. if needed, it can be cut short." she says, placing some files away, shuffling paper away, and fixing her glasses. you both nod at the terms. "lovely, could i have you both introduce yourselves?" she continues, eyes back on you and dahyun.

you stare at dahyun.

"i'm dahyun, 26, a fashion designer and a wine enthusiast, lovely to meet you." dahyun stands up, offering a handshake. dr. yoo smiles lightly and shakes it.

"and you?"

"i'm dahyun's wife, 26, ceo and founder of future consultants llc, and a tennis enthusiast."

dr. yoo's eyes stare at you, but her pens moves quickly along the page.

dahyun stares at you, before looking back at her folded hands.

"thank you both, now could you both explain why you are here?" her eyes come back up, those glasses hanging so low is making you mad.

dahyun coughs into her hand.

"we need help." a little unsure, but a desperate plea. your foot stops tapping on the carpeted floor.

dr. yoo scribbles along a new line.

"and you?" the doctor stares at you. you sit up, fixing the buttons on your blazer.

"we're...not the same as we used to be." you say, pulling one leg over the other. dr. yoo nods at that, another line filled.

"alright, now, let me give you some insight on me. i'm dr. yoo jeongyeon, did my phd in human psychology, masters in counseling and bachelor's in neurology. and i'm a lcpc: licensed clinical professional counselor. you can say i'm a people enthusiast." she smiles lightly, dahyun laughs under her breath.

your foot goes back to tapping.

"let's get into it." she sets down the notepad. "could you tell me how you both met?"

"what's the maturity date for a treasury bond?"

"20 - 30 years, you seriously have to try harder, sam." you laugh, taking another sip of your beer. sam just grins and flips over a new flashcard.

"okay smarty pants, what are floating-rate notes?" sam taps the index card on the bar table. eyes a little playful, he always did like making you work for your reward.

"they're-"

"stop it ryan." behind you is the voice of a woman, her back hitting yours, nearly spilling your beer. you turn around, a man towering over her, hand on her wrist and his firm grip, stopping her. no matter how hard she tries to pull.

you signal sam.

"take your hand off her." you press down on his wrist, holding his arm in place. the woman stares at you and sam, bewildered eyes and still pulling against ryan's hold.

"fuck off." he spits in your face.

"yeah? let's see how your face looks after this pretty boy." you slam into his chest, him tumbling backwards, foot hitting the barstool and a loud thud hitting the floor. you spot the submariner on his wrist shining under the bar light, fuck.

sam's at the ready, hand on a switchblade, you signal him back, not him.

the woman gasps, hand immediately shooting her sore wrists, shit it looks bad. ryan's still on the group, and then he shoots up. hands at the ready to land a punch, weak form though. you sidestep him, letting him fall forward.

"daddy can't pay to fix your crooked nose?" you smirk at him, taunting him to do anything. his eyes ablaze as he tries again. what a foolish boy.

you let him try and land a left hook, before you start punching his jaw, one good liver punch and he topples over. damn, your jaw hurts too, men like him throw too much of their power into their punches.

"fuck, sam." you groan to your friend, hand trying to pop your jaw back into place. you do, letting out a low shout, before getting your stuff.

stay too long and then he'll call the cops, the last thing you need is another fine print on your academic file. you stumble forward, feeling blood dripping down the side of your head, cheeky bastard, he had rings on.

you barely manage to push the bar door, string of curses falling out of your lip, the cold air immediately frosting your breath. damn it all, and you left your beer half finished.

"excuse me!" the woman's voice carries from the door, and you can see her, urgently trying to get to you. "thank you so much back there."

she's trying to offer you some napkins from her clutch, all you can do it hope that liver punch suckered him to stay on the ground long enough for you to dissapear.

"you have anyone safe?"

"safe?"

you gesture a bit. "like a friend maybe? did you come alone?"

you lean to the side trying to get a glimpse of pretty boy, but he's no where in sight. a good thing. you can see sam though, shoving bills at the bartender, and grabbing jackets.

"no friends, i came with him." her hand goes back to her bruised wrist, yeah that looks awful. you're very glad you stepped in.

"listen, i need to leave now. i would love to do the whole 'thank you, you're welcome' pleasantries, but I don't know how long he'll stay down before he calls the cops."

you explain, seeing sam opening the bar door, urgent eyes calling for you to disappear into the night.

"could you take me home, i really have no other way to get back." you stare into the bar, oh pretty boy's up, shouting at a bartender. you need to exit NOW.

"okay, let's go. i know you're wearing heels, but keep up." you offer a hand, and disappear into the back alleyway. by the time you just turn around the corner at the end, you can hear the distant voice outside the bar.

you're finally in sam's beater car, an old hand-me-down from his grandma, with the girl from the bar in the backseat.

she keeps watching you from the mirror.

"where do you live?" you pull out of the back lot, she's still soothing her bruised wrist.

"eleanor court, upper east side." damn shit, of course she's rich too, loaded with daddy's money just like that dude you suckered punched. how you always manage being at the hands of rich people, you hope to find out soon, because this sucks.

the drive's pretty silent, sam's got his old 80s mixtapes playing from the car radio. and he's humming along as he taps on his passenger door, you're glad that at least one of you has a car.

"woah..." sam brings you out of your thinking. woah is correct, even sam can see it.

colonial style homes the size of manors down the perfectly paved roads. long outdoor lamp lights lining the street. lush bushes and trees lining the sides of the house. not a single police car in sight, you can even see fountains spouting water from a statue.

what a bunch of crap.

"dude, she's asleep." sam taps your shoulder, you quickly put his car in park. looking at her from the rear view, damn she is asleep, jacket covering her torso but her head leaning against the window.

damn, damn, damn.

one wrong HOA member being curious, and you can easily be thrown in jail for the rest of your life. you open your door, rushing to the backseat. opening the door, and placing your hand against her head to keep her body from falling out of the car.

"miss, we're home." she just curls into your hand. "sam, help me hold her up." he nods, using his bodyweight as a rest for the girl's body. you begin searching through her clutch, hopefully she has an id inside.

"kim dahyun.....501 eleanor court." you shove the id back into her clutch. "sam move." you grab a hold of her body, picking her body up. wrapping the jacket and clutch over top of her.

"stay in the car. i'll bring her in." you began walking down the eerily quiet neighborhood, goodness rich people are so pretentious. you struggle to open the gate. then you hear a low mechanic voice.

"hello, who are you?"

"hi, i'm just here to drop off a kim dahyun. she had an issue with some guy at the bar, and she needed someone to take her home." you speak into it, a clicking noise and then the metal box goes silent.

the large metal gates open, you step in, walking up to the front porch, pillars lining the wide entrance.

goodness, you need to get out of this neighborhood. the large wooden door opens and you see two people, a suited man and a maid. of course.

"miss dahyun?" the maid begans fussing over her, hand on her cheek, "oh my!" a loud gasp at the bruised wrist. you drop her into the leather couch.

"what happened?" the butler asks you, offering a towel at your dried blood.

you try your best to keep yourself from dirtying the house, both of them keep staring at you though.

"uh, some guy at the bar, ryan. he kept bruising her wrist, so i had to step in." you point at your head. the butler nods, and the maid begins inspecting the bruise.

"i told miss dahyun to stop seeing him." the butler explains, placing the jacket to cover her.

you nod, so this wasn't even the first time. the maid returns with soothing cream, applying the ointment over her bruised wrists. you stand idly by the couch, a little confused with what to do here.

you stare at dahyun's face, she's rather pretty is what you land on, before the man's voice brings you out of your focus.

"let me offer you a new shirt." you look down, and it does look like you just got into the ring with rocky, blood-dried splotches all over. the butler disappears before you can even say no.

with a folded new shirt, linen and italian, goodness these people have too much money, you shuffle into a bathroom.

changing into it quickly, eyeing all the towels and expensive soaps on the counter. you fix yourself up and exit, seeing the butler and maid still crowding around the girl.

"i, i really should leave. i'm sorry." the butler and maid are still trying to get you to stay, to offer some reward, but really all you want to do is leave this hellscape. unfamiliar faces, with unfamiliar mannerisms, its all too much.

"she saved me from a sleazy guy at a bar." dr. yoo jots it down.

"and you?"

"i, i guess i did?"

"you guess?"

"i, yes, i saved her from the sleazy guy." dr. yoo nods.

the ticking sound comes back clearer in your ear. the repetitive ticking feels like tumbling down a hill, imminent and quick swift death.

"let's move on then, how did you two start dating?"

"dahyun was insistent on paying me back for the bar, kept telling me she needed to." you offer.

dr. yoo nods, another scribble along the notepad. then she pulled the file from her desk, and two separate questionnaires werefilled out.

"and it says here, you both attended the same university." ever since dahyun found out you two attended the same university, she began urging you for dinner.

you tried very hard to say no, but in the quad, down the main academic path. she just kept finding you, like a needle in a haystick, she always managed to pick you out from the hundreds of students.

if she wasn't so nice about it, you might have considered it creepy.

"yes, brown." you nod.

"lovely school, my friend's alma mater." dr. yoo comments and lifts her head once more from the notepad.

"how's your sex life?"

you see dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. while you start tapping your foot again.

"we haven't done it," dahyun begins, "in a long while."

dr. yoo nods, and turns to you. "how does that make you feel?"

"i'm not sure."

dr. yoo nods again, dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. the clock's still ticking on the wall.

you are sure it's non-judgmental, it just makes you aggravated, like you're being lectured on how to love.

dahyun can't remember the last time you two have cherished each other. dinner's filled with delicious food, to cover the absence of enticing conversation.

being married to the point of small talk, has drained you both more than you wanted to admit.

"this is still the first session, so let's start with simple exercises. try and vocalize your appreciation for each other. this can be as simple as: i appreciate you doing the dishes today. remember, speaking the unspoken words can change your relationship for the better." dr. yoo stands up, offering you both a handshake and walking you both out her office.

"i have to get back to work." you comment, letting dahyun walk in front of you. she nods at that, you both are busy people, even though it's important to try and fix your breaking relationship, you both have jobs to do.

"i'll see you for dinner?" she says as you open her car door, holding a hand over her head as she sits.

"yes, dinner." she nods at you, wanting you to say more. you want to as well, a little unsure.

"thank you, for being here today." she starts, staring up into you, you smile lightly back at her, dahyun's still got that warm eye smile that makes your heart burst.

"you as well dahyun." you lean your head down a bit, "charlie, get her to her office safely." he nods from the rear view. and with that you close her door. watching the car roll away from the sidewalk.

it's weird to have to see a professional for marriage counseling, but in your heart, you do want to fix things with dahyun.

sweet dahyun who is always so concerned with everyone's wellbeing; often neglecting her own. the rest of the afternoon, you try and focus on work, feeling downright awful about how your relationship has disintegrated.

"dahyun? i'm home." you enter the brownstone, a little more excited to be home. she's in the kitchen, an adorable brown bear apron over top.

"hey, i'm making pasta tonight." she's smiling.

"need help?"

"no, i should be good. could you set the table?" you leave the kitchen, entering the wine pantry, grabbing one that you know she loves. as well as two glasses, a gift from her parents.

dahyun's walking out with bowls of pasta, surprised to see the bottle in hand.

you begin pouring them into the two glasses, passing one to her, she thanks you quietly, placing down the bowls, and returning to the kitchen. you follow after her, grabbing knives and forks and napkins.

she's busy with another dish, and you hum to yourself, cleaning the silverware while waiting for her.

"damn it. fuck fuck fuck." dahyun's hand jerks back against the pot, her hand instantly going to hold it. you drop the silverware in the sink, quick strides towards her. she burned herself with the pot.

"dahyun, let me see." there are tears in her eyes, and she's shaking her head, she's always been so dismissive of her own pain. you take her hand gently, looking at it. it's definitely bad, red skin over top, hot to the touch. "let's run it under cold water, okay?"

she nods, even though there's tears in her eyes, and all she wants to do is just shrink into herself.

you run the water cold, feeling for it before letting it run over her burned finger. the tears in her eyes are still there, threatening to spill out.

then dahyun cries out. "i'm so stupid, i can't even cook a simple dinner." her tears are falling, much like the water over the hurt finger. like letting the pain rain out from her heart.

"oh dahyun, no you aren't stupid, you never were." you hug her tightly, letting her head fall to your shoulders, quietly crying against your shirt. she cries even harder at that, an anguish cry out for help,

you feel your own tears spring up. how you hate seeing dahyun cry.

"how is it?" you ask, pulling her away, looking at the finger under the water. it's less red, still there but it looks better.

"hurts." she pouts.

"let me go grab some ointment, stay here okay?" you leave, turning down the hallway to the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for ointment cream to sooth the pain.

you return quickly, gently dabbing the cream over her finger with a q-tip. letting out a low hiss, and you apologize quickly, letting her relax a bit before continuing to spread it around.

"okay?" you step back, throwing away the q-tip.

"it's good, thank you." then she slips away to finish dinner. you stand by letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, with every bit of your heart, you hope that dahyun wants to work this out as much as you do.

"hello, come on in." dr. yoo's now a familiar face, always a warm if not stoic face. never showing signs of disinterest or much of an opinion, you begin to wonder what it takes to be a professional therapist.

"thank you." you let dahyun ahead of you, her sitting in the left armchair, while you sit on the right. fixing your blazer as you sit with one leg over the other. eyes watching dr. yoo in anticipation.

"how are you both doing?" she starts, that same montblanc in hand, a new shirt, dark blue and glasses hanging on her nose.

dahyun looks to you.

"we're doing okay." you offer, a little smile on your face.

"and you?" dr. yoo turns her head towards dahyun.

"we're doing better." dahyun fiddles with the band-aid over her finger. your eyes linger on it, a reminder of the small act of affection.

"lovely, last time you both mentioned that sexual intimacy had not happened in some time. has that changed since our last session?"

dahyun coughs into her hand, sinking into her armchair. you look away from her.

"no, it hasn't changed." dahyun speaks softly, like she's confessing a sin. you fold your hands over each other.

dr. yoo nods, another line written.

"how is work-life balance for you two?" dr. yoo stares into you, you sit up again.

"it's fine, the normal 9-6pm work day." dr. yoo jots that down. the clock continues to tick in your ears.

"what about you?" dahyun stares at the floor.

"it's okay, usually after work i'll unwind with some wine or television series." dahyun's always been so absorbed with her dramas, often asking you to join her to watch them. you often decline with the pre-tense of overflowing work from the day.

"ah yes, you mentioned you are a wine enthusiast." dahyun nods, wine has always been something she indulged in, you don't share the same love for the drink. finding it all a bit too much for yourself.

"could you tell me how that started?" your eyes go wide a bit, you never bothered to ask dahyun that, just assuming she's always enjoyed it.

"my late father used to own a winery, when i was able to start drinking he started training me as a sommelier." you knew of mr. kim's obsession with wine.

multiple wine cellars across his basement, walls lined with rows of wooden aisles, each row lined with bottles filling the basement. often times you snuck into the basement with dahyun sharing kisses and giggles away from the prying eyes of her parents.

"sorry to hear that mrs. kim, that's lovely to hear that you still has a passion for wine." dr. yoo continues, letting the words fly across the notepad. you uncross and cross the other leg over.

"and you mentioned you were a tennis enthusiast, how did that start?" dr. yoo's eyes are still on the notepad, pen quickly running across the page. you lean forward a bit.

"my friend sam, used to sneak us into the tennis bubble after work, when all the people left the country club. and we would play for hours." dr. yoo nods, more lines filling across the page.

"you never told me it was because of sam, you said it was just a hobby you had." dahyun comments, eyes on you, a little suprised at the conversation.

"i couldn't afford tennis equipment, too expensive." you explain.

dr. yoo continues to write as you and dahyun talk.

"but all those times you came to the country club, you offered to pay for the tab." dahyun leans into you a bit, you let your eyes wander over the name plaque on dr. yoo's desk.

"had to work overtime to pay it off." dahyun sinks back into her chair.

"and dahyun, you seem suprised, how does this make you feel?"

she looks back at her hands.

"i feel awful, i didn't know it costed that much for you." you return your gaze to her, watching the anguish in her eyes.

you wish you didn't feel ashamed about your financial situation, but every second spent with the kims was another jab at your own social status.

"i'm sorry dahyun, i kept it from you because i didn't want you to treat me differently." you shrink a bit, pulling the blazer a bit tighter. eyes falling to the floor naturally.

"and i'm sorry too, for never noticing." dahyun speaks it softly, you barely register the words.

you just nod, letting her hand hold yours. you can't bring yourself to look at her, too ashamed that you feel like you have to hide yourself from the woman you devoted your life to.

you begin to think about the early days of dating dahyun, days filled with anticipation of seeing her. constantly checking your account for how much you could expend on your paycheck, often stretching it for a simple date.

often on the weekends, the kim's visited the country club, the managers all fussing over them, pampering them with free items, as if the rich needed more free item, it used to make you angry.

but never dahyun, a sweet girl built upon integrity and honesty, always offering to pay. treating you with respect that most members of the country would never do, them often throwing towels or other trash at you to pick up. and with gritted teeth, you always do, remembering you needed this job.

"so you both met often at the country club?" dr. yoo cuts into your thinking, pulling you out of your memories. one's that are filled with happiness and anger, all in the same bunch. anger at the rich, but happiness at seeing that beautiful smile in person.

"yes, i worked there, and dahyun's family were well known members there." you explain, squeezing dahyun's hand in yours.

"2 o'clock, the kims." your head snaps up from the tennis magazine you're reading. and there you can see your supervisor and your supervisor's supervisor crowding around the kim's.

especially dahyun's mother, she was always more prone to fawning at the attention that the staff would shower them in.

"stand up!" you read from your supervisor's mouth, then he goes back to smiling fakely at the kim's probably hoping to pick at their pockets later when they're far too tipsy from all the champagne they bathe in.

"one day i'm going to strangle him." you side whisper to sam as you both bow at the family.

"not if i get to him first." sam side whispers back, smiling at the kim's. continue to bow at them as they walk across the lobby to the courts. squeaky new tennis shoes on the marble floor.

"hey! you work here!" that familiar voice., you've been trying to avoid her since she found you in the quads hanging out with sam. insistently trying to get you to let her pay you back for the bar.

"hi miss, glad to see you are doing better." sam walks away, citing a need for a bathroom break, but you know better with the way he playfully walks away.

"you still haven't said yes to letting me pay you back."

"because you don't have to pay me back, i just did a nice deed."

"and you should be rewarded." you just sink back into your stool. letting her lean over the desk. "well as kim dahyun, a prized patron here, i order you to follow me to the courts."

"the courts?"

"yes, i want to play." you stand up, heading into the back to get that signature tennis racket that she loves so much, specific engraving of her name etched on the neck of the racket. "grab another one!" she shouts from the desk. you grab a generic one, one that still costed way more than a month's paycheck. placing both racquets under your arm.

"here's what we're going to do, three games, if i win three, i get to pay you back for the bar, dinner on me.

"miss dahyun, that really isn't neccessary."

"it's my wish, and you can't deny a patron's wish here."

so you get beaten, pretty badly, 0 - 3. with you sweating and falling on your back, breathing heavy as dahyun grins from the other side of the court. letting out a loud laugh.

"dinner on me, i'll drag you there myself if i have to!" dahyun's still bouncing a tennis ball with her racket while you recover your breath, all you can do is lift an arm to give her a thumbs up.

"well i am afraid our time is up for today, please schedule a session again soon." dr. yoo offers a light smile, and walks you both out of the door. letting the heavy door close behind you. you look at dahyun, she hasn't looked at you since the confession.

you walk her to her car, "dahyun, i really am sorry for hiding it from you. i just didn't want money to affect us."

she stares at your blazer, it's buttoned, the same button she stitched on a couple weeks ago.

"but it does, doesn't it?"

"money?" you stop to think about it, as much as you tried to let it not be a determining factor in your relationship with dahyun.

it really does bleed into your relationship, leaving you paralyzed with fear that she'll leave you.

when you first met the kim's for an official dinner introduced as dahyun's girlfriend, you spent hours with sam trying to find a decent hand-me-down outfit for the dinner.

they were not impressed to say the very least, you had no proper dinner manners. confused your soup spoon with the dessert spoon. nearly knocking wine onto mr. kim.

"i think it did, for a very long time." you open the door for dahyun, letting her in, hand covering her head as she sits inside. you walk over to the driver's side, sitting inside. "i wanted to prove myself to your family, but mostly to you."

"you didn't need to prove anything to me." she says, hands gently grabbing yours. you feel your heart sink a bit.

"it sucked, seeing all your friends get gifted lavish trips and designer bags, while all i could afford to do was cook you homemade dinners." you explain, thinking back your university days, meeting dahyun's friend.

"but that's what they didn't have." she counters. "all the homemade gifts, it was just gifts with enough value to hold each other over."

you really did try your best, with limited budget and often asking for favors. you did your best to offer the best anniversary, valentine's, and birthday gifts.

all of which were intended to express your love for her, spending hours decorating homemade cakes, learning how to cook dinners for two. renting cars to go on road trip, all of which you happily experienced with dahyun.

"i wanted to be someone you could confidently show off to your friends." you think back to dahyun's birthday parties.

open bars, waiters and a massive table filled with gifts for her. all you could do was stare in wonder at the exuberant gifts, all the while you would shrink into yourself, trying to hide your embarrassment watching her open your gifts.

"do you? did you...resent me for it? having money i mean." dahyun drops the question you've been trying so hard to ignore. it's been plaguing your mind lately, how you think about how hard you tried, giving your all into your work for an ounce of validation from the kim's.

validation that you never seem to get.

"no, never. never you, you were the only person i didn't resent." you smile at her, genuinely, and she smiles back. you're glad you met her, even if the circumstances have made your life complicated.

"for the record, i was always confident in showing you off, because i knew who you were in your heart." you give her hand a squeeze as you drive home.

"another hour please, i'll pay triple." you say, staring at dr. yoo.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but i have another appointment." she stands up, trying to walk you out of the room, and when the door opens, there stands two woman on the other side.

"sorry for the delay, mrs. and mrs. park."

"no worries, dr. yoo, sana and i don't mind." the two woman nod at you, before sitting in the same chairs that you and dahyun were sitting just seconds ago.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but really, we don't have more time today, schedule another appointment soon." and dr. yoo closes her heavy wooden door.

you nod solemnly, "dr. yoo, i'm sorry for my behavior." you explain, a bit embarrassed now.

"no need, i understand. go check up on mrs. kim." she just nods and gives your shoulder a pat, closing the door again.

now you stand in the office lobby, with a crying dahyun in a chair.

you sink to your knees, eyes staring up at her. her hair like curtains to her face, concealing the quiet sniffles and sobs that she's letting out.

"dahyun, darling?"

the tears keep falling, staining her dress pants, you hold her shaky hands. as she speaks to you, holding her breath here and there to control her emotions. "you never told me."

"i know, i didn't want to burden you." rubbing at her hands to sooth the pain in her heart.

"but isn't that what we're here for, to shoulder each other's burdens." she cries louder, a couple in the office look over, but you don't care right now. you brush the tears away.

"we are, i just, i didn't know how to tell you."

"but he, he did all that to you, and you didn't tell me. he's my own father."

"i know, i am sorry."

"let's go home please, i want to talk at home." you nod, letting her walk to the car, following her footsteps closely.

dr. yoo welcomes you both into her office, getting familiar with the diptyque roses candle burning lowly on the desk.

"mrs. and mrs. kim, please have a seat." dahyun smiles as she sits down, a new pair of glasses hanging on her nose.

"new glasses?" you ask.

dr. yoo smiles at that, pushing up the glasses. "yes, new! just got them yesterday. you smile, dr. yoo has become a familiar and friendly face with you and dahyun. almost like she's a friend, almost.

"shall we get started?" she looks up at you two, that same notepad in hand and the montblanc.

you both nod in sync.

"so, how have you both been?"

"good." dahyun smiles a bit, letting her arm lay along the armchair, eyes brighter than usual. you smile at that.

"and you?"

"we're doing better, i'm happier." dr. yoo write it along a new line, a light smile on her face.

"that's lovely to hear, could you explain why?" dr. yoo picks her head up, watching you explain how life has been. there's been a shift at home, dahyun and you having more time to go on dates instead of tensed dinners filled with the sounds of silverware.

"we spend more time together, having lunch together, and dinner's have become fun to cook together." dr. yoo nods at that, more words written along the notepad, you share a warm gaze at dahyun. her eyes smiling in that way you love so much.

"i haven't asked this before, but how are the in-laws?"

you immediately frown, thinking about the pretentious man that was dahyun's father. a dicator in the family, ruling with an iron fist and often giving you trouble for growing up "different." as he so nicely put it.

you often remember dinner's with the kims filled with biting your tongue and just letting snide comments go by, even dahyun's mother had no say whenever he made uncomfortable jokes.

"i don't think dahyun's parents liked me much, especially her father." you sit back, continuing your thoughts about the demanding man.

"could you expand on that?"

"i didn't grow up rich, which was the biggest thing he disliked, he didn't think i was a good fit for dahyun." you explain, often remembering the side comments that her father would make when dahyun couldn't hear.

"and did you know about this?" dr. yoo turns to dahyun.

"yes. he was adamant about me breaking up with her but i never did." that you didn't know. you always assumed that it was just sly comments towards you, but never did mr. kim outward display his disdain towards you to dahyun.

you button up your jacket. dr. yoo continues to write across her page, leaving you both to sit and think about dahyun's words.

"understood, do you think dahyun's parents affected your relationship with dahyun?" you think about the question, how loaded it all is, you cannot even begin to explain how suffocating being around him was.

family dinners spent trying to escape into the bathroom so he would stop pestering you about your business ventures, or the capital that you had under your belt. you just shudder whenever it becomes holiday seasons.

fearful of the power that mr. kim had over you, one of his last wishes before he passed away was upending his entire gambling debt onto you.

it had become a hold over you, that he would only support the love that you had for dahyun if you were able to help pay off his debt. it became a huge burden on your shoulders, conjuring up a plan to reach financial freedom and success without hindering dahyun's future.

one that you wanted to support from day one, pushing her towards her goal of becoming a fashion designer, every day you suffered at the hands of her father, letting his debt take over your life, all to prove your devotion to dahyun.

and it hurt, to shoulder this weight alone, you always had shouldered the weight of the world on your shoulders to begin with.

"yes, unfortunately. dahyun's father, he. he told me that by taking on his gambling debt before he died, that he would allow me to marry dahyun." you explain, feeling your shoulders release tension.

dr. yoo continues to write fervently, eyes on the page, but a slight nod here and there. you can feel dahyun's gaze on your face, one in disbelief and utter shock. you turn to look at her, meeting her blank eyes.

more than anything, you beg for dahyun to understand, to really understand where you are coming from. a whole life you lived having to make opportunities for yourself, little to no support from others. fighting tooth and nail just to prove that you are worth it. that you are deserving of success and love.

"were you aware she took on your father's debt?" dr. yoo looks to dahyun, not missing a beat or letting any inflection slip in her tone.

"i wasn't. i wasn't even aware he had debt to begin with. what? sorry. um, what? no sorry, how much?" dahyun turns to you, trying to understand all the information that has just been dumped onto her.

"50 million." you sigh, just thinking about the figures. spending late nights calculating interest, and ways to even pay off the large sum of money.

"50? million?" dahyun stands up suddenly, you stand up too. watching her bewildered eyes scan across the room, trying to control her breathing, watching the clock, watching the blue in the reds in the carpet. holding herself as she walks out of the room.

you stare at the open door, the sight of dahyun turning and sinking into a chair.

dr. yoo stands up.

"mrs. kim, perhaps we should end this session here today. dahyun seems to be shutting down."

you and dahyun are standing on both ends of the table, her eyes filled with tears as she glares at you.

"you don't think i recognize money-obsessed? you think i can't recognize my father turning you into him? that's all i can see! our marriage is falling apart and you have become my father and i've become my own mother!"

"dahyun, please, all i wanted was to marry you, he forced his hand, i didn't know what else to do." you can feel yourself shaking a bit, your heart racing as you both stand on opposite ends of the room.

"you should have told me." dahyun arms are crossed as she stares you down.

"i didn't want to tarnish the image of your father. i just wanted to love you, and if that was the final condition to marry you, i would do it.." you throw your arms around, frustrated with all this confrontation.

"his gambling debt costed us years of our marriage, can't you see? all this time you wanted to prove yourself to him, he just used you to fix his own problems." dahyun uncrosses her arms, voice reverberating around the large dining room.

"i thought, i thought it would, make him okay with me." your hands drop to your face as you cry into your hands. dahyun stops and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you, holding you tightly.

"oh darling, i wish you didn't care so much for him opinion." she softly rubs your hair, rubbing circles into the back of your chest as you cry freely. for the first time in a long time, you feel the exhaustion, sadness, yearning all come crashing through your body.

"i wish i didn't too." through long cries in between you finally vocalize it.

"but you love me? isn't that why you did all this?" she questions, a thought thats been plaguing her mind. do you still love her? do you still have the same passion for her you once declared openly to the world? do you still mean each vow you said to her as your hands held hers?

"i do, more than anything else in the world, i love you. my words can only show so much of it." you lift your head up, wiping her tears as she wipes yours.

a small smile on her lips, it's all so stupid.

"show me." she stops crying for a bit, eyes glimmering with hope. she stares at you, in that way you love so much.

"show you?" you try and stop the tears, getting a clearer view of her face.

"show me how much you love me." she says crashing her lips into yours, pulling you forward, your feet nearly stumbling as you wrap your arms around her waist. "show me."

she whispers against your lips, like a spell, you nod and grab a hold of her, rushing you both into your bedroom. you try and show her, that the passion you have for her has always been there, and always will.

"mrs and mrs. kim!" dr. yoo invites you in, a warm light shining into the room. you both get seated, while dahyun lets go of your hand.

"i know last time, we had a bit of an outburst, how has that been?" dr. yoo stares at you both, notepad in hand.

"we resolved it." dahyun says confidently.

"resolved it?" she stares at dahyun. dahyun just nods.

"and you? what do you think?"

"we resolved it." you nod back, smiling at dahyun.

"alright, that's lovely to hear. so to follow up, how is sexual intimacy going?" dr. yoo notes the light blush on your faces, unwilling to look at her or even each other.

"it's, it's um, it's good." dahyun starts and coughs a bit, shuffling her feet.

"and you?"

"it's good. very good." you reply, and dahyun slaps your arm, trying to get you to shut up. "oh i see." dr. yoo writes along a new line of her notepad. eyes reviewing her notes so far, comparing previous sessions with this one.

"is there more we should discuss?" dr. yoo comments, eyes lifting off the page again, a light smile upon her face.

"no, i don't think so." dahyun nods at your words, you smile at her. and she shares that same eye smile that you love so much right back.

"right then, well, these sessions are on a as-needed basis. so let me say this in the nicest way possible. i hope we never have to meet in this room again. although my door is always open." dr. yoo gives you both a wink as she ushers you both outside. you wrap your arm around dahyun's shoulder, a little smile on your face.

you hold onto dahyun just a little tighter.

a/n: genuinely had so much trouble with this fic, but it has come to fruition so i'm happy regardless! had to do research on marriage counseling and i hope it is obvious but this is fictional and i am not a licensed therapist so there will be inaccuracies. also shoutout to @cry4mina who listened to me word vomit my troubles with this fic <3 please listen to the song as well as look up the meaning of the song!! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!!

to @saiiidahyunee this fic is for you, hope you enjoyed <333

#dahyun x reader #twice dahyun #dahyun twice #kim dahyun #twice x you #twice x reader #twice #kpop imagines #neoplatinum

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baalzebufo · 7 months

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THE WEIRD AL-CANA - THE MAJOR ARCANA, INSPIRED BY WEIRD AL YANKOVIC SONGS

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ho-ly shit, this actually got finished. this was so much work for something that is so incredibly niche, but im so happy with it. this was SO MUCH FUN to come up with, to think of songs for each card, to slip in silly references and make my little border designs... thank you so much everyone else who has been enjoying these posts!

tumblr wouldnt let me upload the full-size stitched canvas so I had to shrink it a little, so if you want to see all the individual cards at their full size PLEASE look at the individual posts on my blog HERE! this was the first time I ever got the tumblr warning that a photo was just too big, haha.

this post also goes out to everyone on the weird al side of tumblr- yankoblr, y'all have brought me so much joy in such a small amount of time with your posts and memes, even though i just got here and started randomly posting one day. i went from being very self-conscious about what i considered an 'embarrassing' interest to wholeheartedly goofing and it feels great. keep being silly no matter what guys

stay weird, y'all :)

#alloyart #weird al #weird al yankovic #major arcana #tarot cards #artists on tumblr #honestly this is why i think fanbases can be Great Sometimes. for all the issues and hypothetical drama it can bring its also just like #oh you post something you think is silly or embarrassing and instantly a group of people swarm you and start cheering and clapping #ive always been SUPER self-conscious about my music taste and things i liked in the past for a bunch of reasons #so sharing anything music related is really difficult for me. but knowing that other folks are there also enjoying their silly thing #it makes it so much easier yknow :'D #anyway not to get too sappy haha- i just wanna say thanks :)#this project was so much fun #weird al-cana

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ashetherando · 9 months

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Disney Adult| FizzOzzie Poly x reader (and separate)

my sorry ass have been looking at Disney World stuff and as a Disney Adult I’m surprised I haven’t made this before! pronouns: They/Them/Theirs

Key words:

(y/n)-Your Name

(l/n)-Last Name

(POLY FIZZOZZIE )

They don’t really care of what you’re into, as long you don’t be stupid or harassing imps/demons they don’t care. They will in fact have a whiplash of Disney merchandise you own at your home with the Minnie/Mickey ears and clothes, PJs, and cups! They will be shitty boyfriends if they shit all over your interest while you don’t. If you’re going to Disney World/Land, you’re their guide! Teach them about Genie Plus, teach them about the Disney World app, cuz they’re helpless without your Disney eyes! Also, let them pick their magic bands there so much designs and their brains cannot handle it! Also, quick thing, give fizz a kid leash. You’ll be walking around in Animal Kingdom with Ozzie planning what he wants to eat, then POOF Fizz somehow learned to park hop and is now at Magic Kingdom at Peter Pans Flight!

💙OZZIE/ASMODEUS💙

Ozzie believes that Disney can be dark, for example Hunchback of Notre Dame, The Black Caldron, and basically he’s more into the Disney Renaissance than the present day movies at the Disney franchise. He will not be surprised when he comes over to your home and you hand him over Disney PJs, he doesn’t care about how much Disney merchandise your house can handle, as long you’re not blowing off all your money for a Disney figure ‘cuz you still need to pay bills and rent! But! When you ask what he wants at Disney World, he asked “coffee” as a joke, but when you came back from your trip and before you clock in “here ya go, Asmodeus!” You said as you held up the bag with the word Joffrey’s printed on it “I wasn’t so sure what you wanted so I kinda just guessed!” He tilted his head to the side as you place the bag on his desk, he opened the bag and see two bags of coffee grounds one is a flavorful coffee ground and the other is just plan coffee grounds “I wasn’t expecting you to get me this” he grabbed a bag and analyzing it “do you not want it?” “No! I want it, I really do need some coffee grounds, I just never thought that Disney have these type of things” “well, it’s a huge company! Of course they’re gonna have coffee!” “That’s fair” he placed the bag down and bring up the flavor on, it’s was obviously bought at the Polynesian resort exclusive. “Thank you, (y/n)”

When you finally convinced him to go with you while being part of the Disney Vacation Club, you have to treat him by bringing him to Food and Wine festival. He’s quite interested by the new wine they give out every year than the food. Keep an eye on him, we don’t know his drink tolerance is, he might get drunk at Epcot!

💚FIZZAROLLI💙

Fizzarolli is a guy to be like “haha! Imagine liking a company for babies” just deal with it, he’s gonna be a prick about your hyper fixations, but he’s doing it for jokes and will let you know about that. He only watches whatever is on TV, if you and him are chilling in your home. Just stream something on Disney Plus, then he’ll watch it with you. Here’s my advice: Have a Disney Marathon and he’ll won’t even notice! I’m kidding he will once it’s 1am and you’re watching Tangled, then he’ll be like “Old Disney is better” then he’ll leave the room. If you’re watching more present Disney movie, he’ll yell it from the hallway “Old Disney is better!” He may be your boyfriend, but he’s such a bad influence on you, when Ozzie is good with money and help you with your impulsive spendings, Fizz encourages you to buy that. You will send him a picture of a new Disney pin collection through text “oh look how cute they are!” “Get it” “fizz, I have rent that is due” “idc, get the pins” “you don’t even know the characters!” “I know the blue fur ball!” “Don’t call stitch a fur ball” “why did you send me this anyways!?” “….the pins will be here on Tuesday next week” “knew it” Disney World will be an episode and a half, homie will be in a different park quicker before you say Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious so please give him a kid leash before he does it again, but convincing him took so long! You have to show him some videos, nothing too intimidating since he’s a Disney Virgin, just simplify your vacation visit, but not for clothing wear, the Greed Ring is hot, and you two will be sweating allot, which means chafing! Biker shorts are your whore! Treat him with any festival and he’ll be happy! If it’s the Food and Wine, he’ll will eat any food or drink any wine, but let’s be happy that you brought him!

#x reader insert #disney world #asmodeus x reader helluva boss #helluva boss #fizzarolli x reader #helluva boss x reader #fizzmodeus #fizzarozzie

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csmtmra · 9 days

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𝑁𝐸𝐸𝐷 𝑆𝐴𝑉𝐼𝑁𝐺?…

.....incl. denji, aki, power, beam, kobeni

一大 synopsis 概要: csm characters with a doctor reader

DENJI . . .

denji would be acting so silly. he would be grabbing gauze and scalpels from the medical bag you brought, causing you to swat his hand away and him to laugh. he would be poking your face as you wrap and stitch up the huge gash on his arm. ‘can i get the hello kitty band aids?’ he would ask while he kicked his feet and plastered a smile on his face trying to convince you to use them. ‘denj those won’t fit on this wound’, he would pout and go silent until you grabbed one out of his designated band aid box(full of a bunch of childish band aids) and put it on his cheek with a small kiss. ‘thanks doc’

AKI . . .

aki would be quiet. he would sit calmly with a cigarette in his mouth and just watch you patch him up. he wouldn’t look away from you as your gaze meets his in a silent plea for him to be careful, just giving a small smile and finally looking to his lap instead of your eyes. you would pick his face back up and take the cigarette from his mouth and put it out, grabbing an alcohol wipe and rubbing it along the cut on his lip. ‘next time at least aim to get hurt somewhere other than your handsome face..’ ‘pffft’

POWER . . .

she would be on one. pacing around the little room, her blood dropping onto the floor and making a mess everywhere. ‘HOW COULD THINE SELF GET HURT LIKE THIS’ she would yell, throwing her hands up and groaning out about how she ruined her favorite shirt. ‘power sit down.” you would tell her, running around after her like a chicken with its head cut off trying to catch up. only being able to grab onto her by the horns sticking up out of her head and pulling her towards the bed where all of the medical supplies were. ‘SIT POWER’ ‘NOOFO’

BEAM . . .

he’s just happy to be there. he would be overly ticklish and would giggle everytime you brushed your hands or a wipe over his skin. very over dramatic. he would let out an over exaggerated ‘ow!’ everytime you used an alcohol wipe or something sharp on him, resulting in you shaking your head and rolling your eyes at him. ‘hey if you would be more careful i wouldn’t have to do this’ you’d tell him with an attempted pointed look as you started wrapping his arm but failing and laughing, ‘listen lady, i gotta be your big strong boyfriend who beats people up’ ‘beam YOU got beat up’

KOBENI . . .

she would be passing out and hyperventilating. holding onto the walls and dragging herself onto the floor. she would be crying looking at her wounds, and then looking at you for help. ‘HELLP I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DOOO’ she would wail and curl into a ball, making you pry her hands off her knees and lift her shirt to see the wound on her side. you would be laughing at her and practically laying on top of her legs to hold her down so you can give her stitches. ‘DONT FLING THAT BOOK AT ME KO!’

#chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #denji x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #power x reader #beam x reader #kobeni x reader #csm x reader #csm #denji #aki hayakawa #power csm #x reader #csmtmra

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wolfoftheblackflames · 28 days

Text

Help! I couldn't help myself and wrote more fluff! Enjoy ya Misfits!

Hooves and Wings:

“You have hooves?” A memory had made itself known to Charlie, who smiled fondly at a gift she was preparing.

It had been when she first met Vaggie, and the two became friends, though it was a rocky start with the angel not exactly settling down. (Cue Flashback)

It had been over several days since Charlie had rescued a cute girl by the dumpster. She hadn't noticed the golden blood until it was on the bandage over Vaggie's eye socket. “Hmm..” It made the princess curious but she decided to respect her friend's privacy. “Looks like it's healing nicely, shouldn't be too long now till you're fully recovered.” She smiled at Vaggie moving some of that short hair to the side.

“Still feels weird..” Vaggie muttered as the angel was given fresh bandages and a gauze over it. Charlie was gentle with her and smiled softly. “Yeah? Well I have something for you.” The blonde grinned slightly and took out a small box.

Vaggie tilted her head curiously, and with a nod from Charlie, the angel opened it and stared. “Esto es muy lindo..” (This is really cute.) She smirked a bit seeing the eyepatch in the box. “Thanks Charlie..” She added picking it up to examine it.

Charlie giggled. “I like making stuff so I figured I'd make this for you.” She blushed, scratching her cheek. The two were in their casual attire as Charlie playfully did some cute hand tapping on her own thighs. “There's also something else.” She added with a giggle.

Vaggie blinked and looked back into the box and found what looked to be a beautiful looking red-pink ribbon that matched the stitched in x design on the eyepatch. “You're spoiling me here…” She replied with a soft smirk.

“I couldn't help it.” Charlie gulped and rubbed her neck. “You're like the first friend I've had in a long time, so..”

“Well I'm flattered…” Vaggie smiled warmly, her eye focused on her friend.

Charlie stretched and got off the bed in the guest room. “It's getting late, I'll leave you alone so you can sleep. Good night Vaggie.” She smiled and went to her room.

What happened next surprised the demoness as she blinked hearing a knock. “It's open!” She called from her bed as she was slipping off her shoes. What greeted those ruby eyes was an adorable sight, Vaggie was in a beautiful white nightgown while holding a pillow and blanket. “Vaggie, what brings you here not that I don't mind?”

“You said we're friends right? I'm not used to it but.. Um.. Would you like to do a sleepover?” Vaggie rubbed her neck with a bit of golden hue to her cheeks.

Charlie beamed at the idea as she grinned patting the bed. “I'd love to! Just let me change into my pj's ok?”

Vaggie smiled and nodded though blinked, spying Charlie’s feet. “You have hooves?” She tilted her head.

“Y-yeah, I was about to do some cleaning actually…” Charlie blushed, lightly rubbing her neck. “Are they weird…?” She asked since before she was told they were by her douche of an ex.

“N-no, they're actually kinda cute?” Vaggie replied with an awkward smile. “It just caught me off guard seeing them, that's all…”

Charlie blinked a little surprised with a slight blush but that small crush she had on this cute woman only grew. She smiled fondly at Vaggie. “So what did you have in mind?” She giggled but then pointed to her large shelf of movies. “If it's a movie, feel free to browse my library while I go change.”

Vaggie nodded watching the princess do a light skip to the bathroom. Though once Charlie came back out in her red long sleeve pj shirt and pj pants she blinked seeing Vaggie sitting on the bed by the hoof care kit. “You've done a lot for me already, so may I help you with your hooves?” She asked as Charlie blushed slightly. “Sure..”

The two sat on Charlie’s rather large bed, though the princess fought the urge to squirm as Vaggie tickled her hooves while cleaning them. She found it cute seeing her crush so focused on the job at hand. “Pffft…. Vaggie!” She couldn't hold back a giggle. “That tickles!”

Vaggie blinked hearing Charlie snort, and it earned the princess a small laugh from her new friend. This only made Charlie crush even harder since that laugh was the cutest she's ever heard. Once their giggle fit was done Vaggie finished picking out the last of the debris from those cute red hooves. “There we go.”

Charlie giggled, flexing her hoof toes with a delightful grin. “You kept tickling me, you know?” She smirked, coming closer to Vaggie who blinked. “Time for some payback!”

“Charlie!” The angel couldn't escape the tickle barrage as she was once again a big giggle fit, with the most adorable snort. “Ack! Can't breathe!” She howled with laughter. She managed to catch her breath when Charlie looked satisfied with her tickle attack.

“You have the cutest laugh.” She grinned but blinked seeing Vaggie grumble with a small wince. “Oh sorry, did I hurt you?!” She was alert and attentive as Vaggie gave a small smile.

“No, I'm ok..”

“You sure?” Charlie gave a soft, concerned look. Vaggie giggled a bit and nodded. “Yeah.”

Charlie sighed in relief, she had been worried she aggravated the wounds. “Sorry about that though.”

Vaggie looked a little surprised but then smiled a bit and went to grab a movie. “Oh? A knight’s tale? That's a classic.”

“Yeah I like it cause the protagonist chased his dreams and achieved them.”

“Want to watch it then?” Vaggie smiled holding it up. “Yes please, I'll go grab us some popcorn!”

The two snuggled up under a blanket that was draped over their shoulders with a bowl of popcorn in Charlie's lap. Alongside them were two adorable goat dragon demons Razzle and Dazzle since who could leave those two out. Soon Charlie pushed play on their movie night. (End of flashback)

------

In the present day Charlie was grinning widely while carrying a gift box for her precious angel. “Hey Vags?” She peeked into their shared room.

“Hm?” Vaggie blinked looking back, she was casually cleaning her spear. “Oh hey sweetie.” She flashed a smile before her attention went back to the spear.

Charlie pouted a bit, but soon smirked devilishly. “I guess you're super focused right now, you don't want the gift I got you..” She stated in a playful sing-song-like tone. This caused the angel to look back at her, raising an eyebrow.

“You got something for me?”

“Yep. So could you put the spear down please?”

Vaggie shrugged and did so, she could always sharpen it after. “Alright, you have my attention, love, what is it?”

Charlie grinned and walked over carrying the box with a pretty red bow on top. “Just something I figured you needed babe.” She replied and handed Vaggie the box to open.

“Oh?” Vaggie removed the neatly wrapped bow and looked inside, she blinked, spying the gift. “Do you like it?”

“You got me a wing care kit?” She sounded surprised. Charlie grinned and nodded. “Yep, I figured since you regained your wings, I'd help you take care of them.”

Vaggie just looked at Charlie though smiled gently at her and planted a soft kiss to her wonderful girlfriend’s cheek. “Gracias mi amor..” (Thank you my love)

“I know a little bit about wings since when I was little my dad let me play with his…” Charlie replied and smiled. “Seeing how beautiful yours were, I knew for sure I'd have to get you some care stuff for them.”

Vaggie chuckled. “You spoil me, hon..” She soon brought out those gorgeous gray gradient feathered wings, which made Charlie squee. “I'm glad you like them..” She smiled a bit but then looked a little sad.

Charlie lightly cupped Vaggie's cheek, with the big secret out in the open, the princess knew why her sweet angel made such a face. “I absolutely love them, my cute song bird.” She smiled softly, lightly touching Vaggie's forehead with her own. “It makes me happy they came back because of the love we have.”

Vaggie closed her eyes with a soft smile, though her cheeks became a darker shade of gold hearing that new nickname. “Song bird?”

“Yeah, cause your wings and that beautiful voice you have love.” Charlie giggled nuzzling her. She peppered Vaggie's face and neck with kisses earning more giggles from her beautiful girlfriend. “Charlie stop, that tickles!”

The two remained close for a bit until Vaggie reluctantly pulled away. “You're such a goof..” She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “Go ahead.” Vaggie turned and stretched those wings out for Charlie while moving that long silvery hair away to expose more of the feathers and her back.

“Your goof.” The princess grinned and lightly started to run her fingers along the feathers. “Quick question?”

“Hm?”

“Does it get like… Bedroom-ish? Sorry but I'm curious.”

Vaggie rubbed her chin, though shuddered a bit when Charlie ran her fingers through the feathers near the base. “Yeah?”

“Oh.. Hehe..” Charlie had a cute grin. “OK so only in the bedroom then..” She couldn't help it as her tail popped out and started wagging a bit.

Vaggie noticed and gave a playful smirk. “You perv..” She teased making the hellborn turn red with blush.

Charlie decided to get Vaggie back for making her flustered with a soft kiss to the old scarring on her songbird's back. With both equally a blushing mess the two soon burst into laughter. Vaggie smiled fondly as she felt Charlie being careful with her wings, giving each feather a soft comb through and lightly taking out any damaged ones. “Ooo!” Charlie grinned, having some old feathers in her hands. “I kinda wanna turn these into stuffing for pillows…”

Vaggie snorted. “Of course you'd say that..” She chuckled, shaking her head. “What having a pillow that smells like you would be nice?” This only earned more laughter from Vaggie who held her stomach.

Charlie grinned, hearing that laugh she loved so much. She tried to continue, but Vaggie was in a cute giggle fit. “Vaggie, if you keep moving, I can't apply the oil!”

“Sorry, but the thought of you cuddling a pillow stuffed with my feathers is too cute..”

Charlie pouted but rolled her eyes smiling waiting for Vaggie to settle down. “That's the coverts done.” She stated making Vaggie look at her.

“Since when did you know wing terminology babe?”

“Uh, I.. Well I looked up how to care for wings beforehand…”

Vaggie blinked but smiled. “You planned this for a while huh?”

Charlie nodded softly, she smiled cutely as her fingers gently combed through the tertiary feathers. “Yeah… You always work so hard to take care of me and the hotel. I wanted to do the same back..”

“You do though..” Vaggie looked back and smiled.

“How so?” Charlie blinked as she couldn't help but be curious.

Vaggie thought for a moment then smiled. “You gave me a place to call home when I was torn away from Heaven..” She stated fidgeting a bit. “I'm not proud of who I was, I always felt so guilty about killing your people Charlie…” Charlie blinked but remained quiet as she went to the secondary feathers next. “Being an Exorcist, it was strange but I had a place there, even if the praises sent shivers down my spine.”

Charlie blinked but soon brought her tail to lightly hold Vaggie's wrist while her fingers carefully aligned those feathers. “Honestly I never really had many friends until I met you.” The angel continued finding comfort in the small gesture. “I had one job, to be a murderous killing machine..”

“Vaggie…” Charlie's heart ached for her girlfriend. Sure the secret did hurt her, but she gave a soft look. “You were scared to tell me weren't you? You basically didn't bother to correct me when I thought you were a sinner..”

“Yeah…”

Charlie dipped her head down and nuzzled into Vaggie's hair giving her girlfriend a soft kiss on top. “What happened to you then?”

Vaggie blinked but sighed. “I don't exactly like talking about it..” She muttered, looking away. “But I'll try..”

“Vaggie, you don't really have to say anything..” Charlie replied lightly, reaching over to take her hand.

“I do hon, it'll eat away at me if I don't.”

“But..”

Vaggie gave that hand a gentle squeeze. “One request please…” She sounded a little hesitant. “Anything love?”

“I like your hands… Could you keep roaming them on my wings, please? It relaxes me..”

Charlie nodded and continued her work. She looked worried at how nervous Vaggie looked. Her mind drifted back to her once, saying, “If I can't help you, then what's the point of me?” The princess gave another comforting kiss to her songbird's wing, this time making the angel relax more.

“You remember how we met, babe?” Vaggie's gaze drifted to a photo of the two together. “I do, it was horrible, you were so hurt…”

Vaggie steeled herself and took a soft breath. “I came down from heaven that day, and the guilt took over when I chased a child sinner to an alley… I let them go.” She stated as Charlie gasped.

The angel raised her hand to stop Charlie from speaking. “You won't like the next part..” She looked at her loving princess. “Do you… Still want to hear it?”

“Yes…” Charlie gave her a soft gaze. She loved Vaggie more than anything, even when the secret was revealed and she was hurting, Charlie didn't deny that deep in her heart, it already belonged to this wonderful person in front of her, her talk with Rosie reassured it tenfold.

Vaggie blinked, seeing that loving kind glint in those ruby eyes. She smiled softly, though her old wounds began to ache at the mention of the next part. “Okay…” Vaggie took a soft breath. “Next thing I knew, someone was behind me, and with much brutality, my eye was taken..”

Vaggie felt the heat from Charlie's demonic form, yet continued knowing it would piss off her beloved even more. “I was in shock and fell to my knees, and in a quick second I saw who it was, someone who I thought was a friend, but no she was petty and always had it out for me.” Venom dripped from her words as Vaggie gritted her teeth. “Lute, Adam's right hand bitch.”

Charlie stared and growled. “And she also ripped off your wings?! All because you spared a child?!” She moved her hands back and dug her claws into her own palms.

Vaggie looked at Charlie and blinked seeing those beautiful hands starting to drip blood. “Hon..” She gently took those hands. “I plan to settle the score next time I see that asshole.” She smirked looking determined.

Charlie looked at her with deep demonic red eyes. “Yeah, and I know you'll kick her ass. But love, we stick together ok?” She loosened her hands letting Vaggie hold them. “I don't want you getting hurt anymore.”

“Hey..” Vaggie lifted those hands up and kissed the palms. “I don't plan on dying in the battle with heaven, babe.” She then got up and picked up her spear. Charlie blinked, still fully demonic as she saw her beautiful angel do a small kneel, which reminded her of the knight from one of her favorite movies. “O-oh!” Charlie blinked, seeing her beloved take her hand and kiss the knuckles. “Sorry but I also plan to protect my home with everything I've got as well.”

Charlie couldn't help but swoon at Vaggie, who looked incredibly dashing right now. “Geez, someone's feeling theatrical today, I guess I rubbed off on you.” She teased but smiled warmly gently pulling Vaggie up from her kneeling. “You even remembered our first sleepover movie.”

Vaggie blushed but smiled at Charlie, though it was replaced with a cheeky grin as she set down her spear again. “Yeah, but I also remember this too.” Her deft hands came to Charlie’s sides and easily tickled her princess, sending the demoness into a laughing fit. “Nooo!”

This caused Charlie to revert back and whine as she howled with laughter. “Revenge.” Vaggie grinned as she let up the tickle barrage when Charlie tapped out. “Meanie…”

“You love it though.”

“True, now we have a big day of training tomorrow, shall we go to sleep?”

“Don't forget your hooves, hon..” Vaggie stated with a soft smile. “Oh, it's been so busy I almost forgot, thanks love.” Charlie flashed a cute grin. She then rewarded Vaggie with a loving kiss to the cheek.

“Go you goof…” Vaggie playfully shooed her away as Charlie giggled. The two then started their nightly routine, it was one of the last peaceful moments they were able to share before the big battle with Heaven.

#charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #hazbin hotel #cute as fuck #i wrote this instead of sleeping #fluff #lute mentioned #awkward vaggie is fun #flustered charlie is fun #starmoth #rainbowmoth #damn theres alot of chaggie ship name alternatives!#I love charlie's hooves #i think Vaggie has beautiful wings #hurt/comfort

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valleyof-goldenlilies · 10 months

Text

Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia - Chapter 2: A Mere Lady (Daemon Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader)

Chapter 2: A Mere Lady

Daemon has returned to King’s Landing. Yet it is not in his nature to sit idle.

HOTD Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

Warnings: That extreme slow burn once more lmao, Daemon being an idiot, Westerosi sexism, mention of violence, Daemon and Y/N bickering like children again

Word Count: 2.9k words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire and Blood characters, save for Y/N Tyrell, although I did expand on their characterisation, which might deviate from canon. All credit for the characters goes to George RR Martin and the showrunners of HOTD. The GIF above is also not mine, original credit to the creator is stated above. Go check them out!

A/N: Thank you for all the support for the first chapter of Se Zaldrīzoti' Prūmia! It really warms my heart to see all your reblogs and likes 💗 this chapter is a bit of a filler one, but something big will happen next chapter (can you guess what it is? 👀) I hope you enjoy reading!

wonderful dividers courtesy of @firefly-graphics !

The shadows darkened and the bustle of noise in the Red Keep slowly faded into a faint hum as night enveloped the castle. I had just finished drawing up and helping Aemma into a bath when a maid announced the presence of King Viserys. I hurriedly rose from where I was preparing the Queen’s nightclothes and curtsied. “Your Grace.” Viserys merely waved away my greeting, putting a hand on my shoulder. “At ease, Y/N. We are not in the presence of other courtiers, you need not refer to me by my title.” I smiled fondly at Viserys. “Well, if my king commands it. Are you here to see Aemma? She is in the midst of her nightly soak” Viserys’ brows furrowed, “Of course. How has she been? Are the baths of any help?”

“Aemma says it is effective to a degree, but the moment she steps out of the bath, the aches return.” Viserys hummed in acknowledgement; “Looks like our son is taking quite the toll on my beloved. He must be an active lad.” My smile widened at that: Viserys’ pride in his unborn son was clearly strong. But my smile dropped when I heard Viserys’ next words, “Have you had a chance to run into Daemon by any chance, Y/N?” I chewed hard on my lip at his question, making Viserys raise his eyebrows and laugh at my obvious distaste for his younger brother. “I will take that as a yes. Are the both of you still having trouble getting along?”

“We get along about as well as fire and oil, I’m afraid.” Viserys let out a huge belly laugh at that, “And who is the oil in this situation, you or Daemon?” “Daemon,” I answered without hesitation. “Seven hells, I have no doubt his love for provoking me is fueled by the gods themselves.” Viserys looked amused, “Well, as your king, I am pleased to inform you that I have listened to your petitions and assigned him back to his old post at the City’s Watch. Mayhaps he will cease annoying you with this new responsibility.”

“I thank you for your graciousness, Your Grace,” I curtsied slightly. “Your justice is indeed swift and efficient.” “Well, a king must care for his subjects above all else. And you are like a sister to me.” Viserys patted me on the shoulder, “I must go and check on my beloved now. A King must not keep his Queen waiting after all.” I nodded and turned back to my duties as he ambled away.

The morning sun lazily clambered up the sky, causing the Red Keep to begin to bustle about with noise once more. A servant helped me lace up my new Tyrell green gown, with small gold rocaille prints dotting the bodice and gold roses stitched throughout. Autumn had fallen upon King’s Landing, and the air was beginning to fill with a biting chill, hence my father had ordered the dressmakers to design the dress with fitted long sleeves. I was a little uncomfortable, since I was unused to dresses with fitted sleeves, but it did make it easier for me to tend to Aemma.

I cast a glance at the fireplace. The flames had long died out, but in the midst of the charred black wood, I could see the remnants of parchment. The new dress from Father had not arrived without condition. I had not bothered to read the letter - knowing it would be full of eligible lord names and pleading from my father to just pick one and put him out of his misery - instead chucking it into the fire without a second thought.

“My lady?” Blinking, I looked up at the servant girl. “I am finished with your hair. Are you in need of anything else?” I studied my reflection in the vanity, patting a stray strand of hair down gently. “No, everything is fine. You’ve done a wonderful job. Thank you, Rebecca.” She smiled and curtsied before scurrying off. I put on my favourite pair of gold earrings, checking my reflection one last time before striding out of my chambers.

Aemma was never an early riser, and pregnancy fatigue had only served to prolong her hours spent in bed, hence I always took this opportunity to wander around the Red Keep while undertaking any errands assigned to me at the same time. After making an errand run to the washerwomen to pick up Aemma’s clothes, I bustled over to the Grand Maester’s quarters to request for the Queen’s medicinal teas. I also paid a visit to the seamstress to get a few garments of Aemma’s altered, as she had complained about them being too tight around her bump.

With my list of tasks fulfilled, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Aemma had yet to rise, hence I was wandering aimlessly around the hallways. It was then that I heard a few lads whispering as they passed me. “Did you hear about Prince Daemon’s latest exploits?” “Aye, I heard the smallfolk’s cries all the way from Flea Bottom in my quarters last night. The king has summoned him to the Small Council meeting this morning to demand answers, I’ve heard.” “The prince truly cannot go a day without causing trouble…”

Curiosity piqued, I listened thoughtfully to their conversation until their voices faded away. Daemon? Causing trouble? There was nothing novel of the matter. Yet, the lads had whispered about hearing the cries of the smallfolk. And from what I heard, it did not seem like the cries that Daemon was fond of eliciting.

My nosiness getting the better of me, I turned on my heel, my green skirts swishing behind me. Arriving at the base of the White Knights Tower, I slipped inside a room before anyone could notice and question my presence. The room in question was a secondary armoury, but it was rarely used as the weapons stored here were either blunted after years of use or outright broken. I pushed aside a false pillar made of highly porous stone, revealing a narrow gap which I squeezed through with ease.

Pulling back the pillar to cover the gap once more, my eyes trailed around the expanse of the space as I found myself in a familiar winding hallway. Sunlight poured in through numerous crumbling holes in the ceiling, and the air was filled with a dank smell. Sneezing slightly, I gathered my skirts and quickly made my way through the familiar maze of passageways. I nearly forgot to take a left, almost ending up in the secret halls in the Tower of the Hand, but I retraced my paths and breathed a sigh of relief when I heard the Hand’s disdainful voice. Here, the passageways were much more spacious and bright, being situated on the upper floors of Maegor’s Holdfast.

Peeking through one of the spaces in the walls, I caught sight of the Small Council seated around the table. Daemon was sitting near the head of the table still clad in his armour, his face streaked with dirt. Unfortunately, his back was turned to me, so I couldn’t glimpse his expression. However, I noticed most of the lords were looking noticeably on edge, especially the Hand. Otto’s face was even more unpleasant than usual, and that was saying something.

By the Gods, what had Daemon done now?

“You might not know this unless you left the safety of the Red Keep, but much of the city is seen by the smallfolk as lawless, and terrifying.” Daemon’s smooth voice echoed throughout the room. Otto’s face turned as sour as spoiled milk. I had to restrain a snort, he was not incorrect, the residents of the Red Keep, particularly those of noble blood, were very far removed from the lives of the smallfolk. I had once ridden with Rhaenyra and Alicent to the Dragonpit, passing by the streets of Flea Bottom, and safe to say, I was very glad for my life of luxury in the Red Keep, although I did feel sorry for them.

“...I just hope you don’t have to maim half of my city to achieve this.” “Time will tell,” came Daemon’s response. Even with my view of his facial expressions obstructed, I could nearly picture the smirk on his face, clear as day. I rolled my eyes. It seems that Daemon’s first night returning to his duties as commander of the City Watch had been bloody, to say the least.

“If only the prince would show the same devotion to his lady wife as he does to his work, your Grace.” I snapped to attention once more, eyes keenly observing the proceedings through the space. Gods be good, the Hand cannot give it a rest, can he? I suppose he could not: his distaste for Daemon clouded him from better judgement. But he should know better, I bit my lip to restrain the laugh I know would follow. Daemon always knew how to find someone’s sore spots, and Otto Hightower was as prickly as those strange Dornish desert dwelling plants.

“I’d gladly give Lady Rhea to you, Lord Hightower, if you are in want of a woman to warm your bed,” Otto’s face lost its previous smugness as his eyes grew wide in anger and he stiffened at Daemon’s remarks. “Your own lady wife passed recently-” There was a scraping of a chair on the floor as the Hand towered over the table. I recognised the expression on his face, it was one I had worn many times in my life.

The visceral urge to punch Daemon Targaryen in the face.

I clapped my hand over my mouth, trying to fight the battle to keep my laughter at bay

“Did she not?” I lost the battle as a small wheeze erupted from my covered mouth. My eyes widening, I watched as the men at the Small Council table stiffen, particularly Daemon - his stance suddenly became more pronounced and alert. I know it would be hard to discover me unless the men had knowledge of the secret passages, yet I felt my heart thundering in my chest.

But the gods were good, and the men soon dismissed the sound as Viserys attempted to soothe Otto’s anger. Finally, after Viserys admonished Daemon for his actions- albeit not as fiercely as the Hand would have hoped for, judging by how his sharp glare had not subsided in the least after the king’s judgement - Daemon got up to leave, the doors shutting behind him with a definitive thunk. I dusted off my skirts and readied myself to leave as well. The excitement was over, and I had gotten the information I wanted to know anyway. Walking through the hallways again, I debated on which path I should take to ensure my exit would not be noticed by anyone. The nearest exit I knew was immediately out of the question, and I could not sneak out through the exits in any of the royal apartments, because there was an ever-present risk of being discovered by a nosy servant. Sighing, I continued walking, lost in thought, until a figure pushed me against a wall.

I opened my mouth to scream but a hand that smelt of sweat and something coppery covered my mouth, putting a finger to his lips. My eyes narrowed as he released his hand from my mouth. “What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” I spouted out angrily as those godsforsaken pair of lilac eyes stared down at me with amusement. “I think I should be asking you that, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon raised an eyebrow.

“I asked first. How did you even know I was here?” I grumbled, dusting off my dress. The pounding in my chest was so loud I was certain the whole of the Red Keep could hear how much of a terrified wreck I was.

Instead of answering, Daemon reached his hand out to brush at my hair, as I observed him with wary eyes. Then, he flicked my forehead. “Ow! What was that for?” He smirked, “I see you took the armoury entrance, judging from the grime on your face and in your hair.” “And? It was one of the only ways I could get into the passageways without being seen.”

The prince hummed infuriatingly under his breath. “Has anyone ever told you how fond you are of making your life more difficult, byka zaldrīzes?” “Well forgive me, your Grace, but I do not wish to be caught in your apartments trying to sneak into a secret passage. The Red Keep is akin to a vicious beast when it comes to gossip.” The prince let out a triumphant “ha!” as I looked quizzically at him. Had he finally lost his mind?

“Formalities again,” he said, delighted, “I was hoping that yesterday’s episode in the throne room was not the last I would hear of you addressing me formally.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “My question remains unanswered. How did you know I was in here?” The prince snorted. “I think every one of those lickspittles in the small council heard your laugh. I was the only one to recognise it however.”

I huffed. “Well thank the gods it was just you. Had it been the Hand-”

“That cunt is too busy licking my brother’s boots to seek you out, byka zaldrīzes,” Daemon teased, beginning to walk away. Rolling my eyes once again, I followed closely after. “I’m surprised you still remember the entrances. I was of the impression you would get lost if you ever came here again..” “From how many times you dragged me through these hallways to go catch a peak of King Jaehaerys and Prince Baelon in council sessions, it would take me a century to forget these halls.” I japed, as we rounded a corner that took us straight into an old closet in Daemon’s chambers. As we stumbled out, he settled down on his bed with a sigh of relief, and began to remove his armour. I crossed my arms as I leaned against the window, “There is still a lady here, your Grace.” “I don’t see any ladies, only a nosy bird.” “Hilarious.”

I averted my eyes as Daemon began to remove the gold cloak slung behind his shoulders. “I heard you crippled half the smallfolk.” “An exaggeration,” Daemon waved his hand dismissively. “And if so, they were criminals. Looters. Rapers. Petty thieves.” “And yet, you killed numerous innocents in your path to slaughter those criminals.” I said quietly.

Daemon was silent for a while, and I thought he had left to take a bath. But I was startled yet again when I felt a finger softly tilting my chin upward. Lilac eyes swirling with mild annoyance and mirth met my pensive (Y/E/C) ones. “Spare me the reprimand, Y/N. My brother and Lord Cunttower have already said more than enough.” He handed me a wet cloth, and I sighed before brushing it across his face, getting rid of the grime. Our dynamic has not changed since childhood, I mused internally. I walked away to dump the grime covered cloth in a basket for the servants to collect later.

“Do you not agree with my actions?” He motioned me to sit next to him on his bed. Wordlessly, I sat. Our eyes met, his searching mine for my reaction. “The violence was unwarranted,” I began delicately, watching Daemon’s eyes narrow. “However, I’d like to think the ends justify the means. I share Lord Corlys’ view on this matter.”

Daemon leaned back on his bedpost with a smile. “As I thought, you were more sensible than you looked.” His voice rose in volume as he ran a hand through his white blonde locks in frustration. “Pray tell, I just do not understand why my brother only sees the bad, and not the good. Even a mere lady like you could understand. Has that cunt of a Hand pulled the wool over my brother’s eyes so far that he is blind to the welfare of his city?”

Not receiving a response, he looked over at the Lady Tyrell. She sat there, eyes fixed to the ground, her mouth set in a thin line, her hands clasped in her lap. “Y/N?” “And begging your pardon, what exactly does ‘being a mere lady’ supposed to entail?”

Daemon had a slight hunch he might have made a mistake. “I was not implying anyth-” “Really?” Y/N interrupted sharply. “Or did you just consider my wits inferior to yours simply because I am a woman?”

She stood abruptly, curtsying as she did. “Forgive me, my prince, I have other matters to attend to. If you have had enough of this mere lady’s presence, I shall be off lest a servant discovers us and sets tongues wagging.” She walked briskly out of the room, before Daemon could even formulate a response. Daemon stared at her retreating figure, and he groaned in frustration as he removed the last of his armour. His words had come out unintentionally, and he had not intended to insult her. Why was she so offended by them?

He huffed as soon as he had the thought. Why was it of any concern? He cared not for what that annoying brat thought of him. Sighing, he got up to ready himself for another visit to Flea’s Bottom. He had not seen Mysaria for a time.

translation: byka zaldrīzes: little dragon

And that’s chapter 2! Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :)) Since chapter 2 was a little bit of a filler chap, chapter 3 should hopefully be released in about three days (as soon as I get that presentation that has been the source of my torment over the past few days on Tuesday done lol) Let me know if you wish to be added to the taglist in the comments or through this form! 💗

Taglist: @drwho-ess @graniairish

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moriartsy · 3 months

Text

beyond gilded chains

pairing: jim moriarty x fem!reader

warnings: toxic parents, anxiety attack, sexual tension

summary: what is the lesser of two evils? your father and his world of elites he wants to trap you in? or the overt yet unspoken reality of moriarty's darkness?

w/c: 1.7K

a/n: okay, i know this is kind of cliché, but i have an idea for a jim moriarty story and i have to warm up before i get into it. so i wrote this. i plan on writing a second part and possibly making it a series of oneshots / drabbles. but we'll see how it goes...you can send in requests if you want (and if there are any moriarty enthusiasts still)! thank you for reading !! <3

The grand ballroom of the opulent Ravenscroft Hall shimmered with a golden hue as crystal chandeliers bathed the room in a soft, ambient glow. A symphony of murmurs filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soothing melodies of a string quartet playing in the background. Lavish floral arrangements adorned each table, their fragrances intermingling with the scent of expensive perfumes a polished mahogany.

You stood at the periphery of the extravagant scene, your eyes wandering over the sea of elegantly dressed attendees, each adorned in designer gowns and tailored suits. You fidgeted with the hem of your own exquisite dress, a creation of silk and lace that clung to your figure with the same precision as the couturier's careful stitching.

Despite the expensive fabric enveloping your body, your mood was in a poor state. Honestly, you’d rather be at home, rewatching The Office for the millionth time, but your parents will never let you not attend these events. It's like a chore.

Your parents were proponents of social grace and high society and they had meticulously trained you to navigate such events with poise, concealing any trace of your true feelings beneath a veneer of practiced smiles and genteel conversation.

You sighed.

Suddenly, you felt a new presence at your side. Following the sound of slow footsteps, you found one of your father's associates wearing a smirk that mirrored the self-assured glint in his eyes, sauntering towards you with his hand in the pocket of his dark pants as the other held the fragile flute, a fizzy liquid swirling inside.

"I can see attending these social shindigs brings you such a genuine pleasure. A sheer joy is just radiating from your every pore.“ he said, his words dripping with sarcasm.

You forced a tight smile. "That would be an understatement, Moriarty."

You took a sip of your Dom Pérignon, the liquid gold sliding down your throat as Jim chuckled, unfazed by your icy demeanor.

"Is there something you want, Moriarty, or are you just here to grace me with your charming company?"

Moriarty grinned, "I'm just marveling at the spectacle, my dear. Your enthusiasm is truly contagious."

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "If that's all, then kindly go and marvel elsewhere. Go strangle someone just because they looked at you the wrong way."

Moriarty feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart as his lips formed an 'O' and his brown eyes widened.

"Oh, (Y/N), don't be like that. I thought we were bonding over our shared love for wealth and excess this boring bunch put on display oh so exquisitely," he said as his hand, still occupied by the glass, swept over the room before facing you again with a knowing smile. "But just so you know. I just did." He added with mischief.

You honestly didn't know if he was joking just to entertain you or maybe intimidate you. Moriarty was capable of bringing all of those people to their knees right in that instance. Including you.

"Do you really want my father to come after you that much? He won't stand for anyone bothering his precious daughter, you know," you sassed with an ironic smile, bluffing your way through.

"Ah, the protective father card, awfully clever.“ He murmured, his eyebrows knitted together before his expression became serious again as he leaned in. His scent invaded your nostrils as you fought to maintain your composure. "But you and I both know, (Y/N), your dear father is at my beck and call. He wouldn't dare lift a finger against me, no matter how many threats you throw around."

You held his gaze, but as much as you tried to hide the signs of the turmoil he stirred within you, you cou+ldn’t help but grind your teeth together. You knew there was no point in attempting to deceive him. He was remarkably good at reading people and you couldn’t be more of an open book to him.

His eyes fell to your lips just for a millisecond before they bored into yours once again.

Suddenly, a clink of the glasses between your bodies made you jump and he smirked at that.

"Cheers," he said with his psychotically soft voice, taking a sip of his drink. With that, Jim turned around a walked away, disappearing into the sea of the richest.

You exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. He seems to always find you at these events, making your blood boil every time.

Your solitude was short-lived, though, because soon enough, your father appeared at your side. He observed you with a scrutinizing gaze.

"(Y/N), my dear, what was that all about? What did that spider want?"

Always adept at concealing the complexities of your emotions, you responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Oh, nothing. Just a brief exchange of pleasantries."

He probed further. "Pleasantries? You seemed rather tense. Did he say anything about me? Any threats, perhaps?“

Your father was a man driven by self-interest and the desire to maintain his social standing. Moriarty was right, your father would be willing to sell you in pieces if it meant saving his own ass.

You shook your head, your expression composed. "No, Dad, nothing like that. Just some small talk."

Satisfied but still slightly suspicious, your father linked his arm with yours. "Well, let's not dwell on such matters. We're here to enjoy the evening, aren't we?"

He guided you through the lavish crowd, engaging you in conversations that held little interest for you. Stock portfolios, luxury vacations, and exclusive club memberships. You hear it all the time.

It didn't take long for your father to notice your disinterest, though, and it didn't make him happy.

"You should really take more interest in these matters. People talk, you know. It's essential for your future, especially in our circle.“ He hissed at you when he made sure nobody was paying attention, his words dripping with toxicity that echoed the unspoken expectations of your privileged world.

In that moment, you fought an overwhelming urge to snap back, to unleash the resentment that had long been bubbling beneath the surface. You just bit your lip, resisting the impulse.

"I'm sorry, I'm just tired is all," you said with a tight-lipped smile before putting on the aristocratic mask and this time truly engaging in the conversation.

But the air started to feel thick and your eyes started stinging. You couldn’t take a nice deep breath and your joints started to tingle. You quickly put the flute on the tray the passing hostess was holding to hide the slight tremor in your hands.

Fuck. Here we go again.

5 things I can see: chandeliers, flowers, couples dancing, gilded mirrors, candles.

4 things I can touch: my dress, the Champagne glass, smooth marble surfaces, my silver necklace.

3 things I can hear: string quartet melodies, hushed conversations, footsteps.

2 things I can smell: rich perfume, and leather shoes.

1 thing I can taste: bitter Champagne.

You'd fought this anxiety battle right in the middle of a circle of elites many times before and you'd always pushed through. And you always will.

As you finally managed to take a breath and your tears dissolved, you took a quick scan of the room, catching the sight of Moriarty as he watched you.

Great. I’ll never hear the end of this.

The circle of riches finally broke not long after your crisis, and you took that opportunity to excuse yourself from the suffocating atmosphere. The sound of your high heels echoed through your personal space as you headed toward the exit. Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the room, Moriarty discreetly signaled to his bodyguard it was time to leave, making his exit too.

As he stepped into the darkness of the night, he unbuttoned his midnight blue suit jacket, his eyes scanning the grandiose driveway. He started descending down the grand staircase and as soon as he reached the bottom, he spotted you leaning against the newel post of the steps, your eyes closed and arms crossed over your rising chest.

Jim jerked his head at his bodyguard, who nodded and rushed away, leaving you and Jim alone.

"It's a shame for such a magnificent creature to be hiding out here." You opened your eyes, slightly turning your head to follow his nearing form. "I mean, can they even call themselves 'crème de la crème' when you're not around?" he asked with a furrowed brow as if it was a serious question.

"You're disgusting," you said and let your eyelids fall again, rolling your head back into its original position, the sturdy structure of the stone scratching the back of your head.

He was now right in front of you, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

„Your father certainly knows how to orchestrate an impressive show. How long are you planning to dance to his tune?“

You opened your eyes again, the cool darkness giving way to the silhouette of Jim Moriarty standing before you. As your gaze locked with his dark brown eyes, you felt a complex mix of emotions swirling within.

Everything about him was dark, a demon steeped in shadows, but as your eyes lingered on his, you couldn't shake the feeling that, in some inexplicable way, he appeared lighter than the suffocating life you led with your parents.

"Well, you know. It's a waltz I've mastered"

„Sure, sure. But I also know you can only twirl around the predictable steps for so long before the music changes.“

You studied each other in silence before your forms were illuminated by the headlights of a black SUV. He turned on his heels and headed towards the awaiting car, pulling a gum out of his pocket and popping it into his mouth. Once he reached the vehicle, he opened the back door and turned to you, tilting his head as he waited for you to make a decision.

There was no point in stalling, he knew what you were going to decide anyway. You pushed yourself off the hardness of the pillar and walked towards the car. Moriarty smirked as the two of you locked eyes, watching as you got in.

Before he followed your suit, he took a glance at the doors leading inside the manor, spotting your father as he watched the situation unfold with terror on his face. Jim’s smirk widened as his jaw worked the gum, savoring the flavor. Then he disappeared into the luxury of his SUV, and your father only watched as the car sped away, the tires screeching against the rubble of the driveway.

tbc.

oop👀

a/n2: thank you for making it this far! sorry for the pineapples.

#jim moriarty imagine #jim moriarty x reader #jim moriarty x you #moriarty x reader #moriarty x you #james moriarty x reader #james moriarty x you #james moriarty imagine #jim moriarty fanfiction #james moriarty fanfiction #jim moriarty #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfiction #jim moriarty fluff

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pix3lplays · 10 months

Note

So I've been in love with your writing for a bit now and am revealing myself as the anon who requested the therapist and short reader s/o. Thank you so much for those, btw!

I was wondering about a request about our darling HSR men with an s/o who excels in domestic tasks (cooking, baking, sewing) but especially sewing. Ngl had a daydream about patching up part of Sampo's coat that got torn and it being adorable. So probably Sampo, Gepard, and Welt.

Hey there! So great to officially meet you! Thank YOU for the wonderful requests, they were an absolute joy to write! And I’m so glad you enjoy my writing, that means so much to me💕 And I will gladly take this request! That daydream is So Cute, I wish I was good at sewing so I could patch up Sampo’s coat😭 (and Darling HSR men is so so accurate oh my gosh)

-Honkai Star Rail men with a reader who’s good at domestic tasks, but especially sewing-

Sampo Koski: Gets himself in a Lot of situations where he gets hurt and his clothes get torn. He insists he can patch himself up, that he’ll be completely fine, but he never knows what to do about the rips in his nice outfits. Enter you. Maybe he’s just using you, but he always heaps on many praises when you effortlessly stitch his coat back together, or mend his favorite shirt back into its original glory. He always comes to you when he needs something repaired. Partly because you do it for free due to your dating. Partly because you’re one of the only people who doesn’t chase him out when he shows up. Partly because he just likes being with you. You always scold him for being so reckless, but you’re always willing to mend what he brings you, so your little system never really changes.

Gepard Landau: Didn’t realize he needed a s/o that could sew before, until one day you called his name before he ran out the door for his daily patrol. “Your cape!” you said, pulling at the blue fabric before he could leave. “It’s all torn up…let me fix it for you.” (Not me having to recheck to make sure he had a cape lolol) “I can assure you that won’t be necessary…” he says, embarrassed but not wanting to make it your problem. “Thank you though…” “Gepard, seriously, let me fix it…” you argued with him for a few moments before he reluctantly clipped off his cape and handed it to you, leaving for the day. When he came back home it was good as new, and you looked so deservingly proud of yourself for all your hard work. He knew you were good at stuff like cooking and baking…but when it came to sewing…wow you were amazing! He’s very impressed, and he thanks you for repairing his cape for him. He tends to tear his cape a lot given his line of work, but now he knows he can always come to you for repairs.

Welt Yang: Probably didn’t even realize it about himself, but he loves having a domestic s/o with him aboard the express. He’s especially impressed with your sewing abilities though. He thinks you could really make a career out of it if you wanted to. He’s no clothes designer, but he is a bit of an artist. Sometimes he’ll sketch outfits for you to make and then you bring them to life. It’s a great little system the two of you have in place, and it makes you happy, so he’s happy to continue try and come up with outfits for you to make. Eventually they get more and more elaborate, and you keep proving you can do it. He’s so amazed by you. He encourages you to keep working on your sewing, as much as he admires how good you are at other tasks like cooking and baking.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #my writing #Sampo Koski #Sampo Koski x reader #hsr Sampo x reader #Honkai star rail Sampo x reader #Gepard Landau #Gepard Landau x reader #Hsr Gepard x reader #honkai star rail Gepard x reader #Welt Yang #Welt Yang x reader #hsr Welt Yang x reader #Honkai star rail Welt Yang x reader

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thebubblesareevil · 2 years

Text

My mom Married Superman!

Danny is almost 15 in the beginning

The first time Clark met Danny he thought he was a threat (he is but only a potential one) there were reports of a green portal opening in the middle of metropolis and something flew out. Superman came to the rescue of course and he found the figure that came through. He had gravity defying white hair, purple skin, and he was wearing a torn black and white suit with combat boots and a jacket. (I love this version of his design). The thing that concerned him the most is that he didn’t seem to have a heartbeat . He appeared to be injured, he was bleeding green and holding his side, however when Superman approached him he got defensive and attacked, Superman and the Alien? Fought for nearly an hour before the intruders injuries finally caught up to him and he took off, Clark followed him at top speed and at one point lost track of him. Clark scoured the city looking for him, but the being was gone Clark searched a bit longer before heading back to the daily planet just in time to see Lois heading out for the day. Clark asks her if she would like him to walk her home and she says she’s fine and that’s she’s gonna stop and get groceries anyway. So she heads home and she’s almost home with a bag of groceries when she passes by an alley and hears a quiet groan.

She stops for a moment before she gave in to her curiosity. She pulls out her taser and slowly makes her way through the alley to find the source of the noise. She was expecting a lot of different things, what she wasn’t expecting was a teenage boy covered in blood and some kind of green goo. She says shit and goes to call 911 when the kid wakes up. He sees her with her phone and tries to get up and run away. She tells him to calm down she’s not gonna but him, she calling for help right now. If anything this freaks him out even more he grabs the phone and throws it at the wall yelling NO! When he sees her start to back away. He apologizes and says no hospitals. I’ll be fine just go. Lois on the other hand “says to hell with that! Look kid you’ve got two options; either I call an ambulance, which might be hard considering my phone is now in pieces, or I drag your ass back to my apartment, we get you patched up, and you tell me what’s going on.” Danny just gapes at her for a second before letting out a broken laugh. “What could you possibly gain from helping me?” Lois gives him a predatory grin and bluntly say “one hell of a story, whether it gets told or not is your choice but I wanna hear it”

Danny looked her in the eye, he was barely able to stand, leaning against a wall, he weighed his options. If he wasn’t hurt he would be fine but if the red and blue weirdo showed up again he might be in trouble. On the other hand if he went with her she might betray him. He sighed and said fine but at the first sight of trouble he’s gone. She agrees and goes to help him stand and is surprised and worried at how light he is. “By the way the names Lois, Lois lane.” Danny gives a short “Danny” back

When they get to her apartment Lois immediately got to work. She laid out some towels and got him on the couch. His blood had started to dry so they had to cut his shirt off, much to Danny’s protest. What she found underneath made her blood go cold. Burns, bruises, slashes, and even what looked like bullet wounds, though she definitely couldn’t tell you what kind of gun did THAT, along his side is a massive blast wound. She wasn’t sure how he was ALIVE let alone awake. Once they manage to get him cleaned up Lois gets to work stitching up any open wounds she could, thankful for all the first aid training her dad forced her to learn.

By the time they are done with the first aid Danny is barely conscious. Lois tells him to get some sleep and they can talk things over in the morning. Danny doesn’t really have the energy to argue and so he just lays down. Lois watches as he falls asleep, she turns down the lights and starts to head to her room when she hears a quiet “thank you” she gives a soft laugh and says “anytime tough guy” she climbs into bed and before she dozed off she had the passing thought of “what the heck have I gotten myself into”

————-

The next morning Lois jumps out of bed, not sure what woke her up until she hears something in the other room. She grabs the bat from next to her bed and slowly makes her way to the kitchen. She’s just about to swing when she sees the heavily bandaged teen… cooking? “And what do you think you are doing?” He drops the hot pan spilling grease and now there’s smoke. Before she can even grab the extinguisher the floor is frozen. She just stares at the ice before looking back up at Danny’s panicked face.

“Well that’s convenient, got anymore tricks up your sleeves?“ Danny laughs and says a couple she freezes and says “I was joking!there’s more?!” Danny rubs the back of his neck before flinching. Lois sighs and tells him to go sit down before he hurts himself even more and she’ll order delivery.

Once she’s ordered the food she goes into the other room to see Danny on the ground. She rushes over to help him and asks what happened. He looks absolutely destroyed, and says he “couldn’t change, why can’t I change, what’s wrong with me” she helps him sit down and asks him to explain what happened. He tells her that he has certain “abilities” like the ice and he was hoping to change forms to speed up the healing process. But he couldn’t change. She looks at him and asks change into what? What are you some kinda superhero. Danny looks down clenching his fists and says no, I’m not, superheroes save people I couldn’t even save HER. He grabs his abdomen like he’s in severe pain and just says it hurts… she kneels down in front of him and says that it’s going to be okay, not even Superman can save everyone. He looks at her through pained eyes and says one of the most surprising things so far “who is Superman?”

Over the next hour while they are waiting for the food to arrive they come they discover a few things 1 Danny is from another universe 2 something is blocking Danny from accessing his power (Danny suspects that it has something to do with failing his “obsession”) 3 apparently Danny is half dead (for the last time I am not a zombie) 4 Danny fought superman (still a stupid name) and 5. Danny is never going back if Lois has anything to say about it. A lot to process and not a lot of time to process it. In the meantime they needed supplies. Lois gives Danny her computer so he can learn about this universe while she goes to the store to get more medical supplies, some clothes that will fit Danny, and wine (cus god knows she’s gonna need it) when she got back she found Danny passed out on the couch with the laptop on the floor. She’s just about to pull the blanket back over him when he surges forward from a bad dream reopening his wounds the two of them rewrap his wounds Danny apologizes and says he’ll get out of her hair as soon as possible. She laughed and said you kidding you still owe me the rest of that story youre not going anywhere anytime soon. Danny smiles laying down and saying thank you before falling back asleep.

The next few weeks passes much the same although Danny is healing remarkably fast. The two of them create a sort of routine but one day Lois forgets her phone and Danny decides to venture beyond Lois’ apartment and bring her the phone. He gets distracted and lost twice but manages to find the place without much difficulty after that. He arrives only to learn that Lois has rushed out to conduct an interview with her partner. Perry has exactly 0 hesitation before putting him to work. Lois returns with Clark in tow to find Danny, covered in printer ink, being named the conquering hero for repairing the printer.

Lois leads them in a toast to their dear hero and introduces Danny to all of them as the son of an old college friend who just passed and tells them he’s gonna be staying with her for the time being. Everyone gives Danny their condolences, but it’s when Clark approaches that he doesn’t stop staring. Lois laughs and tells Danny not to worry smallville might look tough be hes harmless before giving him a wink. Danny laughs and says it’s nice to meet him. He then gives Lois her phone and is about to leave when perry calls back to him asking where his new intern is going Lois let’s out a loud laugh and turns to Danny and says looks like you’re stuck here now Perry’s not letting go. She then yells back that he and jimmy are going on a coffee run. Danny likes jimmy olsen he reminds him a bit to much of Wes for him to be comfortable but he likes him none the less, plus he lets Danny get a death wish coffee with a triple shot of espresso without judgement so he has no complaints.

Later that night Lois and Danny get home (doesn’t that sound nice) with their take out and (just because he’s a little shit) just as Lois takes a sip of her drink Danny asks when she was gonna tell him that Clark was Superman? She of course spews her drink all over the place and yells WHAT?!? Before laughing because really clark? Nerdy I can’t see without my glasses Clark? Never seen at the same time as Superman Clark? Surprisingly tall Clark? Highly efficient Clark? The Clark that always seems to have the scoop on Supes’ villains Clark? I’ve never actually seen him WITHOUT the glasses Clark?!? And damn if it didn’t make sense CLARK!?!?!!!

“I’m gonna kill him” “you’re not gonna kill him”

She yells back why not?!! And Danny raises his eyebrow and says you’d miss flirting with him too much. She raises a finger like she’s about to argue but just shrugs and says “you’re not wrong”

Danny laughs and finishes “and besides HE doesn’t know you know or I know, don’t you want to torment him a little. Just a little harmless revenge?” Lois Wipes away an imaginary tear “I’m so proud”

Together the two come up with different ways to mess with Clark, Danny using his limited access to his powers and Lois being well lois and flirting relentlessly talking about all the things she do if she had Superman, getting Clark to play fuck marry kill using Superman Batman and Wonder Woman. It comes to an end however when Clark overhears the two coconspirators planning their next prank. He does the whole sorry for not telling you but I had to protect you spiel that Danny already warned her about so she cuts him off. “I’m not mad at you for keeping your secret, but you can’t blame me for having a little fun with it when we figured it out.” Clark is relieved and things go pretty smooth from their. Danny doesn’t want Clark to know everything about him just yet (how do you tell Superman he went toe to toe with a half dead teen?) but they tell him that he’s a meta and his family situation is… complicated to say the least.

It’s about a month after the big reveal that Danny accidentally calls lois mom. It was at the planet that it happened. At this point everyone had figured out that the backstory was at least partially fake, but they could also tell that Danny did not have the best home life, so when danny is focusing on his homework and says “hey mom can you help me with something real quick” no one said a thing however there were a few teary eyes (perry) not that anyone would admit it. A few weeks later when Lois asks Perry for help adopting Danny she had a team of investigative reporters ready to blackmail every official in the city to grease the wheels to get things going (surprisingly all of Danny’s birth records are readily available, lois suspects Clark, Danny suspects someone a little more…blue). Danny has made it clear to Clark that he doesn’t really want to be a superhero (not again, he can’t fail again) and so he doesn’t bring him up to the league (Batman is already very aware of lois lanes new meta son, how could he not be when Bruce Wayne got 3 different calls from the daily planet recommending their newest intern for the Wayne scholarship). It’s been nearly a year and Clark has fully integrated into the family. With Danny’s help Clark plans a romantic evening and proposes at the top of the daily planet.

Danny was the ring bearer. When clark first told Danny his intention to propose he told him straight off the bat that he would not call him dad, he has a dad, he may be dead(a primordial god?)but he is still his dad. But he might be persuaded to call him paw but he’d have to earn it. (Clark teared up a bit Jonathan Kent loves his worlds best pawpaw shirt) that Father’s Day he got a #2 dad mug (later on as he is walking into the kitchen he finds a blue man with silver hair drinking out of a #1 dad cup who says suck it before vanishing).

It’s not long after Danny turns 16 that things get a little strange. Clark comes home one day stressed and he doesn’t really want to talk about it. Lois forces him to sit down and explain what happened. When Clark tells them he has a clone Danny freezes for the rest of the explanation. He manages to shake him out of his stupor before he asks Clark when he’s gonna meet his step brother. Clark is confused and says he’s not sure what’s gonna happen next but he’s not his son. Danny looks him dead in the eye and says “I know you are freaking out right now and that is OKAY you had your dna STOLEN and used to make a whole person, I’d be worried if you weren’t freaking out, but right now this is not about you. This is about your clone who just woke up, found out that everything he knew was a lie and has no idea what is going to happen to him. He needs YOU whether that’s as a father, brother, uncle, or cousin he needs your support” Clark looks towards lois and he gets a similar response “smallville, he’s right I know you, and I know you’re gonna do what you think is right, but that boy needs a family just as much as Danny did and I’ll be damned if we leave him on his own” Clark looks between the two and says “thank you, both of you, I’m not sure how we are gonna do this but we can give it a try.” Danny gives a small smile and says “I’ve got an idea, it’s crazy but it’s something.” What follows is a very long story and a promise of secrecy.

The next week Clark goes to mount justice to meet with the team. It took a whole lot of convincing but Danny is right there with him when he arrives, looking a little worse for wear after an unpleasant trip through the zeta tube (memories of a cold mechanical tunnel and pain pain pain). When Clark introduces him as his stepson the newly named Conner flinches a bit ( this does not go unnoticed by Danny) and Batman explains that Danny will be helping with training and getting the mountain fully upgraded. The team is suspicious and after the meeting is over Danny manages to sneak up on conner and guides him into the next room with Superman to have an important heart to heart. Everything is not perfect but Clark joins in every now and again with training until the two can get comfortable with each other. Danny fits in well with the team and even gives out pretty good advise every now and then. It has not slipped by anyones notice how protective of Conner Danny can get but hey he’s his little brother who can blame him? And it’s not like Conner hasn’t gotten pretty protective (he saw Danny without his shirt ONCE that was more than enough) Danny flirts relentlessly with Kaldur who is fully convinced he’s joking, Conner is convinced his older brother is a hopeless idiot and is honestly not shocked that he managed to get a girlfriend before he did. M’gann thinks it cute and tries to help Danny.

Everything is going great until Zatara brings his daughter to visit the team. She just keeps STARING at Danny, she’s not mean, she’s not rude, she doesn’t flirt, in fact she is downright friendly to Danny. It’s the staring that annoys Conner and Kaldur (for very different reasons) and after her father is taken by the helmet of fate that she really starts to hang out with Danny more. She won’t explain but sometimes she looks sad when she looks at him.

(Danny tries transforming over and over again even as the pain gets worse with every attempt before the team finds him collapsed in the middle of the base, he refuses to explain. His core so very slow to heal itself so certain of his previous failure scared to fail again). When Danny finds out that lex Luther is blackmailing and mind controlling his brother well let’s just say. You can’t prove a thing and neither can lex and that’s what matters (he still shudders at the neon green color of the kryptonite he keeps with him at all times)

When vandal savage makes his move and the team is forced to fight the league the light managed to get a chip in Danny’s neck and klarion decides to play a little. As the team is making progress klarion pulls out his hostage and orders him to unalive himself. The team screams Danny does nothing, klarion repeats the order and still nothing, as he starts to throw a tantrum Danny turns his neck fully around his green green green eyes staring into klarions soul and said in the dead tongue.

Wͦh͕̻̟́ͩ̇͂͊o̗̗͓̞͑ͪ̅ ̞͉̻̺̟̓̀ͥͦ̽̉a̞̣͈͚̱ͮͮ̇r̻̦̉ͩ̆ͅe̻̱͎ͧ ̫͔̔ͧͤ͐̾ͣ̀Y͚̰̦̠̰̏̑O̜̭͍͉̥̍Ú̹ͭ̏̇ ̞͒͗̿ͫt͖̣̮͚̩ͬo̭̯̮̳͕̽̐̎ ̝̤c̝̠͔̈́̄o̖͍͔͕̎͌m͇͍̲͋ͪ̄͑ḿ̻͚͎͊̍ͧ͗̊ȧ͆͌ͨ̑n̖͚̳̹ḋ̼̱̮͙͙ͥͧ ̥̮͈̞̆̉͑M͚̲̹ͩ̿̆Eͥͯ͗ ̗͇͓̹̣̠͍ͦͭͪ͐w͓̳ͨ̋̎ḭ̜̤̲̘̼̭͗t̲̹̻͔͓̞̂̓ͅc͖̻͚̯̠̤̳̑ͣ̔͆̃̉ẖ̞̝͈̘͉͍̍̈̑ ͙̯̠̋͗͐ͩ̒b̭͔̓͑o̰̺̼͖̫͖̽́̑ỵ̘̩͉͇͙̓̍ͣ͐͑͊̒

Klarion backs up and when vandal tells him it’s time to go he does so without a fight. Danny returns to normal as soon as they apply the cure Kaldur catches him as he falls and looks at the rest of the team and asks “what just happened” Danny doesn’t tell them he can’t.

As time passes Kaldur and Artemis end up going undercover, Danny is never convinced of Artemis’ death no matter what dick says but doesn’t tell anyone. While klarion is no ally to them he does not harm Kaldur even when he clearly wants to after all “he wouldn’t be to happy if his little toys got hurt” Danny starts college double majoring in astronomy and mechanical engineering but he drops in every now and again to visit Conner, wolf, and sphere (he always brings a new squeaky toy for wolf each time he visits, reminded of how much cujo loved his). The mystery of who Danny is stays a mystery, until a new plot arises.

The News arrives by way of doctor fate, the ancient sorcerer felix Faust has summoned an entity from another universe to siphon its power as his own. The team move in immediately. Across the continent Danny is having dinner with Lois and Clark when his core starts to BURN

He falls to the ground and both rush to help him but there is nothing they can do. Danny does something he hasn’t been able to do in over a year. He calls to the ring of rage and a portal opens in the middle of the apartment. From the other side they can hear a girls bloodcurdling scream Danny drags himself through the portal followed by Superman and on the other side he sees a face he never thought he’d see again.

Elle is stuck in the middle of the summoning circle angry and In pain, screaming, she sees Danny and her face is so filled with hope she reaches for him only to be shocked by the barrier. Danny is barely being held back by superman before Danny says in a whisper only someone with super hearing could hear “cover your ears” both Conner and Clark do so and Danny looks right at the boosted Faust and he

Sͦ̒C̫̦͛R͊́͌̓E̲̹͓̰͗͐͛̈͆Ā͖̔ͧM̜̪̺̭̊͐S̥͙͚̰͚̘

Everyone covers their ears trying desperately to block out the screams in vain. Faust is on the ground but Danny just keeps screaming until a bright light surrounds him and he is replaced by the glowing form of Phantom, above his head there is a freen flaming crown he vanishes and reappears right in front of Faust

iͤf̰͂ͫ̄̎ͪ͛ͭ ̝ͪ̏͂y̹̬̺̍̌͊ͅo̞ͦù̺͓̞ ̬̔ͬe̦̯̣̹̞̒̌̆̋̐v̪̗͓̲͈̹̓ͥe͈̜ͣ̔́ͯ̍͒̚r̫̎̉̂͑̀̈́ ̼͎͋ͭlá̟̰̮ͨ̐ͅy̬̖ͅ ̞̥̈̄͋̊̎͆à͔̻͇̮̈́͋ͬ̑ ̤̯̘̝̂ͤͯh͖͎́̅̍ͤ̅a͇ǹ̺͖̩̻̣̊̈͑̌ͣ̈d͙ͧ ̯̣̭͓̦̾ō̹̰͇͙̓̐ͤ̑̋ͦn̰̘ͯͪ̃͐̈ͮ ̪̗͖̫͚͊̾ͣ̽ͦh̬̰̠̞̻̹͑͊ͮ͛̑̍ȅ͚̆̄r̤̠̼ ͎͇̾á̟̩ͤ͌ͭ̈͗ͅg̖̪̰̗̳̘̍̅́a͓̝̻̾̉̏͌i͍̭n̖̮͎̼̗͚ͭ͐ ̙̥̫̜̱̖̩t̰̳̭̜͐ͧ̒h͍͖̮̣̘̼̖ͫi͎̣̬̲ͥͤ̇ŝ̠͖̦̗̻͔̮ͧ̆̾ ̯ͭ̄͗ͪ͒̾w̯͕̲͇̦͍̔͊̋̋i̜̠̳̳ͦͥͥl͚͕͔̫ͤľ̜͇̦̲͍͉͎͗̈́͂ ͖̱͎̩̺̺ŝ̩̭̼̤̰ͤ́͐ͦ̚ê̫̮̤͇̺͙͂͒ͦ̔̾e̬̰̠̤̫̾ͥ̊m̜͚̥̱̰͇ͫ͛ͥͩ̿̚ ͥ̌̽̈l͚͎̼̪̳͙̦ͭ̃́̌ͫ͗͛i̼̠͇̼̍k̪͕͉̭͎̩͐ͦ̓̒ͨḙ͙̤̞͉̐ ͔͉͈̠̈m͉̖̀͛̔̉e̘̹̬̩ͧ̐̇͆ͫͧ̚r̭c̬̫ͬ̑̑͒ͯͭy͎͎̼̦̗̝̱͋́͐̽ͣ̽

Faust then collapses before the ghost. Danny rushes over to Elle freeing her from the circle, followed by Conner and Clark. After a touching reunion they all return to the ship where Clark asks if Danny is gonna introduce her? Danny laughs and says sorry almost forgot “clark, Conner meet Danielle, my clone/cousin/would be assassin” seeing their shocked expressions Danny says don’t look so shocked I am not the only one here that has been cloned which leads to Elle thoroughly bombarding Conner with questions.

(When asked why she never told him she was okay she explained that normal ghosts can’t travel through universes dumbass)

When Elle finds out about about Danny’s crush she teams up with Lois to get them together. It was chaos pure and simple

#danny phantom #ghost king danny #dc x dp #brain vomit #minor danny/kaldur #this took longer than planned #Lois took over #it was supposed to be a drabble #this is a prompt do with it what you will #it was supposed to focus on Superman but dammit lois demanded attention #long post #big brother danny #au

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