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#yes I’m finally posting art again

jinkicake · 11 months

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Spring Is In The Air~

Something happens to them when the seasons change.

Itto, Tighnari, Yae Miko, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: I wrote this like two months ago and never posted it... I’ve always wanted to try writing something like this so here is my pathetic attempt! It’s corny BUT, smutty!!! :-)

WC - 2,224

NSFWWWW // SMUTTYYY

~~~

ITTO

Itto is not subtle. Try as he might, the poor oni cannot learn the art of subtlety. His reactions always give him away to you within seconds.

His struggle can currently be seen in the way he braces himself against the counter but still attempts to stand up straight to play it off.

“Hey,” He sounds breathless, almost as if it is hard for him to breathe. You know he’s going to break any moment now, you can see it as his chest begins to rapidly rise and fall. His breathing quickens and all you can do is stare at his expanding chest. “I need you.”

Itto breaks every spring and putting him back together is your favorite part.

“Fuck me, fuck me!” Itto groans loudly and the sounds, one after another, fly off of the walls. He’s absolutely losing himself as you bounce on his lap, up and down while your thighs pound against his own. The pace is fast, quick, and your knees are not able to handle it alone. It’s entirely him, Itto uses the strength in his muscular arms to toss you around on his lap. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, eyes squeezed together shut all while both of your hands are wrapped around his throat. “Yes, yes, yes,” It’s almost pathetic, the way he is singing your praise and grinds down onto the mattress. He can’t get enough of the feeling, of it all.

Itto is loud in everything that he does and he never shies away from expressing his desires.

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” He sounds entirely desperate, almost as if he is about to break into tears. You squeeze your thighs together and watch his every reaction as you clamp around him. His reaction is almost imminent. Itto’s hands on your waist squeeze you tightly as his bare nails dig into your skin as he cums with a drawn-out groan. The oni chases his high without stopping, still wildly thrusting up into you just as before. His pace then grows slower, impossibly slow as he slams into you a handful of times. There’s something final about this but, you know better.

This is just the beginning. It takes hours to satisfy Itto, especially during the spring.

You don’t even have the chance to catch your breath before you feel him twitching inside of you again, now hard as ever. His fast recovery is almost as quick as his reflexes. Itto pulls you off of him within a flash before mounting you from behind.

“I’m sorry, just one more, one more, okay?” You can hear how his voice shakes in your ear but, you don’t have the chance to reply as he effortlessly slides back into you. In this position, you can hear everything, every puff of air that escapes his lips and every whimper that falls. Itto cries into your ear, tongue lapping at the surface as he moves his hips at a quick pace. “You’re fucking me so good,”

You can almost feel him in your fucking stomach as you clamp around him but, his brutal strides feel so good. Each thrust against your bottom sends you flying and you end up face-first in the duvet. Itto keeps you still with a firm hand on your hip but, you can imagine how broken his expression must be as he groans above you.

“One more time, one more time,”

((It’s never just one time with him.))

TIGHNARI

“(Y/N), please,”

Hearing the forest ranger beg is something you are not used to. Tighnari never begs or yearns for your touch and attention. If he wants something, he takes it with little hesitation.

Except when the seasons begin to change.

When the air grows colder, something primal shifts in Tighnari. You can see it in the way his eyes soften into pools of need and how he becomes much more sensitive to the slightest touch. If you even think about touching his fingers, over his gloves, he will drop whatever is in his hands.

Tighnari becomes reactive all over.

“It’s happening again.” He murmurs into your ear as he presses up against your side. His tail wraps around your thigh, squeezing over and over again as he ruts into your leg. “I need you.” When Tighnari gets like this, you know it’s best to just let him take.

“You poor thing,” Your voice is full of sympathy, perhaps a bit condescending, and it makes the forest ranger whimper. His ears flatten against the top of his head as his eyes squeeze shut in concentration. Your quiet sighs and hums only make him more delirious, Tighnari burrows his face into the crook of your neck and simply inhales. His breathing gets heavier as his messy thrusts become erratic. If he had not been holding onto you so tightly, you’re sure you would have fallen to the floor by now.

He cums with a gasp, one that sucks the air from his lungs, and he tries to hide it by biting on your shoulder. Tighnari grits his teeth against your skin as little whimpers leave his lips, his tail rapidly thumping against your leg. His weight becomes too much and you both sink to the floor under his passion.

That first orgasm meant nothing to him, it’s merely a warm-up.

Tighnari can’t even bring himself to guide you to your shared bedroom, he takes you on the floor.

He can’t help the way that he spreads your thighs and licks, running his tongue along your slit. The poor man devours it all, spitting and lapping up at whatever he can reach. His harsh sucks make you shiver and squirm but, you can’t move under the tight grip he has on your waist.

“Ah,” Whatever Tighnari planned to say is muffled by your cunt as he shoves his tongue inside of you. He thrusts the muscle as far as he can go, ears flattened in concentration while his nose grinds against your clit. It’s as if he has become utterly consumed by you, everything about you because all he can focus on is getting his tongue in you as deep as possible.

But then, he suddenly pulls himself off of you as if it hurts to touch you.

In the blink of an eye, Tighnari is above you, staring down while his legs get situated between your own.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but, I need it,” His breathing has become erratic, eyes almost feral as he begins to heavily salivate. With his primal urges brought to the surface, you know you won’t be able to leave this position and similar ones for a few days. “I have to- I have to fuck you.”

YAE MIKO

With the amount of time you’ve spent beside Yae Miko, you know her exceptionally well.

You know when something begins to shift within her, almost as if it is in the air. It’s seen in the way the other shrine maidens keep their distance and in the way Miko’s fingers dance along your skin as she grabs you at any possible opportunity. She makes sure that she’s touching your bare skin, her pink nails nearly breaking it as she stands behind you.

“I require your assistance, pet,” Her breathy voice always confirms it for you and is the tell-tale sign of when her primal urges begin to show. She drags you by your wrist to a lone room, one decorated exceptionally well with everything you could need to last for weeks. Your lover’s touch grows lighter.

“You know what I need from you.” Yae Miko stares down at you as if she is truly looking down on you, her eyes hold little interest but you know better. You can see how her finger is nearly starting to tremble and how her lips have begun to part. “Come here,” She doesn’t even have to lift a finger for you to stand in front of her, within her grasp.

Her lips are on you without another second to spare. Immediately, it’s all tongue. She parts your lips with tight squeezes of your sides before her hands move to paw at your breasts. While letting her tongue run over your own, shoving the muscle as far down your throat as she can, she towers above you. Her moans are low and entirely full of pleasure.

You have a belief that her urges bring out something in you, something similar because you can’t help but want to be used by her every season.

With heavy hands, Miko pushes you to the ground forcefully on your back. She slowly lowers to her knees, watching you carefully as you pathetically stare up at her. Your lips are still part and slightly swollen because of her previous ministrations. It makes her heart stop as desire stirs in the pit of her stomach.

She spreads your legs with her slim hands and hooks one of your thighs over her own. Your underwear is discarded in seconds by her nails and her shorts are magically on another side of the room.

Yae Miko’s lips turn slightly upwards, almost in a mischievous grin as she presses your leg to your chest and sits on top of you. She’s hot, the touch of her skin nearly makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. An immediate roll of her hips makes you moan loudly, the feeling of her sopping cunt against your own renders you speechless.

“How funny,” She coos but, struggles to hide back her own shakey exhales. Desire takes the forefront of her brain and all she can think about is satisfying the demanding urge in the pit of her stomach. Over and over, she presses her clit against your own and rubs at the sensitive area while roughly thrusting her hips. This is only the beginning, you’re too aware of it.

With the way Miko is squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipple, you can’t help but anticipate the rest of her plans with you.

ZHONGLI

After spending lifetimes with Zhongli, you still end up winded when the seasons change.

Your husband is a dutiful man and always gives you a fair warning, a notice before something ever happens with his body. However, sometimes a warning is not nearly enough.

It’s been days since his insides have turned into a molten heat and Zhongli has not been shy about tackling this issue with you. You’re always so good to him, let him do whatever he desires just to satisfy the annoying urges.

Day after day, he can’t help but grow stronger about his affections. He’s a selfish man and he desperately needs more.

“Oh, you’re-” The words can’t even leave his lips as his head tilts back, a loud moan leaves his lips. Zhongli grits his teeth painfully, grinding them down as his hand tightens in your hair. He’s not being careful and neither are you. You continue to choke on him, around him, as your spit coats his entire cock. The cool sensation makes your husband’s thighs twitch as he grunts at the feeling spreading between his legs.

You feel incredibly lucky that his primal form has yet to take over, perhaps it won’t even show this time around. It would be nearly impossible to satisfy him with another appendage hanging between his thighs. But, the thought still makes you moan wantingly.

“My love-” Zhongli finds it hard to speak, his balls painfully tight and it only gets worse when he sees your hand hidden between your thighs. He focuses on your fingers moving against your clit and his eyes nearly turn into slits as he focuses on the image. The realization that this brings you as much pleasure as it does him causes a guttural groan to leave his chest. “Come here,”

His voice changes, it becomes much deeper, much more commanding. Zhongli doesn’t wait for you, he roughly pulls you up to your feet before pulling you into his lap. The way he manhandles you, forcing you to sit back on his face makes your entire being light up with need.

“Morax!” You screech as your hands press into his abdomen, his tongue doesn’t waste a second now that you’re on him. The archon presses his tongue into your cunt, thrusting in and out before running the muscle over your clit. The stimulation makes it hard to focus but, you still reach for his heavy cock.

You grip him tightly and lick at his slit, tongue digging into the area as you hum at the taste. Zhongli’s grip on your thighs becomes stronger and he fights back with his sharp nails digging into your skin. Had you been any more focused, you would have thought he had grown claws.

Your cunt pulses around his tongue and all Zhongli can do is continue to shove the muscle inside of you. He doesn’t shy away from rubbing against your walls, no, he has his own agenda. It’s almost sick how he coaxes you to gush around him, all so he can swallow it greedily to satisfy some gut-clenching demand.

But, he can’t help it, he also can’t help how his skin begins to turn and scales spread across his arms. He can’t help but connect with his primal side when you satisfy the very deepest desires that he has.

#arataki itto x reader #tighnari x reader #yae miko x reader #zhongli x reader #itto x reader #tighnari x you #yae miko x you #zhongli x you #itto smut #tighnari smut #yae miko smut #zhongli smut #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #xiaos spicy almond tofu

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vmpiires · 4 months

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𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

„𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐄”

: ̗̀➛ FLUFF CONTENT!!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, no sex, all fluff and the cute stuff. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; currently unknown. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 1.42K

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; taking a break from smut. finna make sum cute for the ones that need it

“choso!” you threw your arm around choso. the 5’11 male would groan tiredly. you and him were pretty close friends…even closer now that the two of you lived together. you were his ball of sunshine when he just wanted to curl up in a pit of darkness. his tired eyes made their way up to yours and he’d smile a little.

you and him were…something. your relationship wasn’t made official or anything you but it definitely felt like it was. the two of you shared hugs that lasted longer than it should’ve. you were always doing something thoughtful for him like buying him new clothes or even food…to which choso couldn’t help but throw on his awkward crooked smile.

though, choso was a pretty serious guy, you couldn’t help but laugh when he was being dead serious with you. the way he said certain things made you giggle even though there wasn’t anything to laugh at in particular.

he couldn’t lie and say it didn’t make him smile.

“hey…” choso cleared his throat. “what’re you doing up?”

“um..choso, it’s four in the afternoon.” you correct him in your soft and bubbly voice, your face never changing from your excited smile. if you smiled any longer, you were sure that your cheeks would start to hurt.

“huh?” choso glanced up at the clock on the wall in the kitchen that was pretty visible from the living room. his pupils retracted and his eyes widened, shocked about the time. he sighed and slumped back against the cushions of the couch.

“why didn’t you tell me? i was supposed to hang out with itadori today…” he sighed again, now rubbing his eyes. “i’m probably the worst brother ever.”

“you aren’t the worst, cho,” you smile at the curse, trying to reassure him. “you can still hang out with him. he knows how tired you can be.”

“yes, but i promised him i wouldn’t fall asleep and forget about him.” choso continued his moping, covering himself with his robe out of embarrassment…then it was quiet.

he went to sleep again.

you wondered why and how choso could just fall asleep so easily in the middle of conversations like that. his logic was also a bit confusing. he was so worried about yuji’s feelings but now he’s asleep as if he hadn’t been freaking out over it.

later that day, you were in your room playing roblox horror game on your playstation with yuji on the phone while choso was in the shower. you were waiting for him to get out so you can shower. you had to make sure you got that out of the way before you went to bed.

as you played your game, you remembered how dark the room was. you enjoyed being immersed in these games. turning up your volume as loud as possible. closing your door. turning off all the lights and even closing your curtains. you lived for the thrill of being scared.

you heard a click and a screech as your door opened, making you let out a loud gasp, saving yourself from tearing your vocal cords from screaming so much.

choso was standing in your doorway, shirtless and his hair down. completely different from the twintails he usually wore…or his hair tied back, leaving his bangs to hang around in his face.

“you can go in now…” his low adverb voice spoke. “and why’re you screaming so much? is it that game?”

“oh, yeah, sorry.” you chuckled, finally calming your nerves. you were about to say something else until you heard yuji talking again. “oh…yeah, he’s right here. he was talking about you earlier.”

choso raised his eyebrows. you noticed he was doing that thing with his face…that nervous but excited smile. that was the most you seen him smile all day besides earlier today. he would quickly take your phone and put it up to his ear.

“uh…what do i say?” he asked. you just shrug, gesturing him to just say whatever was on his mind. he’d take your advice and walk out of your room, excitedly talking to yuji, starting with an apology.

you just smile at choso’s excitement and patiently wait until he returned with your phone.

that night, you had suddenly woken up after you fell asleep. your tv was off and your blankets were sliding off the bed. you seemed to be sleeping peacefully until you felt someone tapping you. you’d jolt awake and look up to see choso.

“your phone died,” he said, gently placing it beside you. he must’ve had your phone for a while or he just didn’t know when to come and wake you up. you were half asleep and you just nod, not really hearing much of what he said even though he didn’t say much.

“thanks, cho,” you say sleepily before lying down again. soon enough, you felt one side of your bed weigh down. choso was lying down next to you now.

“can i sleep in here with you?” he suddenly asked. “i don’t really wanna sleep by myself.”

that was a first. choso never asked to sleep in the same bed as you. you were too tired to question the curse’s actions and you agree to let him stay with you.

your eyes drift closed again, making yourself comfortable on the bed. soon enough, you felt a pair of arms snake around you.

“i gotta tell you something…um..don’t hate me.” choso began. “i mean, i doubt that you will but just in case.”

choso obviously seemed like a nervous wreck talking to you so closely to your ear. as you fight to keep your eyes open and listen to what choso had to say, you avert your eyes to look at him.

“why would i hate you?” you ask. choso’s cheeks visibly flushed a red color and he’d sigh, struggling to find the correct words to you so the conversation can go on smoothly.

“i…” you hear him pause. “i didn’t mean to fall in love with you like i did. you’re just so beautiful…and sweet. i don’t really know what i’d do without you here with me.”

you lay there processing what he had just said to you. a love confession? you couldn’t even fathom the words coming from your roommate’s lips.

“you don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to, i understand. i just wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my—” choso stopped again as if he were trying to remember something. a word. “do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

a tired smile stretched across your lips, “did you learn that from yuji or did you learn it yourself?”

“when i was talking to yuji on your phone…i asked him what it meant to have a crush on someone…and what it meant to be in a relationship. i mentioned to him that i felt like i’d die around you—that’s a good thing, i promise.” choso explained. “he tells me that it’s fine and that i should tell you how i feel.”

“well…yes, choso. i’ll be your girlfriend.” you say, your drowsiness still evident in your tone. choso released his grip from your body and sat up quickly.

“seriously?” he raised his eyebrows. he seemed unsure if he should’ve been excited. “um..this is good, right? yuji isn’t messing with me, right?”

you just laughed at him. something about his reactions were the cutest thing you could experience. it was like watching a cat play with a new toy.

“yes, seriously.”

“i have to tell yuji,” choso grabbed your phone and attempted to turn it on but it wasn’t working. it was still dead and you didn’t even bother to wake up and put it on the charger.

“tomorrow, cho. tell him tomorrow.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐔𝐒

“yuji,” choso whispered into the phone. you were still asleep in your room while choso had sat in the living room, trying to charge your phone. it took him a second to understand the concept of how long it can take to charge but he was patient until your phone reached a sufficient number so he could use it to make a call.

“i did it. i told her.”

“oh, you did? that’s awesome!” if your phone was any louder, you’d be able to hear yuji cheering over the phone for his big brother since the audio was on speaker. “well, now all you gotta do is be a cool boyfriend and a cool big brother.”

“i think i can do that,” choso smiled.

#𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #choso kamo #anime #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #jujutsu kaisen #choso x black!reader #jjk choso #choso x reader #jjk fluff #choso fluff #choso x female reader #choso x you #roommates #gojo x black reader #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk x you

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loveandmurders · 6 months

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You belong to Ambrose I (poly!Sinclairs x f!reader)

Hey everyone, I'm happy to finally post the first part of this imagine.

I really hope you'll enjoy it <3

Warnings: no proof reading, a few strong words, angst, dangerous!Lester, mentions of violence, blood and murders, morally grey reader.

“Hey, mom, what do you think Ambrose looks like now?” you heard yourself asking your mother without even meaning to.

The woman sent you a quick glance before her attention went back on the food she was preparing on the kitchen table.

“Why?” she sternly asked back and you tried to shrug it off, no matter how embarrassed you were starting to feel about the whole conversation you just brought up.

“Don’t know. I’m just planning a road trip with friends and we’ll go close back to where Ambrose is…was. I noticed it wasn’t even marked on maps anymore” you explained and your mother hummed

“Then you got your answer. Ambrose must be gone.” she said “Like the brothers you used to love so much” she replied and sent you another look, as you glanced down at your lap, in shame.

You should have known better than to talk about Ambrose to your mother. The woman had always wanted to pretend it had been a terrible nightmare.

“Mom…” you whispered

“I’ve never understood why you were so fond of them. Your dad either. They were a terrible influence on you. I’m happy you decided to burn the bridges with them and that you never went back to Ambrose. There was nothing for you there. And those people were troublesome and violent and… freaks. You deserved way better than them.” she continued and you resisted the urge to take their defence. They weren’t freaks, they were… a great part of your life and now a great hole inside your chest. “What was their name again?” your mother asked.

“Sinclairs” you instantly replied before biting your tongue

“Ah yes. Well, I’m glad you didn’t become one” she continued and you frowned at that.

“What do you mean, mom?” you wondered with a tilt of your head

“The eldest one, when he came back to Ambrose after his mother died and that he was sent away for a few months, and before his dad died that same day, he looked for you. He knocked at our door. Thank God you were away with your dad then. I told him to go away and he assured me that he would never go away from you, and that you would become his wife one day too.”

“His… wife” you whispered, your heart aching.

Bo was indeed often speaking about marrying you and sharing you with his brothers, but you always thought there were only words; the Sinclairs never really planned out their future. Bo was too obsessed with cars and getting free from his family to care about anything else. Vincent was too focused on his art. Lester was just a lost kid wandering into the woods late at night. You hadn’t thought they were actually seeing you as their future. You always appeased Bo, you always brought Vincent back to reality, you always helped Lester feel like he was part of something.

“To be honest” your mom resumed and your attention went back on her “with the amount of time you were spending with him and his brothers, I was really worried you would agree on doing something that stupid. And even though you left Ambrose heartbroken and sobbing, I’m happy something happened between you, him and his twin, that day. I don’t know what it is, but I knew it convinced you to leave.” she continued and you didn’t answer. The memory of that day was still burning you to the core.

You had been so happy so see Bo and later on, Vincent. You had run into their arms and they had hugged you with fierce love. You were all planning on getting Lester back too.

And then, Bo killed his dad and Vincent told you he was going to continue the House of Wax, the way his mother always did. You knew about the murders, you knew people were beneath the wax, but you never said anything because you loved the boys. And despite how an awful mother Trudy was, she liked you. You were a girl, and she could finally chat around with what looked like a daughter to her. Victor was also a little more careful around you. You were loved by the Sinclairs, and they couldn’t explain it; it just happened.

But their love was dark and violent, and you couldn’t agree to live like that; you couldn’t stay in Ambrose when everything was dying around and you couldn’t live from murders. You promised yourself to never betray your boys, but at the same time, you left with your parents without a goodbye. You knew that if you decided to go see the twins one last time, they would convince you to stay and it couldn’t happen. You never recovered from the fact you didn’t see Lester again before leaving and you hoped Bo had been able to bring him back home. You were certain he did though, because his people were the only thing that mattered to him.

You were about to leave the kitchen when your mother called your name and you turned around, with a raised eyebrow, silently asking her what she wanted.

“Do me a favour and stay away from Ambrose during your little road trip, okay?” she said with a hint of concern in her voice

“You said yourself that there is nothing there anymore anyways” you replied, a little bit surprised by your mother’s attitude

“I know but… I don’t want you to tempt the devil” she replied and you only found yourself nodding.

You wondered if by the devil she meant Bo.

Bo knelt in front of a woman he just killed. She was the last one of the group and he was glad about it because he felt quite tired now. It was too hot today to play hide and seek with assholes. At least, the night was already casting its shadows around Ambrose and bringing with it a little bit of fresh air. Bo looked down at the woman, tilting his head to the side as he watched the pretty necklace she had around her neck. It was slightly covered in blood but he was pretty sure he could wash it without trouble. It looked expensive; he was certain the glitter coming from beneath the blood was a little diamond. He took it off her body without a care and pocketed it before Vincent could use this jewel on his next wax statue.

“Y/N would’ve liked it” Bo hummed to himself before sadly sighting. His throat tightened as always when he was saying your name out loud.

Whenever he was spotting something that reminded him of you, he was always grabbing it and putting it away, in a box filled with gifts for you. He never stopped hoping that one day he would be able to give you this box. You would realise how much you were loved then; but so far it only happened in his dreams. And yet, he was thinking about you everyday of his life and he still believed you would come back home one day. He was certain you were meant to be a Sinclair; even his parents were liking you so it had to mean something. He missed you so much, he missed your laugh and he missed the way you loved his brothers and himself. Ambrose was empty without you. Life had always been shit, but your absence was torture. He had thought that after a few years, the pain would subside, but it really didn’t. It often felt like it was actually growing up inside his chest. You left with a piece of themselves, you left with the only sun and happiness the boys truly felt. He knew his brothers were feeling the same, because everytime they were all eating together at night, the conversation always ended on what you became. And on why you never came back.

They could guess you were disapproving of the killing, but they couldn’t stand the idea that maybe you got scared of them. They couldn’t even say it out loud; you were the only thing they would never have hurt.

Bo sighted again as he grabbed the woman by her ankles and he started to pull her to the house. Vincent came upstairs when he heard a body being dragged on the floor and he helped his twin out. Vincent could tell by the look in Bo’s eyes that he was thinking about you. It was the only moment Bo was utterly silent too, lost in thoughts.

Vincent couldn’t blame him. He had hundreds of books filled with drawings of you. Whenever he thought that he would never hear your voice again, never feel your touch on his skin anymore, Vincent was drawing you. He was certain you existed that way, and he was certain he would never forget about what you looked like, even if he knew your figure and face were carved inside his chest and brain. You used to caress the bad side of his face and to remind him he was handsome, even in front of Trudy or Victor. You had never been afraid to show yourself with “the freak”. And his skin felt so dry and painful now your fingers hadn’t traced it in years.

The twins worked in utter silence and none of them felt hungry that night, so they went to bed earlier than usual. None of them slept actually, simply staring at the ceiling or at the wall, wondering where you were and if you were happy… without them. They wanted you to be happy as much as they wanted you to be miserable without them, because it was their only chance you would one day come back home.

Lester wasn’t better than the twins. And if Bo fucked with some girls, Lester just couldn’t even think about touching someone else than you. It felt wrong to him. He promised you he was yours and only yours after all. He had always enjoyed how a little bit possessive you were with the three of them. Lester wasn’t certain of a lot of things, but he knew he belonged to you. You had always loved them equally, giving them the love they were all craving so much.

You were always in Lester’s mind. He was always hoping to find you among a group of tourists, to be fair. He never stopped looking for you and hoping to see you again. You belonged to them too, so he couldn’t understand how you could live away from them. And he knew that if he ever found you again, he wouldn’t hesitate to lock you up somewhere if it meant keeping you by his side. Forever.

And he was certain that the twins were thinking the same. They lost you once, they wouldn’t allow it to happen again.

But for that… he needed to find you first.

And every morning and every night, he promised himself he would. Out of the three, he was the one who was the most certain he could get you back home, no matter if you wanted it or not. You were his little goddess, so he was certain that at some point you would come close to Ambrose again… and he would stumble upon you… and he would get you home. You would become the divinity of Ambrose once again, and everything would be alright.

One day, luck seemed to be on his side.

The closer you drove to Ambrose, the more you recognised the roads. Your mother’s words never stopped echoing inside your head and at some point, you turned the wheel so you wouldn't get too close to the place. A part of you wanted to drive right back to it; you even felt a little pang when you took the opposite path. You wanted to be back home more than anything, but you were too afraid of what would await you there. You even believed that the twins would be so mad at you, they would kill you and turn you into a wax statue so you couldn’t leave anymore without saying goodbye.

You found a little campsite and you all decided to spend the evening and night there. You forced yourself to focus on your people so you could forget about the Sinclairs. Another part of you was begging you to leave this place and to drive as far as possible away from Ambrose. You had no idea which parts of you were stronger.

You realised you didn’t have enough food for tonight so you and another girl took the car to find a shop nearby. It was late so a lot of them were close and you had to admit, you shivered in fear when your friend showed you the only store open 24/7 in the area. It was very close to Ambrose; little did you know that it was actually the town Lester was living in. You tried to not show anything as you drove to the store. You crossed your fingers to not run into any of the Sinclairs before you thought how stupid this was. The boys wouldn’t be there, and they might even be dead because of their way of life. And you were a lucky girl, something like that couldn’t happen to you.

Even if something inside of you was bubbling in excitement and hope.

As you entered the store, a man was leaving it. He moved to the side to let you come in and as you were about to thank him, your eyes met his and widened.

Lester.

You tried to move past him, hoping he wouldn’t have recognised you or that he would hate you enough to let you go easily. But you were a fool. He instantly grabbed your wrist as he whispered your name, bringing you back to him. He was in trance. He couldn’t believe the day finally came. Your friend frowned, wondering what was going on. She placed an arm around your shoulder to show you support

“Can you let go of her, buddy?” she calmly said and Lester instantly obeyed, not wanting to cause a scene. He put his hands in front of him in defence.

“Sorry. Hi, Y/N, ‘s been a long time” he hummed, looking for your eyes.

“Hi, Les. Sorry, but we’re a bit in a hurry here, we’ll chat another time, hmm?” you said, hoping to get out of this discussion as fast as possible. Goosebumps littered his skin at the sound of your voice calling him by his nickname.

You were surprised when Lester simply smiled and nodded. You noticed his grin didn’t reach his eyes though and you suppressed a shiver. You knew you were in trouble, especially with him letting you go so easily. Even more when he cheerfully said as you turned your back to him “See you soon, darl”

Lester settled in his truck and waited for you and your friend to get out of the store. He dialled his big brother’s number with a light in his eyes. It was the first time in so long he felt like he was finally alive. He was certain things were finally going to be good.

“‘S up, Les?” Bo hummed at the other side of the line, always answering his phone very fast whenever his brothers needed him

“She’s here.” Lester simply said because he was too happy and excited to say anything else.

“What are ya talkin’ ‘bout, kid?” Bo asked, not wanting to get some false hope.

“Y/N. She’s at the store. She’s with a friend. Gonna follow them, I’ll send ya their location… And we’ll bring her home tonight”

It was a promise.

And a threat.

Taglist : @lacychick ; @magical-sass ; @limehaspassed ; @loveinglymessedup ; @bloodmoon-bites ; @iwantsleepplz ; @kawaistrawberry21

PART II

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nolita-fairytale · 10 months

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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter three

summary: while you and luca seek inspiration outside of the kitchen, you finally share a piece of yourself with him.

warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.

word count: 2.2k

a/n: thank you again for all the shares, reblogs, comments! let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!

part two | masterlist | part four

It’s been a month or so since Luca’s tasting menu for one, and he’s been nothing but a good thing in your life: a friend, a collaborator, a regular diner who gives fantastic feedback. You’ve become fast friends, and after what he did for you, how could you not? You find yourself spending days off with him at a more frequent pace as of late: enjoying cups of coffee, perusing bookstores, following Luca on bicycle as he shows you the city’s lesser known, yet spectacular bakeries. He gives you a heads up when he can’t make it into the restaurant, but most Saturdays, he continues to make his regular Saturday 7 pm date week after week.

Some days you make him something off-menu – something you’re working on, something you’re recipe testing, a dish you’ve bounced ideas around with him over – and other days he’s eager to try whatever new thing you’ve just added to your menu, insisting for you not to go through the trouble of whipping up anything else. It’s a special relationship – something only food-people can understand – and you’re glad that Luca entered your life.

“Hey, your boyfriend’s here,” Jesper says, interrupting your dinner prep as he grabs your attention.

“My what?” you ask him, with no clue in the world what he’s talking about.

“Luca,” he answers plainly, as you and Mathilde both exchange a look.

“Shut up, Jesper,” you both snap in unison, shooting a glare his way.

You exchange another look with Mathilde, almost as if to say: you good? She nods towards the front of house as if to say: yes, I’ve got this covered.

“Yeah, give me a second and I’ll be right out,” you finally direct towards Jesper, as you put down your knife. You reach a stopping point, wiping your hands on your apron, as you leave behind the Mikkelson twins bickering about what Jesper’s previous comment.

Something about ‘you baby her’ from Jesper and a ‘you’re going to scare her away and this is a good thing, you idiot’ from Mathilde in return. At least that’s what you’re able to make out from your basic Danish language skills (you’re working on it, you swear, and right now you know enough to get by in the kitchen and that’s enough)!

You spot Luca with a package tucked underneath his arm as he leans up against the front door, waiting for you.

“Hi,” you greet him, choosing to ignore the fact that your heart skips a beat as soon as you see him.

“Hey. I was on my way to the post office around the corner. Thought I’d stop in and say hello,” he replies with that ever-charming crooked smile of his.

“No, yeah, I-. I’m glad you did,” you return, unable to hide the smile that spreads across your lips.

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it, especially if this is somehow something you’ve made up entirely in your head, but it seems as if Luca’s found different ways – different excuses – to stop in more and more frequently as of late.

“What’s in the box?” you ask him, curiously, gesturing to the package he holds underneath his arm.

“Remember that American I was telling you about? The one who came to stage?” he asks, looking down for a moment.

“Yeah.”

“His restaurant opening is this week. Wanted to send this off. As a gift.”

“That’s kind of you.”

He blushes, just for a moment.

“Think we’ve lost touch with the art of a handwritten note. A novelty these days,” he says, with a quick raise of both eyebrows.

“Absolutely. I mean… it worked on me,” you chuckle, immediately regretting what’s come out of your mouth.

You’re not sure why you said it and what exactly it is that worked on you you’re referring to, but it’s too late to take it back.

“Yeah, I’ve got him to thank, really,” he chuckles, almost shyly. Taking a bolder approach as he continues with, “For reminding me to walk the walk. For bringing me to you.”

You pause, your heart catching in your throat. In the event of fight, flight, and freeze, it really feels like you’re choosing ‘freeze’ whenever Luca’s been around.

“I bet you’re a really great teacher,” are the words that fall out of your mouth, immediately regretting them for how silly your response sounds.

“So was he,” he parries back.

“Sure,” you nod, still reeling from whatever the hell came out of your mouth a moment ago.

Your disconcerting slip-of-the-tongue seems to leave an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, tip-toeing around each other, unsure of who should make the next move.

“Anyways,” Luca clears his throat, collecting himself. “I ehm, gotta get going. Gotta get back to the restaurant here in a few. It was good seeing you today.”

“You too,” is all you reply, frozen and stuck in your own head.

What the hell is wrong with you? You think to yourself as you watch him go.

“Luca, wait,” you say, pushing through the front door to your restaurant as you chase after him.

He turns back towards you, a kind of ‘did I leave something behind?’ look on his face.

“I can’t stop thinking…” you trail off, taking a breath before you continue your sentence, leaving Luca unsure of what you’ll say next.

“...about that dish you’re stuck on. And about what you said.. about finding inspiration. Being open to… you know, what’s out there.”

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling at the thought of you thinking of him.

“Yeah I… I think I have an idea,” you declare boldly.

And it may be a baby step, but it’s a baby step towards him, towards who knows what, towards whatever’s ahead of you.

-------------------------------

You pitch the idea to Luca – to explore different mediums of art as a way of seeking out inspiration (and maybe it’s just another excuse to see him too) – and after a few weeks of busy schedules, covering at the restaurant for coworkers-on-holiday, and lining up days off, you and Luca finally make it happen. It’s been over a year now, since the restaurant opened – and almost two since you came to Copenhagen in pursuit of a dream.

“Wait a second. So you haven’t read Rene Redzepi’s A Work In Progress?” Luca asks incredulously looking for confirmation of the obscene tidbit of information you’ve just revealed to him.

“No,” you admit, guiltily stealing a glance his way.

“My god, it’s fascinating! I’ll have to lend you my copy,” he charges forward, solving the problem at hand without question.

“I’d like that,” you smile, almost to yourself as you think about how much you like being around Luca. “And I’d love to hear about your time at noma – what working under him was like.”

“Uh… that’s maybe a different story for a different time,” he deflects with a chuckle, shooting you a look. “Perhaps after a few pints.”

“Heard,” you nod in understanding, turning to him as the two of you find a good place to post up in the park. You and Luca set your lawn chairs down in Kongens Have, or rather The King’s Garden, right behind a row of other lawn chairs set up that face the tent-covered stage.

“It’s good to see you,” you finally say, really taking him in.

“It’s good to see you too. Sorry it’s just working out now,” Luca apologizes emphatically.

“No, it’s okay! We uh… we’re both busy. We both run restaurants. I mean-, I’m surprised we figured it out in time for the show,” you reply, easily letting him off the hook.

“This is pretty cool,” he says, taking in your surroundings. “First time here?”

“Yeah I-, I didn’t make it when I first moved here… and then this time last year I had just opened the restaurant so… yeah first time. You?”

“Yeah, first time,” he echoes with a reassuring nod.

“Really? I just thought-, well, I thought Copenhagen Jazz Fest was like a huge deal here,” you inquire.

He shrugs, responding with, “I reckon you’re a big jazz fan then, eh?”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Have you always been into it or-?” he questions curiously.

“Uh, no. I… my ex,” you hesitate, figuring you should tell Luca sooner rather than later. “... my ex-husband is a music historian so… I got really into it when we first started seeing each other.

He balks, only for a moment, hoping you don’t notice the strong reaction that briefly flashes across his face.

“You were married?” he asks, barely able to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah,” you admit, nervously.

He waits a beat.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” he asks carefully, with an honesty and genuine curiosity in his voice.

“I-I don’t mind. As long as you don’t-,” you stammer, only a little taken aback by the grace he’s shown you.

“Please,” he encourages, listening carefully. “I like learning about you.”

You freeze for a moment, searching for where to begin, and more than anything, in awe of Luca.

“We met right after I moved back home to Boston – right after I finished school,” you begin, watching him carefully for any kind of reaction.

“And it was good. For a long time. But after a few years of being together, his mom got sick and uh… we both decided that we wanted to move to London so that he could help his sisters take care of her. It was just easier… if we got married… with immigration and stuff.”

“But you loved him?”

“Yes,” you answer. “I think… we knew we wanted to stay together… so we took the leap, unafraid of the fact that everything has its expiration date too. Ours just uh, came a little sooner than we expected.”

“What happened?” Luca asks.

You chuckle dryly, racking your brain for the answer to a question you’ve asked yourself a million times.

“Um… moving back home changed a lot, I think. And we met when we were so young that I don’t think by the time we were caring for a sick parent together, we realized we didn’t really even know who we were anymore,” you explain, putting words to a feeling that’s live in your heart for so long – long enough that you’ve barely shared them with anyone else.

“And… I was living in a whole new country without any kind of familiarity. I was homesick, and all of it – it was just really hard on the both of us,” you think through as you speak.

“I think it just made us realize that we had changed… and that maybe we weren’t the same people who fell in love all those years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Luca apologizes, sending you an empathetic glance.

“It’s okay,” you’re quick to reassure him. “It was tough. Don’t get me wrong. Like… really tough. But nothing… horribly wrong happened. Some people can grow together.” You pause, only for a moment. “We didn’t. We… weren’t those people, I guess. So we grew apart.”

Luca takes a few moments to process what you’ve just told him with a pensive look on his face – and you can’t blame him.

He waits a beat, before returning his gaze to you, a respect for you in his eyes: for your honesty, for your story, for your resilience.

“Are you still in love with him?” he finally asks.

It’s a good question – an interesting one – and even more interesting that he asked in the first place.

“There are parts of me that will always love him,” you share, the vulnerability coming more naturally to you as Luca makes you feel more and more comfortable. “He’ll always be a part of me and… I still keep in touch with his family, you know. They became… my family too.” You pause, knowing that you can say this next part with full conviction:

“But to answer your question, no. I'm not… I’m not in love with him anymore.”

Luca nods slowly, almost as if he’s waiting for you to change your mind – to take it back – to say something that convinces him otherwise. But you don’t, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to help himself from giving in to things he’s been feeling for you.

“I hope you don’t mind that I asked,” Luca finally says.

“No I-,” you begin. “I’m glad you did. It feels nice… having someone ask.”

He smiles, “Like I said. I like learning about you.”

And with that, the two of you settle into your lawn chairs as the performers make their way onto the stage. There’s a shift – within the crowd, between you and Luca – as the musicians take their places, ready to perform. With the first few notes, the tuning of a guitar, a few keys on the piano, you feel yourself relax a little, encompassed by the warmth of the Copenhagen summer night.

It’s almost as if telling Luca, sharing this with him, has lifted a weight off of your shoulders – no longer hanging over your head as you go back and forth of when to tell him, and if you should tell him, and thoughts of ‘why the hell are you worrying about this it’s not like he wants to know’.

Except he did and he does because he wants to know you.

And tonight, because he asked, because he’s proven to be a great listener, and because he looks so damn good doing it, you might just let him.

-------------------------------

a/n: ok how the hell are we feeling now that we know a little more about reader, her past, and why she's been holding back?! i honestly wanted to write a character that felt fresh, and different from me/my make my heart surrender character SO yeah, this where we're at --second chances at love and a story about opening up again -- with more to come.

#chef luca #will poulter #luca the bear #the bear season 2 #the bear headcanon #luca x reader #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear fanfiction #chef luca x reader #pastry chef luca #burn your life down

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exhuastedpigeon · 2 months

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Buddie Hiatus Fic Recs - Month 4 August 16 - Sept 15

I think is my favourite rec list for this little project so far. It has some of my all time favourite Buddie fics on it, fics that I've read over and over again because they just bring me so much joy.

Previous lists linked at the bottom!

0-5k

here (in your arms) by devirnis / @devirnis Explicit | 2.3k I have had THE WORST day. When I finally get home, I’m going to pass out and sleep like a rock, and then I want to wake up with you inside me.

the art of peeling mandarins for the one you love by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 3.9k Buck asks Eddie to marry him in the kitchen, of all places.

5k-10k

but i've got my teeth in you by oklahoma / @sunshinediazTeen | 5.5k bad things happen bingo—tooth knocked out

you're the cream in my coffee by 42hrb Explicit | 8.6k Buddie coffee shop AU where everything is different, but they’re still idiots in love

wood you be mine? by MonsterRae1 / @monsterrae1 Mature | 9k the Lumberjack Buck fic.

10k-20k

With Great Power Comes Great Pining by Princessfbi / @princessfbi Teen | 10.4k It was the lightning strike. That had to be it. It was the only logical conclusion. Though, when it comes to being able to suddenly read people’s minds, Buck supposed there wasn’t a whole lot of logic involved.

endless numbered days by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Gen | 13.1k When a big event in the lives of the members of the 118 falls on the same weekend as Bobby's late son's birthday, Bobby finds himself reflecting on grief, fatherhood, and life after loss.

The Scroll of Saint Barnabas by Amiril / @runawaymarbles Mature | 15k The day of the shooting, Eddie got stuck in a time loop. But that was three months ago. He's completely fine now.

Say Yes, and Figure It Out Afterwards by catwalksalone Explicit | 13.3k Buck and Eddie figure out a mutually beneficial way to deal with the first responder post-trauma cycle of up-horny-down.

Share the Joy by TalkNerdyToMe6 Teen | 14.2k After the lightning strike, Buck discovers he has more than just the ability to do long division in his head. Every time he touches Eddie, everything the other man is feeling moves through him like a wave of emotion, there and gone again. Buck can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.

20k - 30k

light through the wave tips by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Explicit | 21.9k When Buck and Eddie planned a vacation with their kids over a year ago, they hadn’t exactly planned on bringing a seven-month-old baby along with them. Surely wrangling three kids can't be too much of a challenge—that is, if it weren't for Christopher's steadily worsening mood.

Cutting The Ties That Bind by kristen999 / @thekristen999 Mature | 34.4k Evan Buckley was a businessman, he had meetings and deadlines like everyone else. Sometimes he used intimation. While using the very same tactics he was trying to end while converting his family business into legitimate operations was a little hypocritical, it was the results that mattered.

Occasionally, he got threatened, but it was usually all hot air and ego. That all changed the day his breaks were tampered with. Enter Eddie Diaz, security specialist, who was not easily impressed by Buck’s expensive suits or financial conquests. That was okay. Buck enjoyed a challenge.

30k +

family (portrait) by ProsperDemeter / @prosperdemeter2 Teen | 45.1k realizing that the family that you need has been beside you all along.

like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 51.1k evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 79.8 Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica

what a heart can do by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Teen | 85.5k In which Buck becomes the guardian of the daughter he never knew he had. Together, they discover what happiness truly means to them.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15)

#Buddie #rec list #buddie rec list #buddie hiatus rec list #911 #seriously i've reread like a dog with a bird at your door like 9 times #and being eddie?? it changed me as a human #and don't get me started on the art of peeling mandarins for the one you love

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burntheedges · 2 months

Text

Maintenance Request: Chapter 12

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 8.1k

chapter summary: it's (finally) time for your first date with Joel. a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕 chapter tags/warnings: fluff, flirting, flirting with intent, touching, kissing, dancing, banter, drink and food mention, reader can wink (author cannot lol), semi-public canoodling, reader sits on Joel’s lap, groping

Chapter 12

Friday, October 25 Ninth week of the semester

On Friday evening you were nervous. Excited, but nervous.

“You’re going to have an amazing time, you know that. He’s so into you and we both know how much you like him.” Beth’s voice came from the shelf where you had your phone propped up with her on FaceTime. You were trying to figure out what to wear for your date.

“I just want to find the right outfit.” You were standing in your closet in your underwear, which Beth had already teased you for. You held up your black jeans and another top. “What about this?”

“Hmm,” Beth leaned towards the camera to look at it. “That is a great color on you.”

You held it up and sighed. “I’m not feeling it, I think.” You thought for a moment. “Wait!” You dove into the back and pulled out a top you hadn’t worn in ages — you looked amazing in it, but it wasn’t really work appropriate so it had slowly gotten shuffled to the depths of your closet.

“Yes! I forgot you had that. That’s the one.”

You smiled, agreeing. “I forgot I had it, too. Ok, I’m going to finish getting ready.”

“Better run! It’s like 6:35.”

“Shit! Ok, love you, talk to you later.”

You reached to end the call, and before you could, Beth said, “you better text me! If you go home with him, tell me where you are!” You said you would and hung up.

As you moved to put your phone down, you noticed you had a text from Ellie.

Ellie (6:21 PM): don’t forget to tell him if he fucks up I’m coming for him 🔪 have a nice date

It made you laugh, which was probably her goal.

you (6:37 PM): 🫡

Ellie (6:37 PM): and take a video of you dancing

you (6:38 PM): 🙄

You were mostly ready, just had to throw on your (finally) chosen outfit. That was why you’d called Beth in the first place — you’d almost been ready to go, and had totally stalled out in front of your closet, trying to figure out what to wear.

You stepped into your kitchen with only minutes to spare. At 6:59pm you were looking at the clock on your microwave when you heard a knock on your front door. You smiled, and grabbed your purse.

When you opened the door, Joel was waiting for you on the other side. He’d forgone another of his flannel shirts, and instead was wearing a dark green dress shirt that hugged his arms and shoulders deliciously. You found yourself slowly trailing your eyes down his torso to where he had it tucked into his dark jeans. His tight dark jeans. You swallowed and darted your gaze back to meet his eyes.

You found him checking you out in the same way, and you smiled again.

“Hey there, hot stuff.”

His eyes snapped back to yours when you greeted him. He smirked. “You look gorgeous, darlin’.” He stepped forward and revealed a small bouquet of colorful flowers in his left hand. “For you.”

You grinned, and took the flowers from him, noting that none of them would make you sneeze. “These are lovely, thank you.” You moved to step back towards your kitchen and gestured him inside. “Come in while I put them in water.” He followed you over the threshold and you heard him walking slowly behind you as you searched for a vase.

“I like your place, darlin’.” You looked over your shoulder and found him inspecting the art and pictures hung in your entryway. “It’s very you.”

You smiled as you pulled out a vase for the flowers and arranged them inside. “Oh?” You felt more than heard him come up behind you. He touched your waist lightly with both hands and you felt his breath on the right side of your neck. You bit your lip against a grin.

“It feels warm and inviting. It’s cute. Like you.” You leaned back into him and he took it as the invitation it was, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I’ll have to visit yours and see how much it looks like you.”

He laughed, and then leaned down and kissed the spot under your ear he had mentioned in his text. Your breath caught. “Our place is mostly Sarah, I think.” His lips moved against your neck as he spoke.

“Hmm,” you tilted your head to give him easier access. “I’ll just have to judge it for myself, then.” You felt him smile into your neck and his arms hugged you tighter.

“We should get going before I decide I’d rather keep you here,” he murmured into your neck. He pressed one final kiss there before stepping away.

You turned to smile at him. “You could probably talk me into it.”

Joel closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and shaking his head at you. “No, darlin’, I’m taking you out. Been looking forward to this for weeks.” He reached down to take your hand and started walking backwards towards your front door. “No gettin’ distracted, now. We have places to be.” He winked.

You followed behind him to your front hall and out the door, turning to lock it behind you. You felt his hand slide into place on your lower back as the two of you walked out of your apartment building to his truck. He handed you into the passenger side before climbing in himself, and you were off.

You took advantage of the opportunity and watched Joel as he drove. “I’m glad we made it to date night.”

He smiled and glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Me too, darlin’.” He reached over and took your hand in his, resting both on the center console. “I think you’ll like the music. The band is really great.” He squeezed your hand.

“I’m sure I will. I am nervous about the dancing, though.”

Joel looked at you as he slowed to a stop at a red light. “I’ll be there to guide you, darlin’. They won’t be doing anything too complicated.” You nodded, still a bit nervous, but reassured.

Over the rest of the ride, Joel filled you in on the band you’d be seeing — The Wild Strawberries — since he did know them, and had seen them perform locally many times. It sounded like they were, at the very least, friendly acquaintances. His thumb lightly stroked the back of your hand the whole way there.

The bar was downtown, somewhat close to the university, but tucked onto a side street that you knew students rarely frequented. (Which was a good thing. The last thing you wanted to do was run into your students on a date.) You could see through the front windows that the space inside was large, with a big stage near the back, a dance floor, and tables scattered throughout the room. A long bar made of dark, solid wood stretched along the entire right hand wall. It was busy, but not overcrowded. In neon letters and a fancy font the name The Tipsy Bison stretched over the front facade.

Joel parked down the street and came around the car to open your door before handing you out of the truck. He kept hold of your hand as you turned to walk back towards the bar. “So you’ve never been to the Bison before, darlin’?”

You shook your head. “I’ve been to a few other places on this block, but never here. I’m not often downtown in the evenings.” As you approached the door Joel transferred your right hand to his right so he could settle his left low on your back to guide you through the opening.

The Bison, as Joel called it, was warm and inviting inside. On the stage there were a couple of people setting up for the band, and the tables were about half full. You and Joel claimed a table near the dance floor where you could easily see the stage. As you sat, you heard someone call Joel’s name from behind you.

“There you are, you bastard. You said you’d come see us play months ago.” A friendly looking man in a nice button up shirt came over and clapped his hand on Joel’s shoulder. Joel rolled his eyes as the man looked over at you. “Well, hello there! I’m Frank. And who might you be?” Frank held out his hand and you shook it as you introduced yourself. A sly look came over his face when he heard your name, and he turned back to Joel. “Wait, is this the Gorgeous Prof—”

Joel rolled his eyes and sighed. “How many people did Tommy tell about that?”

Frank laughed, and you grinned. “Wasn’t Tommy, I’m afraid. Tess sold you out this time.” Joel sighed again.

You took pity on him and cut in, “don’t worry, he had a nickname, too. We were calling him ‘Hot Construction Asshole’ for a while there.” Frank laughed, loudly. When you caught Joel’s eye again you winked, and he gave you that half smile that you loved.

“Well!” Frank clapped his hands. “I’m glad you’re here. Finally. And it’s lovely to meet you. I’ll introduce you to my husband later, he’s not here yet but he’ll be holding down that corner booth eventually.”

You smiled and nodded, noticing that the booth in question had a “Reserved” sign. “I’d love to meet him.”

Frank wandered off and you turned back to Joel. “So how many people did you talk to about me?” He blushed, and you grinned.

“Just Sarah, Tommy and Tess, darlin’, but Tess and Frank are thick as thieves. No telling who Tommy’s talked to.”

You shrugged. “Well, you know I talked to Beth and Ellie. And my sister, Ellie’s mom, a bit.” You didn’t really want to get into that now so you didn’t pause to let him ask any questions. “Like I said before, we just need new nicknames.” You tilted your head as you considered him. “What do you think, hot stuff?”

He smirked. “Oh, are we stickin’ with that one?”

“I was trying it out.” You smiled at him, unrepentant. “Was also thinking of calling you ‘cowboy.’ Seeing what fits.”

He eyed you. “Well, darlin’, you can call me that if you like.” He leaned closer so he could speak lowly into your ear. “I know you like it when I call you sweet names, honey, but I’m determined to figure out which one is your favorite.” He leaned back to take in the effect his words had on you, and you assumed he wasn’t disappointed. You felt the heat in your cheeks and the hitch in your breath. Whatever was happening in your body must have been written all over your face.

“Oh?” Your voice was breathy and high pitched.

He leaned back in to press a kiss to your cheek, soft. “I can tell you like darlin’, and honey, but we’ll just have to keep looking for the right one.”

You turned towards him, and found that your faces were just inches apart. “The right one for what?” You felt a bit dazed, and you realized you were staring at his mouth. You watched as the corners rose into a smirk again.

“The right one, baby, for later. When you let me kiss you again, like you did in your office. And maybe we find out what happens next, when we don’t get interrupted.” You bit your lip and swayed towards him, but you were startled away from his gaze by the arrival of your server.

“Evening, folks! What can I getcha?”

You felt Joel lean away from you as you both glanced down at the drink menus you hadn’t touched. But that was alright — Joel ordered a beer and you ordered your go-to drink.

As your server stepped away, you looked back at Joel and felt a bit off kilter, coming down from your intimate moment that had been interrupted. He regarded you and slid his hand over to rest next to yours. “So what do you think, darlin’? About the Bison?”

You looked around you, and then back at Joel. You slid your hand closer so your fingers were touching. “I like it, Joel. It’s right up my alley.”

He smiled, and started playing with your fingers. “Good.”

Over drinks you talked about work a bit, and then about your friends, and Sarah and Ellie. Joel told you about Sarah’s soccer games (she was a forward) and how she was thinking about going out for the school varsity team next year.

You told him about Ellie starting the art club at her school and getting in trouble for cursing at one of her teachers, which was really par for the course. He laughed through the story, though, and summed it up with, “she sounds like a real firecracker. Sarah’d like her,” which made you smile and lace your fingers with his on the table.

“She is,” you agreed.

You ordered some food, and the band started getting in place when it arrived. You scooted a bit closer to Joel so you’d have a better angle on the stage and he set his arm along the back of your chair, turning toward you in response. You noticed Frank was holding a bass guitar.

When the music started, Joel leaned toward you to murmur in your ear, “you want another drink, darlin’? Before we get out on the floor.” You nodded, and he squeezed your hand before standing and heading towards the bar.

Frank’s band had a bit of a folksy sound, mixed with traditional rock and country. Their first few songs were fun and upbeat and you watched as people started to move onto the dance floor. Some couples were doing what looked like a two-step to your untrained eye, while others did the more accessible sway-in-place. A large group of friends was also hovering near the front and dancing together.

Joel returned with your drinks and pointed out what was, in fact, two people dancing a two-step and named a few of the moves for you. You started to feel overwhelmed at how much you didn’t know about dancing, while he was so knowledgeable.

Joel scooted his chair closer to yours and leaned in. You realized he must have noticed how much you liked it when he spoke right in your ear.

“What do you think, darlin’? Wanna give it a go?” He moved his arm from the back of your chair closer to you, letting his fingers brush against your arm. You shivered, and you could see that he noticed when he smirked.

“Go easy on me?” You could hear the lack of confidence in your voice. His smirk gentled into a smile.

“Darlin’, just follow me. I won’t let you stumble.” He stood and offered you his hand, which you took.

Joel led you to an empty area near the edge of the dance floor and guided you into a stance you noticed was similar to the one the other dancers were using. “Alright, look, we’ll take it slow. Start with the basics.” And he did. He guided you through a simple two-step, and before you knew it you were moving around your corner of the dance floor to the beat. Slowly, but you were doing it. You watched your feet as you tried to keep up with the step.

Joel cleared his throat. “So? What do you think?”

Your eyes flew from your feet to meet his gaze. You smiled, hesitantly. “Am I doing it?”

He grinned at you. “You are, honey.”

You and Joel kept it up for the rest of the song, moving slowly. After a few minutes you were able to look away from your feet again.

“How did you learn how to dance?”

He turned you as you approached the tables, to keep you on the dance floor, and you felt his hand move across your back to bring you closer to him. “My mother taught me and my brother. Our family gatherings tend to feature a lot of dancing.”

“With you and your brother?”

“Well, with the whole family. Our cousins, everybody. Sarah, too.” You realized you were a lot closer to Joel than when you started, but you were still managing not to step on his feet. You smiled. “She’s been dancing at family parties since she was just a kid. Everyone on that side loves to dance, with, ah, varying levels of skill.”

You laughed. “Sounds fun.”

“It is,” he agreed. “Never a dull moment.” The song was coming to an end, and Joel slowed you to a stop. “What do you think? Another song?” You smiled and nodded, and Joel winked at you. “Think we can speed it up?”

“Maybe just a little? Not too much?”

He nodded. “Don’t worry, darlin’, I won’t throw anything too complicated at you. We’re just getting started.”

Joel led you through a few more dances, and you felt more and more confident with each one. In the last one before you decided to take a break he even threw in a (successful) spin and dipped you a bit. You laughed, feeling breathless. He slowly pulled you back up, flush with his chest, and you found yourself staring into his eyes from just a few inches away. Without your conscious input your gaze dropped to his lips. He leaned in before you could and kissed you once, softly, before pulling back and resting his forehead against your own.

“I haven’t had that much fun dancing since I can remember, darlin’.”

You chuckled. “Even though I barely know what I’m doing?”

He shook his head and kissed you again, softly. “You picked it up pretty quick, you know. But it doesn’t matter, I’d rather dance with you than do something fancy. You wanna sit down for a bit?” You nodded, and he pulled away to lead you back to your table. You realized you’d almost started making out with Joel in the middle of the dance floor, but a quick look around revealed that no one was really paying attention to you since the band was still playing.

You noticed as you sat down that Joel had pulled his chair much closer to yours. You could have put your legs over his lap without needing to move any closer. His arm came down around you with his hand at your waist, so you leaned into him to talk. “How well do you know Frank?”

You felt his thumb start to move up and down against your side as he answered. “He’s closer with Tess, but I’ve known him for about 10 years now. Sarah loves him. She would have begged to come tonight if it wasn’t a date.”

“Oh, that’s too bad! Next time she should come.” It was out of your mouth before you thought about it, but you meant it, so you tried to look confident.

“Next time, hmm?” Joel smiled at you. “I like the sound of that.” He cleared his throat, and looked a bit hesitant. “You, uh, you would be ok with that?”

“With what, Joel?” You tilted your head as you considered him. You weren’t sure why he was suddenly hesitant, after being so confident on the dance floor.

“With Sarah, coming along with us.”

“Joel, of course! Sarah’s great, and besides, I want to date you. That means I want to get to know you. All of you. The whole package, you know? I’d love to get to know Sarah.” You felt suddenly hesitant yourself, even as you watched him relax, smile returning. “If that’s, well. If that’s alright with you. I don’t want to overstep.”

He shook his head. “No, darlin’, Sarah already likes you and I’d love for you two to get to know each other. And get to know your family, too. But I do want to take you on more dates. Just the two of us.”

You smiled. “Let’s do both, then. I’ll bring Ellie along sometime, too.” You leaned in and let your head rest against his shoulder, despite the slight discomfort of sitting so close in two wooden chairs. “I’m having a good time, Joel, I already know I’d love to do this again.”

You felt him rest his cheek against the top of your head and smiled into his shirt. He squeezed your side with the hand that had been playing idly with your waistband. “Honey, I’d love nothin’ more.”

You sat like that through a few more songs, enjoying the feeling of being under Joel’s arm. It felt like all of your attention was taken by the hand at your waist as his thumb moved slowly back and forth in a soft caress. You closed your eyes to enjoy the sensation and tried to focus on not letting yourself get all worked up in public.

After a while, the band announced a break, and you startled and sat up a bit. The dance floor was clearing out, and you turned and looked at Joel. He was looking at you.

“What do you think, Joel? Do you want to dance some more?”

He hummed in response before pulling you close again to murmur in your ear. “What do you think about taking this somewhere a little more quiet? Somewhere we can talk, maybe have another drink.”

You turned your head and found yourself with your lips just inches from his own. “Talk, huh?”

He smiled a bit sheepishly, but winked. “You call the shots here, darlin’.”

“Let’s stick around for one more dance, and then go get that drink. And then maybe head home.” He looked disappointed, and tried to hide it, but you raised your eyebrows at him with a smile and he straightened, surprised.

“Home?” He asked, with not a little hope. It made you grin.

“Well, I never said whose home. But we can figure it out.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed as he took in your teasing tone. “Honey, I’ll go anywhere you’d like.”

You wondered if implying you’d go home with him on the first date was too much, but you shrugged it off. You’d had lunch twice, anyway. That made this like a third date, right? You knew Joel was interested, and so were you. Clearly for more than one night. And you couldn’t stop thinking about his kiss in your office, and what it might have been like to not be interrupted. To hell with it.

“Well then, let’s go back to the dance floor, and then we can go get another drink somewhere, and then head home.” You paused and let it hold for a moment before smirking at him. “Together.” The smile that took over his face was your favorite one yet — wicked and wide.

“Baby, I like the way you think.” You eyed his smile and decided you needed to stand up before “home” became “the bathroom of the Tipsy Bison.” You shook your head and leaned back.

“Come on, you flirt.” You nudged him with your shoulder.

“You like the way I flirt.” He nudged you right back.

You sighed. “I really, really do, Joel.” Before you could go anywhere, though, Frank reappeared at the side of your table.

“Hello, lovebirds!” Joel groaned, but you smiled. “Told you I’d introduce my husband so I had to drag him over here. This is Bill.” Frank stepped to the side to reveal a man about his age or a little older with a beard and a stern face. You introduced yourself and noted that Bill might not have a smile for you, but he definitely had one for Frank. Bill nodded at Joel, who nodded back. Frank rolled his eyes. “These two would just sit in silence with the occasional grunts if I left them alone.” You laughed as Joel sighed and Bill just shrugged.

You chatted with the two of them for a couple of minutes before Frank had to go back on stage, and Bill headed back to his corner booth. You turned back to Joel and smiled. “I like them.” He nodded.

“They’re good people, even if Bill is a bit grumpy.”

“Hmm,” you tilted your head, considering his words.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Nothing,” you grinned. You wondered how often Joel got told he and Bill were alike. He seemed to pick up on what you were thinking and rolled his eyes before sighing and letting his head fall back.

“Not you, too, darlin’.”

“Look, I’m just saying, I see a resemblance.” You tried not to laugh. Joel tilted his head back down and looked at you through narrowed eyes.

“Now, honey, when have I ever been grumpy with you, hmm?” He leaned closer and lifted his hand to run his thumb lightly down your jawline. You bit your lip and he tugged gently with his thumb to release it.

“Maybe I’m just special,” you teased him.

“You are,” he responded, completely serious. You wanted to kiss him again, but before you could, he leaned back and stood, holding out his hand to you. “Now, I believe I was promised another dance.” You laughed and stood as well. He leaned over to press a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before leading you back onto the dance floor.

Frank’s band had just started up again, and they were playing a slower song. Joel pulled you into his arms again, with his left hand settling in the small of your back and his right holding your left. You let your right hand slide up his shoulder and brushed his neck with your fingertips. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your hairline before murmuring, “follow me, darlin’.”

Joel led you into the step he’d taught you earlier, but held you closer while he did it. You found yourself with your head resting on his shoulder as he smoothly guided you around your corner of the dance floor. You let your eyes fall closed and sank into his embrace, trusting your memory of the simple step and Joel’s skills to keep you steady.

He was warm, and broad. Whatever aftershave or cologne or maybe even soap he’d used smelled delicious, and you nuzzled into his neck before you realized what you were doing. He hummed and pulled you even closer. “I like dancin’ with you, honey.”

You could feel his voice rumble in his chest and it made you smile. You moved your head slightly to press a kiss against his neck. He turned his head towards you but you didn’t pull back. “Me too, Joel.”

Your arm had crept around the back of his neck, and you realized he had slowed your steps to almost just swaying in place. You were pressed against him and the awareness of his body against yours rushed through you. The knowledge that you were in public on a dance floor struck you, but all you wanted was to get as close to Joel as possible. Your breath hitched, and you felt Joel take a deep breath in response. He shifted so his right leg nudged between yours, and you closed your eyes at the sweeping feeling in your stomach — he wasn’t quite touching you there, but the suggestion was enough to send heat tingling up your spine. Almost against your will your hips moved just a little bit closer to his own. You both froze.

Suddenly he tightened his grip around your waist and spun you both around, causing you to fall into him more. “Joel!” You pulled back and found him grinning at you. The look in his eye told you he was right there with you, but you both knew you were still in public. He released your waist and spun you away from him before pulling you back in right as the music picked up.

“What do you think, gorgeous? One more dance?” You nodded, breathless. As he led you once more around your corner of the dance floor, your eyes stayed locked on his. You felt like you were in a whirlwind, but all you could see was Joel. As you danced, it was like the two of you were completely in sync — he moved his leg, and you mirrored the movement. He tightened his grip around your waist to turn you, and you followed like it was easier than breathing. Neither of you spoke as you moved together but it felt like the connection between you grew taut. You felt it pull at you, pull you closer to Joel, draw you towards him like a hook caught behind your heart.

When the music stopped, the two of you did as well, and neither of you moved as the band started to play another song. Joel was looking into your eyes, face intent. He pulled you closer and let go of your left hand, placing his right softly along your jaw. He tilted your head up towards his and pulled you into a soft kiss.

“I could dance with you all night, gorgeous.” He spoke with his lips barely an inch from your own.

You kissed him again. “Me too, Joel.”

He smiled and used his hand to tilt your face to the side so he could kiss your neck lightly, just in front of your ear. “Should we keep dancin’, baby? Or should we go get that drink?” He punctuated his question with a kiss to the corner of your jaw, and then your cheek, and then your mouth, lingering there. It took you a moment to open your eyes again when he pulled away, and you found him looking at you with so much emotion that it took your breath away.

“Let’s get going, cowboy.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Cowboy, hmm?”

You shrugged. “Just trying it out, like I said. Take me for a ride, cowboy.”

Joel grinned, wickedly. “Baby, it would be my pleasure.” As he said it he steered you back to your table. He quickly paid your tab — leaving a nice tip, you noticed — and then turned to usher you out the door. You watched as he waved at Frank, who nodded, and Bill, who tipped his glass towards the two of you, and then he took your hand to lead you outside.

As you stepped on to the sidewalk, Joel turned to the right to head to the corner of the block. “There’s a little tiny place right around the corner that has some of the best mixed drinks I’ve ever had,” he told you.

You perked up. “Oh, you mean Marlene’s?”

He smiled. “That’s the one. I take it you’ve been?”

You nodded, but added, “I have, but I love it. I think that’s the perfect place to go next.” He squeezed your hand and led you around the corner.

Marlene’s had a narrow facade — the inside was long, but the width of the whole place was only enough for tables along one wall and the long bar along the other, until you got to the back and it opened up a bit with some larger tables and couches. It was cozy, with string lights and art all over the walls. Marlene’s was known for the cocktail menu, which featured a rotating list of hard-to-source alcohols and interesting mixers, as well as the non-alcoholic options that still tasted amazing. You and Beth often ended up here if you went out for after-work drinks.

When you stepped inside it was a bit busy, but not so busy that you couldn’t find a table. There was one open in the back in a corner, actually one of your favorites — it was like a tiny round booth, with only enough room for two or three people. It had higher sides on the front like it was from an old saloon, so once you were inside it felt like a cozy nook. It was a bit awkward to get in and out of, though. You wondered where Marlene had found it.

You sat while Joel headed back to the bar to get your drinks — he’d mentioned getting one of the non-alcoholic ones since he would be driving you home, so you asked for the same. He was back quickly and soon the two of you were snuggled into the booth. He had his left arm around your shoulders, and your legs were draped over his left knee as you turned towards him in the small booth.

“Come here often, gorgeous?” He winked at you as he took a sip of his drink.

“Beth and I do, sometimes. I’ve always liked it.”

He nodded. “Me too. Tess and Frank love it. And Tommy, though he usually prefers the Bison.” You smiled. You were really looking forward to meeting Tommy, eventually.

“So, Joel.” The more official tone you put on had him straightening his shoulders and you tried not to grin. “You’ve told me a bit about you — I know about Sarah, obviously, and now I know your whole — large? — family dances. I know you like live music and plaid shirts.” He smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand. “And I know the way you kiss knocks the breath right out of me.” His eyebrows raised and he leaned forward a bit, but you placed a hand on his chest and laughed. “Slow down, cowboy. I have some questions.”

“Ah, darlin’—” he started, but you interrupted.

“Nothing bad, Joel. I just want to learn more about you. I want to, well,” your tone shifted and became more hesitant, but he watched you intently all the same. “I want to know you.”

Joel lifted his right hand and cupped your cheek, gently pulling you forward into a soft kiss. “I want to know you too, honey.” He cleared his throat as he sat back, letting his right hand fall to hold your left in your lap. “Alright, then. Shoot. What do you want to know?”

“Hmmm,” you tapped the fingers of the hand he wasn’t holding against your chin in thought. “Alright, let’s start simple. And I’ll answer the same questions I ask you, ok? And you should ask some, whatever you want.” He smiled and nodded. “Ok. What’s your favorite color?”

Joel laughed and shook his head. “Well, I do like green, but Sarah says it’s blue, on account of how much of it I wear.”

You smiled. “Those can be different things, you know. My favorite color isn’t the one I wear most often.”

He ran his thumb over the back of your hand and hummed. “My turn? Ok, where are you from, darlin’?”

The two of you traded questions back and forth. Sometimes you got distracted — Joel mentioned being from a small town outside of Austin, and the two of you compared your hometowns for a while. Then Joel mentioned one of Tommy’s shenanigans from when they were kids, and the story had you laughing so hard you fell against Joel’s chest (but he caught you with both arms wrapped around your waist).

You touched a bit on more serious topics, but didn’t get into too much detail. Sarah’s mom wasn’t around, but he said he’d tell you the whole story another time. You nodded. You said your sister, Ellie’s mom, had gone through a rough time a few years back, and Ellie had stayed with you for a while. That’s why Ellie was still with you so often. Your sister was doing better but she worked most weekends and a lot of nights. He nodded, understanding. You both quickly changed the subject. You had time, after all.

Joel told you about his summer vacation with Sarah and Tommy, which featured hiking and time at the beach and ended with the three of them a bit sun worn but relaxed and happy. He told you Sarah had requested visiting a city next time, though, and you laughed and told him about Ellie’s inner gremlin and her love of camping.

Before you knew it, an hour had passed, and you felt like you knew so much more about the man in front of you. You knew his favorite color (“it’s green!” You insisted, “you said so!”), his favorite breakfast food (migas, but only how his grandma made it), how he took his coffee (black), a few of the trials and tribulations of Tommy Miller, Sarah’s soccer highlights, more about what she was doing in school (and how much she (and Joel and Tommy) hated her biology teacher), a bit more about the large extended family that liked to dance, and finally, Joel’s dream career when he was a kid (musician).

“Wait, really? A singer?” He ducked his head, looking embarrassed, but nodded. “Joel, hey,” you reached out to tilt his chin back up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not making fun. That’s amazing. I’d love to hear you sing.” You were leaning close as you said it, almost fully sitting in his lap at this point. He studied you, a serious look on his face.

“I’ll sing for you whenever you want, gorgeous.” His voice was deeper than it had been even a moment before, and you took a deep breath.

“Yeah?” He nodded. “Bet you were really something, playing shows. Young Joel Miller with a guitar? God, how many women did you sweep off their feet?” You grinned at him, teasing.

He smirked and rolled his eyes. “Not as many as you’d think.”

“Oh come on, Joel, I would have had the biggest crush on you.”

He laughed. “Darlin’, I thought you had a crush on me now.”

You rolled your eyes. “That is neither here nor there, Joel Miller. Ugh, I can almost picture it. Wait, do you have any pictures?” You knew you looked excited and tried to tame it a bit, but he smiled and laughed.

“I do, but uh, I might also have a recording.”

“What! I have to see it. Please?”

He studied you again, looking over your wide eyes and pleading smile. “Hmm on the first date?” His voice was teasing, and he pinched your side lightly, making you squirm. “Don’t you think that’s more of a second date activity?” You bit your lip, considering your next words. But you had no reason to doubt yourself, or him. You were pretty sure you were on the same page, here.

“You know, technically, we have had a couple of lunch dates.” He huffed a laugh. “But what about a morning-after activity?” You said it teasingly, but also a little breathlessly. You were sitting so close that you got to watch his reaction take over his face and it mesmerized you. His brows rose as his eyes darkened, and he gave you that wicked half smile that made you melt.

“Well, now,” he started, and his voice was deep. You felt it rumbling in his chest where your hands rested lightly against his shirt. “I reckon you’ll just have to come over and find out.” He used his left arm to pull you up so you were finally sitting fully across his lap. You met his eye and licked across your bottom lip. His own gaze dropped from yours to track the path of your tongue.

“I reckon I will, then,” you agreed. You could feel your heartbeat pick up as he squeezed your side with his left hand and brought his right up to brush his fingertips down your neck. “Can’t miss my chance to hear you sing.”

He shook his head. “Honey, I told you, I’ll sing for you whenever you want.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, and your breath hitched. “I’d sing for you right now, if you wanted.” He pressed another kiss to your chin, and then under your jaw. You tilted your head up to give him better access. “I don’t think you realize how much I’d do for you, if you asked.” You thought of your maintenance requests, and the plants, and the coffees, and thought maybe you did have some idea.

“Joel,” you whispered, and he hummed in response. “Sing me something.” You tried to make it sound like a teasing demand, but it came out more like a plea.

He nipped your neck. “Anything, honey, or you got something in mind?”

“Whatever you want to sing to me, Joel, that’s what I want to hear.”

He pulled back suddenly and moved his hands to rearrange you on his lap. You found yourself with your back flush against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You placed your hands on top of his. “Close your eyes, gorgeous.” You let your head fall back over his shoulder as you did as he asked.

He hummed, and moved his right hand to your thigh, where he squeezed gently. You squirmed a little in his lap and he chuckled, holding you still with his left arm around your waist. “Shh, honey, just get comfortable. Right here.”

You let yourself sink into his touch, wondering what he would sing for you. He nuzzled against your neck, maybe still deciding, and your legs fell open a bit further without your conscious input. You bit your lip and he kissed your neck as his right hand moved to grip the inside of your thigh. And then he started to sing.

“Take me now, baby, here as I am Hold me close, try and understand Desire is hunger is the fire I breathe Love is a banquet on which we feed”

You gasped at the first word. Joel’s singing voice was beautiful. It was deep and warm and a little gravely. Even as quiet as he was singing you felt like it was lifting you up, floating through the air around you.

“Come on now try and understand The way I feel when I'm in your hands Take my hand, come undercover”

Joel hummed, maybe the next part of the song. You realized you were holding his left arm in a tight grip and tried to relax your hands. He squeezed the inside of your right thigh reassuringly, and you noticed how high his hand had drifted while he sang. You shifted your weight and let your left leg fall further to the side. His hand inched higher.

“Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to lust Because the night belongs to lovers Because the night belongs to us”

You knew this song, but hearing Joel sing it was an entirely new experience. You could hardly think about anything but where he was touching you — everywhere — and feel his voice washing over you. Your senses were filled with nothing but him.

He let the last word of the chorus fade, and you came back to yourself only to realize you had started breathing faster, chest heaving with it. “You alright there, darlin’?” His low voice had intrigued you before but now it reminded you of his singing and your breath stuttered in your chest.

“Yes, Joel, I—”

“You sure?” As he asked again, he slid his hand just a bit higher on your thigh so that his thumb rested right in the inside crease of your hip. He wasn’t quite touching you there, not really, but his proximity drew your sudden attention to how wet you were. You were soaked, just from listening to him sing. Fuck. You squirmed on his lap, but your motion accidentally drew him closer to you, and the side of his thumb brushed against the seam of your pants, right over your core. You gasped, and belatedly realized he had had the same reaction.

“Oh, honey,” his thumb pressed down, just a little bit, just enough to make you thrust your hips forward without thinking about it. He held you in place with his left arm while running a line of kisses up your neck to your ear. “You’re soaked, honey. I can feel you, right through these pants. Jesus, you must be so fucking wet. And all for me? Goddamn,” he sounded delighted at the prospect. He pressed down again with his thumb, and the noise that came out of you could only be described as a whimper.

“Shh, don’t worry, honey. I’ll take good care of you.” He whispered in your ear as his hand crept closer to displacing his thumb. You couldn’t catch your breath. “Give you everything you want, sweetheart. Everything.” He emphasized the last word with a sudden grip to your pussy, his whole hand moving over the seam of your pants and cupping you firmly. But in a flash, his hand was gone again, and you were left reeling, breathing hard, eyes flying open.

“Shit,” you whispered, with the belated realizations that you were still at Marlene’s fucking bar, in a booth where technically people could see you. You glanced around, but the high walls of the booth protected you, and Joel had pulled you both to the side, so you were facing away from the room on his lap. Smart.

Joel didn’t respond, and you whipped around to look at him. The hesitant look on his face told you he’d misunderstood your curse. You cursed again. “Fuck, Joel. Get me out of here.” He twitched, but didn’t move. “Joel, you need to take me home. Right now.” You were aroused and sweaty and in public and one of those things was in your power to change right at his moment. You cupped his face in your hands, still breathing hard, but you softened your voice. “Take me home, Joel, together. I want to go home with you.” He finally smiled again, reassured, and nodded. He started to maneuver both of you out of the tiny booth.

“Well come on then, honey, we got places to be.” Before you knew it he was leading you by the hand out the door, and you barely had a minute to wonder if anyone inside Marlene’s could tell you’d just almost gotten off in that booth back there. Oh well.

Joel was walking fast, and you tugged on his arm to slow him down a bit. “Joel, hey, wait,” he stopped abruptly and turned to look at you, and you saw everything you were feeling painted across his face. You blinked and gathered yourself to keep from kissing him. “I didn’t get a chance to say, Joel, fuck, your voice.” He smiled at you and tugged you closer. “You’re so good. Do you ever– do you ever sing, anymore?”

He shrugged, a bit sadly. “Just for Sarah, really. And now you.” You squeezed his hand.

“Well, I loved it, so please, sing for me whenever you’d like.” He nodded, looking a bit bashful. “But, ah, maybe we try that again somewhere a little more private, next time.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, stiffly. “I’m just saying, if you’re going to hold me like that, and sing to me like that, I might need a little privacy.” You bit your lip as he stepped closer and leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“Honey, if you want me to play with your pussy while I sing to you, you only have to ask.” You gasped. When he pulled back he was grinning wickedly, and you laughed.

“You better keep that promise, Joel Miller.” He swooped in to kiss you again quickly, before pulling back to lead you down the street.

“Baby, I always keep my promises. Especially promises like that one.” He winked.

After you crossed the street, Joel turned and took both of your hands in his. “I just want to ask again, darlin’, I don’t want to assume anything.”

You considered him and smiled. “My answer is yes, Joel.” He shook his head and laughed, lowly.

“Humor me. Say it again?” You untangled your right hand from his and lifted it to cup his cheek. You smoothed your thumb along his cheekbone and he turned to kiss your palm.

“Yes, Joel. I want to go home with you. I’ve got a video to watch in the morning, after all.” He grinned into your hand and bit it lightly. You gasped and laughed as he reached out to pull you into another kiss.

“Let’s get out of here, gorgeous.”

…

you (10:42 PM): going home with Joel 😳

bestie (10:43 PM): GET IT!!! (10:43 PM): 🍆 (10:43 PM): and send me his address

you (10:44 PM): 🫡

...

a/n: see you next Friday when we finally earn that explicit rating (aka, the smut arrives) 😌😏

These are the covers of Because the Night (the song Joel sings) that inspired me: Bruce cover | Bruce live | 10,000 Maniacs cover live | and the OG prev | next

tag list: @jupiter-soups @ilovepedro @auteurdelabre @anoverwhelmingdin @myloveistoolittle @iknowisoundcrazy @beezusvreeland @screechingphantommaker @bigboiseason123 @joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites @fluffygoffpanda @paleidiot

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #x reader #tlou fic #maintenance request fic #JHCGBDM

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brightgoat · 3 months

Note

Hey hi! I’ve been an avid follower of yours for awhile for your Pucci art but, this green child au has me hooked more and more lately! Your art is stunning by the way, thank you for posting!! The final metamorphosis panel has me excited for the next installment you share ngl.

Anyways, I was wondering if I could ask a few things about it? Specifically, what has happened after O-moon came into the picture, and the buildup to part 13 and 14? Of course if you wish to keep things vague or don’t know, there’s no need to answer! I’m just curious.

When did Jotaro get alerted to the incident and decided to finally come around? Did he encounter Pucci first or Jolyne? After the revelations that O-moon revealed to Jolyne, how did her perceptions of her father and Pucci shift? Did Jolyne ever figure out what Pucci was most likely about to do to FF while they were cornered by him? Have you thought about how Weather Report factors into this AU at all (since he’s probably in prison at this point)?

Sorry for the bombardment, and again no pressure to answer these if you don’t wish to!

- Kimera

Greetings! Thank you very much for the compliment, hope the payoff to that comic was satisfying haha

So, I wanna keep things vague with this AU, telling the main story beats through images and short comics- not only cuz I like it that way but also cuz... I haven't decided a lot of the details hahaha-

Answering this via lore dump, hope you like reading, this can be just one of many ways it could've happened:

I imagined that while Pucci and Jolyne were out getting souls, Jotaro was studying whatever is left of Dio's followers, and eventually tracks down Pucci, and travels to the US. Perhaps he finds out Pucci has been tutoring Jolyne from Jolyne's mum (who knows maybe they reconnected).

Oh and yes, Jolyne's mum knows abt Pucci, but of course not who he really is.

During this, Jolyne has awakened the Green Baby and fused with it. Jotaro may even sense that something is wrong through their family psychic bond thing.

Jotaro, realizing Pucci is a step ahead of him by already taking in his own daughter, tracks Pucci down to the church and confronts him there, sparing no time and going straight to beating answers out of him, where's Jolyne, what happened to her, what's your plan etc.

I had this thought, that once Jolyne fuses with the green baby, she inherits a bit of Dio's knowledge, and it helps her realise she's been getting used by Pucci all along. Not only that, she inherits the will to go to Heaven, and it drives her to complete the plan, she's strung along by fate now.

Now obviously she feels betrayed by Pucci, but still sympathetic to him, and rescues him from Jotaro. She's conflicted, she's angry, the only reason both Pucci and Jotaro reached out was because of some bigger-than-her plot, and not because of herself. She doesn't know how much of what Pucci gave her was genuine or because of her use to him.

(had this idea for a scene that right after Jolyne rescues Pucci, all three of them are still in church and Pucci realises she's transformed, he yells for her to stay still so he can get Whitesnake to take whatever's inside her out, but as soon as Whitesnake reaches out, a hand bursts out, he thinks it's Stone Free and suddenly JUMPSCARE O-Moon jumps out at him and the reversed-gravity throws everyone away from her-)

The only friend she has left is FF, and yes she finds out what Pucci did to them, furthering her anger. So she drags FF along with her, they are eachothers' only allies here, and although FF doesn't fully understand what's happening to Jolyne, they'll stay by her side (cue the uhhhh 'oh jolyne gave me so many memories and memories make up my intellect so i owe her yadda yadda-')

Aaaaand as for Weather, yeah mf's still in prison lmao I haven't thought too much about him. I wanted this to focus on Jolyne and Pucci, though if I did turn this AU into an entire actual story, Weather would probably come up at some point. God knows how though lmao-

#green child au

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esther-dot · 4 months

Text

Jonsa Reunion

Safe and Sound 1k (I just have to highlight that this was posted in 2014)

Sansa escapes Baelish and finds her way to Castle Black.

Kiss of Undeath ficlet by @haraways

Sansa brings Jon back with a kiss.

Without You I Am Nothing 1k by @asbestosmouth

Castle Black is monochrome, but Sansa blazes like the fires of Rh'llor. Jon cannot help but burn.

Gifsets: Jonsa Hug by @joanna-lannister, Jonsa Hug by @c-sand, The Girl in Grey, Jonsa Hug 1, 2 by @kitnjon

Art: Jonsa Hug, Jonsa Hug by @vierverdeen, Jonsa Hug by @themarmic

Jon Comes Back Wrong

grave-dirt 3k by @charmtion

The edge of the world. The yawning dark. In his chest, a strange sluggish beat.

back in the pulse 2k WIP by @chispas-and-broken-bindings

(Who are you?) A dead man. A monster. The mistake of many and one. (And what have you lost?) Everything. (And what have you found?) You. (And what will you do with me?) Protect you. Always.

Made of Echos and Ice 1k by @thewolvescalledmehome

Ever since coming down from the Eyrie, Sansa has had the same dream. A wolf with white paws pacing in the snow. When she learns of the betrayal at the Wall, Sansa decides to do something about her dream.

i fall to pieces (when i'm with you) 70k by usuallysunny

"Go North. Only North. Jon is Lord Commander at the Castle Black. He'll help you." He'd had good intentions, this broken shadow of a man who used to be Theon, and he couldn't have known. Sansa finds a Lord Commander at Castle Black. He has steel-grey eyes, her father's eyes, and a dark beard framing a strong jaw, and he looks and sounds and moves like Jon... But he's not Jon.

Always Her ficlet by @temporal-tempest

Jon Snow came back darker, unreachable until her hand touched his face. This is what happens when you threaten that which has become the only warmth in a dark heart.

At Castle Black

My eyes were wide open 10k by @eruherdiriel

She hesitates, then reaches for his free hand, his other still tangled in Ghost’s fur. Their palms meet, hers warm against his chilly one, and the relief that rushes through him at her touch almost makes him close his eyes and forget the throbbing pain. “Do you remember what happened?” All he recalls are knives in the dark and cold, bitter cold. * It is in dreams that Jon begins to remember who he is.

Kisses Remembered, Kisses Forgotten 2k by QueenOfSloths

She remembers the kiss that he took. The only thing she doesn’t remember is him taking it. There are times when she is almost certain that she gave it willingly.

'cause i know that it's delicate 4k by @noqueenbutthequeeninthenorth

Set during "Book of the Stranger," immediately after Sansa arrives at the Wall. He goes to build the fire back up, and for a few minutes he stays silent, kneeling at the hearth, not looking at her. Finally he clears his throat. “I know,” he begins, “it’s not exactly what you’re used to — ” “You’d be surprised what I’m used to.”

make your fingers soft and light 10k by @ladyalice101

Jon goes quiet again, and his hand retracts, but just as quickly he is touching her again, oil on his fingers. He works methodically, moving from one wound to the next, one scar to another, from the base of her back to the top of her spine. It’s so gentle, so caring, and the longer it goes on the more Sansa relaxes, the safer she feels. Her eyes dip close under his rhythmic ministrations, and her mind goes blank, and she starts to feel the familiar lull of sleep edge around her mind. “This is supposed to make the scars fade?” Jon asks as he finishes up, his warm hands leaving her back, making her feel cold and startling her from her reverie. “Yes.” She isn’t sure she imagines the tightness in his voice when he speaks again. “If you are to do this every night, then I will gladly assist you.” // Jon rubs a soothing balm into Sansa's scars every night. But that's it. Nothing more. Definitely not. He's just there to help her do what she can't do herself.

as the night came down in a Nordic sky ficlet by @miazeklos

During her first night in Castle Black, Sansa reunites with the true North, and Jon welcomes her home.

Cold Nights at Castle Black ficlet by @estherruth-jonsatrash

They were grown now, childhood behind them. Yet they had been sharing a bed more like children, with the cold at Castle Black leaving them in need of warmth. At least at first.

How I wish you would take me for granted ficlet by @trollslanda

Sometimes her hands would shake- Solely in private, when she broke her quiet surface to gasp for air. Around others she still had a mental block, passively guarding her, bringing out the Stark iron. It made her keep her back straight and eyes steady, put up a solid front. Sometimes it felt like she was rusting from the inside and her brittle bones would never be whole again. --- Set shortly after Sansa has arrived at Castle Black, when she's still learning to feel safe. As it turns out, Jon is really good at that kind of thing.

Remedy ficlet by @wildflower-daydreamer

The night Jon and Sansa reunite at Castle Black.

To break and to mend ficlet @dreams-for-spring

In those moments nothing else matters and they forget what they have lost; in those moments they are more than the sum of their broken parts.

In the quiet of the night 4k by dreams-for-spring

It becomes a habit; each night she unlatches her chamber door, and each night Jon enters just as bashfully as before. Some nights he brings terrible sour wine, and others bitter ale for them to share as they sit around the hearth speaking of everything that has happened–everything except what has passed between him and his black brothers. She knows that is a topic he is not ready to share. Still, she does not find sleep when he leaves, but at least for those brief hours she is not alone, and something small inside of her begins to burn brighter with each night that passes. She tries to ignore the voice that tells her it is hope; hope is a dangerous thing for people like them.

Tous Deux On est Repartis dans le Tourbillon de la Vie 1k by @melimelo-ao3

He couldn’t even begin to picture what she had endured, what she had lived through. Yet, hearing her pleading in the night, he would give anything to know, to be able to understand her, to soothe her. He had only ever wanted to soothe her.

Gifsets: Where Will We Go by c-sand, Brienne Reacts to Jonsa, New Dress by @jonstarks How Could We Know, Sansa Tries Ale, Where Will We Go, Sansa Making Jon's Cloak, I Made This for You by kitnjon

Traveling the North

Five Times They Touch 1k by @justchunkit

She doesn’t touch him for days. Weeks. They travel from keep to stronghold, living in close quarters as they’d never done even as children. She is so close, but an icy veneer has covered the exhausted girl he’d started to know, and they can hardly exchange a good morning without it evolving into an argument.

Some Love Stories Need a Little Help 2k @graceverse

Or how Tormund effectively makes Jon share a tent with Sansa

Unnatural 2k by @amymel86

Once he is close enough, she leaps at him, arms wrapping him up and his nose buried in her copper hair. The shuddering exhale he expels is the most amount of sound he’s made in days but all he can hear is Sansa’s sniffling and the way their two hearts talk to one another in beats of the same song.

Gifsets: Arguing, Eye Contact, Jon Reacting to Sansa by jonstarks Side by Side by @baelerion

Pre Battle of the Bastards

we may only have this night 2k by wearycities

She summoned an image of Jon in her mind. When he saw her, at Castle Black. His eyes, his face. His hands letting go of the railing, like it had burned him. She could not stop thinking about his hands. She had turned the memory over and over in her mind on countless sleepless nights, wondering what it meant. After her argument with Jon the night before the Battle of the Bastards, Sansa returned to his tent.

The Madness of Dead and Broken Things 1k by @estherruth-jonsatrash

The first time, Jon tells himself it’s the last time. Jon gives into his feelings for Sansa the night before the Battle of the Bastards, telling himself he'll die the next day. He isn't prepared for the after of survival.

the night before the fight ficlet by @sailorshadzter

jon & sansa spend a night together before the battle of the bastards. pre parental reveal hookup, read at your own risk. nsfw.

Before the Storm 1k

Snowflakes fell from the grey sky, covering the ground in white even more than it already was. Grey and white, Sansa thought to herself. The Stark colors.

A gaze across a field 1, 2 ficlets by fedonciadale

Sansa's thoughts as she contemplates the possible outcome of the battle.

Gifsets: Arguing, You Don't Have to Be Here, I'll protect You I Promise by jonstarks, Pre and During BotB by baelerion, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by kitnjon, Jon Pummeling Ramsay by c-sand

Post Battle of the Bastards

Bloodstains and Stitches Chapter 1 and 2 by @trollslanda

Two scenes set after Battle of the Bastards: 1. In the courtyard, Jons pov. Post-battle calmdown and fluff I guess but also there's dead bodies and stuff. I dunno. 2. Sansa cleaning his wounds and stitching him up, her pov. A pretty sweet scene where they get a moment to breathe.

A Little Friction ficlet by @justchunkit

“You don’t know anything about me.” “Because you won’t tell me anything!” After the Battle of the Bastards, Jon and Sansa try to get to know each other.

Of Justice and Ghosts 1k by @lurikko

He knows his sister is watching him carefully like they are the only two humans left in the world, as they in a way are, and that makes his every remaining piece crumble.

Ghosts that We Knew 7k @the-prophet-lemonade

In the wake of the Battle of the Bastards, and the proclamation of the North's fealty to the Starks once more, Jon and Sansa see the ghosts of their family all-around. Sometimes, it becomes difficult to separate the past from the present when so many that they love are dead. A series of vignettes based around "nostalgia", and Jon & Sansa compared to Ned & Catelyn and the rest of their family.

they say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners 14k

Doesn’t have enough time to reminisce on the past because she’s turned around, and he’s seen her face, and it’s her. Can’t be anyone but her even underneath all that smudged dirt on her pale cheeks. Would know the red of her hair anywhere, he thinks. Doesn’t linger on the why, and instead descends down the steps and towards her. She’s turned her body so she’s facing him now, her eyes tracking his every move, his doing the same. They’re so in sync it’s terrifying, really.

Five Kisses 1k by @ben-barnes-is-my-husband

The five kisses that Jon and Sansa have shared.

Undisclosed Desires 4k Nina36

“Why did you stop?” She asked. I was ashamed. He was yours. I was terrified that you saw who I am. He was yours to kill. It was what you needed.

bet you didn't know that i was dangerous 4k by @ladyalice101

“I mean that your brother took a woman to bed, and when he had his way with her, he said your name into her ear over and over again.” // In which Littlefinger tests for Jon's weaknesses, and discovers a secret.

Soiled 5k by @orangeflavoryawp

"'Talk to me, Sansa,' he pleads, voice wavering, and she shuts her eyes to the sound. Like a gale. Like a mountain coming down. This is how it empties from her. 'What do you want me to say?"' she bites out, voice quaking." - Jon and Sansa. The start of their descent.

Dark in Bloom 8k by orangeflavoryawp

"His gravity wavers, the axis of his world tilted to the measure of her lips." - Jon and Sansa. The stain of desire bleeds slowly between them.

Hallowed 5k by orangeflavoryawp

“’Tell me,’ he growls, more demand than he’s ever given her – crown or not – and the feeling is heady in its fervency. Sansa stares him down, mouth a harsh frown. She doesn’t resist his hold, doesn’t ease into it either. ‘He says your affections for me aren’t… brotherly.’” - Jon and Sansa. An encounter with Lord Baelish brings the truth of their desires to light.

but still you stumble, feet give way, outside the world seems a violent place 3k by @parkersedith

When she looks at him, she cannot see anyone other than Jon, especially with him wearing a simple breeches and tunic, divested of all ornaments, even Longclaw. She can only see Jon, not her bastard half-brother, not the King in the North, not the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch, not a wildling, but only Jon, the Jon who took Winterfell back with her, the Jon who fought their battle, the Jon who has been there, at her side, ever since she found him again. or; instead of roaming winterfell when she cannot sleep, sansa goes to jon, and to jon's bed. it's not quite as illicit as it sounds, and gives them a chance to finally, truly, talk

In the quiet of the night 4k by @dreams-for-spring

love is more than telling me you want it 2k

When he smiles at her, she feels warmth flooding back into her bones. She’d almost forgotten what it feels like, she’s been cold for so long. Sansa and Jon learn to be something other than ships passing in the night.

Gifsets: Jon Looking at Sansa by jonstarks, Sansa Looking at Jon by baelerion, Forehead Kiss by joanna-lannister, Winter Is Here by kitnjon, Forehead Kiss by c-sand

PRE CANON - WESTERN - FAIRYTALES - REGENCY - LITTLE WOMEN - HOLIDAY - next week -> ANNE OF GREEN GABLES

#jonsa #jonsa fic #s6 aus #missing scenes #show verse #apologies to all the beautiful gifsets and art I couldn't include this time #i forgot there was a limit on links!#dot fic list

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khjswifey · 1 year

Text

{Forever You Are My Star} [K.HJ]

Kim Hongjoong x Atiny!Reader

Idol Au, Long distance relationship au

After two long years of dating, you finally get to meet you boyfriend and at your favorite group's concert too! But hold on...the leaders voice sounds a bit familiar.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy my first fanfic! I want to continue this lil au, and possible make more for the other members! Let me know if you would be interested in that, Other than that:

Happy Reading!

Tags: @soobinshouseplant

𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ •

“Hey Baby..”

“Hiii…”

A soft chuckle filtered through your phone speaker.

“I’m sorry for calling you so late…”

“Joon, that’s completely fine, You know I stay up late anyways…”

You hear a sigh before he begins to talk again.

“Baby.?”

“Yeah?”

“You still live in (city name), right?”

“Yea, why do you ask?” You asked, curiosity/excitement lacing your tone. Your boyfriend chuckles at you, “Well, we’ll finally be able to meet!” You gasped in excitement, nearly falling off your bed.

You and your boyfriend, Joon, had been dating for about 2 years now, and yes it was a long distance relationship.

The two of you had met online through your art twitter. You did a lot of fanart of your favorite kpop group, Ateez, as well as tattoo ideas. The tattoo designs are what introduced you to your loving boyfriend.

He replied under one of your posts, interested in commissioning a design and it has been you and him against the world ever since.

Yes, you don’t know how he looks, and he may have various different pictures of you, but you put all your trust in him and you highly doubted he was a catfish.

He always showered you with gifts, and always called you when he got the time to. He rarely showed his face, but you saw his desk and his work area.

You believed he was real and you were excited at the prospect of finally being able to meet him.

“I can tell you’re excited…” Joon started, “I am too..I can’t wait to hold you…” You felt your face heat up as you heard him mumble something in Korean under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said I can’t wait to hold you and have you whimpering underneath me, Jagi..”

You squealed in embarrassment as you slammed your phone on the bed. You heard him laughing at you before calling your name.

The two of you sat in silence for a little while after that, nothing but the soft clicking of your boyfriend's laptop coming through the speakers. He finally spoke up again with a little chuckle.

“Well…I bought you a concert ticket…”

“Joon!”

“What? I thought it was a good idea since we both like concerts~!”

You only hummed in response, not having the time to argue with him tonight, your phone pinged and you sighed.

“I’ll see you in two days!”

“See you~”

Your phone hung up and you went to check your Ticketmaster account, your eyes widened,

You got the tickets! -

X1 Atiny VIP Ticket

My future husband: You’re welcome~

My future husband: I love you.

𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ •

“Y/n, how do you know he will be there?’

“Don’t you think you’re being used..’

You groaned at your friend. “F/n. I don’t think a catfish would drop the money for this ticket like that. It was expensive.”

“So!? Maybe he’ll try to use a little money to kidnap you!”

You grew frustrated as you did your makeup. You had told F/n about what had happened and to make sure you were safe, she was coming along.

F/n was never supportive of your relationship, always judging you for ‘wasting’ your time on a dude that you are only just now meeting. But you also couldn’t blame her, girls did go missing when meeting their online boyfriends. But no matter how you tried to convince her, she wouldn’t listen to you. She didn’t even like Ateez! So she was basically wasting her money.

“What if he’s lying to you about his identity-”

“That’s enough, F/n!!” You yelled at her, finally snapping from the constant negative comments. “If you wanna come then come. But if you’re not going to shut the fuck up already!”

F/n stared at you in shock. “How dare you? I’m trying to keep you from getting catfished!!” She yelled back and you rolled your eyes pushing past her, grabbing your bag.

You got your keys and looked at her, “Find your own ride to the damn concert. Don’t bother being around me.” You said leaving her behind.

You were actually surprised she even still came to the concert. You glared at her and she gave you an apologetic look when she caught up to you.

When you walked into (venue name), you beamed with excitement. Not only were you going to finally meet your boyfriend, you got to see your all time favorite kpop group!

It was refreshing to be around fellow Atiny, you chatted with several around you in the pit. You ended up getting real close from you leaving early. Your blood was pumping through your body when the lights finally dimmed. You screamed as you watched as the members of Ateez came onto the stage.

It felt unreal, it didn’t feel real at all. You couldn’t believe that you were finally here. A couple of songs had gone by when you finally found the time to let your boyfriend know where you were. But you were shocked to see a message from him around 2 years ago that simply said;

“Look at the stage.”

When you looked back up, you locked eyes with Kim Hongjoong, the leader of Ateez, your bias, your Ult bias to be exact. His eyes were locked on you as he introduced himself to the crowd. Your brain froze.

When he spoke, his voice sounded familiar, and not just from you listening to music. No it was like you knew him on a personal level.

“F/n…” You said, capturing your friends' attention, concerned at your tone. “What’s wrong? Is it that boy?” She asked.

You looked back up to the stage, watching as Ateez prepared for their next set of songs.

“I think my boyfriend is the leader of Ateez..”

“...You mean as a joke right…?”

“....”

“...oh…”

𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ •

“What do you mean you think your boyfriend is a member of Ateez!?”

It was after the concert, and you were instructed by your boyfriend to meet him afterwards backstage. All you had to do was tell the security your name and they led you to where you were now.

F/n was very skeptical and was weary about leaving you alone, but after a while of convincing she finally left, making sure she had you added on Life360 just in case.

You stood there waiting, watching as various staff members worked around you. You were starting to think that he wasn’t going to come at all.

You looked down at your phone and sighed, turning to leave.

“Baby!”

You whip around to find the owner of the voice, and lo and behold it was Kim Hongjoong. He was now dressed comfortably, makeup gone and a soft blush on his face with a lazy smile.

You smile wide and run up to him, nearly tackling him to the ground with a hug. He laughs and wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly as if you were going to vanish if he let go.

When he did let go, he pulled away a bit to place a kiss on your lips. You melted into his grasp only pulling away when you needed air from the male.

The two of you looked at each other for a while. One half of you wanted to fight him for lying to you, but you knew he had his reasons, but the other was so happy that he was real and that he was not only your idol, but your lover.

“Hongjoongie…” You mumbled, hiding your face in his chest.

He chuckled as he held you close to him, “It’s so nice to hear you say my name…” He replied, finally pulling away.

When he did, he held your hands and swung them back and forth. He looked like a lovesick puppy, his eyes filled with love and adoration.

“Do you have anywhere else to go?...”

“No not really…”

“Well…could you maybe come back with me?”

You giggle at his bashfulness, nodding. “Of course, You have a lot of explaining to do..”

Hongjoong smiles before pulling you along with him.

𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ •

Hongjoong paid for your visit to his hotel room, not leaving until he made sure you were safely on your way.

When you got there, you finally got to meet the other members, it was surreal for you. Just yesterday you were catching up on missed content, laughing as you watched Ateez go about their antics. Now you are meeting them and apparently dating their leader.

To say you were nervous would be an understatement, you were nearly shitting bricks.

But it actually went over well, Hongjoong introduced you to them one by one. You happily introduced yourself, shaking their hands until you got to Wooyoung, who had a smug grin.

“You’re really pretty. No wonder cap-” He was cut off by Hongjoong flinging something at him. You giggled at this as the rest of the evening with the boys went fine. It was spent with you explaining how you met Hongjoong, talking about how much you loved their music and how you really appreciated how nice they were being to him.

Later on, Hongjoong led you to his room, which you tilted your head at.

“I thought you guys shared rooms when you went on tour?”

“We do, the guys wanted to give us privacy though..”

You felt your face heat up as you walked over and flopped on the bed. Hongjoong then joined you, leaning his head on your stomach.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, basking in the silence before he spoke up.

“I’m sorry…” He started, moving to sit up, you moved to sit up at the head board.

“Hon-”

“I’m sorry for not telling you who I was y/n…I was scared…” He admits and it hurt your heart with how he avoided eye contact. He sighed before finally turning to you.

“When I found out you were an Atiny..I got scared. I thought you were only gonna like me because of who I am on stage…” You watched him carefully as he continued.

“I thought you weren’t gonna love me for me…So I hid it. It’s why I rarely showed my face when we talked. But when I saw your face…” Hongjoong reached over to cup your cheek, eyes misty. You felt your own tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to fall.

“Hongjoong…” You started moving closer to the male, your faces barely touching. “I’m in love with you…all of you…the Idol you and the normal you. Yes I may be an Atiny, but I love you. Not your career.” You say softly leaning on him.

“I was worried…that you wouldn’t like me once you met me. That you would’ve thought I was a weirdo or that-mmph!” Your rant was cut off by Hongjoong kissing you, he pulled you into his arms, your eyes widened as he silenced you. They eventually fluttered closed as he deepened the kiss, only pulling away to hide his face in the crook of your neck.

“You’re always loved by me…I trust you y/n..”

A small smile ghosted across your features as the two of you stayed that way for a while.

You felt at peace knowing that you could now love both forms of him..

𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ •

You were sad when you had to say goodbye to your boyfriend. One night was definitely not enough time for you to get all what you had to say to him off your chest.

And there was obviously a lot more that Hongjoong wanted to do, but that would have to wait for the next time you would meet.

So when you got home, you were watching through your concert footage when you got a notification.

‘Ateez_official_ has made a post’

You clicked it and felt your heart do a mini flip.

‘[#Hong_stagram] Forever you are my star ❤️’

It was a black and white picture of the two of you holding hands with the caption;

‘[#Hong_stagram] Forever you are my star <3’

𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ • 𓂂 ♱⠀◌ ⠀◯ ⭑ ⸱ ៰ ͘ ࣭ ⠀𓂂 ♱⠀◌ •

#ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong #kim hongjoong x reader #Hongjoong x reader #Hongjoong fluff #ATEEZ x reader fluff #ateez x you #ateez

818 notes · View notes

elmuvahva · 5 months

Text

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE HERES THE FINISHED CASEY SONG AWHAHWHAHWHAH

ok so lemme explain my thought process behind this song bc i love to overshare

i wanted to make a song for casey of when he first arrived in the past, like that bitch was alone and scared shitless and understandably so. he was alone in a world he knew nothing about and had just lost the last of his family.

i wanted to capture that loneliness he would've been feeling in that moment and the helplessness that came along with it. he felt like giving up until he remembered his family.

and that's where the second half of the song comes in mwahahahah. his family is still by his side in spirit and will always be there no matter where he goes. i wanted that hopelessness from casey to just be swept away by the turtles and hopefully the song conveys that :D

although this song isnt technically a CAS song, i still took so much inspiration from @somerandomdudelmao when writing this song (and when also using her character designs for the song art LMAO). i highly recommend going and reading her comic bc what the fuck are you doing if you havent already like bRO-

anywho- i shall post once again when the youtube video is up and when the song is out on spotify and other streaming platforms :>

for now, see ya suckers lmao good luck o7

LYRICS :D

I feel so alone Don’t know What to do Now that you’re gone I know that I can’t Go back To you There's so much that I have to do

You know That you’re here by my side But it's not the same Yes, you’re here But its not The you that I once held so dear

How am I Meant to do this on my own? You were always there With me But now When it matters most you disappear

I’m scared What if I mess it all up? This is our last final chance Our final try Do we even have hope anymore?

What is it for? I did it all for you But now I'm left on my own

instrumental

oOoO vocalisations

219 notes · View notes

safination · 27 days

Text

Partners in Death…And Life

Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes

|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted| Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Parings: Alastor x wife! Reader. Tags: fem!reader established relationships, hopefully not but just in case ooc!Alastor (I'm trying my best, guys) Reader is in hell for a reason, Warnings: Very brief dissection of the human body. Kidneys It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me. I am sorry :D. These past *checks notes* three weeks (yikes) have been really busy for me. But I’m finally posting?

The light from the bus stop illuminates Alastor’s block handwriting. Smiles are drawn on the edges of note with different colored ballpoint pens. Dear God, it was like looking at kindergarten art, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Alastor’s instructions tell you that his house is a ten-minute walk from the bus stop.

You flip the note, studying the map Alastor drew.

A bird caws from the patches of trees across the road. There’s no living soul out here besides your own for miles.

You tighten your grip on the straps of your bag, and walk until you find yourself standing before a wooden gate. The hatch unlocks easily, and you hike up the path until you’re stepping on to the porch. Alastor’s house isn’t much—well, it’s much more than the tiny apartment in the city that you call home, but besides that, he has a very normal looking house. You don’t know why you expect anything different. The flowers on his windowsill brighten the place, and the rocking chairs by the edge makes it homier.

You smoothen your hair, fiddling with the note. A deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another—

Fuck it. You knock on the door.

A beat passes, and then another beat passes, and then another. Oh God, did he not hear your knock? Should you knock again? Your father always said that it was rude to knock twice, but you’re sure the knock should have been heard. Alastor was probably at the back of the house. You’re just going to knock again.

Alastor swings the door open, smiling at you. “You are right on time!”

Soft music plays behind him. The lights inside make his living-room look warm. “You said to be here by eight … so … Here I am!” you say with a light laugh. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “I’m very fond of being punctual.” Okay…hmmm…why did you say that?

You smoothen your hair, and fiddle with the straps of your bag.

“I admire punctuality.” Alastor smiles at you.

You smile back.

He opens the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

‘Of course I would!’

All proper responses to his question. It’s a shame you don’t say them. You reach into your bag instead, and shove a paper bag into his arms. “It’s raw.”

Alastor lifts the paper bag, studying it with careful eyes until they flicker to the wet patches at the bottom. “…I’m almost afraid to ask who it came from.”

You step through the door, and take off your coat. “My father, actually.”

Alastor tilts his head. “This is your father—am I supposed to cook him or something?”

“It’s venison!” you say, and run your hand through your hair. “Dad went hunting last week, and he gave me a bunch of meat and well…well, I thought you'd appreciate it more than I do. There’s too much for me to eat alone. And it’s always polite to give a gift when you’re visiting a home.”

Alastor secures your gift around his arms, and takes your coat. He’s smiling. You think he’s being genuine—you can’t really tell. “Thank you.”

He hangs your coat on the rack, and ushers you deeper inside his home. Alastor disappears into what you think is his kitchen, but you stay planted in his living-room floor. His house is nice for someone who lives alone. Things all have a place, they’re not necessarily organized, but it’s neat. It makes you smile.

It’s easy to see Alastor between the walls.

This is a home that’s been lived in. You count at least three portable radios in the living-room alone. There are books on the coffee table by the window, and the spines are creased as if it’s been read over and over and over again. There’s a chair next to the window as well. It has stains, and the cushions sink as if they’ve been loved for decades. You can practically see Alastor in that chair, a warm drink in his hand. He’ll reach across, and twist the knob of the radio that already has his favorite station tuned.

Alastor strides out of the kitchen, your gift probably inside his freezer. “Follow me,” he says with a wave of his arm. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh…okay.”

There are photo frames lining the wall of his stairs. You observe it as you follow deeper into this house. Some are photographs of what you’re going to assume is Alastor, and some are certificates. You don’t have time to poke around and read each and every one of them.

Alastor opens his arms, shaking them as he presents you with a door.

A single door…One door at the back of the house. A door you don’t know where it will lead.

You stare at him, and take one single step back. “You’re not going to kill me in your basement, right?”

Alastor laughs at you, wiping a tear for the sake of showing you. “Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m inside a man’s house, and he’s currently leading me to the basement. A man, might I add, dumps bodies in the forest,” you tell him with a wonky smile. “I hope you don’t go around asking every lady to your murder basement.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“My goodness, you really know how to make a lady feel extra special.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, tightening your grip to stifle the urge to smoothen your hair. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Alastor tilts his head. (It’s kind of cute.) “Do what?”

“You know…uh…. You’ll tell me to run,” you say, then motion to the china vase behind. “Then I’ll grab this really nice and expensive looking vase and smash it over your head.”

“Please don’t.”

“And then I’ll make a run for the door.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You weren’t interested in running last time.”

“And I’m still not,” you say. “So there’s no point in killing me.”

He chuckles a bit and his glasses slide down his nose. He pushes it up. “Think of this as a gift! Or more like an offer of partnership.”

“A gift of death?”

“I've already told you I wasn’t planning on killing you anymore,” he says, sighing. “Just…just follow me, and you’ll see!”

You huff and cross your arms. “I detest being lied to.”

Alastor opens the basement door. The hinges creak. It appears as if darkness itself lives inside, swirling and eating up whatever light that passes through. “Yes, that’s good to know.”

You take another step back. “That’s a really creepy basement.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Alastor says. He places a light hand on your back, practically pushing you down. “Now, now, don’t be so stubborn.”

You grab the door frames, and push against him to resist. “I’m not going without knowing what’s down there.”

Alastor presses on your back. “If you go down there and see what I’ve prepared, you will feel very silly for causing such a ruckus.”

You push back harder, using the door frames as support. “As first dates go, this is giving really mixed signals,” you say, trying to smile. “I hope you don’t treat all ladies like this.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Just the stubborn ones.”

You and Alastor are at a stalemate. He pushes. You push back. The classic dilemma of an unmovable force versus an immovable object. “If you kill me, I will haunt you,” you say, digging your feet into the wooden floors. “I will haunt you, and hide all your tacky bow ties.”

Alastor stops pushing, and you fumble backwards from the lack of his opposing force. He points his nose to the air, straightening his bow ties. “It is not.”

You frown at him. “Oh…I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

Taking this opportunity, you press against the wall like a hissing cat. “I’m sorry you actually believe that!”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes one deep breath. He strides to you, and the world goes upside-down when he flips you over his shoulder. Alastor carries you like a common sack of worthless potatoes.

“I really don’t like this!” you shriek, angling your head to glare at him. Alastor has a surprisingly really nice back. Like…a really, really nice back.

Alastor meets your eyes and smirks. “You’ll like it in a second.”

He tightens his grip around your hips, and his boney shoulders dig into your stomach. You keep your eyes ahead. “You have a really flat butt.”

He pauses for a second. “Stop looking at it.”

“I will do as I please,” you say with a huff, and go limp in his hold as you accept your fate. “It’s just all pointy. Maybe some squats will be helpful?”

“If it’s such a horror to you, stop ogling my buttocks like a pervert.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” you say with a weird giggle. “These pants suit you well.”

He shakes you like a wet noodle. “I will drop you.”

“Please don’t.”

Alastor flips you, and your feet land safely on the ground. His basement is totally not creepy, totally not creepy at all. The fluorescent light bulb swaying around totally does not add to general horror. The blacked-out windows, and the spiderwebs on the wood make you not want to sprint to the top.

The cadaver bag on the table makes you stay.

It’s filled. You walk to the table, and observe the lump. Grasping the zipper, you pull it until the face of a dead man greets you. He’s fresh. Killed less than a day ago.

Alastor opens his arms, wide, as if to present to you. “Your studying can all be done right here!”

You stare at him, accepting the smile that creeps on your face. “Really?” you say, and trace this man’s nose with your fingers—his skin is cold. He is cold and dead, and full of organs you can poke around and observe. “You’re going to just allow me to dissect this body?”

Alastor smiles at you. “See?” he says. “You were making all the fuss, and now your smile could light up this very room.”

The laughter starts as a soft giggle that builds into excited glee. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor takes a step back. “Please don’t”

You roll your eyes then observe the person lying on this table. He wasn’t as big as the one before. This man still has the colors on his face, a bit pale, but he looks like he could just be in a sickly sleep. “Did you like this person?”

“Not at all,” he says. “He’d be alive if he was.”

“Then do you like me?” you say with a grin, placing a hand on your hips. “All this to get my attention, I see. I prefer being dined first, but not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Alastor glares at you as he makes a face. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“So quick to answer that it’s almost insulting,” you say. “Well, it was your decision to keep me alive.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that pierces your very core. The lightbulb makes a shadow pass over his eyes, and you swear his eyes glow. Every single cell in your body screams as Alastor looks down at you from his glasses with a smile and darkened brown eyes that match his well-kept brown hair. “And I’m currently debating my choice,” he says. “I do not like being mocked. I can still change my mind if I find you a weak link.”

“Oh…I…oh….,” you say dumbly, coughing a little bit. The words aren’t doing their job.

“Do you understand me?”

Basements are supposed to be cold—you definitely don’t feel cold right now. “I’m sure you can—I don’t doubt that at all.” To break your gaze on him, you turn to the dead man between you and Alastor. “This man didn’t suffer.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. “And?”

“I’m not a total idiot when it comes to… uh… hunting,” you say, tilting the dead guy’s chin to see his neck. It was a bit stiff. “There’s a single deep slice on his neck. He was probably still high on adrenaline when you killed him, but with the other body, you took your time. That guy suffered—this one didn’t”

He crosses his arms. “I don’t see your point.”

“Nevermind…just…,” you start and smile a bit. “Thank you for preserving this body so well, but unfortunately, I think I’ll have to refuse.”

Alastor’s eye twitches as he takes a step closer to you. His shadow towers over you. “You’re refusing?”

You zip the man back into his bag. “You don’t need a partner,” you say. “If anything, bringing him back into your house is risky. If it’s my silence you want, you already have it. There’s no need for all this.”

“I never asked for your silence.”

“Yet it’s yours nonetheless,” you say. “Thank you for the gift or offer for partnership, but I’m not interested in going into business with you.”

“Is this not beneficial for you?”

“It is…it really is, and every fiber wants to give in but it’s not wise for me to get mixed up with you,” you tell him. “I think you’re mistaking my sin for gluttony. I know trouble when I see it, and I’m not afraid to flee from it.”

Alastor’s face twists as his smile turns into a snarl. “All you could ever want right here.”

“You obviously want something from me,” you say. “I know you’re not above using tricks to get what you want. Although, I don’t understand why you take such time out of your day to do such consuming things.”

He glares at you. “There’s always the chance that you’d say no,” he says. “And I can’t have that happen.”

“I decide if something is worth my time or not,” you say. “I will only ask once: what do you want from me?”

Alastor exhales, and pushes his glasses. “I’d like to watch you work. There’s something I want to confirm.”

You study him for a second. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then hand me a pack of gloves please,” you say. “I can show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Alastor tosses gloves to your face. It whacks you and lands on the table. You curse at him, and roll your eyes.

There’s a large container of formaldehyde under the table. You don’t know where he got it or how, but still, you take a stray brush forgotten on one of the tables, and brush the skin with chemicals. The sharp smell stings your eyes, but you’ve learned to tolerate it. Alastor scrunches his nose, taking a step back.

Opening the window would probably be wise, but you could do that later. Your father always did hope that you’d grow out of your bad habit. But with such an exhilarating opportunity, caution is at the back of your mind.

The scapple fits into your palm as if it was made for you. Throughout this Earth, no… not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

Alastor laughs, not the breathy and light kind, but in a loud and triumphant way. His eyes bulge out, looking like they could pop out any second “It seems I was not wrong,” he says. “You have the most precious smile I have ever seen.”

“Okay?”

Alastor leans closer to you, jerking your chin to face him. “All this time I’ve seen you; I have never seen your smile as true and honest as now.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The bristles of the brush tangle on your feathers. It’s a struggle to smoothen the feathers at the back of your head now that you live alone.

The clock strikes an hour past noon, and work will call for you soon. It would be nice to be one time if this motherfucking brush would do its fucking job! You tug on the handle, cursing when it jerks your scalp. The smack of your forehead on the vanity table echoes around the room. The feathers bundled on the floor make you screech. That’s it. It’s over. You are not taking another second of this.

Discarding the brush, you head to the kitchen.

You grab two mugs, and take two spoonful of coffee ground and feed it to the coffee machine. With only a press of a button, you make the most perfectly perfected perfect cup of coffee. You take both mugs and take a seat on that little side table inside the kitchen.

The second mug steams with coffee.

You plop your chin on the table, unable to draw your eyes aways as you stare at it. Making a second cup is a waste of your money. Deep down to your very core, you’re aware that it’s a waste. It strikes you with the gentleness of a plane crash every single morning you make it, and every single night you have to throw it away.

Silence is your companion in this empty house. Where are the days when soft music plays on the radio? Where are the days where light footsteps walk around the carpeted floors? Where are the days of stories over dinner? These days watching television is the only way to fill that silence.

A knock breaks your pathetic moping.

The knocking starts out soft and hesitant, until it’s replaced with loud banging.

Swiping your mug from the table, you stride to the front door and swing it open. Charlie and Alastor stand in front of you, big smiles on their faces.

Your husband pushes a small ugly statue right up your face, presenting it to you with a self-satisfied smile. “I was told it was polite to bring a gift to a person’s home,” Alastor says. “Do you like it?”

“Oh no…,” Charlie says, frowning a bit. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Alastor places a hand on her shoulder. “No worries then! This gift shall be from the both of us.”

The mug slips from your hold. Charlie catches it, not a single drop spilling, and plops it back on your hand. You blink at Alastor and frown. “Why are you knocking?”

“We’re here on super serious business talk,” he says, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to bring her closer. “Charlotte here has something to ask you.”

Charlie smiles. “Just Charlie, actually.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mug. “No.”

Alastor tilts his head. “No?”

“No, this is your home,” you say, opening the door wider. “There’s no need to knock.”

Alastor and Charlie step inside, and you take a sip of your coffee—a long, drawn out sip. Alastor walks to the shelf nearest the door, placing your ugly little statue on the shelf that’s meant for all other ugly knickknacks. It blends in with all the other gifts Alastor’s given you.

Charlie’s eyes bounce around the walls, eyes wide as she looks around. “Wooooaaaaah,” she says. “This is a really nice house you guys have!”

Alastor glares at the television. “Why, thank you!” he says. “I put in a lot of care into how it looks. It seems you’ve redecorated—I don’t like it.”

“Oh, you never do,” you say. “Let’s move to the kitchen, shall we?”

Alastor’s ears straighten. “The kitchen?” he echoes. “Oh yes. Let’s go the kitchen.”

Alastor hooks his arms around yours, pulling you to the kitchen. There’s determination set in each step. You and Charlie take your seats by the kitchen table. Charlie continues to look around. You see it in her eyes as they flicker around to count each radio.

It seems you’ve made a mistake.

Alastor goes straight to the refrigerator, and swings it open.

With horror, you watch as his gaze observes each level meticulously, humming as he does. There’s not much to look at, considering the only thing inside are a couple of eggs, empty plastic containers that you’ve been too lazy to wash, last week’s takeout, and a couple of sauces and condiments.

When he finally closes it, your shoulders sink as you exhale…until, of course, Alastor wraps his fingers around the freezer’s handle.

“Would you like anything, Charlie?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “I think we have juice or lemonade—”

“We don’t have any of those,” Alastor says, and his gaze bears down on you. “It makes me wonder what will be inside our freezer, my love.”

Charlie smiles brightly. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I had tea with Rosie this morning, and Alastor and I had lunch on the way here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” you say, chuckling nervously. “You know what? It’s such a hellish day today, and it would be a waste to spend it here. Why don’t we move to the garden?”

“No.” Alastor crosses his arm. “We are staying right here.”

You sulk in your seat, drooping a little. “…okay.”

Finally, Alastor opens the freezer door. His twitching eyes and pursed lips tell you everything you need to know about how the next fifteen minutes will go. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, Alastor pulls out one of those microwave meals you buy at the grocery. He glares at the frozen chicken nuggets and pork cutlets, and all the processed frozen food you store there for easy meals.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say, giving him your most innocent smile. “And I barely eat those anyway. Those microwaved meals are just there for the occasional meal, I swear!”

Without uttering a single word, Alastor opens the cabinet under the sink where the trash can stays, and pulls it out. Empty microwave meals fill the brim. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh dear…” Charlie winces. “That’s a lot, even for me.

You sulk deeper into your chair.

Alastor inspects the cabinets above the sink. The only things that greet him are a bunch of pots and pans. Relief pours into you…until of course, Alastor grabs the largest pot at the back of the cabinet and opens it, smashing any sense of relief with a metal bat.

Alastor pulls out a large pack of instant noodles. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks. “I remember telling you that I don’t like you eating these.”

“But they’re delicious,” you say, pouting a bit.

“These aren’t healthy,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re full of chemicals!”

“Everything is full of chemicals!” you counter. “And I only had a few. The dosage makes the poison.”

Alastor opens the trash can and tosses what was supposed to be your dinner. “The plastic said it was a pack of twelve?”

You cross your arms. “And? I don’t see your point.”

“There’s only two left.”

You fiddle with the handle of your mug. “I…I was busy…?”

“We’re all busy,” he says and you could pick out the faintest sound of static. “Not a single fresh fruit or vegetable, or any proper meats. Have I taught you nothing?”

Your pout deepens. “Do we have to do this in front of Charlie, my deerest?”

Charlie raises her arms in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“Yes, one would think….,” Alastor trails off. His eyes land on the second mug of coffee on the table, and his neck tilts to angle until it snaps. Static scratches that air until it warps. His eyes darken to reveal radio dials. “Expecting a guest today?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, and take a long and drawn-out sip of your coffee to try and compose yourself. It doesn’t work. “I don’t make coffee for guests.”

Charlie panics a bit. “There, there Alastor,” she says. “No need to get all crazy!”

Alastor’s antlers grow. “I’m aware you don’t. So, who is it for?”

“Oh….” Dumbly blinking at him continues, and the words don’t seem to be doing their job.

Alastor leans closer, his voice morphing a bit. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“It's yours,” you find yourself saying. “…If you want it, that is.”

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Charlie blinks at the both of you.

Gone are the growing antlers, and the static that buzzes your skin. Alastor stands before you with that never ending smile, perfectly normal—well, as normal as he can be. “You weren’t aware I’d be visiting.”

You frown at him. “It’s not a visit if it’s your own home.”

“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home,” he says. “Why make one for me?”

The heat on your face makes you turn away. “Just take it, deerest.”

“Taste lovely as always!” he says, taking a swig. Your frown turns into a soft smile as your watch him drink. “But don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation.”

“It really isn’t my fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I’m positive I taught you how to cook nutritious dishes.”

You flick the mug, and a soft clink echoes a bit. “I still cook proper food for myself,” you tell him, showing him your saddest smile. “But…I find myself hating the dishes.”

Alastor twirls his microphone, and it strikes the ground with a soft thunk. “And you think saying this will get you off the hook?”

You stick your tongue out. “Is it working?”

Alastor sighs at you, and turns to the ticking clock. “We’re wasting time—go talk to Charlotte.”

Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Just Charlie, actually.”

With a triumphant smile, you turn to Charlie. “So,” you begin, “what business are we going to talk about today?”

It’s Charlies turn to sulk into the kitchen chair. “Extermination is a month away,” she says. “And Adam is heading straight to the hotel first! It’s just one bad event after another because Heaven refuses to listen, and I’m running out of options.”

Alastor steps behind you. Suddenly, a brush combs through the back of your feathers, smoothing those parts of your head that you’ve never been able to reach by yourself. Sometimes, you think Hell gave you feathers so someone could brush it for you. A part of you warms at the fact that you didn’t even need to ask your husband to smoothen your feathers. It’s a job he’s been doing since you first spawned in hell, and it seems it’s work he’s keen on continuing.

“Extermination,” you echo. “I love the extermination. There are so many desperate and poor souls who want to keep their limbs. I get rather busy—prime deal making opportunities right there.”

Charlie winces a bit. “Oh dear…um…okay. That sounds fun? And a little violent.”

Alastor speaks up from behind you, still running a brush through your feathers. “We can from Cannibal Town! Charlie was able to convince Rosie’s people to take arms.”

“Then, what brings you to me?” you ask, stiffening your back as you try not to lean into the brush that combs through your feathers. Alastor always was better at preening you. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Alastor suggested that I ask for your help,” Charlie says. “He said you’re one of the few people who knows how to fix wounds that come from Angelic Weapons.”

You bat your eyes at Alastor. “Spilling all my secrets, I see.”

Alastor glides the brush over your hair, leaning close to your ear. “Oh, not everything.”

You laugh and glance at Charlie. “In front of a guest, my deer?”

Charlie cringes with the most hilarious frown.

“It’s just a matter of counteracting the holiness of their weapons,” you say, clearing your throat. “After that, it’s purely medical.”

“How is that even possible?”

Alastor trails through your feathers, and it tingles and flutters. You keep your expression emotionless. “I’m surprised you don’t know this,” you say. “Did Belphegor never tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, eons ago, Belphegor found out that angelic weapons are considered holy, and that’s very bad for a Sinner,” you explain. “So, she and a bunch of her team found out that if you cut off the holy site or embed a large amount of Sinner energy, one will be able to treat it.”

Alastor leans closer, butting into the conversation. “I prefer it when you cut it off.”

“Of course you do,” you say with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Embedding the wounds with your magic takes too much energy from you, and because of that you always come home to me with sunken eyes. That is, if you don’t pass out before you reach the front door,” Alastor tells you. “I don’t understand why you go out of your way when they’re not worthy.”

“Worthy?”

“Yes, worthy,” he says. “Had they been competent, they wouldn’t need to go to you in the first place. It only proves that they’re weak.”

You smile at his words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.

Charlie rolls her eyes at the both of you. “So, you could help us?”

You twist, turning to Alastor. “I think you’ve gotten all my feathers straightened out,” you say. “My love, can you do me a favor?”

Lightly, Alastor taps your head with the tip of his cane. “Of course, how can I help?”

“I think the plants need some watering.”

The brush on Alastor’s hand dissolves with a poof. He leans closer once again, trailing your cheek with his finger until they hook on your chin. He captures you with his stare, and you allow him to trap you. He presses his lips on your cheek, and disappears into his shadow.

You take an even longer sip of your coffee.

Charlie massages her forehead, eyes twitching. “Dear Satan, it’s like watching my parents all over again! I can leave, you know,” she says, snorting. “Give you two a little privacy?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you tell her. “There wouldn’t be enough time.”

Her brows furrow. “Time?”

“After all, extermination is in a month,” you say, brightening your smile. “We’re going to need at least two.”

“What the fuuuuck,.” Charlie whispers underneath her breath, her voice a pitch higher.

“Every couple of years, there will be certain seasons where it takes six!” you say. “Sinner bodies are just so exhilarating.”

Charlie chokes on her spit, and her eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Hmmm, I could be—who knows?” You raise your mug to toast, and take a drink.

“You’re joking,” Charlie says. “…Right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“My dear, is that a question you would want an answer to?” you ask. “Would you be prepared if the answer happens to be no?”

Charlie sinks deeper into her chair. “Okay, then! Moving on, now.”

Leaning on your palm, you laugh. “My deerly beloved husband wouldn’t give all this information for free,” you say. “What did he ask for?”

“We made a deal.”

Your hands drop to the table. “Oh Charlotte,” you say. “That was a foolish mistake. You don’t know what Alastor does to the so—“

“I still have my soul!” Charlie exclaims, balling her fist. “From Vaggie! From you—his own wife! I did what I needed to do to keep my people safe…Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on Alastor,” you tell her with a small smile. “You can’t trust him.”

“He’s given me no reason no to trust him, and…,” Charlie trails off. “And Alastor is my friend.”

Your smile brightens a bit. “Friend?”

“Yes?” Charlie says. “Everyone at the hotel is my friend, and he’s been a tremendous help.”

You place your hands over Charlies and give it a squeeze. “Convince me to help you.”

“W-what?”

“Alastor isn’t asking me to go play medic in the middle of a warzone.” Your brush your feathers out of your face. “If he was asking, I would say yes without a second thought because that’s who we are, but he isn’t asking me, Charlie, you are.”

Charlie hums, placing a finger on her lips as she thinks. “I heard from Angel that you and Alastor got married whe—“

CRASH!

She grips the table, eyes wide as she looks around. “What was that?”

You take a long and drawn-out sip of coffee, contemplating your choice for marriage. “Nothing to be worried about,” you say. “That was just my television.”

“Your Tv?” Charlie frowns a bit. “Did…did Alastor just throw away your Tv?”

You laugh, swatting your hand in the air. “Not at all!” you say. “It probably tripped out my window—those picture boxes are always so clumsy.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “You’re saying that your Tv…just tripped out the window.”

You smile at her. “You were saying something?”

She sighs, massaging her forehead. “You got married when you were alive, but continue to stay together. It’s very rare for Sinners to do such a thing,” she says. “And with all of that…uh…Alastorness.”

“It’s alright, you can just say bat-shit crazy.”

“I’d prefer not to,” she says with an awkward laugh. “So, how were you able to stay together for so long

“Are you…,” you trail off, blinking. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

“A bit? If that’s okay,” she says. “Rosie already helped but, well, she did eat her first husband.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help.” Your lips purse. “Alastor and I don’t exactly have the most conventional marriage.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1927

“Do you like it?” Alastor offers you a spoonful of the simmering sauce.

You lean closer, shifting from your seat on his kitchen counter. Alastor dips the spoon in your opened mouth. “It’s spicy,” you say, lips twisting when you cough. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Alastor tilts his head. A lock of his hair falls to the side. “No…it’s not.” He takes back the spoon and dips it into the pan. Alastor coughs as soon as it hits his tongue. “How many peppers did you add?”

Your legs sway, and the heels of your foot tap the cabinets below you. “I added what was written on the recipe! Exactly twelve peppers.”

Alastor twists the stove’s knob, killing the fire. “Take a look at the notebook again,” he says and reaches over your legs, grabbing his book full of recipes. “If you use these things called ‘eyes’ and ready, you’d be able to see that it says, ‘one to two’!”

“No, it does not!” you huff, grabbing the notebook from him. You read through the list of ingredients. There, near the bottom, pass the four cloves of chopped garlic, half a shallot, and a pinch of pepper, ‘one to two peppers’ is scribbled with blocky letters. “Oh…that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me.”

Alastor adjusts his sleeves, pulling it back up his forearm. (Hmm, not a bad look.) “There’s no point in teaching you how to cook this if you don’t know how to read!” he says, eyes twitching. “Go…Just go over there and let me fix this.”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“No, you did not!” Alastor says, throwing his hands into the air. “What you said was,‘Oh…that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me’, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you repeat with a snort. “That’s my bad.”

“Get out of my kitchen before you ruin dinner.” He leans on the counter, crossing his arms. You hum to yourself. Alastor should pull his sleeves up more. “Go set the table or something. And wash your hair when you get home—it smells like chemicals.”

With a huff, you do as you're told.

You slide off his counter, opening the cabinet and grab two bowls with one arm and reach for the table placemats with the other.

Two sets of utensils, glass cups, and paper napkins. It’s one more set than what you prepare when you’re at your own home. Two…Two. It’s becoming quite the word in your vocabulary.

There’s a proper table waiting to be used in the other room, but this smaller one you’re setting, with its fraying edges and turmeric stains suit the both of you much better.

Three ice-cubes bobble at the top of Alastor’s water. It’s how he likes it. It’s funny. You don’t remember Alastor disclosing this particular information. It’s just something you noticed one day, and you’ve never stopped noticing. What else have you unconsciously learned about him, and what have you unconsciously taught him about you?

Alastor walks to the table, a large steaming bowl in his hands. He places it between the bowls, and you reach into the drawer for a ladle.

The taste tingles your tongue. It’s good. Better than anything you could possibly make for yourself.

You reach into your pocket and toss a handkerchief at Alastor’s face. It lands on between his hair. He tilts his head, shaking it, and the cloth slides on the table. “It’s yours,” you tell him, taking a spoonful of your food. “Thanks for dinner.”

Alastor studies how his name is embroidered in near letters, thumbing the music notes framing it. “Dinner was a way to thank you for this week’s meat.”

He tosses back the handkerchief. It smacks your face.

You peel it from your skin, and trace the letters you’ve threaded during your very scarce free time. “I can’t go around with a handkerchief that has your name on it.”

His smile widens. “Why not?”

“People would think I’m a fan.” You hand Alastor the handkerchief this time. “Just take it as a gift then.”

Alastor takes it from you, and places it into his pocket.

You hum into your spoon with a pleased smile. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor takes his time chewing and swallowing his food. “As you can see,” he tells you, “I’m eating.”

“I’m bored,” you say. “Eat while you talk.”

He reaches across the table, and his fingers catch on the knob of the radio to turn it on.

Classical music plays out of the speaker. It was correct to assume that Alastor pre-sets radios to play his favorite stations. Although, you didn’t imagine that each of his many radios would have their own specific station. A different radio for different stations. You questioned Alastor about it, but he didn’t say much.

Once the bottom of the bowls has been scraped into your stomachs, you take the dishes and go to the sink.

Your nose scrunches at the sight of the piled dishes. Alastor watches you with a smile. You turn away when you notice.

Alastor takes a container from the cabinet above your head. He’s warm. Always warm.

He takes two containers, placing the leftovers inside. And there it is again, that word—Two. Not one, but two. One for him. One for you. You didn’t ask for leftovers. You’ve never asked at all. Alastor will just hand you the container like it’s the most automatic thing in this world for him to do.

You take the first of many bowls, and rinse the stubborn pieces with your hands. “There’s too many dishes,” you say. “It’s like you have one for every ingredient. Did you really need to use separate ones for each and every ingredient we used?”

He leans on the counter, slotting himself next to you. “I don’t like mixing the flavors until it’s time to add them.”

Alastor adjusts his pulled sleeves and crosses his arms.

The bowl slips from your grip.

“Oh…I…uh…sorry,” you say, picking up the bowl. “I mean, you really didn’t need one for the salt and pepper. They already come in containers—why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, eyeball it?”

“Eyeball it?”

“Yeah, or feel it with your soul or something,” you say and pick up the measuring spoons to show him. “You had to measure three pinches of salt instead of actually just pinching it.”

Alastor laughs, and strands of his hair slide down to his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Your shoulders slump when you sigh. “Good.”

He bumps his shoulders with yours. “That’s just the way I was taught.”

“Well,” you start, “your way creates more dishes for me to clean.”

Alastor pivots from the counter, and takes his place in front of the second sink. He grabs the dish you’ve already rinsed and sponges it with soap. It’s quite the system you’ve created. You grab a dirty dish, rinse it, and pass it on to Alastor who cleans it with a sponge.

The next minute goes something like this:

Alastor flicks water at your face. You ignore it.

Flick. Ignore.

The water damps your hair. You kick his leg. “Stop that.”

Alastor drenches his hand under the faucet, letting his fingers accumulate water. He flicks it at you.

The grip you have on the plate tightens. “I am going to smash this on your head.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. He glares. You glare back. He cups his hand under the faucet like a bowl. The water pools between his hands. He throws the water at you. It hits your eyes, blinding you. That does little to stop you.

You grip the plate, swinging it in his direction.

The plate doesn’t connect with anything… Sadly. You rub the water out your eyes, and find Alastor kneeling on the floor with a triumphant smile.

Alastor stands up, brushing dirt from his pants. “You missed.”

“You ducked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he says. “What if you actually hit me?”

You pass the plate to Alastor before you scratch the urge to swing at that smug smile of his. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor closes the faucet. “You always ask me that.”

“That’s because you say it in entertaining ways,” you say. “It’s boring to wash the dishes without something to distract me.”

Alastor soaps the dish. “Your lessening attention span worries me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and flick water at his face. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says. “I find myself having no reason to deny you.”

Alastor’s glasses slide down his nose. He leans close enough for you to smell his perfume. He’s warm—always warm. It takes a second for you to understand. You dry your hands on a stray towel, and fix it in place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1928.

The metal bench cools the back of your neck.

The sun blinds your eyes, but you keep a steady gaze on the afternoon beams. When was the last time you felt the heat of the sun kiss your skin? As the seconds tick by. As the birds fly above you. As the leaves fall from their stem, melting on this bench seems like a heavenly idea.

But as the clock will eventually strike. But as the birds will eventually find their nest. But as the leaves will eventually land. So, too, must you eventually go back to work.

A shadow blocks the sun.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Alastor’s upside-down face smiles at you. “Good morning to you!”

With a yelp, you swing your forehead forward.

Alastor leans backwards, narrowly missing your head by centimeters. “Not the greeting I imagined, but hello to you as well,” he says. “The receptionist said I could find you here.”

You twist, turning to him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Alastor slides over the bench, and takes the free seat next to you. His legs cross. “Why would I not be, okay?”

There’s some bag slung over his shoulder, but that’s not important right now. Your eyes trail his body. Hair? Fixed. Smile? Wide. Clothes? Perfect. “You’re at a clinic.”

Alastor swats his hand. “I was in the area.”

That classic city stench attacks your nose, but it’s just nice to feel the way your hair sways from the breeze. “You’re not going to kill me, right?”

Alastor nudges his leg with yours. “You say that every single time!”

Your smile turns smug. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops becoming funny.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, showing it off to you. “It never was.”

“It is to me,” you say and wave your hands in the air. “Just imagine this, the great Alastor had to stalk me!”

“I am great, but remind me again,” he begins, propping his arm on the bench to lean on it, “how long did you have to follow me?”

Sighing, you lean your head on the backrest to count the clouds. It’s nice to be able to see actual clouds for once instead of the drawing of children who wait. “…Three months.”

“Exactly,” he says, and you hear the smugness in his words. “And I didn’t need to do any stalking—you led me straight to your house.”

You blow a raspberry at him. “Why are you even here then?”

Alastor props his legs on your lap. You push him off. He brings it back. It’s not worth fighting him right now. “I actually was in the area,” he says, and hands you the bag slung over his shoulder. “The director thought it would be a grand idea to bring the staff out to lunch.”

You unzip the bag, and packed lunch greets you. And there it is again. Two. Two. Two. One for you. One for him. Maybe both for you? “Al, tell me why I’m currently looking at two packed lunches?”

Alastor beams at you, and slides his legs off your lap. “I accidentally cooked too much today,” he said. “I thought it would be a grand idea to share.”

Your frown. “But…you already ate.”

“Oh…I was already planning on dropping by,” he says. “It was quite the stroke of luck that you’re only taking your break now, and that we happened to have lunch nearby. I thought I’d bring you a treat.”

Questions bubble on your throat. “Thank you, Al,” you say instead. You open the container and take a bite, savoring the taste. “It’s delicious.”

Alastor leans closer, and picks a leaf off your head. “That’s because I actually followed the recipe.”

You point your spoon at him. “That was just that one time!”

He smiles at you, chuckling softly. “Three actually.”

Before the clock strikes, it will tick. Before the birds find their nest, they will fly. Before the leaves hit the ground, it will fall. And before you eventually go back to work, you will eat on this bench, Alastor to your side.

He stares ahead. As you eat, you watch his eyes flicker. It goes from the kid then to a plant then to an old lady. This, you don’t question. You’ve stopped wondering what he could possibly be thinking years ago.

Alastor leans closer to your ear. “Do you see that lady?” he asks, voice low. His breath tickles your skin. “That one over there with the feather on her hat?”

You scan the people around the area, spotting the lady old enough to be your grandmother. A scarf wraps around her neck, despite the sun beaming with the afternoon heat. She lazily walks around. “What about her?”

“Do you think her name could be Edith? She looks like an Edith,” Alastor says. “She probably had three children, and married young when her parents forced her to marry this ugly but rich man she could never love.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. It’s like a mantra that plays in your head. There’s no reason not to play along whatever nonsense he’s spouting. “Sure, why not?”

“But no!” he exclaims into your ear. You jerk away and shove him with an elbow. “Oof….Edith just had to defy all expectations, and she chose to elope with her childhood sweetheart. He’s not the richest man, but they survived.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And to this day,” he says, “everyone still calls her, ‘Edith the Penguin’.”

“Edith the penguin?” you echo. “Now I’m just confused.”

Alastor’s eyes shine. “Because she walks like a penguin with their ass on fire,” he snorts. “Your turn, now.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

“Fine.” You place your spoon down, and look around to the first person who grabs your attention. “That little kid over there—His name is Thomas, and he likes balloons.”

Alastor blinks at you. “And?”

You take your time chewing and swallowing your food. “That’s all.”

He gawks at you, and rolls your eyes. “It must be so boring to be you.”

“It is not!” You huff at him, and kick his leg. “I am a very interesting person, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh really, now? Thomas, and he likes balloons?” Alastor says,and points at the kid with twitching eyes. “He’s holding a balloon!”

You wave your arms, the spoon still in your grip. “So, he probably likes it!” you say. “Thomas wouldn’t get a balloon if he didn’t like it.”

“I pity your sense of imagination.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

You swallow what remains inside the container, and pack it up. “Is this what you do when you zone out as I’m tal—and you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” you say. “You are an incredibly judgmental person.”

“It’s called using my imagination. Something you apparently don’t have,” he says with a snort. “So…tell me what you did today.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s my question.”

Alastor shrugs, taking the closed container and zipping it inside his bag. He hands you a tissue. “Well, I’m asking it now.”

You prop your arm on the bench, leaning on it. Alastor’s hair spikes out in odd places today. It must have quite the trek to the clinic. “I’m not as good a storyteller as you are.”

He props his arms on the bench, mimicking your pose. His eyes stare straight into yours. “ I don’t need a story,” he says. “I just want to know what you did today.”

You press your palm on his face, pushing him away from your face. The sun’s heat is really getting to you. Alastor’s nose crinkles as he rubs it. “Why would you even want to know what I do?”

Alastor props his elbows on his knees, observing the people around him. “You always ask me what I did,” he says. “I want to know if there’s something special about it.:

“There’s nothing special about it,” you tell him. Was there actually? You’re not sure. “I just like knowing, and it always entertains me.”

Alastor meets your eyes with a wide smile. “Then tell me what you did today,” he says. “Entertain me.”

The clock ticks closer. The birds are already close to their nests. The leaves are already floating to the ground. You are already close to going back to work, closer to this moment becoming nothing but a distant memory. “That was my first meal of the day.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a hard scowl. “That’s not healthy.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. “I never said it was.”

“How would you live without me?”

Remember, Alastor brought you lunch, and it would be nice if he could bring you lunch again. “I’m going to hit you.”

Alastor bumps your knees with his. “Lovely,” he says, and you can hear the smile he’s wearing. “I’m sure it will be very painful because you’re so full of energy right now.”

Eyes still shut, you bump his knees back. “I’ve been busy,” you say. “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “First of all, we’re all busy,” he says. “Second, I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You did—it was audible,” you tell him with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, there’s nothing new with my day. It’s just the usual, people to see, files to file, blood to draw, pee to get on me.”

Alastor digs his finger into your cheek, twisting it as he presses down. “Wow, you really are a horrible storyteller.”

You know what, maybe you don’t need Alastor bringing you lunch. You peek open an eye to stare at him. “I’m going to smash a plate on your head once we start doing the dishes.”

Alastor mashes your cheek like some button. Over and over and over and over again. You swat his hand, and he rubs it with a grimace. “Were you planning on dropping by today?”

You place an arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun. “Will I have to do the dishes?”

“You don’t have to specifically do the dishes.”

You comb through your hair with your fingers. “That wouldn’t exactly be fair to you.”

“If you're so insistent, we can find something else for you to do,” he says. “I mean, if you hate it so much you don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t hate it,” you say with a sigh. A church bell sounds. It echoes through the buildings and through the trees. “Al…I’m tired.”

“I know,” he says, and you hear how softly he chuckles. “Your eyes are drooping so low I could fill the entire ocean in them.”

“I want to sleep, Al.”

“I know.”

“I hate this job.”

Alastor pauses for a second, and he bumps his shoulders with yours. “You don’t.”

The clock hasn’t struck yet. The birds haven’t flown to their nests. The leaves haven’t reached the ground. And so too will you stay in this moment of time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1929

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs. The sound is ignored, just like every other thing that isn’t relevant to you.

The dead cadaver under you has weird kidneys. The one on your palm is too small for a kidney that belongs to someone of his size. You take your scalpel, slicing it to observe the cross section.

“It’s time to stop,” Alastor tells you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Him and his smile is not important right now. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Leave me alone,” you mumble. The human body continues to be amazing. The medulla is clearly outlined. The colors of its cells were so different from the cortex. “…Kidneys, Alastor. He has weird kidneys. Hehehehe weird kidneys…”

Alastor says your name in a way that forces you to listen.

“…Oh…yes?” you say a bit dumbly.

“It’s nightfall,” he says, and the tone of his voice buzzes your skin. “Come on now, do as you're told. Be upstairs in fifteen minutes.”

It’s not an easy task to do as Alastor says, especially when this man’s left kidney is a whole different size from the right. However, with a frown, you slot the kidney from the opened chest cavity, and pack up the body.

You step out of the basement, and walk to the kitchen.

There’s a plate waiting for you on the table. It’s still hot. Muffled music plays from the porch, and you see Alastor’s outline through the windows. Taking your plate, you step out the front door and into the outdoors. (Something you really need to start seeing more.)

And oh…he’s not listening to the radio. Alastor plays the recording of his show. It was a present you got him a few months back.

You take your seat on the matching rocking chair.

Alastor watches you settle into your seat. He turns the volume down. “Tables were invented for a reason.”

The chair rocks when you swing your legs. “It’s nice out here,” you say, and take a bite of vegetables. “The sky is much clearer. It helps that there’s no stench of piss.”

He turns to you with a small smile. “That’s because you live in the city.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You push it out of the way. “Hey, Al,” you say slowly. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Why should I?”

You lean back into the chair, letting the rocking sway you. “Well, you got home late,” you say. “I had to use my keys.”

Alastor leans back on the chair, using the tips of his shoe to rock himself. “Yes, that was the point of the keys,” he says, humming. “It would be a shame to come home to another broken window.”

The taste of the vegetables mixed with the meat makes you smile in delight. “Are you still holding on to that?”

“Always.”

“I paid you back, eventually,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him. “Why are you still holding a grudge for an honest accident?”

On his cheek , where it’s always been and where it’ll always be, his smile strains. “You expect me to believe that a rock smashing my window was an honest accident.”

You offer him your most innocent smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope your windows are much sturdier then,” he says, mimicking your smile. “One of these days, I might cause an accident.”

The stars twinkle in the sky. There’s a vast amount of knowledge those gassy balls hold. Maybe your life would be less horrific if you were interested in the stars instead. “In my defense, you were late.”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes?”

You take another bite of your meal, and sway happily to do a little dance. “Just… okay? Just tell me what you did before I finish my meal.”

Alastor reaches into his pocket and tosses a keychain at you. It lands between your legs.

You set the plate on the coffee table between you, and hold the keychain to the light. It was a cute, little cartoon alligator. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“I can tell that much,” you say, twirling the gift between your fingers. “You never give me nice knickknacks. It’s always the ugly ones

Alastor huffs at you. “That doesn’t sound like my problem anymore,” he says. “I thought you would appreciate something that looks halfway decent one and for all.”

“I find the ugly ones really charming, actually. They’re very funny to look at,” you say. “So, where did you get this?”

Alastor clasps his hands, resting it on his stomach as he rocks himself. “Saw an advertisement. Went to the zoo.”

You scrunch your face. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Go finish your meal.”

You pocket his gift, and grab the plate on the table. “Master of storytelling right here, ladies and gentlemen,” you say, barking a laugh. “I figured you would love the excuse of hearing yourself talk.”

Alastor ignores you, reaching for his notepad instead.

You watch Alastor as he writes on his notepad. The breeze sways a strand of his hair. His lips twist when he thinks, just like he’s doing right now

Your eyes fall on your plate, to where vegetables and meat were carefully tossed together. Alastor cooked today— he always cooks. When you finish, you’ll grab the plates, and begin the mountain of dishes. Even when dish soap stings your fingers, even when the feeling of wet food grosses you, and even when thousands of dirty dishes wait for you…it’s something you don’t mind..

Once this meal is finished, you and him will step inside. He’ll properly tell you about his day, and you’ll take the pan and scrub it.

Ah…there it is again. That word—Two.

But it’s not two of anything. It’s simply just two. You and Alastor.

“You’re frowning,” Alastor says. He stares at you from the corner of his eyes. “Why?”

It’s weird.

Very weird.

You don’t…You don’t understand. How do you say the words you do not know how to explain?

It’s almost as if… “We should get married.”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the open land. “No.”

The inside of your cheek stings from how you bite it. You turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. “I…It just came out, okay?” you mumble. “I’m really trying not to be offended that you turned me down without a second thought, and with a laugh as well.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m nothing you want.”

The moonlight reflects off his brown eyes. “Sometimes…,” you begin, and a small smile appears on your lips. “Sometimes I wish you see yourself the way I see you.”

Alastor laughs at you again. “You’ve been having such thoughts about me?” he says. “What an absolute honor! I’m deeply flattered.”

“And then you say words like that, and I immediately know it’s not worth it

Alastor lifts his eyes from his notepad to peek at you. He fixes his eyeglasses. “You don’t actually think we should get married.”

To be infuriating, you take a bite from your plate, savoring each flavor with drawn out chews.

“I have no idea,” you say. “But…I mean, why not? There are many good reasons for me to marry you—it’s advantages for me, and everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad, shaking his head. “That’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What, being in a relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s twice you’ve managed to offend me.” You laugh to hide your frown. “But that friend of yours. The feathery one from the lounge you like taking me to.”

Alastor tilts his head. “Mimzy?”

“Ah yes, her,” you say with a hum. “She asked me if you um…uh… well, if you liked vanilla or hot and spicy.”

“If I had to answer, Id say hot and spicy?” Alastor says, and you laugh at the confusion on his face. “I got a bottle of this pepper flakes infused with old. It was quite the treat.”

“That’s exactly what I figured you would say,” you tell him.“Unfortunately for you, Mimzy was talking about sex.”

Alastor scrunches his face.

Oh don’t make such a face, there is absolutely no need to be afraid of the prospect of such activities.” The final bite of your meal bursts with so much flavor that you revel it for a second. “Al, let’s get married.”

Alastor glares at you. “No.”

You place the plate on the coffee table. It can be washed after this conversation. “Why not?”

He points his pen between you and him..“We aren't even dating,” he says. “And…I can’t express such passionate displays of affection.”

You rock the chair with your shoe. An owl hoots from somewhere beyond the trees. Huh, you weren’t aware owls lived in this area. “Don’t be a child—just say sex.”

Again, his face scrunches. “I will not.”

“It’s a really good thing,” you say, sighing, “that no one’s asking.”

Alastor searches for your eyes. He holds it. It was only ever his to hold anyway. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in romance.”

You look around, whipping your head. “I think I’m missing the part where someone asked.”

“Be serious.”

“Okay fine. This is me being serious because I am when I say that all I don’t need your romance—Al, you accepted me for who I am, and to me? That is enough,” you say with a soft smile. “You are all I could ever ask for.”

Alastor stares at the stars, his eyes capturing each one. “I can’t love you like a husband should.”

The stares are really beautiful.

Each shines in their own way. Alastor sees the beauty in them, but you aren’t going to be beaten by a gas ball. Tomight, you will be the only star Alastor should keep his gaze on. “Alastor, look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on the stars.

Huffing, you stride to his chair, and block his view of the night sky.

You plant your arms on the armrest for support, and inch your face so close that you are the only thing he will see. “Alastor,” you say his name, voice oh so soft, “look at me.”

Oh…his eyes are browner than you thought. It’s a deep and dark brown that pulls you in.

“You can love me in ways that matter.” You press your forehead against his, and close your eyes.

There are more words to be said, but right now you and him stay in this moment of time. Just…for…a second.

“I will never force you to love me in ways you cannot,” you whisper. The ends of his hair brush against your skin. “Alastor, I could never reject the type of love you can offer me. I can never deny you.”

Alastor caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Friends don’t get married.”

Impulsivity was such a bad habit of yours. It’s a fact that makes you bear the consequences, but consequences be damned. You take his hand, holding it in yours. The pads of his fingers have different textures. Some are smooth. Some are rough. But the whole thing warms you to the touch. It’s unfair. He’s unfair. How could something as simple as taking his hand intoxicate?

Your lips hover over his skin, brushing it a little. Alastor doesn’t pull away. With a smile that Alastor always seems to put on your lips, you plant a soft kiss on his ring finger.

“We aren’t normal people. There’s no reason to force ourselves into a conventional relationship.” You meet his eyes with a smirk. Every word you utter brushes your lips yo his skin. “This marriage will be defined however we want. You offer me a partnership in death…This is me offering you a partnership in life.”

You press your lip on the back of his hand, one final time, and return to your chair.

Alastor doesn’t speak.

You rock yourself with your foot, enjoying the sway of the chair.“There is that added benefit that the police won’t be suspicious of a doting husband.”

Alastor scrunches his face. “Doting husband?” he echoes. “I thought we wouldn’t be having a normal marriage.”

“That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t want to feel special,” you say, snorting. “I’ve always dreamed of a doting husband.”

Alastor rips a page out of his notepad. He folds it with his hands.

His vets match his shoes today. The hair on the back of his head sticks out and curls. Did he take a nap today? “I could be like this every single night,” you say softly. “You and me. The two of us under the stars until our hairs turn gray.”

Alastor’s gaze stays locked on the piece of paper he’s folding. “Why me?”

You stare at him with a smile, and lean your face on your palm. “Does it need to be said?”

Alastor glances at you with those brown eyes of his. “I’m asking.”

“It’s because…It’s…I…,” your trail off. How do you summon the words to describe something you don’t understand?

There’s a smug smile on Alastor’s lips. “What, is it because you love me?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?” you say, chuckling into your arm. “But…well, I don’t exactly know how to properly say this.”

“Just open your mouth,” he says, rolling his eyes, “and let the words do it’s job.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” you tell him, and your cheeks tingle. “Maybe even past life. Can you imagine that? You and me in hell, doing our dishes together.”

There’s an odd look on his face. “Sure.”

“We can listen to the radio,” you say. “And I’ll ask you about your day, and you will tell me the wildest and most grandiose story while we clean a pot.”

Alastor smiles at you. “You hate doing the dishes.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I see it—I always do,” he says with a soft chuckle. Alastor taps his nose. “Your nose scrunches every time, yet you never ask for help.”

What expression are you making right now?

You bring your legs to your chest. “I’m willing to give up everything for dirty dishes if it means I have you as a companion for the rest of my life.”

Alastor turns back to whatever he was folding.

You hide your face in your legs, face flushed and warm. “Say something…please,” you say, whispering. “I just poured out my heart for you

You hear Alastor rise from his seat. He places a hand on your head. “Today’s dinner…,” he says, and his voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Did you like it?”

You smile even if he couldn’t see it, and lean into his hand. “It was one of the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it for you for the rest of my life…if you’re willing to wash the dishes with me for the rest of yours,” Alastor says, and you think this is the most honest thing he’s ever told you. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t want it, this is yours now.”

You peek out of your knees. Alastor’s smile is soft. He opens his palms and your eyes flicker to them. He shows you what he’s been folding. It’s the paper of his notepad folded into a ring—a paper ring.

“Do it again,” you say with a beam that could rival the stars. “Ask me again.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, the back of his finger brushing down your skin. “Doting husband?”

“Exactly,” you say with a laugh and lean into his touch. “You catch on very quickly.”

Alastor takes your hand in his, and his thumb brushes over your ring finger. Does he feel your skin the way you feel his? He kneels on one knee and the paper ring is presented to you. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You insert your ring finger into the paper ring. “The honor would be mine, my dearest.”

Alastor stares at you.

You stare back.

The moment your eyes settle on one another, laughter echoes across the land. It’s loud and breathy, and it echoes so far that the local wildlife gets disturbed. Alastor settles back on his chair, rocking himself.

Alastor calms down first. “Oh…uh…Should we share a passionate kiss?”

The stars shine above you. Not a single gas ball can beat the brightness of your smile. “Do you want to?” you ask. “Be honest, my dear.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “Not particularly—Do you?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” you say with a shrug. “I could live a happy life without such passionate kisses.”

“Really?” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you laugh. “You would be fine without one?”

“Well, since you’re so insistent, I’ll allow a kiss.”

Alastor snorts into the air. “And where and when would you want such a kiss?”

You hold him in your gaze. There’s so much to learn, so much to figure out. It’s alright. There will be time. “Anywhere and anytime, you want, my love.”

“You’re going to give me control?” he asks. “Is this not something you would want as well?”

“I’ll make this easy enough for you to understand,” you tell him, tracing the paper ring around your finger. “I demand a kiss whenever you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

Alastor hums, looking away to study the woodcarving on his chair. He picks on them. “I supposed if you need anyone to fulfill your needs I only as—”

“Just say sex, my dearest,” you say, and Alastor sinks into his chair with a huff. “That will never happen. This isn’t a friendship, my love. I am entering a relationship with you. No matter how unconventional, it is still ours.”

Alastor locks your eyes with a pleased smile. “Good.”

The rocking chair rocks you into a small lull. “My dear.”

“Yes?”

“My love.”

Alastor sighs. “Yes?”

“My dearest,” you say. “Would you want to share a bed?”

Alastor stays silent. There’s hesitation on his face. You see it in the way his lips twist. You see it in the way his eyebrows furrow. You see it in the way he leans back on his chair to stare at the stars.

“Okay then, we can circle back to that later,” you say with a soft chuckle. “How about a room—Do you want to share one?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, staring at you with silent judgment. He is a book that you are allowed to learn. There’s so much to read, and so much still left to be read. That’s okay. There’s time. No matter how long. You have time.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, we can share a room without sharing a bed,” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. “We can even have bunk beds. That would be cool. I’ve always wanted a bunk bed.”

Alastor rests his face on his palm to look at you. There it is again, the breathy and light laughter. “We are not sleeping on a bunk bed.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie’s smile slowly morphs into a frow that you cannot decipher. It makes sense that you can’t. Afterall, she is not the book you’ve spent your life learning to read. “You…You don’t actually love each other?”

There’s a frame hanging on your kitchen wall that says otherwise.

It holds an art piece you embroidered for the sole purpose of giving it to your husband. The color of the wooden frame compliments the colors of the thread, as if it was carefully chosen to match. The one here in the kitchen is but one of many frames around the house. Alastor keeps every single item safe beneath the glass to to be admired.

There’s a shelf standing on the living-room carpet that says otherwise.

It holds ugly knick knacks that Alastor bought for the sole purpose of giving it to his wife. It’s a pain to dust the shelves, but not a speck of dirt touches its surface, as if it was carefully taken care of. The one in there in the living-room is but one of many shelves around the house. You keep every item spotless to be admired.

“We’re not heartless,” you say. “Alastor and I don’t have the same relationship you and your girlfriend have.”

Charlie sways in her seat, a hand rests on her chin when she hums. “ I am so sorry,” he says. “I think it’s great and all that, I’m just having trouble understanding.”

“It’s not exactly for you to understand.” You take a sip from your mug.

“So it’s not a relationship,” Charlie says. “Sooooo, is it like a really really deep friendship?”

“The lines between us are so blurry that it’s become deeper than friendship,” you admit with a small smile. “I just know that my soul is connected to him in ways I do not know how to tell him.”

“Is that really possible?” Charlie asks. “To just…love each other so differently?”

“Can our relationship not just…exist?” You lean on your palms. “Do you really think it’s so impossible for two people to just…to just look forward to cooking and washing the dishes together?”

Charlie’s eyes brighten. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. “So like—”

“Charlie…if I sit here and answer all of your questions, we’re going to waste time.” You play with the fiddle of your mug. “You didn’t come here for relationship advice.”

“Oh…yes.” Charlie sits there. Her smile slowly falls into a frown. “I’ve been thinking of how to convince you to help me, but…I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I don’t want to force you either.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You haven’t exactly asked for my help either.”

Charlie blinks at you. “…Huh?”

You raise your mug to toast to her. “If you want my help, just ask for it.”

Charlie grabs your hand with a tight grip. “Please, help me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to drag Cannibal Town into an all-out war without knowing there was a way to keep them safe.”

“Sure, why not?” You pull your hand away.

A loud squeal bounces off the walls.

Charlie pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. She hauls you with all the strength of a hellborn princess. Your feet drag against the floor as she pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

Charlie drops you with a wince on her face. She stares at the broken window, and the obviously missing television.

You trip out of her hold.

Alastor wraps his hand on your shoulders, steading you against him until you find your balance. His touch lingers on you.

The television shaped hole on your glass window makes your eyes twitch.

Alastor steps away from you, twirling his microphone. It strikes the floor with a harsh thunk. “Oh, yes that,” he says. “It seems there was an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, really now?” you say, placing a hand on your hips. “I would love to know exactly how that happened.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and his arms wave the air. “The clumsy boxed tripped right out the window.”

Your smile strains. “…That is rather unfortunate,” you say. “What a shame, I rather liked that television. It’s been a constant companion, and never has it once disappeared on me for several years.”

Alastor glares at you.

You glare back.

“I would love to help you clean this mess,” Alastor says with that triumphant smile of his.

Would a second broken window be worth trouble if it means there would be an Alastor-shaped hole?

“Perfect!” you say. “I’m sure you still remember where we keep the broom.”

Alastor boops your nose. “Unfortunately, the cannibals will be meeting us at the hotel,” he says. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Say goodbye to my wife, Charlotte.”

Charlie opens her mouth to correct him. She changes her mind at the last minute, choosing to sulk with a wave instead.

Alastor opens the door, allowing Charlie to step out first. She strides to the flowerbeds, kneeling to observe the plants.

Alastor stills by the door frame.

He inches close enough for you to reach him. The fabric of his lapels smoothen as you adjust its fit on him.

A breeze tussles Alastor’s hair. You swipe the stray locks, brushing his hair away from his forehead, until…until the x that marks the gunshot catches your eyes. Frowning, you thumb the mark, caressing it with oh so soft touches. There was a time where you believed that you and him had all the time in the world. Death laughed at you that night.

Alastor watches you, taking your wrist to pull it away.

He leans closer, and picks a feather on your head. “Will you indulge me?” he asks. “There’s just something I want to ask of you before I leave.”

“Say it, and it will be yours.”

Alastor pokes his cheeks, mimicking a smile. “Just one of these from you will do—Something to power me through the day.”

With a soft chuckle, you widen your lips to show him the brightest smile you can muster. “Is that much better, my love?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “Indeed,” he says. “You’ve been frowning for a while now.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Have I?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You have,” says. “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s nothing serious to you,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “It’s nothing worth listening to.”

Alastor taps his fingers across his microphone. “It’s not nothing. Especially when you frown like that,” he says. “If it’s serious to you, it is worth listening to.”

“Sometimes…I still find myself wondering how you feel,” you say, smoothening the feathers on your head “Even after being married for so long, there are times where I still do not know

“You’re not a mind reader,” he says. “If you want to know, you should just ask.”

“Alright then,” you say with a smile. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

Alastor caresses your cheek. The back of his fingers brush down your skin until it hooks around your chin. You tilt it to the side, offering your cheek, ready for him.

Alastor tugs your chin, adjusting your face until your eyes are drawn into his own. And oh…Has he always looked at you like this?

Alastor inches closer, his nose nudging against your own. Your heart thumps in your ear.

A minute has never felt so long as you stay frozen. It’s a whole minute if his lips brushing inches above yours. It’s a whole minute of his finger stroking the skin of your chin. It’s a whole minute of feeling his breath on your skin. It’s a whole minute where inches of space separate your

Alastor tortures you with the simplest of sensation that intoxicated you to your very core. You don’t move away, not from him—never from him.

Your eyes close when Alastor presses his lips across yours.

The taste of this morning’s coffee is dizzying. The soft tickles of his breath make your fingers curl around the fabric of his coat. You were never a poet. It’s Alastor who was better with his words. You cannot describe the way he kisses you with sweet metaphors or soft analogies.

Alastor pulls away.

You inch closer to chase him, until self-control takes over. It splashes you with the warmth of a bucket filled with ice.

Oh…oh.

There are words to be said, questions to be asked. The heat tingling of your cheeks and the electricity buzzing your lips make it hard to find the words.

You bury your face into the fabric of Alastor’s chest, curling into him to hide how red your face flushes. The back of his coat crumples when you grip it.

Alastor wraps his arms around you, tightening the hug. His finger stroke your shoulder blade. “Does that answer your question?”

You inhale into his clothes. It’s warm. He’s warm. So warm that int transfers to you. “No, not at all,” you mumble. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Alastor leans back, pushing you away to search your face.He stares at you.

You stare at everything but him.

Alastor squishes your cheek, giving it a light shake. “Stop demanding things from me when you’re not going to remember.”

“I did no such thing.” You swat his hand away. “Will I be seeing you soon?”

Charlie catches your eyes. She quickly glances away before eventually looking back. You bring out your hand, folding your fingers to indicate the number two. Charlie cringes so deep she creates a double chin.

Alastor brushes feathers out of your face. “You wouldn’t need to ask if you accepted Charlie’s offer to stay at the hotel,” he says. “ I was given a room there. I think you would like it…but, there’s still thousands of unused rooms if you wish to stay somewhere else.”

“My deerest, are you asking me to stay at the hotel?”

Alastor’s silence makes you chuckle.

With the tips of your toes, you reach to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you soon.”

“You always will.”

Charlie and Alastor leave with a wave. You close the door before they reach the gate, leaning on the door. The wood does little to settle the way your skin buzzes. Demand a kiss? You would never do such a thing.

The clock strikes. It’s time to leave for work. You take your coffee mug, scrubbing it with soap. (If you drop it twice, then that’s your business.) You open the cupboard, placing your matching mug next to Alastor’s clean one.

Today…Today will be a good day.

For today, there’s no need to throw away cold coffee mugs.

First of all, you will never catch my Alastor cooking jambalaya. It’s a great dish, I know. But I refuse to fall into the curse. Part of the reason why this chapter took so long to publish, besides work getting in the way, was because I didn’t know how I would want Alastor and Reader to love each other. Like do I make it purely romantic? But I like keeping this as canon as possible. And I know that Alastor is only canonically ace. This problem struck me until I realized that to be accepted is to be loved. So I decided to write a story that will make me happy to show you. There are so many other fics with pure romance, and I wanted to respect Alastor’s asexuality and everyone who relates to him. This is my love letter to him and to you. Also, I’m just going to put it out there, just in case someone might ask why there’s a kiss on the lips? This is a reminder that you can define a relationship any way you could want. I debated whether that kiss should be on the cheek or on the lips. A cheek kiss isn’t inherently romantic, so I could have just done this. The lip kiss just felt…correct. I wanted to showcase that the relationship between Alastor and Reader isn’t a conventional one, and that it’s fine to have one that differs from what is considered normal. So the best way would be to take something that everything thinks is very romantic and twist it in a way that it could mean something different. And thus, any kiss before and after this chapter really just means that Alastor is completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @holymusicialmothman @lyralibra @alastorssimp @aestheticglas-blog @slaggylemon

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

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iamsherlocked1479 · 1 year

Text

Admit it

Word count: 1.9k words

Description: Sherlock believes that lingerie is pointless so y/n decides to prove him wrong, no matter the costs.

Warnings: 18+, very angsty, BJ, P in V sex, choking, slut shame

A/N: this is my apology for not posting as much hope you like it! But chapter 11 is about halfway done atm.

“I don’t get it!” Sherlock shouted at the television screen, jolting you awake with his movement, you had fallen asleep on him again, which of course he didn’t have a problem with.

“W-what now?” You ask dazed from your sleep

“These adverts look at those women.” He pointed to the ad you had seen thousands of times for a designer company showing off their new lingerie.

“Its just an ad?” You say confused, this is your punishment for letting him get to intrigued in the reality tv shows you watch, his attempt of proving he could be a normal boyfriend.

“Yes but I don’t get why lingerie is so amazing.” He turned to you

“Because its a way to feel pretty, seductive almost.” You laugh

“But you don’t need lingerie to look beautiful.” He added

“You know you should use that line more often.” You laugh

“I really don’t understand society.” He sighed and turned his head back to the screen.

“So you wouldn’t care if i wore something like that?” You ask

“I prefer you in nothing, we both know that.” He squeezed your thigh

“No but its meant to make their partners want them more. A treat i would say.” You thought how you ended up explaining the use of lingerie to your boyfriend who was very much experienced by now in the arts of physical relationships with you.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“It does.” You laugh “its like when you wear that purple shirt that’s slightly too tight for you” you smirk as his brow raises

“That actually explains a lot.”

“Never mind the show is back on.” You point to the screen

“You’re just going to fall asleep again.” He smiled

“Would that be a problem?” You ask

“Never.” He added, and as usual he was right. You woke up the next morning in you shared bed trying to work out how you’d gotten there but then remembered your conversation from last night, maybe he would like it if you wore lingerie. You hadn’t exactly tried that before, you knew he was probably out on a case so you got dressed with your mission clear. Finding the perfect lingerie to seduce the great Sherlock Holmes, who also happened to be the man who never had physical relationships with anyone, in a physical relationship with you.

You started out with a few common clothing shops with nothing really taking your fancy so you decided it would be better to look in the expensive shops, like the one from the advert. You browse the isles being amazed by the different styles and colours in all shapes and sizes before finally seeing the perfect set.

On a mannequin in front of you was a purple laced bra and panties set. It was almost the same colour as his shirt so you knew it would be perfect, the bra was lace and obviously see through and the panties would fit your figure just right.

It was early evening by the time you got home, and Sherlock’s violin could be heard throughout the apartment. He smiled when he saw you, but didn’t stop playing. It was obvious whatever case he was on was really toying with his mind mind.

“I’m just gonna take a shower.” You yelled not expecting a reply, it was time to put your plan into action. You showered and washed your hair, whilst also performing for the various bottles of shampoo that probably wished they didn’t need to hear the same verse from careless whisper three times over. You towel dry your hair enough so it wouldn’t be dripping wet, without getting too frizzy the next day and slipped on the lingerie. And god it was perfect, there was no way in hell even Sherlock holmes could deny you didn’t look good, you weren't one for loving yourself too much but this made it difficult.

You left the bathroom wearing only the lingerie and Sherlock was still playing, but upon hearing you enter the room he began playing a careless whisper mocking your singing.

“Was I really being that loud?” You laugh

“I’ve heard worse.” He still hadn’t turned around, dam his stupid mind palace.

“So what case are you stuck on?” You ask moving to the kitchen and ignoring the severed human limbs to make tea.

“A soldier was murdered, found dead in the shower, no way in, no way out and no signs of a struggle. Just dead, it appears as if a ghost killed him.” He still hadn’t turned around, god he was arrogant sometimes.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” You ask

“Yes and is there any biscu-.” He stopped and finally laid his eyes on you. Your back was to him, your ass clearly showing.

“Everything okay back there?” You smirk

“W-what are you wearing?” He asked, you could have swore you heard a gulp.

“Oh this little thing? I picked it up today. What do you think?” You tapped the tea spoon on the cup and turned around, he watched your every move as you entered the living room. You place the tea on the table and walk over to him, now he was intrigued. It was time to play your game. “Sit please” you push him back into his chair and he falls back with a huff his eyes scanning every part of your body.

“I- I think its n-nice.” He watched as you teased him moving your hips as you turned around allowing him to look at everything.

“But you see I’m not sure about it, could you have a closer look?” You step towards him, and place yourself in his lap straddling his legs, with your chest in his face, his hands slid up your legs towards your hips, but you pushed them away. “Ah ah, remember I thought you didn’t see the point in clothes like this. In my opinion i’d say they’re pretty effective.” You could feel him twitching beneath you,

“Maybe they are helping a tad bit.” He shuffled in his seat trying his best to do as you said but he wasn’t going to admit you were right.

“Pitty, I thought they were working.” You began circulating your hips, grinding yourself against his growing length, letting out small moans of pleasure. You watched as he gripped the arms of his chair tightly at the sensation of you rubbing against him. You moved your hands to his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. His fingers moved closer to you tracing along your leg, but you stopped your movements and tutted. “Admit I was right and maybe I’ll let you touch.”

He grunted frustratedly he wasn’t one for admitting he was wrong, but here you sat in his lap grinding against him and he couldn’t even kiss you. “Shit” he sighed “fine you were right” you smiled at your win and pushed your lips against his and began moving faster.

“I can’t help myself around you, fuck baby.” He trailed his lips along your neck going in between the crevice of your breast with his tongue, he pulled down the straps of your bra and pulled your tits free. He took one into his mouth, nibbling the nipple slightly while gripping the other with his hand.

You gripped his hair pushing him further into your chest letting out more moans edging him on. You pushed your soaked cunt harder on him, making his cock rub against your clit beginning to causing the knot in your stomach to grow tighter, growing closer to your release. He purred into your chest as your wetness soaked through his trousers, which grew ever tighter with your work. You couldn’t hold it back any longer your hips jolted as you came,

“Oh fuck Sherlock yes, fuck you’re so hard its s-so good.”

“Mmm fuck i can’t wait any longer.” He stood up and carried you through the hall towards your bedroom, his lips still locked to yours as he kicked the door open and carried you to the bed. He dropped you there watching as you knelt below him, wiping the hair stuck to your sweaty forehead.

“Want your cock, baby, I need it.” You whimpered as you unbuckled his belt. You pulled down his boxers and watched as he moaned as you licked a stripe down his length before gently sucking on his balls as your hand pumped him slowly. His head knocked back with a sigh of relief as you reached his tip again, and slowly began bobbing your head down over it, working your tongue around him before sinking down a little farther. You tried your best to swallow around him he helped by pushing himself in gently letting out deep moans the further you got. His hip’s jolted again as you pulled back and worked on the tip again, he was becoming too sensitive and he hadn’t even fucked you yet. He pushed your mouth away and brought you to his gently gripping your throat.

“Don't think I forgot you wouldn’t let me touch you, I won’t let that go unnoticed. I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for a week.” He pushed you onto the bed and positioned his frame over you, he practically ripped off the panties and entered with a hard thrust causing you to yelp and grip to the bed sheets. He pushed hard into you the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room accompanied by your moans, you clawed at his back as he fucked you

“Look at you so cock drunk, you think you can parade yourself around like a little slut in my apartment and get away with it. Do you?” He asked

“N-no.” You whimpered, leaning your head back as your back arched

“No what?” He grabbed your chin making your eyes level with his dark blues

“N-no sir.”

“Good.” He flipped you over and knelt over you, slowing his pace, taking more time to push harder into you. “Now say you’re sorry.” He slapped your ass, hard smiling as a pink gleam appeared

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered

“Good girl, now we can enjoy this.” He sped up his pace and placed one hand under you, his thumb rubbing your already swollen clit. The pulse of you clit sent waves through you as you squirmed, he fucked you hard through your orgasm

“Oh fuck, sherlock just there, thats right!” Your voice was muffled as you buried yourself in the sheets pulling them from the corners.

Sherlock groaned, he loved the sight of you being this way around him, so cock drunk you couldn’t even hold yourself up. He too was reaching his end the way your pussy clenched around his cock was enough to set him off, spewing thick white ropes deep inside of you and collapsing onto you.

He took a moment to cat his breath, his cock still inside you before pulling himself off the bed,

“Looks like you need another shower.” He held out his hand as you turned and sprawled onto the bed

“I can’t, too tired.” You say breathlessly

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to walk.” He smiled while wiping the hair stuck to your forehead.

“Hmm” you groaned as your eyes fell closed. Sherlock fixed the sheets around you before wrapping your body in a cover and allowing you to sleep. He showered before going back to his violin, this time thinking only of you. Though he would never tell you, maybe just this once you were right.

#bbc sherlock #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock holmes x reader #benedict cumberbatch x female!reader #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #smutty #sherlock bbc #y/n x sherlock #i am sherlocked #sherlockedit #spotify

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sordidmusings · 6 months

Text

Tender Love and Care - Hair Care (Buggy x amab!Reader

Art by ijessbest on Twitter (refusing new name still) I believe they also have a tumblr by the same name!

A/N: Sorry I took so long to post this and thank you for your patience! I had thought I put it up earlier but noticed that wasn't true while doing some organizing. The differences are pretty subtle but I hope they are meaningful for your immersion and help you feel seen! If there's something I can do better (I am cis fem so I'm sure there's much my experience has me missing about yours) please let me know! I'd like to help y'all get your escapism too 🤍

From the original a/n - "Ah yes, another 'taking care of Buggy's head' fic to take up space on the internet. Just gotta indulge in giving this man some tlc. Did I write four thousand words of simping for the cringefail pirate clown's hair? Yes. And I'd do it again >:p"

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: masculine leaning amab!reader (no pronouns or gendered titles), Lots of Feelings, yearning, possibly angst?, probably hurt/comfort?, waxing very poetic, Buggy being a prickly bitch who doesn't know how to receive affection, Buggy also being a delusional bitch who immediately latches on to that affection

afab!Version

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

“Touch the makeup and I’ll bite your fingers off!”

“I’m quaking.”

“...I’ll spit in your face.” His eyes narrowed while you blanched. “I’ve got damn good aim too so you better watch those big ol’ eyes.” Almost a compliment? Progress.

“To save us both from catastrophe, I’ll let you keep your grease-face,” you promised. After a few more seconds of giving you the stink eye (really, you should be taking notes because his form is exemplary), Buggy finally settled back into your hold. His stubble scratched lightly at your palms and you allowed your thumbs a scant few passes from his cheek bones to the back of his jaw. That was easy enough to play off as mindless movements while you examined him for the coming wash. Hopefully. You were at least putting in the effort to keep the affection in your chest from blooming into a wide smile on your face, lest he begin spitting like a wet cat again.

After placing him down on your clothes chest, you began gathering together the things you’d need to clean him up. You had already prepared a large basin of steaming water before you had grabbed Buggy from Zoro for your night shift with him. If he had truly protested against you then you’d just have extra water to spoil yourself with for your nightly routine. What a loss. While you flitted around grabbing a cup, a pile of towels, and care products, Buggy took to commenting about whatever his eyes fell on around your room. Your half-assed replies did nothing to discourage his gentle roast of your safe space. He only shut up when you picked him back up and brought him over to the basin.

You were taken by surprise when you took off his bandana. You had guessed that his hair was thick from the pieces that framed his face, but you hadn’t expected long locks to be wrapped up in there. They slipped and fell down like silk despite being in clear need of a wash, and you started to become a bit excited to see how they would come to shine under your care.

“What’s wrong with you? Never seen hair before?” There was a bit more bite to him all of a sudden and it hit you that he may be self-conscious from your staring.

“Never seen yours before, duh,” you teased. “You should wear your hair out as a power move against all the scrangly ass men in these waters.”

Buggy took a blank-faced moment to process your words. Probably weighing your sincerity against the backlog of insults he’s heard in his life. Unfortunately, one joking compliment never stood a chance.

“Whatever, just do your job.” His bitter tone made you keep your mouth shut and drop the topic. For now.

Seeing how he had a lot more hair than anticipated, you got up again to grab yet another towel so that you could use it as a cushion. Finally settled, you grabbed Buggy in one hand, the cup in the other, and got to work. You had laid a small board across the basin so you could rest Buggy on it instead of having to hold him up the whole time. You may have gotten strong in this life, but you were not masochistic enough to try holding him up throughout this process. You made sure to be extra gentle when you put him to rest on the back of his head, mindful that the hard plank wasn’t the most comfortable.

Wetting his hairline was taking longer than you thought. The soft noises from the pouring water hitting his scalp and trickling through his hair into the basin below felt loud in the stillness of the room. Everything had a languid air like you could breathe freely without thought or time to measure the passing of each exhale. Wanting to check in, you looked down from your task and into Buggy’s face. Despite all his past showboating, Buggy was having difficulty keeping his gaze anywhere near your face. You decided to take pity on him in his discomfort but not too much. “So how’d you get your damn good aim?”

Silence.

You’re beginning to think that him looking at you like you’re stupid is his comfort zone.

“You know, that ‘damn good aim’ that makes my ‘big ol’ eyes’ easy targets?” you supplied. At first, you thought he would roll his eyes and make more digs at you, but he finally caught you off guard.

“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a growing smile and a glint in his eyes. His face grew even more pleased when you smiled mischievously back at him.

“Clown trade?”

He hummed out an affirmative. You saturated the last of his hair at the front and sides and now needed to dunk the rest in the basin. The sheer amount of long blue locks that this pretty, pretty man had may cause it to overflow, but you supposed that’s just a workplace hazard when becoming a glamor clown’s hairdresser. You paused in lowering him to look around quite dramatically (squinty eyes, pursed lips, and all) before leaning slightly closer to stage whisper, “You can tell me; I ain’t no snitch.”

You barely caught the laugh that he choked short in order to keep up his serious facade. He let his eyes wander the room to double check your surveying and pretended to be in thought. He let out a heaving sigh and said, “Okay, okay, but you have to lean in close. Can’t have this getting out.”

Ever obliging, you turned your head and leaned until you felt his warm breath on your skin and the roundness of his nose tickling to top of your ear. You were thankful he couldn’t see the little shiver down your spine or the goosebumps spreading down your neck. He was thankful you couldn’t see him close his eyes to savor the scent of your aftershave. All was still for a few breaths too long.

“The secret?” you prompted, thinking he was waiting for your urging or that he was just trying to make you squirm. You didn’t see his eyes flutter open while he forced thoughts other than your closeness back into that head of his. Okay, he really needed to do something to reel himself back in and get some control of the situation. Easier said than done when he’s only a head.

You felt as much as you heard him take a deliberate inhale… only for a loud raspberry to be blown right next to your ear.

Nearly dropping him in shock, you quickly pulled your head back and held him at arm’s length like a misbehaved puppy. Through his canting cackles, Buggy met your wide eyes with a proud grin. It didn’t even need the help of his makeup to split his face. Damn, you could stare at that forever. He had just the prettiest eyes you think you’d ever seen. The way they shifted color under the low lights and sparkled with his smile had you feeling entranced. It had the same commanding presence and addicting warmth as flames with their own swirling colors and sparking embers. You thought your poetic idioms for him would always center around the sea, especially for his blue-green eyes, but here we are.

The corner of his smile started to twitch downward under your stare until wild and cheerful laughter burst from your lips. They were the kind to shake your shoulders and scrunch your cheeks up into your eyes and he’s now certain that he has fucked right up. Buggy felt alarms blaring in his mind as he took in your joy and was certain he would make an absolute fool of himself in any and all ways possible to keep getting hits of it. Between your settling chuckles, you managed to say, “Don’t worry, I’ll bring that wisdom with me to my grave.”

Readjusting your grip, you moved forward and dunked the back of Buggy’s head fully into the water. He sighed out at the sensation, but he fully melted when one of your hands went to support the back of his skull and the other flowed through his tresses to make sure all of them were wet. You let yourself take your time, both to make sure you were thorough and to indulge yourself in the comfort of the moment. A tenderness spread through you when you saw that this was also indulging Buggy. His breath was slow and steady, and his eyes were resting closed to better focus on the sensations coming to him. You truly were a people pleaser at heart and seeing someone so bedraggled and affection-starved accept your care made your heart and head feel fuzzy.

You slowly leaned him more upright and used your other hand to wipe out some of the excess water. Buggy felt you shuffling around, and his eyes opened to see what you were up to. After you moved him to rest on the flat bottom of his neck on top of the softest towel that he’s felt in ages, he realized that you went through the trouble to try to make even that wooden board comfortable for his sake. He was starting to feel even more uncertain and out of his element.

Careful fingers carded through and spread out his hair behind him while an equally careful gaze watched over their work. After lathering your hands with a shampoo bar scented by vanilla and spices, you set to work giving him the scalp massage of a lifetime.

While focusing on doing the best job possible and maybe also the beautiful color of his hair was keeping you from thinking about anything else, Buggy had no such luxury. He had nothing to direct his nervous energy at - didn’t even have fingers to fidget with! - so he closed his eyes and tried to keep his face neutral. Everyone enjoys a good scalp massage or at least some kind of pampering so it wouldn’t have been weird for him to visibly enjoy it, but something watery and vulnerable was pressing at his throat under your tender care. His mind and body (well… head) were at odds. While his train of thought spun every which way only to be tethered back to the word ‘why’, his muscles melted until they were soft and pleasantly limp. Has his brow ever been so smooth? His jaw so loose? His lips so softly set? Oh God, you must have noticed the stubborn stiffness in his neck because your fingers abandoned his hair to firmly rub from the base of his skull to where he met the towel and that was truly his undoing.

With a rumbly hum, Buggy finally gave in to temptation and tied his mind to your movements. He let himself imagine affection there - imagine that this was special and just for him. You’ve never tended to anyone else like this. You offered because you simply had to know what his hair felt like. You just wanted to touch him. You wanted it much more than you ever wanted to touch anyone else. If he opened his eyes and looked up at yours, he would see them pouring with love, just like your hands were, and you would look sweetly down at him with your gorgeous eyes and handsome smile and say lovely things and you’d love him-

You’d love him.

Fuck.

You noticed Buggy suddenly flinch under your hands and you tensed up.

“Are you okay? Did I snag your hair?” You hadn’t felt anything tug but you supposed you could’ve missed it.

Buggy cleared his throat before stiffly responding, “No. Keep going.”

Something thick in his tone caught your attention and you looked to see his expression was tense instead of the blissed out one you had admired not too long ago. That won’t do. You went back to the tried and true pressure points on the scalp that you knew from experience eased anyone up. Checking his face again, you noticed it was more relaxed but still too guarded for your tastes. Deciding he must be getting antsy, you switched to working the shampoo down his hair after getting a touch more product on your hands. The time it took to get it properly sudsed and rinsed was calm, despite the fact that there was some undercurrent to the air that felt charged. Maybe it was just from seeing the talkative and bratty clown be so subdued. As you began spreading conditioner through his hair, you decided that it was time to engage him again.

“This bar is my favorite; nothing makes my hair softer,” you said. Already, his hair was relaxing to glide even more smoothly between your fingers. You weren’t ready to give the feeling up, so you spent the entire time that the conditioner was setting to run your fingers through his hair.

Buggy couldn’t do anything at the moment to judge your claim, but the smell alone made him understand why it was your favorite. It matched that of the shampoo bar, but the richer ingredients in the conditioner highlighted the comforting tones of the vanilla and the sensuality of warm spices and wood. He relished in it on every inhale, hoping to unravel and memorize its every undertone. Was that a touch of amber in there? A little pink peppercorn? Maybe some incense and oud at the base? Buggy suddenly felt ridiculous. He was never one to give much thought to fancy perfumes, yet here he was trying to dissect your scent like a sommelier tasting a new wine.

You made quick work of rinsing his hair this final time and gently pushing and squeezing any excess water out. You set Buggy back on a towel, this time one that was spread on the floor. It was the one that you had just been sitting on. Buggy was embarrassed that he noticed and enjoyed the fact that he could still feel your body heat on it.

“How many of those things do you have?” Buggy scoffed as you pulled yet another towel over to dry his hair. You flicked his forehead in warning against further sass.

“You can never have too many. It’s something that you use daily and they come in handy during emergencies,” you explained.

“Oh yeah like what?”

“Well, I was thinking of situations like having to soak up a spill or blood, but the state of your hair definitely qualifies.”

The outburst was immediate.

“I KNEW YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF ME YOU DAMN LIAR! HOW DA-”

Good thing you were prepared for this and stuffed some of yet another towel into his screaming mouth. He bit down on it harshly and glared at you with all his might. Snarls and grumbles still made their way through the cloth, letting you know just how displeased he was. You were a little shocked to find that despite being gagged and despite just being a head that his glare still actually intimidated you. The time spent with the crew treating him like a harmless little pest had helped you forget that, when push came to shove, he could back up his talk with violence.

The brief glimpse of fear in your eyes gave him a twinge of satisfaction but mostly felt a lot more hollow than he’d expected. Wasn’t this what he wanted?

When you reached back out to continue drying his hair, you were more tentative than he had ever seen you and his mood dropped even further. Even with your caution, the way that you moved the towel over his hair and gently squeezed more water out of it was filled with care. The whole thing felt very foreign to him. Buggy usually rubbed his towel through his hair chaotically like the more forceful he was the sooner he could get done with the bothersome task. You were working over him like any undue force would be an insult. Like he was something precious. That watery feeling started pressing on him again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you started quietly. “I just meant to poke fun, not make you actually feel insulted.” After a few more soft pats with the towel, you slowly removed his makeshift gag. He took a moment to wiggle around his jaw and get the dry feeling out of his mouth.

“Yeah, well good job, dumbass,” he bit. You winced at the hurt in his tone. “Just finish up.”

You took a moment to recenter yourself while you grabbed your comb and brush. This was not how you wanted this to go. One wrong comment had sent this whole interaction spiraling and it made you sad. Sensitivity like that was usually built up from years of feeling the same hurts over and over again, and you didn’t ever want to be someone to aggravate an already festering wound, especially not on someone who you genuinely enjoyed. Not on someone who you were increasingly craving affection from. This needed to be fixed. Steeling yourself for the resistance you were about to meet, you began combing the ends of his hair and spoke, “The blue color is pretty.”

He ignored you. As expected.

“It was one of the first things I noticed about you.” He still wouldn’t even glance up at you. “Also how it brings out the color of your eyes.”

He snorted dismissively in a way that very clearly told you he wasn’t believing a word you said. Also expected. You’re just going to have to soldier on until this eventually worked… maybe worked… hopefully worked?

Just as in the rest of the process, you were slow and thorough when combing his hair. You murmured compliments to him about how soft it is; how thick and how beautiful. By the time that you had switched to using your brush, he was showing signs of being worn down by your flattery. His face was more relaxed and he let himself look around instead of trying to burn a hole through the floor. All you could focus on, though, was how downcast and tired his eyes looked.

“Alright, I’m all finished up,” you told him. “I’m going to put you in the hammock for a minute while I get ready for bed.”

After placing him in the middle of your bedding, you disappeared behind a dressing screen. The routine of bathing yourself with a washcloth and bowl of soapy water eased you. Since you had taken so much time tending to Buggy, the last bowl of fresh water had become lukewarm. Despite this, the final wipe down had you feeling refreshed and ready to jump into bed. It was no soak in the tub, but still left you feeling much better after a long day of helping work around the ship.

You had set about your routine briskly so that you didn’t leave Buggy waiting too long. Little did you know, he didn’t mind the time of having nothing to do besides enjoy the soft blankets you curled up in every night. He was trying to soak it in before you inevitably put him back down on the floor. If the night had taught him anything, you’d at least put him on one of those fluffy towels instead of throwing him back in the bag like the others did.

You came over to him on the hammock and he admired how you looked, now clean and fresh. His eyes poured over your shirtless chest and the thin sleep pants moving around the shape of your legs. When you picked him back up, your face and body language were as placid as he had ever seen them and he was surprised at how content that made him feel. He readied himself to be moved away, left cold and forgotten, but he was astonished when you plopped yourself in your bedding instead with him still in your hands. The shock must have shown on his face because you chuckled at him and gave him a bright smile. Even with the bumpy road that the night had been, your smile made him soft and content. He was realizing with more and more resignation that your smile and laugh would let you get away with anything when it came to him.

“So no floor? Trying to bribe me with favors?” His voice was mostly back to that sarcastic lilt you’ve come to adore.

Content that he was feeling better, you answered, “Nah, just using you so I can have a teddy bear. Haven’t had a good one in ages.”

Making good on that promise, you made sure that he was securely nestled into your neck and shoulder. You used both of your arms to cradle him there and both hands to continue your worship of his hair. It was just barely damp and the coolness felt nice on your hands, especially in contrast to the cozy heat emanating from his head. His long eyelashes tickled at your neck every time he blinked, just like the light scruff on his jaw teased at the skin on your chest. His big nose felt cozy rested on your clavicle, and you had to resist the urge to reach down and trail your fingers on it. A giddy and victorious feeling flushed through you when you felt him close his eyes a final time and sink into your embrace.

Buggy should have known that he was doomed from the start. He was having a hell of a time trying not to moan at your fingers scratching and massaging his scalp, both during the hair care and now, when he was held in your arms. The feeling of being rested on your bare chest sent his heart racing. He couldn’t stop his little movements to nestle into you and get just that much more of your warmth and touch. If he thought that he loved the smell of you before, he was absolutely intoxicated now that he knew what it was like when it floated over the two of you while wrapped in body-warmed sheets.

He wanted to ask you why you were doing all of this, but he didn’t want to know the answer. Not right now. Right now he was going to let himself go back into that place in his head where you lo- cared about him. A place where each night he would crawl into bed with you and, no matter how the day went, you would be there to empty his mind of anything but the two of you. You’d greet him with a kiss or a laugh or an embrace and you would shine with so much joy because he’s next to you again. He’d know what your love felt like, how it felt to be under your hands, how your skin felt under his lips. All these daydreams swirling in his head started to make him sick with want, and he needed to know at least one of them. He couldn’t handle all of them staying forever in his mind.

The tiniest increase of pressure from his lips brought your attention to where they rested below your collarbone. The almost kiss was so heartbreakingly shaky and hesitant that you felt your eyes burn with the threat of tears. To reassure him, you dragged your cheek across his temple before turning to leave a deliberate kiss there. Buggy relished the contact, the satisfied sigh you let out afterward, and the gentle weight of your cheek as you snuggled back into him. Your reward came in the form of a grinning cheek pushing into you.

All his humor and posturing certainly caught your attention in the best way and even his explosive temper was something you couldn’t say turned you away. This gentleness, though, this uncertain and wounded place, had you bursting with affection and you were hoping to keep experiencing it. You’d meet it each time with steady affection until it turned into something he embodied with the same surety that he had in his beloved spotlight.

Both of you slipped more sweetly into dreams, curled up together as you were, and with more peace and ease than the years before had allowed. Neither of you would let the years to come be absent of this sweet treasure, either.

#buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy x y/n #opla buggy x reader #buggy the clown #opla buggy #one piece #amab reader #male reader #opla #one piece live action #x reader

164 notes · View notes

writing-reaper · 1 year

Text

Bad Batch Reacts…

S/o Letting Go of Their Hand and Stopping

Warnings: shitpost, cursing, fluff

Note: am I writing another tiktok trend? Yes, absolutely. This was just a fun, quick post. Now I just need to write one for Valentine’s Day. Enjoy!

Description: While traveling together through the city, you stop and let go of his hand to see if he notices or keeps walking.

Crosshair

Does he notice?

He notices.

But does he stop?

No!

He knows what your doing, following him through the city when he got too far away for you to just wait.

He’ll use one of the reflectors he keeps to look behind him, laughing quietly to himself about the very upset look on your face.

Crosshair looks back once more, an annoyed pout on your face as you begin toward him. He keeps walking, occasionally looking as you get closer and closer.

“Crosshair!” You call out from behind him as you make your way through a crowd of people. He decided he’d have no better opportunity and he ducked away in an alley, tossing a reflector on the wall in front of him. “Shit.”

You look around and he’s gone. Panic begins to set in. Did something happen? You weren’t on a mission, maybe he saw something? You race forward, looking in every direction.

Finally, you run out of breath and stop, leaning against a corner. Your hand touches something on the wall, and when you turn to look—

“Boo.” If he hadn’t put his hands on your shoulders, you probably would’ve slapped him.

“Maker Crosshair! You scared me!” You shout, your voice laced with both annoyance and relief. Only relieved he didn’t leave you.

“Mesh’la, what are you doing?” He asks, spinning you around, trapping you against the wall.

“It was just a joke, my friend did it to her boyfriend and he spun around and asked her why she let go, I wanted to see what you would do.” You continue to pout, refusing to meet his gaze, pretending to be upset with him.

“Well, I noticed.” He answers, flicking you on the forehead with his toothpick. “It was funny, but don’t do it again.”

“Or what?”

“I’m going to have to walk back to the ship by myself.”

Wrecker

Does he notice?

Also no.

Boy did you let go at the wrong time.

You let go just as he saw one of those food stands he really likes.

You find yourself laughing as he orders something before turning to find you gone.

“Can I get a box of those truffles and, hey do you—” Wrecker turns, now noticing his empty hand and his missing s/o. Confused, he abandons the shop, confusing the employee even more as he searches for you.

“Hey! What are you doing over here?!” He questions, finding you in the middle of the street. Before you can even give him an answer, he picks you up and carried you over to the shop.

“Wrecker!” You shout, surprised by his actions.

“Do you want anything?” He asks, completely oblivious to the fact you abandoned him on purpose.

“Wrecker, I— oooo they have cupcakes!”

Well, you didn’t quite get the response you wanted, but you did get cupcakes.

Tech

Does he notice?

Yes

Tech’s already not very big on holding hands, but this was a crowded place so he made the exception.

When you let go of his hand, it was just as you got out of the crowd.

So, Tech being Tech, he stops as well and takes the opportunity to go on his datapad to check for any messages and where you two going or planning to go.

He’s confused when you start laughing in the midst of him asking you where you wanted to go.

“There is an appliance shop just down here I’d like to stop by. However, there is also an art exhibit. If you would enjoy visiting there, we will have to go now that way there’s still time for me to go to the appliance—” Tech finally looks up from his datapad to see you squeaking out a laugh through your fist. “I am confused.”

“It’s— hah! It’s nothing Tech. Wh-what were you saying about the art exhibit?” You giggle between every through words. Tech gives you a puzzled look before continuing on, telling you about the art exhibit. Except this time, when you continue on, he hooks arms with you as you continue to giggle, satisfied by your very Tech reaction.

Hunter

Does he notice?

Yes, right away.

He’s only here because you wanted to check out the small festival going on.

Hunter’s a little irritated due to being in such a crowded area for a while.

So when you stop and let go of his hand, he just assumes you saw a stand and you wanted to take a look.

He’s confused when you just stand there and smile goofily at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, confused and a little worried as you start cracking up into a fit of giggles. He kind of smiles as he takes a moment to focus on you, instead of all the hustling and chatter going on around him. “Is there something you want to look at?”

“Just you.” You answer with a giggle, earning a wide smile from the man you love. Hunter pulls you close to him, oblivious to your trickery and he kisses you on the cheek.

“Real sweet, cyare.” He hums, tucking his face into the nape of your neck. “Does that mean we can head back to the ship?”

“I suppose you’ve held out long enough. Let’s get the boys some food on the way back.” You reply, your own prank slipping from your thoughts as he kisses your neck in a silent plea.

“Whatever you want, mesh’la.”

Echo

Does he notice?

Not at first.

He walks for a few more minutes before he realizes you’re gone.

He panics, but when he turns he finds you weren’t far.

“Everything alright?” Echo asks, confused as to why you just stopped in the middle of the path.

“Everything’s fine.” You answer with a small grin. He gives you a confused look, and takes your hand once more.

“We should head back to Cid’s, I think we’ve been gone long enough—” He turns once more to find you a few feet behind him. “What are you doing?”

You can’t help but laugh as you take his hand once more.

“I thought you wouldn’t notice again.”

“Ohh, so you’re doing this on purpose.” Echo questions with a raised brow.

“Maybe.” You tease, grinning his way.

“Section 8.9 states, ‘if a subject is not compliant—” Echo suddenly moves and picks you up, surprising you at your loss of footing. “Transport them by any means necessary.’”

“Echo! Those rules don’t even count anymore!” You pout, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“They do when you’re with me.” He answers. “What was it you were even trying to achieve?”

“I wanted you to…” you bite your tongue for a moment to stop yourself from laughing. “Echo-locate me.”

“Ugh.”