#God’s Plan 🎶

[chloeworships]

I failed to mention I saw the words

“PLAN”

In massive letters to indicate that indeed God and this person has BIG PLANS. Get ready.

[your-local-granny]

.

[skylarsblue]

✦Even. More. Incorrect C.o.D Quotes.✦

Y/N, pinning Soap’s arms with their thighs in sparring: Haha! Eat shit, Scotsman! Soap, struggling: FUCKIN’ ‘ELL, The hell is in your thighs?! Y/N: Pure spite and protein, bitch! --

Someone: Hey Johnny. Y/N: Oh, no, only Ghost can- Soap: Oi! Only Y/N & Ghost can pull that off, it’s Soap to you. Y/N: Yeah he- wait me too? *gaaassp* Ohhh is this what favoritism feels like?! Soap: Pfft, maybe! Y/N: I enjoy it a lot! <3

-- American!Y/N: Fuckin’ git, he’s off his rocker, that one. The entire team: … American!Y/N: *dramatically smacks their hand over their mouth* Gaz: *laughing* Was that genuine?! Y/N: AH, I’ve been conditioned! I’ve been colonized! Soap: COLONI-*WHEEZE*

-- Fem Fatal!Y/N: What th- what is this, a spy movie? You want me to infiltrate by being some eye candy?! Laswell: It’s the best option we have. Ghost: I disagree with this. Soap: Me too! This feels real nasty, I think. Fem Fatal!Y/N: *sigh* Fine, I’ll do it. God gave me these tits for a reason, might as well use’em for somethin’. Gaz: PFF-no no, don’t be funny, this is a bad situation.

-- Graves: No! You can’t, cause if you take it- …you’ll be hurting my feelings :((( Ghost: You know, I was thinking about that. And, the thing is…I really don’t care.

-- (In a ride back to base; just makin’ conversation)

Gaz: Do you find boys attractive? Or girls. That’s one what to check, if you’re not sure. Y/N: *chuckles* You think I’m not sure? Y/N: Everyone’s attractive to be honest, even if it’s just something small. Like, some people have really gorgeous hands. Y/N: I don’t know…I’m a little bit in love with everyone I meet. But I think that’s normal. Gaz: …hm, suppose that’s a fair answer…

-- Soap, laughing: You watch it or might just start fallin’ for ya, L.T! Ghost: …would you like to? Soap: Eh-…huh? Simon: Would you like to? Fall in love with me, I mean… Soap: ….well I-…well, yeah. I wouldn’t mind…if you’d let me. Simon: …I’d let you. Soap: Well then, guess that’s it then. Woo me, Si. Simon: I’ll do my best.

-- Someone: I don't need advice from a team of virgin losers. Y/N: VIRGIN LOSERS?! *grabs Price’s shoulder and motions to him aggressively* You gonna tell me you think this man doesn’t fuck for a living?! HAVE YOU SEEN HIM?! Gaz & Soap: *for the millionth time trying not to laugh* Price: *he’s not encouraging it but he does look kinda smug*

-- Gaz, on TikTok: Everyone’s always like “Kyle how’d you bag a baddie, how’d you bag that baddie bruh-“ I didn’t bag shit. Y/N picked me up from my neck, threw me over their shoulder and I’ve been on it ever since. (Zooms out to show that he is in fact, on their shoulder) Gaz: And I ain’t got no plans on getting off anytime soon-

(This also works with Soap & Ghost)

-- Y/N: Why’s it always you got mommy issues or you got daddy issues? Me personally? Both my parents got me messed up, the side I pick? Is mine. I ain’t Hannah Montana- Y/N: 🎶but I got the best of both worlds!~🎵 Ghost: *he’s laughing on the inside, I swear*

-- Ghost, on the verge of dissociating: Why be sad…when you can just be ✨g o n e✨ Soap: Si, no-

-- Graves: Punch me. In the face. Didn’t you hear me? Y/N: I always hear “punch me in the face” when you speak, but it’s usually subtext. Graves: *huff* Well I- *gets punched so hard he falls over* Y/N: ….that felt good. Ghost: I’m so proud- Price: Stop encouraging them.

-- Soap, bursting into the briefing room: Y/N got into a fight! (Insert running scene) Price: Soldier, what hap- Ghost, sliding up in front of them: Did you win? Y/N: Of course I won. Ghost: Nice. Price: STOP ENCOURAGING VIOLENCE-

-- Y/N, in a vent above a room: Soap, it’s me, the devil! Soap: *wheeze* Gaz: *trying so hard not to laugh* Y/N: I’m here to convince you to do SIN. Come with me. Steal candy from babies and from small businesses! Soap: *WHEEZE*

-- Y/N, passing by: *does that super flirty “up & down” look* Hey König…~ König: Hallo, guten morgen. Y/N: *smiles and keeps going* König, as soon as they’re gone: *deep breath* Ohmeingottohmeingott *tiny scream*

-- Ghost after being asked about his feelings on Soap: *heavy breathing* ……..nextquestion-

-- Gaz, a menace on TikTok: Batches be on the lookout for Captain Save-A-Hoe, cause he savin’ hoes. Price, minding his business: ? Y/N, dramatically “swooning” in the background: I WANNA BE SAAAAAVED *falls* Price, unaware he’s having a thirst trap made for him: ?????

-- (I think bullying Graves is funny)

Graves: Let me tell you how this is gonna work- Y/N: You ain’t gonna tell me shit. Graves: Listen!- Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: Listen to me!- Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: Shut up, listen to me! Y/N: Suck my dick, you fuck man. Graves: Listen!! Y/N: Suck my dick. Graves: You will be here and listen to my ord- Y/N: You’ll be here sucking my dick. Graves: Listen to me, now! Y/N: Go fuck yourself.

-- Y/N: I would rather lead my team into a pit of fire, than have them wield guns for your ignorant usurper cunt of a general. Price: *mans is so proud it’s showing in his chops*

-- Simon: Your eyes are like sapphires…jeez…ahem, that’s pretty corny though, huh? Soap, swooning: No, not at all. Anyone would like it…aha… Simon: …uh…is this- Soap: Working? Oh yeah, thoroughly wooed, sir. Simon: Good, good.

-- Price: Please tell me you didn’t drag the boys into this. Y/N: I didn’t drag Soap & Gaz into this! *insert banging on door* Price: Who is that? Y/N: I think you know.

-- Soap: I wouldn’t wish that ‘pon my worst enemy. Unless, of course, we’re talkin’ ‘bout my enemy Philip Graves. Soap: Fuck you, Phillip(/neg), you know what you did.

-- Gaz: So you have feelings for this person. Just rip the bandaid off. Y/N, with daddy issues: It’s Price. Gaz: *inhales through his teeth* Put the bandaid back on.

-- Y/N: …Ghost? You’re into Ghost? Soap: Mhm…thoughts? Y/N: And prayers, Johnny. And prayers.

-- Gaz: Are you straight? Y/N: *chokes on drink* Don’t ever fucking insult me like that ever again.

-- (Some type of escort mission or somethin’)

Price: This woman wouldn’t know how to fix a broken fingernail. Fem!Y/N: Honestly, you lot have to be the most boorish, crude, pig-headed men I’ve ever met. Price: Hey, I’ve seen the high-bred boys you’ve hung out with, princess. I’m the only man you’ve ever met.

(Insert overly intense sexual tension here)

-- König: How does that even make any- *knife sound* König: *looks down at the knife in his thigh* Did you just- *takes knife out* Did you just stab me? What is your problem?!

-- (I’m only using Alejandro cause the dude in the audio had a slight Spanish accent, mans is definitely a feminist)

Alejandro: It’s not natural for girls to fight. Fem!Y/N: Now it’s not natural for a man to be as stupid as he is tall, but mm. Here you stand! Alejandro, in love: …

[crappymixtape]

because of you • part two

PART I • PART III • PART VI • PART V • EPILOGUE // REQ -> @sattlersquarry ❝ an enemies to lovers fic with Steve? 💙 maybe they have to put aside their differences to fight upside down stuff and realize they actually have a lot in common 👀 • 18+  | ( 3.3k – little bit of king!steve, mostly angst with a dash of fluff, enemies to idiots in love, steve x reader )

B E C A U S E O F Y O U • P A R T T W O 🎶 theatre, etta marcus

❝ IS IT EASIER WHEN YOU DON’T HAVE TO START AGAIN? WHEN YOU DON’T WANNA MAKE AMENDS? ❞

‘Stealing a Winnebago’ had been easier than you’d assumed, but the getaway execution went exactly like you thought it would. Absolute disorganized chaos and the way Steve peeled out of the trailer park dumped you into Robin’s lap for the first mile. Made you even more skeptical of whatever half-assed plan these people had frankensteined together and now? You found yourself browsing the clothing section of The War Zone.

What in the hell were they thinking coming here anyway? From Eddie’s retelling of what happened under Lover’s Lake it sounded like not one of them knew anything about hand-to-hand combat, let alone guns. Couldn’t even land a punch, but thought they could handle this? Walls of rifles on display, rounders full of bulletproof gear and cases upon cases of bullets and god, you wanted to leave.

“Hey,” Nancy’s voice pulled your attention away from the tactical vests you were staring at, her eyes wide and earnest as she looked over at you. “If I go over to the counter, you gonna be okay?”

“Oh, totally,” you lied. “Yeah, was gonna go look over here anyway,” and you thumbed over your shoulder at more vests.

“Okay, good.”

She gave you a small Nancy-Wheeler-smile and left you there alone in a sea of camouflage. In the middle of a store you’d never have set foot in before all this and making you second guess yourself. Second guess what was seemingly more and more a stupid decision to go along with all of this and you huffed a sigh in frustration.

“Should’ve stayed in the trailer,” you grumbled under your breath, fighting the urge to just walk out, but apparently you weren’t the only one wandering around all the puke green clothing.

“Huh, didn’t know you had good ideas.”

The sound of Steve’s voice made your hands ball into fists, nails pressing half moons into your palms.

“Do you ever have anything nice to say?” you sneered and he had the audacity to be so causal. Didn’t even look up from the tactical vests he was flipping through and tossed one into his cart.

“Not to you I don’t.”

Anger rose in your chest like a pot boiling over, so hot it made your cheeks burn as you glowered over at him.

“What’s your problem?”

“Don’t have one.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep,” and still he didn’t look at you. Picked a bomber jacket off the rack and piled it on top of his vest and it was the last straw.

Stalking over to his side of the rounder you got right up in his face, dug a finger into his chest and said, “Liar.”

His eyes flickered at your accusation, sardonic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked down at you and warned, “Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.” And he leaned into your finger. Waited for you to fold. Tsked at your attitude and the sound of it triggered a memory so strong you felt like you’d been sucker punched.

Your second ever interaction with Steve Harrington happened the week before summer break.

You heard it while you were walking back to school from grabbing lunch at the diner. A high, sharp whistle followed by car horn and then—

“Owwww, damn baby!”

And you recognized the voice right away.

Tommy Hagan. Leaning out the passenger window of Steve’s BMW. Wolf-whistling at you and being a dick and you tried to ignore them, but then they were pulling up next to you and slowing way down.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Tommy purred at your back, your mouth twisting into a scowl at the sound of Eddie’s nickname on his tongue. “You need a rid–” he started to ask, but his question cut short when you turned around.

Mouth dropped open in shock for a split second as he realized who you were, Tommy quickly recovered and started to laugh. That obnoxious, hyena-like laugh that made you want to punch him and he smiled and whistled again.

“Shit, Stevie! Who knew the freak had an ass on her!”

“You kiss Carol with that mouth, Tommy?” you shot back, Steve stifling a snicker from the driver’s seat.

“Bet you could do for a kiss, baby,” Tommy tsked, pouted his lips at you and grinned, “Always so damn sour.”

“Yeah? Wanna find out why?” you threatened and it made Tommy grin even wider. Shark-like. Predatory.

“Park it, Stevie,” Tommy didn’t bother looking at his friend, eyes locked on you as he opened the passenger door and jumped out of the car while it was still moving. Walked right up and crowded over you, eyes narrowing as he leaned in, “And what if I do?”

Your stomach lurched, heart leaping into your throat as you stood your ground. You didn’t think he’d take the bait, but you also didn’t shy away. God, you wished Eddie was there. Tilting your chin up in defiance you glared him down.

“Tommy, c’mon man. Just leave it,” you heard Steve’s voice from over Tommy’s shoulder, tinged at the edges with desperation as he ran up on the two of you, but Tommy couldn’t have cared less.

“Well? What’re you gonna do about it, toots?” Tommy pushed again, toes of his shoes knocking against yours as he stepped even closer, towering over you and it hit you like a ton of bricks how in over your head you were.

“Tommy, just leave–”

“I didn’t ask you, Harrington!” Tommy snapped and you took the opportunity.

Grabbing a fistful of his shirt in your hands, you yanked Tommy down into you and drove your knee into his crotch as hard as you could.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” he choked out, folded in half and hands covering his junk as he dry heaved and you took a big step back.

“Coward,” you turned and hurled the word at Steve and watched it land heavy as his face shifted. Brows pinching together and mouth dropped open, but nothing came out as he struggled to say those two little words. I’m sorry. To tell you he wasn’t like his friend, but his silence betrayed him.

“You bitch,” Tommy grunted at you as he tried to straighten up, one hand still over his crotch.

“Don’t move! I’ll–I’ll get you expelled!” you threatened and it made him laugh. A mean, mirthless thing.

“No fuckin’ way. My mom’s on the school board, who’s gonna take your side?”

And you looked back at Steve for a split second, silently asking him to step in and do something, but he stood frozen in place. Still unable to go against his ‘best friend’ and what little belief you had left in him was shattered.

You were done with Steve Harrington.

Shaking your head, you fought back the tears burning at the corners of your eyes and ran up the path to the cafeteria doors. Disappeared behind them with a loud, metallic slam! and left Steve alone to drown in the deafening silence.

Don’t say things you can’t prove, Princess.

It was like no time had passed, like you were still there in that parking lot with Tommy towering over you and tsking at you just like Steve was doing now, but this time you didn't run away.

“Don’t call me that!” you shoved at his chest and he stumbled back a step.

“Don’t call me a liar!”

“All you do is lie, Harrington! Your entire life was built on lies,” you could see his pulse fluttering against his neck. Watched his jaw tick as he clenched down on the words he wanted so badly to throw at you, but you didn’t give him a chance. “Why are you even here? You don’t give a shit about Eddie. You don’t give a shit about anyone, you’re–”

“Enough!” you flinched as his shout drew the attention of a couple older guys looking at the hunting gear. “You don’t know anything about me, okay? Not a god damn thing,” and the second part was quieter, but they way he held your gaze after punctuated it heavy.

He turned away from you, hastily pushing his cart back toward the cashier counter and walked out the double doors, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.

“Hey, I’m not done!” you shouted after him across the parking lot. Sharp and biting and it made him spin back around, arms flung out at his sides in exasperation.

“Oh, yeah? Fine. What else you got?”

“Well, for one, I’m not going to sit here while you lord around like King Steve. This isn’t high school. No one here gives a shit about any of that.”

He squeezed his eyes shut at his old nickname. Sucked in a breath and let it out slow to try and steady himself.

“I’m not like that anymore.”

“Seriously? Do you hear yourself? You’ve been a dick to me since I set foot in Max’s trailer! And honestly? I’m not surprised! You think I don’t remember all the shit you put me through, put us through in school?” you shot back and he opened his eyes to glare over at you.

“Like I said, Princess–”

“I said don’t call me that!”

“–you don’t have any idea what this is. What we’re up against. None. You’re in over your head.”

“Okay? And what, I’m supposed to sit here on my hands and say, ‘It’s fine! Steve Harrington and all his little friends will fix this’?? You’re out of your mind!”

“And you think you can?” he shot back and your heart rate thrummed heavy in your ears.

“You know, Eddie says he trusts you now, but hell if I will. No fucking way,” and as you turned and cut past him back to the Winnebago he had to jog to keep up.

“Hey! Eddie almost killed me! With a fucking beer bottle!”

You huffed a laugh and kept walking, shaking your head at the accusation and incredulous at the lengths he was going to prove his point.

“Why should I believe you?” you called over your shoulder, “You’re probably just gunning for a headline: Steve Harrington, Hero of Hawkins!”

“Headline?? I–are you kidding me? You think I’d do all this for a headline??”

And finally you stopped at the bottom step of the Winnebago and Steve seized his chance.

“You really think I’m that superficial?” he shot at your back, but you didn’t turn around. Didn’t even acknowledge him and he spent what little patience he had left. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

But you were already gone. Frozen in place with the world growing dark. Tree line ahead of you blurring. Unfocused and liquid like water and the ground swam under you as a voice echoed in your mind.

I see you.

The sound of Steve still talking behind you turned to fuzz, crackled like radio static and faded away into ear-splitting silence. Deafening and swallowing you whole and then you felt it. The ground falling out from underneath you and you were drowning in the dark and the voice that echoed in your mind pulled you even deeper.

Resisting will only make it worse.

❝ AND I NEVER HAD A TASTE FOR LIARS OR THE UNIQUELY UNINSPIRED ‘CAUSE I DON’T NEED TO BE DESIRED ❞

Steve glared daggers at your back. Anger hot and fuming and fueled by the fact that you had the nerve to ignore him and god, he wanted to prove you wrong.

“Are you trying to piss me off? Cos its work–” but the words died in his throat as he came around to face you. “Oh. Oh, shit,” with a quick glance over your shoulder he saw everyone else finally coming out of the store and he didn’t wait to call for help.

“Munson!! Eddie!” Steve yelled over your shoulder at your best friend before grabbing your shoulders in his hands and squeezed at them. Leaned down to try and meet your unfocused, far away gaze and when none of it worked he felt his chest grow tight.

Not again.

“Hey, hey! Look at me!" panic clawed its way up his throat as he shook your shoulders, "Stay with me! Munson–hurry up!”

Your eyes were glazed over, tears gathering at the corners as your whole body started to tremble. Breathing stuttered and caught in your throat. Lips parted and trying to pull air in, but it wasn’t enough and Steve felt his hand twitch. Wanted to press it to your cheek to try and ground you, reach you and bring you back, but then Eddie was finally at your side and shoving Steve out of the way.

“Sweetheart! Can you hear me? Shit, shit, shit. What happened?? Honey? Look at me!” Eddie cradled your face in his hands. Did what Steve couldn’t. Voice ratcheted up, his usual low timbre a high pitched thing driven by fear and hearing it doused any remaining anger that had settled into Steve’s chest and replaced it with something else.

With helplessness. Regret. Remorse.

With the slow realization that everything he’d just said to you wasn’t worth it. Remembered how Nancy had yelled at him, just like you, outside of the gym. You’re bullshit! And his throat squeezed with guilt for messing it all up again because he was bullshit. He was a liar and you were right. Had he learned nothing?

He looked at you, your face contorted with fear, and he felt something new flicker within him. A feeling blooming at the pit of his stomach. One he was so certain couldn’t possibly exist when it came to you, but as he stood there watching Eddie try to shake you back from the dark he wasn’t so sure anymore.

“Steve, help me!” tears cut down Eddie’s cheeks as he called to him and pulled him hurtling back to Earth. Desperate. Pleading. Begging him to do something and it shook Steve back into action.

Heart pounding in his chest, adrenaline coursed through Steve's body and fought off the fear that had threatened to trap him in choke hold.

“Max, gimme your Walkman!” he shouted over your shoulder.

The rest of the group had started running back to the Winnebago as soon as they’d heard yelling and when Steve asked for the cassette player, Max knew time was running out.

“Shit,” she hissed under her breath and broke into a sprint, scrambling to untangle the headphones from around her neck as she hurried to get to you. “Here! It’s still Kate Bush, is that–”

“Doesn’t matter–Munson get these on, hurry!” Steve, snatched the Walkman from Max and crammed it into Eddie’s outstretched hands.

“Please, please, please,” fell from Eddie’s lips, desperate, praying that this would work as he fitted the headphones on and pressed them against your ears, “Please.”

Blinking heavy, you strained your eyes against the black. Against the suffocating dark you suddenly found yourself in. The stand of vivid, green ash trees lining the parking lot replaced by gnarled branches, dark and leafless. Bright yellow buttercups snuffed out by thick, wet vines that snaked their way across the ground under your feet.

You weren’t in the parking lot of the War Zone anymore, not really, and as you breathed in the sickly, ashen air your heart stopped in your chest.

The Upside Down.

“Eddie? Eddie!” you shouted into the dark, red lightening cracking the sky in two, and when no one answered you knew you were utterly alone.

Panic gripped you like a vice as you thought of Chrissy. Of Fred and Patrick and dread filled your stomach. Utter hopelessness and grief and when you whipped around to run you felt something tangle around your leg. Wrapping up, up, up and pulling you down, down, down.

You braced for it, ready to break your fall with your hands, but you never hit and instead found yourself lifting into the air. Unhinged laughter filling your ears as more vines snaked around your arms and legs and you swore you were going to be sick.

It was

Him.

“Why isn’t it working?? God dammit, work!” Eddie was yelling at the Walkman, his composure unravelling as Chrissy’s last moments flooded his mind. “Is she gonna die? She can’t die!” he pleaded and his voice cracked, a sob caught in his throat, “Please don’t let her die!”

“Hey hey, hey! Get a hold of yourself. That’s not gonna happen, okay? It’s gonna work,” Steve gripped Eddie’s shoulders, looked him in the eye and tried to reassure him, but when he glanced over at you he knew he couldn’t make that promise. “Please work,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Where are you going? You can’t leave. Not yet.

Vecna’s voice was everywhere. Flooding every part of you and you feared you would never feel joy again. Would never escape this. Would be stuck here forever screaming into the void, hanging on Vecna’s every whim.

I would like very much to show you where I’m going. Please, take a seat.

And the vines yanked you down, squeezed tight around your wrists and legs and held you fast against the ground, rocks digging painfully into your back.

“Please, let me go!” you pleaded into the dark. “Please, I–” but your mouth went dry as a shadowy figure appeared through the ash. Coming closer and closer in the dark with each heavy step and when it finally stopped, feet at your head, your blood ran cold.

Wet, sinewy skin. Muscles exposed and stretched taut. Eyes that pierced your mind and knew every single one your thoughts. Knew all the dark things spiraling there and made them worse. Clawed at you with spindly, protruding hands and long, dagger-like claws and suffocated you with the smell of something rotten.

Of decay.

Of death.

Reaching a hand down, Vecna held it over your face, inches away from touching you as you struggled against your restraints, but they constricted tighter with your every move.

“Please,” you were crying openly now, tears cutting paths through the ash that had settled on your cheeks, but he ignored you.

I want you to tell your friends, I want you to tell them everything you see. Everything I show you.

“No, please!”

Tell them!

“No, I can’t–”

Tell them everything!

And then your head felt like was being cleaved in two. White hot light fracturing the black sky into thick shards and your screams were the only thing you could hear as Vecna pried open your mind and poured into you his vision for the future...

Hawkins in ruin.

Four gashes in the earth. Cavernous. Hot and angry and full of fire.

Your family. Lying scattered across your lawn. Motionless and still and limbs bent wrong.

Tell them!

Your friends hanging in the air just like Chrissy, Fred, Patrick.

Eyes empty, slack-jawed and lifeless, bones snapped like twigs.

Tell them!

Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Steve and–

“NO!” you screamed, the sound pulled painfully from your lungs as you felt your legs give way and collapsed into yourself.

“Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

Steve scrambled to grab hold of your shoulder and barely caught you before your bare knees hit the pavement.

You heard birds chirping. Sunlight filtering through the backs of your eyelids as you kept them squeezed shut, but the air was clean. Smelled fresh and as you slowly opened your eyes you realized you weren’t choking on ash anymore.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Steve was still holding onto you, your hands pressed into his thighs as you braced yourself, the feeling of nausea overwhelming.

“I saw him,” you whispered, only Steve could hear you and you started to cry.

“Him?” Steve asked unnecessarily, glancing up at Eddie. Hoping, no praying, if he asked maybe you’d give a different answer. One that wouldn’t involve death and the end of the world and everything hinging on this stupid fucking plan, but he knew.

Everyone knew.

Eyes glued on their feet. Arms folded over their chests and uneasy with the weight that had settled over the group.

“Vecna.”

[ NOTE: THIS IS PART TWO OF A – POSSIBLY – FIVE PART SERIES, PART FOUR AND FIVE TO COME SOON ]

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | one

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

Pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  Rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  Summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. Warnings/Tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], slow burn [ish], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset [boys are problems], mentions of family drama/turmoil, passing mention of death [elderly neighbor], brief non-violent use of a pocket knife, mention of stabbing [as self-defense], furniture building, reader described as female, hair long enough to tie up, no other physical descriptions, eventual smut, protective!joel, soft!joel, no use of y/n. Word Count: 4.6k Series Masterlist | part two a/n: this is my first time writing with this sort of format so pls be gentle. i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. i have no outline for this. but i’ve got a whim and a direction and i’m going with it. **please read the warnings/tags for every part as they will be updated**

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You’d done it. Finally. No one ever thought you would, including you. And yet, here you were, lugging your sparse personal belongings out of the back of a U-Haul truck and in through the front door of your new home. And for once in your adult life, it wasn’t in some impersonal apartment building or complex. It was a house. In a town that was actually affordable, though it was further from home than you might’ve preferred. A town that was away from family, which had been the impetus, but also away from friends, which hadn’t been. 

There was a perk to this being the first house you’d ever moved into. Being confined to seven hundred square feet had meant there was only so much room to fill. And it had all been cozy. But now there was a bit more space to work with. Not to say this house was large by any stretch of the imagination – it was on the smaller side of all the houses in the neighborhood – but you had rooms now. And as you loaded in different boxes and suitcases full of clothes and books, you realized how much of the space was going to be left empty. With the exception of a mattress, bed frame, dresser, a couple chairs, and bookcases, you left every other large piece of furniture behind. Couches, dining table, kitchen chairs, media console, TV… you planned on buying all of that in town. You only wanted to bring what you felt you could move yourself. 

It was the season of life you were in. Young enough for people to say you had time before focusing on creating a family for yourself, but not young enough to avoid their awkward and worried glances when you told them you were only focused on your career. It was odd; never something that settled right. With each birthday, every time a candle was added, the world around you seemed less secure with your aloneness. As if you, a single female, were something of a threat to the rest of the world. Your solitude, an act of rebellion. God forbid you didn’t have a man to look after you. In your experience, boys didn’t do too good a job at much. Were they useful? Absolutely. You’d much rather delegate tasks to a boy than have to do them yourself. Mow the lawn, fix a creaky door, seal a drafty window, get you off… sure, there were any number of things a boy could do, but not only were they not necessary, you generally found you were better at any job than they were. That had been instilled in you long before you began dating. 

How many times had it been proven that dad could not be held accountable for his entire emotional spectrum? And instead you, a mere child, were to be responsible for it. Though it wasn’t always bad – somewhere deep down you knew your parents had done the absolute best they knew how to do with the tools they had – but the emotion dad was never short on was anger. Thus, it was the emotion he was most comfortable expressing. And yes, you apparently were the catalyst for all of his loud expressions of anger and rage. Everything was always conditional. I’m sorry but you did this… 

I love you but…

By the time dating had entered your life (which only happened post-college), let’s just say no therapist was surprised by the pattern of boys you chose to have in your life. All of them modeled the thing you were familiar with, which only served to imbed the quality you hated most about yourself. There was a tendency to accept any treatment a boy was willing to give you, without expressing needs or desires or even if there was a problem. Boundaries? Never heard of her. As far as boys were concerned, they seemed to have carte blanche over you. Your own resentment and anger would grow by the lack of your needs (which had never been verbally expressed) being met, until you’d had enough and cut them off. Every new relationship felt like a complete betrayal of yourself.

The highly independent and ‘don’t need a man’ personality quirk had strung a ribbon of apathy around your life. You liked to think of it that way. Like a Christmas bow around a present. Realizing you didn’t care about forming intimate relationships with men seemed a little less painful when given the image of a box neatly wrapped beneath a tree donning tinsel and colorful lights. It was at that point, while pondering your ribbon of apathy and clumsily shoving your mattress up the front porch steps, that a voice interrupted your progress.

“Lemme help ya’ with that, ma’am,”

The voice had arms. And those arms were simultaneously reaching for the same end of the mattress you already had hands on. Instinctively, you tugged your bed out of reach, “I got it.” But hands kept coming. They were insistent. Of course they were a man’s hands. A woman would’ve listened the first time. So with an extra strong tug and a tone that spat fire, you turned toward the owner of the hands and stood your ground, “I said, I got it!”

Dark brown eyes that almost looked black had the sun not been playing in their favor. They were soft. Gentle. Despite the fact that he’d just gotten yelled at. And those soft dark brown eyes… well they looked dumbfounded. Whether it was because of the volume of the statement or the fact that people generally didn’t turn down friendly help here in the South, he lifted his hands off the mattress and held them up innocently. 

The force with which your action had been committed meant that the moment he released  the bed, you went stumbling over, the entire thing thudding down on the porch. You shot him another icy glare as he slowly backed off the steps, though he remained in place and watched you crouch down to lift your mattress once again; the pad now harboring dirty stains.

“Can I help you with something in the truck?” He offered again. Unwanted persistence was a uniquely male quality.

“I don’t need your help, thanks. I got it,”

He watched for just a second longer at the image of you fumbling with the heavy mattress, barely able to keep it upright. Then he turned on his heels and went back from whence he came. Which you came to realize, when you looked over your shoulder to ensure he’d actually gone, was across the street and a few houses down. Fuck. Back in California, not too many people were neighborly but it wasn’t a point you were hoping to make. Especially not on the first day. There was a quaintness to the idea of a neighborhood full of people who liked and looked out for one another. You’d just hoped that would’ve come in the form of some old, opinionated woman sipping tea in a rocking chair on her front porch. The kind that maybe the kids were afraid of, but she was awesome. That’s when it came to mind that maybe that was the void in the neighborhood you were filling. You were to be the crotchety old woman, yelling at “those darn kids”. Fabulous.

Unfortunately (for no other reason than your own ego) you only got the mattress in through the threshold of the front door before it fell to the side and flopped back down to the floor. With a sigh and a thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad if it just lived there, you stepped over it and padded into the kitchen. Managed to place the boxes designated to the room in it, but had yet to unpack anything. You turned on the tap and tilted your head to the side, leaning in to take a sip of water directly from it. Only to find that upon turning off the tap and looking out the bay window by the sink, the man that had offered to help was visible from his yard. He wheeled out his trash and recycling bins to the curb. Resting his hands on his hips, he glanced around and took stock of the neighborhood. All seemed quiet and to his liking.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Joel liked routine. Habit-forming had become a sort of habit. It meant he knew what his days looked like. It meant he was prepared. And after having been handed a life where being ill-prepared meant something was going wrong, there was great comfort in knowing how things were going to go day by day. Though he wasn’t rigid. He could include new things in his routine. For instance…

One morning he woke up, made his usual pot of coffee before work, and stood out on his porch. It’d be one of his only moments to slow down and actually notice the day. That’s when he noticed something new in his routine. A “For Sale” sign went up on Mrs. Wilson’s front lawn. Everyone in the neighborhood had been expecting it because, well, Mrs. Wilson had passed away. In her sleep one night. Joel thought that must’ve been the nicest way to go. And every morning, he’d go out on his porch and ponder Mrs. Wilson before carrying on with the rest of his routine. As such, he saw when it sold and went into escrow. He saw Mrs. Wilson’s son move out all of his mother’s old furniture until the place was left empty. Everything was routine. 

That is, until the U-Haul showed up this morning. It was a small one and he remembered thinking there was no way that little truck contained enough furniture to fill up that house. But he brushed it off, continued with his routine, and went off to work. Though he had to admit, he was wholly curious about the new neighbor he was about to inherit.

He left his jobsite early afternoon, his truck ambling back to his house when another neighbor waved him down to stop him.

“Hey, Mr. Cole,” Joel smiled at the elderly man. Mr. Cole had been the first one to greet Joel when he’d first moved into town. Mr. Cole knew everything going on in the neighborhood, courtesy of Mrs. Cole.

“You see that gal move into Mrs. Wilson’s house?”

Joel nodded, “saw that woman move in, yeah.”

“Mighty pretty,”

Joel chuckled, “surely not as pretty as Mrs. Cole,”

“I don’t know,”

Joel laughed a little harder. “I’ll see ya’ around. Stop snoopin’.”

He’d only just arrived back home and parked his truck in the driveway when he saw you struggling with the mattress. And his mama raised him better than that so he went to offer his help. There hadn’t been a fiber in his being that thought you’d snap back like you had. That’s why he tried a second time. And when the second snap was stronger than the first, he raised his hands and backed off.

Shit. Out-of-towners were getting meaner and meaner.

He meandered to his house and only looked back once, just in time to see the mattress fall to the floor just inside the front door. He smiled to himself and continued on with his routine as much as possible. Tomorrow was trash day which meant the bins needed to be brought out.  Simple enough task, just the way he liked it. He liked it even more when he spotted a glimpse of you looking at him through your kitchen window. 

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You forwent unpacking anything that day. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing you pulled out would truly have a place to live until you got the furniture situation handled. And seeing as though your bed was still in the entryway, you figured there were bigger problems to handle. But just by looking at the hallway, and the thin doorways, you knew you were going to have a hell of a time bending and twisting the mattress to your will… and the architecture. Grocery shopping proved to be more time-sensitive, and once the fridge was as fully stocked as your bank account would allow, it already started to feel more like home. Which also meant, the way you’d snapped at your neighbor started to bother you more. You had to live in this person’s realm – whatever that looked like. He was your neighbor, and short of literally becoming the crotchety old woman that never left her home, there wasn’t a way for you to avoid him altogether. He seemed to have a lot of friends on the block. That’s also when you decided to suck up to your pride. To apologize to this man who really didn’t deserve an apology at all. Whatever it took to just live in peace.

The more you thought about it, the more it angered you. That was pretty par for the course. It would’ve been more odd if a man wasn’t pissing you off. It was still running through your mind as you plucked a six-pack from your fridge and crossed the street in the direction of his house. You thought about how you were going to have to plaster a phony smile on your face and make niceties to this person who you didn’t want to get to know. You just wanted to live. And you thought you’d have more time. As you ascended his porch steps, you made for the front door, zeroed in on it.

“Hey,” 

The voice startled you, tripping over your own feet and stumbling, very nearly losing the six-pack of bottles to the wooden porch. You glanced over at him, and in the dim light his porch light gave off, watched him take an acoustic guitar out of his lap and set it beside his chair.

“Hi,” you mumbled and walked in his direction. “I’m your new neighbor,”

“I know. You yelled at me,”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t yell at you. I was just letting you know–”

“S’for me?”

You looked back down at him and noticed how he pointed at the six-pack of beer. “We got off on the wrong foot and I just want to live in peace and quiet so,” gesturing to the beer, “peace offering.” You handed the pack to him.

Joel cradled the cardboard sleeve in his lap and pulled out a bottle. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I just came to drop them off,”

He flicked his eyes up and pulled out a second bottle. Then, setting the remaining bottles on the floor beside him, he twisted the first cap off. “S’not nice to yell at someone and then refuse their offer to share a drink,”

“I didn’t yell at you,”

“Sit down.”

And for whatever reason, you listened. In the past, had any man spoken to you like that, especially one you didn’t know from Adam, you’d’ve smacked him. But not this time. This time you sat in the chair perched next to his and awkwardly took the open beer from his hand when he passed it over to you.

The silence that ensued was tense and palpable. Neither willing to bend first. Joel kept his eyes focused on his beer bottle and you kept your focus on… him. Naturally suspicious and wary, you thought if you kept your gaze on him, you’d catch him before he did anything out of hand. But really all you noticed was the way his nose had a slight downward curve to it. And the way the graying hair at the back of his head curled along his neck. And the way his beard, also graying, came in in patches, but in the most endearing way. Wrinkles and worry lines had etched their way deep in his forehead. Crow’s feet found a home in the corners of his eyes. Both told you this was a man who had felt and lived a lot of life: the good and the bad. You thought you saw a small scar on his cheek just below his eye, but you couldn’t be sure. The man was middle-aged. His skin and hands gave the appearance he was a blue-collar, working man who’d spent his life in the beating sun.

“Get everything moved in?” He took a sip and eyed you, aware that you were nodding, but still the glance he gave you made you think he knew you were lying. Obviously you were.

“My bed is still by the front door,” you relented.

“Not where I’d recommend a bedroom be, but to each their own,”

“I can’t get it down the hallway by myself.” You tried to ignore that he seemed to light up at the admission. You? Needing his help? “It’s too narrow,”

“Want help?”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Had you treated California neighbors the way you treated them, you'd have been lucky if you didn’t find your car keyed the next day. But he was offering his help? Again?

“You’d help me after the way I yelled at you?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “You didn’t yell at me,” another smile flashed over his face and he looked over at you again.

You hated that it made you smile, too. Yet you waved him off. “That’s alright. I’ll figure out a way,”

Joel chuckled and shook his head, taking a pause before he downed another long sip of his beer.

“What?” You urged. 

“S’nothin’,'' he shook his head again with another grin. “Know you probably could figure out a way, but… s’just that you don’t need to. Why won’t you let me help you?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy…” you trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name more than referring to him to yourself as that nosy neighbor guy.

He seemed to pick up on it and pointed to himself, “Joel. Miller,”

“But I don’t need a guy to get on with life, y’know? I’m a self-sufficient woman. I don’t need to rely on anyone but myself.”

Joel finished off his beer and stood up from his chair, “acceptin’ help when it’s offered isn’t relying on anyone else. It just makes life easier.” He started down the steps and crossed over his lawn.

“Where’re you going?!”

“To move your bed!”

Leaping up from your chair, you ran after him, in quick pursuit as he neared your home. You knew it was a wreck inside. Trash and boxes everywhere. Not ready for any visitors, even ones you didn’t want there in the first place. 

“Really! It’s alright.” When that didn’t stop him from advancing toward your house, you tried another path, “the bed frame’s not even put together!”

“Then I’ll put it together,” he said over his shoulder, nearly in your front yard now. 

You managed to lunge forward and grab onto his jacket sleeve, effectively stopping his advance. At least for the time being. “I don’t usually let men I don’t know into my home,”

“What?”

“You know… in case they’re crazy and kill me.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows, utterly perplexed. He tried to make heads or tails of you as a whole and was having a hell of a time trying to do so. But he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and produced from it, a pocket knife. He unfolded it, which gave you some pause, but then he quickly held it out for you to take. You did, and as soon as the small weapon left his hand, he turned and continued toward your porch.

“Hey! What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Stab me,”

“What?!”

He ascended the porch steps and waited at your front door, where you soon joined him. “If I do something weird, and you think I’m gonna kill you in your own house, you can stab me. Full permission,”

You looked down at the knife, and then back up at Joel. 

“Can you open your door?”

Gulping down nerves, “it’s unlocked.”

“Still,” Joel pressed a smile, “I’m not in the habit of letting myself into women’s homes. I’d prefer if you opened it and let me in.”

For the second time today, you found yourself doing something all because a man told you to do so and you wondered if the move was making you soft. Regardless, you reached past Joel, pressed down on the lever, and nudged the door open. It stopped short from opening all the way as it hit the edge of your mattress. Joel flicked his eyes at you, as if silently saying see, you need me.

He shimmied his way in, with you close behind, half-heartedly pointing the pocket knife in his direction. He bent over and picked the mattress up off the floor, seemingly with ease. Though you did hear his knees click when he crouched down, but due to his age, you thought better than to bring it to attention. Hell, even your knees creaked every now and again.

“I’ll go backwards and steer it. Think you can be the muscle?” He waited until you nodded and set the knife down, and gathered your hair in a messy bun on top of your head to keep it out of the way. Poised at the other end of the mattress, he lined it up for its plight down the hallway. “Alright, nice and easy,” he began to pull, feeling more frictionless movement as you began helping on the other end. It wasn’t too hard; more awkward than anything. But he guessed the mattress weighed as much as, if not more than, you, so by yourself it must’ve been like dragging dead weight around. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, tilting the mattress to the side to accommodate for the doorjamb, “that’s it. Take it slow,” he elongated the end of the word, completely focused on the side of the mattress as it brushed along the door. “We’re in,”

You helped him lean the mattress out of the way and against the wall. “Thanks for your help, Joel,” you backed up toward the door, hoping he’d follow you.

But he ignored you completely, and instead found the parts to your metal bed frame laying on the floor. He lowered himself to his knees and inspected it. “You got a Phillips head?”

“Joel…”

“S’gonna take me ten minutes. The longer you stall, the longer I’m gonna be here.”

He had a point. And a very good one at that. So you turned and all but ran down the hall, searching for the box you’d so astutely labeled as “tools”. A fear set in that the longer you were away, the more time Joel had to go through your belongings (albeit sparse). You didn’t want him getting too comfortable in your home, least of all in your bedroom. So you rushed, tore open the “tools” box, dug through it until you found the screwdriver, and then raced back down the hall as if you’d have time to catch him snooping. But as soon as you arrived back in your bedroom doorway, you didn’t find him snooping. You found him still on his knees, crawling around, laying the different parts out to make the square your bed would soon sit on. 

Joel smiled when he noticed you returned, and held his hand up to take the screwdriver from you. Only when he grabbed it, his face turned to horror and he grimaced at the pink floral design on the handle. “What’s this?”

“A screwdriver,”

“It’s got flowers on it,” he protested.

“It’s cute!”

He chuckled and started putting the bed frame together. “Y’know they charged you thirty percent more because they slapped flowers on it and marketed it toward women,”

You sat on the floor beside him and watched him work. “Well if I have to be the man in my life, my tools are gonna be a little more feminine,”

Joel glanced at you momentarily. Just long enough to question your statement, but not long enough for you to really notice he’d stopped working at all. “What about the actual man in your life?”

“Don’t have one. Don’t need one. I’ve got my floral tool set to prove it,”

A hum was the only acknowledgement Joel gave to that. As if that answered all his questions.

“What?”

“You talk a lot about how you don’t need anyone. I’m gatherin’ you actually only mean you don’t need a man. Which is fine and all, but s’just that that seems kinda lonely.” He set the screwdriver down and held the next two pieces together. “You remind me of me ten years ago. Stubborn. Determined to be alone.” He moved on to the next piece, “thing is… if you don’t need anyone, it also kind of implies that you’re not needed by anyone. And what good is life if you can’t give yourself to someone in that way?”

Jaw-dropped, you gathered yourself, eyes widening. “Wow, your wife must love having you as a husband,”

He smiled and chuckled, “I don’t have a wife.”

“So what do you know about giving yourself to someone and being needed?”

Joel flashed his eyes to you. Gentle and filled with love, “I have a daughter. Sarah. She’s in college now. She’s quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a father,”

“‘Cause I look so young?” He grinned and tightened one final screw. With the frame now positioned where it needed to be, he stood up and went back to your mattress. You scooted out of the way as he single-handedly maneuvered it onto the frame and adjusted it until it was just perfect. “Check it off the to-do list. Now you can get a good night’s sleep,”

You admired his work and it wasn’t lost on you that it only took him a third of the time it would’ve taken you. Before you’d even gotten through that realization, Joel had already passed you and had made his way back out to the hall, where he walked down it back toward your front door. You followed after him, remaining quiet as he picked up his pocket knife from where you’d left it and tucked it back into his pant pocket. His hand got to the doorknob and you still hadn’t spoken, so he was the one to bite the bullet.

“You know, I never got your name.”

Heat crept up your neck, trying to make a home in your cheeks, as you mentioned your name to him. He smiled and nodded but offered nothing more, so you figured it was still your turn. “Thanks for your help, Joel,”

“No problem,” he waved you off.

“Maybe if more guys were like you, I wouldn’t hate them so much,”

“Give it time. You’ll be back to yellin’ at me soon.” He opened the front door and took a step through it. “Give me a holler if you need something, you know where I live,”

“Will do,”

He started to close the door but then opened it again and poked his head through. “Make sure you lock the door this time,”

You pressed a smile and approached the door where he waited until your hand was on the knob. With one last quiet goodbye, he pulled the door shut and you followed it up by locking it. Then with little time to spare, you ran to the window in the living room to watch him walk away. He pressed his hands into his pockets and looked around. Then a smile stretched over his face and he kicked at the grass before he crossed the street and moseyed back to his house.

[kaylopolis]

Alastor's Shadow (18+) - Chapter Eight

Alastor x F!Reader

Synopsis: There’s a new Overlord in town and it isn’t the Radio Demon. Six years after you fell into Hell, you have finally earned your seat at the table as Pentagram City’s newest and baddest, and with the Extermination coming six months earlier than planned, it is now time to implement your ultimate endgame. After all, who doesn’t love a bit of power and chaos? Your plan brings you to the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel as Charlie’s newest Redeemer, but who you find waiting for you will not only turn your entire plan upside down but also challenge your grab for power… 

Tag List: Slow burn, rivals to lovers, eventual smut

Masterlist Link: Masterlist

____________________________________________

Author note: Dear Hoteliers, I give you my favorite chapter :)

<3 Stay smutty

Chapter Eight - The Headliner

Content Warning: Obsession, Blood, Minors DNI!!!

Fuck.

Everything hurt. 

Was that music? 

You blinked. Hard. Forcing the world into view. The shapes were fuzzy until they formed the ceiling of a canopy bed. 

You vaguely registered Nat King Cole’s “Too Young” playing from the radio on the side table. 

God, everything hurt. Did you already mention that?

With limbs of concrete, you attempted to sit up, but a burning pain shot through your core making the world blur into darkness once again. 

You couldn’t have been out long; “Too Young” had entered its final stanza when you came to. Again, you were met with the red of the bed’s canopy top. 

🎶And yet we're not too young to know🎶

Little movements this time. You turned your head, noting the red silk sheets beneath you. Okay, now the fingers and toes - good they were still intact. The legs? Both still present and working. Arms? Yeah, them too. So was it just your torso? You rolled up, but were just met with more pain. 

Okay, let’s try rolling to the side. You rolled onto your shoulder and slowly pushed yourself into a seated position. The effort and pain made you see stars, but at least you hadn’t passed out. 

Okay, where to begin. Instead of your cloak and leather gear, you found yourself in shorts and a white button-down shirt two sizes too big. The fabric was slightly askew, revealing the bandages crossing your chest underneath. You peeked down the shirt and followed the stained cotton to your belly button. 

Fuck, Velvette practically gutted you from your right hip to your left chest. 

Bitch. 

🎶This love will last though years may go🎶

Your arms and legs had been washed, and your other wounds had healed into scars. A poultice soaked through the cotton wrapped around your feet. Whoever took care of your wound also addressed the blisters still plaguing your toes.

How nice.

Your silver hair had been braided into a long ponytail that reached your lower back. And the shirt you were wearing... Images of deep woods after a rainstorm swam in your vision as you breathed in the fabric - it felt almost familiar. 

Slowly pushing yourself to your feet, you wandered over to the glass doors leading to a balcony. Pentagram City waited twenty floors below. You held your arms around your body as you walked, afraid the stitches would burst and your insides would fall out. Shallow breaths only. Deep breaths hurt. 

🎶And then some day they may recall🎶

It was late, City lights illuminated the night. On the balcony sat two chairs, a single table between them. It finally clicked where you were the exact moment the static prickled the back of your neck. 

🎶We were not too young at all🎶

“Alastor…” you spun meeting the demon face to face, but the view took your breath away.

The Radio Demon stood leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his weight on one hip. He looked disheveled, his hair a ruffled mess, his monocle missing. His suit jacket was probably hanging in a closet somewhere, revealing a white button-down rolled to the elbows. No bow tie, suspenders hanging around his hips, and no shoes. For feet, he had… hooves.

It was the most skin you had ever seen from the demon and it felt oddly intimate. Maybe you should look away and give him some privacy but part of you didn’t want to stop looking. His shirt top was missing a few buttons, revealing his collarbone and upper part of his chest. From what you could tell he was very… defined. 

His arms were stronger than expected, with a layer of muscle that was obvious in the low light. Scars, grey and faded, criss crossed his forearms like battle wounds. His arms ended in a shade of black much like your own - but his hands. 

Alastor wasn’t wearing gloves. 

That got the butterflies stirring in your belly. Why did that make you so excited? 

The Overlord stared at you with a soft smile on his face but a gaze so intense it could knock you over where you stood. You felt trapped. You felt possessed. And you liked it. 

“What happened to ‘Mr. Alastor’?” He purred. 

You pulled your arms in close, trying to hide the shiver his voice sent down your spine. It was deeper than you remembered. 

Keep your guard up, Thestral, be prepared for anything.

“I think we’re past formalities, don’t you?” You gestured to the clothing. “Didn’t know you even owned a pair of shorts. Didn’t take you for the sort.” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

He tipped his head back and laughed, a deep rumble from his chest. “I saved your life, and your first concern is my wardrobe?” 

You fell silent. He took that as a sign to change the subject. 

“Come, I just finished dinner.” 

You stifled a gasp as Alastor turned on his heels. A tail, the Radio Demon had a tail. The black tuft of hair sat at the crest of his hips, a red undercoat where a white tail deer’s white stripe should be. 

“You have a tail,” you whispered, desperately trying to hide the smile fighting to breakthrough. 

Be prepared for anything.... You snorted into your palm. Anything but that!

Alastor froze, his tail shooting up, ramrod straight. He tipped his head back, his eyes nonchalantly finding yours. “I am a dear demon, darling.” 

Yeah, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world! Is that why he always wore the jacket, to hide his tail? Did he not like others knowing or just assumed that they assumed? God, you didn’t know why he would be ashamed of it, it was adorable!

The demon scoffed before disappearing, you following after him, trying your best not to flat-out stare at the thing the entire time you walked. Alastor led you down a hallway and into a kitchen where a pot was steaming on the stove. Pulling a chair out for you, he sat you on the corner to himself. Silently, you waited for him to ladle a bowl of food.

Why did the silence feel so... weird? 

“Be careful, darling, it’s still hot.” He sat in the chair next to you and just stared.

Your eyes locked on his, you tried searching them, tried to figure out what was happening in this moment, but your mind felt so… distracted by the image of him in an unbuttoned shirt. 

“Eat.” He commanded.

And you obeyed. 

“God, this is amazing.”

He smirked. “I assure you, he had nothing to do with it.” His shoulders relaxed when you ate another spoonful, finally allowing himself to join in with his own bowl. Alastor’s tail wiggled as if it was... happy? You reread the demon’s face - neutral disinterest. Hmmm… Interesting. 

“What is this?” 

“Jambalaya.” 

“Ugh, I’m devastated I hadn’t discovered this sooner,” you smiled, taking another mouthful. Swallowing hurt, but in little amounts, it was manageable. 

As the excitement of the dinner waned, a deep sadness began to settle into your heart. “Is Angel okay?” You practically whispered the question. 

Alastor didn’t skip a beat, continuing to eat as he talked. “It took the spider a few days to get back on his feet, but he is doing well, thanks to you. Don’t fret, the Hotel has not been touched in your absence.”

You nodded, taking more small bites. “How long have I been out?” 

Alastor pulled a newspaper from the Void and handed it to you. The headline read “Shadow Presumed Dead. V Tower To Be Rebuilt.” The date was a week later than you remembered, seven days - damn. 

“I missed my headline.” Mimzy is going to be furious. 

“Darling, you are the headline,” Alastor chuckled, his soup spoon collecting the bottom remnants of his bowl. He got up, taking yours as well as his despite it not being totally empty yet. He filled both to the brim and rejoined you at the table, his tail wagging away. 

Page two had a huge photo of Velvette and Vox grieving and some article filled with bullshit designed to garner sympathy. The story, of course, pointed the blame on you as the aggressor - accurate. Yet no mention of Valentino and his cruel ways. Vox controlled the media, so it made sense. 

Folding the newspaper and tucking it away, you started on your second bowl. “So, how long have you known?” 

His tail froze, his half-lidded eyes finding your own. “That you’re the infamous masked Overlord or a Fallen Angel playing Human Sinner?” 

Your lips parted in surprise. 

“Darling, I had you picked the moment you stepped foot off the elevator at Carmine’s office.” 

You clenched your jaw to prevent it from falling open. “How?” 

He paused for a moment, not looking you in the face as he said, “Jasmine.” 

What had the egg bois said to you before you walked into the elevator? They said you smelled like Jasmine. 

“It’s…” you start but wait for the rest of the pieces to click into place. 

“… your favorite tea.” Alastor finished for you. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Rosie might have mentioned it in passing.” 

Of course, Rosie did. The Overlord hated it but only ever got it for you. 

Oh my God, everything makes so much sense now! He served wine during your midnight meeting, a cabernet - your favorite - as opposed to his usual rye. He gave you the radio not because he cared about your sleep but because he needed an ally at the top of their game. The way he felt threatened by you even as a Hotelian and not an Overlord - why he always had his shadow following you. It explains his heightened irritation with Vox and the attention the media demon gave you. It explains the unprompted kidnapping to the bayou! He was going to confront you about it! Alastor knew from the fucking beginning because, of course, he fucking did.

That's why he's been so interested in you.

“The second mystery was solved as you bled to death all over my bed sheets.” 

My bed sheets. My bed. His bed. Not a guest room bed but his room. His sheets. His pillows. His clothes.

Oh my God, you were in his clothes! 

You felt a blush creep up your neck. “You…” You dropped your spoon with a clunk into the bowl as the realization hit you. “Did you see me naked!?”

Alastor laughed, his tail wagging yet again, “No. No. As soon as I got you here, I had Rolf summon Rosie. She let me help with the less… intimate parts of your injury before kicking me out. She cleaned you up and dressed you after.” 

He didn't see your back. He didn't see your tattoo.

Oh, thank the stars for that woman. She was a gift from above. Heaven really fucked up on that one. Oh, Rosie. She was going to kill you the next time she saw you. 

Wait… 

“Rolf?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“You didn’t think my shadow had a name?” He smirked his iconic lopsided grin. 

You looked down at the darkness swirling about his feet, which snickered in response.

No, actually, you hadn’t really thought of it as something sentient enough to need one. 

You turned back to the bowl, forcing yourself to eat more. You were full, but damn, was this good. 

Having gone a week without food your stomach had shrunk - only enough room for three-quarters of a serving, but that didn’t stop Alastor from refilling your bowl again and again. 

“I’ll summon Rosie in the morning. Have her bring by some of your things. Satan knows she will scold me for not summoning her sooner, but it is late.” 

You checked the time on the stove. It was three in the morning. 

“Why are you still awake?” 

He looked away from you, “I don’t need sleep to function - correction, I need some, but the number is inconsequential compared to others.” 

So his bed was barely used? If at all? Why was it so grand then? Maybe he used it for other… activities. What had Angel said the other day? The Radio Demon has never been seen with anyone. Rumor has it that he was a virgin - well, that was coming from Vox. 

“I’m not a virgin,” Alastor’s words purred in your memory. Your mind drifted off to pondering the number of other people whom he had shared his bed with before you realized what you were doing. 

Wait, what were you doing? 

You were sitting half-dressed in Alastor’s clothes, sharing a home-cooked meal at his apartment.

ALONE. 

What… 

The Radio Demon brought his spoon to his mouth and licked it, sapping up the juices at the bottom of the bowl. His tongue was black and forked. 

Your face heated with the ideas swimming in your mind of what that tongue could… 

No! 

You jumped to your feet abruptly, knocking the chair back and causing the plates to jump on the table. 

A searing burn shot through your core causing you to bend over in pain.

“What’s wrong?” Alastor bent to meet your eyeline, his arms grasping your shoulders. 

Butterflies and bubbles. Butterflies and bubbles. Butterflies and bubbles. You didn’t know what they meant anymore, and it terrified you. 

“I just…” You stepped out of his grip, not daring to meet his gaze. “I can’t…” You turned and exited the kitchen searching for the door. 

Alastor followed with hurried steps on your heels. You tried a few doors, but none of them were an exit. 

Was it getting hot in here? It was definitely getting harder to breathe, but you didn’t know if that was from the injury or something else. 

“Stop,” Alastor commanded, but you ignored him, turning down another hallway. All you could hear was the pounding of your heart and the slaps of your bare feet on hardwood. 

Another door, this one open, leading to a small library. 

Fuck, this place was a maze. 

“Stop!” Alastor’s tone turned dark. As did the hallway. Were you starting to black out or was that his doing? 

“I need to leave…” You breathed, now in a full panic. 

Another turn… There, an elevator! 

You sprinted for it, but Alastor wrapped his fingers around your wrist and spun you around. He gently backed you into the cement wall. Cupping your cheeks, he tilted your head, forcing you to look into his eyes.

“I said stop.” His tone was soft. “You’re having a panic attack. You need to calm down, or you’re going to pass out. Just breathe, Thestral. Breathe.”

You did as he said, squeezing your eyes shut. Focusing on your inhales and exhales, you willed the beating of your heart to slow. You stood there and just breathed, trying to match his own pattern of breath before you. 

“Look at me,” he commanded. 

And you obeyed. 

His irises were a deep crimson, his pupils blown wide in the low light. You felt some sort of veil lift between the two of you, his magic reaching out for your own. It caressed your form, willing your heart to slow, cooling the burn of your blood in your veins. Alastor was somehow calming you down using the connection you had formed between you.  

God, why was he being so nice to you? The last time the two of you were alone together, he was actively hunting you.

“Why did you save me?” You ask, but it comes out as a whisper. 

“We had a deal,” he answers too fast. 

You didn’t buy it. There had to be more to this - more to why Alastor needed you and your power. Technically, your death benefitted him in the long run, didn't it? Killing you eliminated you as a rival, as an Overlord vying for souls, as a Sinner scheming for Charlie's power - whether he actually knew that or not, but Alastor wasn't stupid. He's had an entire week to think about every move you've made, every word you've said. He's had time to piece things together, enough to know that you weren't at the Hotel to be redeemed.

“Why did you save me?” You ask again, a bite in your voice, tears of frustration forming at the corner of your eyes. 

He exhaled deeply, contemplating his words carefully, before finally leaning in and placing his forehead against yours.

“I had the pleasure of arriving just after you shattered the top floor of V Tower. The way you incinerated Valentino from within... By Satan, you were a vision…” 

You went still. 

“I was sure you were going to kill Velvette and Vox as well until Velvette pulled the Angelic blade and sunk it deep into your chest.” His breathing quickened, his voice deepening to a smokey edge. 

“And that’s when I decided that she was not worthy of owning your death.” Alastor’s grip on your cheeks hardened till he had to let go. He placed one arm against the wall, his forearm and elbow flush with the cool concrete, entrapping you in place. His other found your chin, forefinger and thumb gently caressing your skin. “No one was.” He closed his eyes, guiding his nose to yours. The bridge of it rested against your own. 

You couldn’t think anymore. All manner of logic left your brain the second Alastor's forehead found yours.

“If anyone was going to draw your last breath from these lips,” His thumb finds your bottom lip, and you gasp, drawing a growl deep from the demon’s chest. 

Your lips parted even though you begged them not to. Even though you told them you didn’t want this. Even though they disobeyed and you found yourself okay with it anyway. Even though you wanted more…

His claw traced the curve of your lip oh-so-gently, before wrapping under your chin once more and pulling you closer.

He whispered onto your lips, “It was going to be me…” 

DING-DONG! 

“Ow!” You head-butted the Overlord as a loud chime deafened your left ear. 

Tension broken, the demon rubbed his face as he leaned over and pushed a button on a com. “I told you two to go home!”

“Ay, listen here ya’ ol’ timey prick! We tried! Vaggie won’t let us until we have a fuckin’ update! You don’t have a fuckin’ phone for us to call, like a normal person. So, how the Hell do we know what’s goin’ on!?” 

Angel? 

“Give me that.” You heard what you thought was a shove before a different voice echoed through the machine. “Look Boss, Charlie’s been worried sick. She hasn’t been sleeping. She hasn’t been eating. She’s making the rest of us miserable. Angel took her out and got her drunk, and now she’s an emotional wreck. Just give us an update, and we’ll go home.” 

“Husk?” You gasped. 

“At least tell us she’s breathin’ ya’ strawberry pimp…”

You didn’t hear the rest of what Angel had to say as you slid out from where Alastor had cocooned you against the wall and headed for the elevator doors. You managed to hit the button before Alastor reappeared from a puddle of shadows, blocking the exit.

“What are you doing?” 

“You are not going down there.” He crossed his arms over his chest, staring down at you with cold eyes. 

“What!?” You practically screamed, a burn ran up your throat with the effort. Fuck it hurt. 

Alastor didn’t elaborate further. 

You scoffed. “It’s Husk and Angel, Alastor. They’re friends! If Velvette wanted me dead I doubt she’d send them to finish me off!” 

“You are not going down there,” he repeated, cold malice slithered through his voice. 

You stood for a moment, searching his hard eyes, trying to figure out what he was thinking. 

DING! 

The doors slid open. 

“Oh, yeah,” you drew yourself to your full height - well, almost full height. Your posture pulled on the stitches if you stretched too far. “Stop me, then.” Your gaze met his, hardening to steel. 

A challenge, Radio Demon. 

“You know what I am now, right? Go ahead Alastor, stop me.” Arms out to your sides, you waited for the demon to say something. But he was hard as stone. 

You considered summoning blue flame to make your point, to remind him of how easily you had eviscerated Valentino, but you didn’t have to. The demon yielded. Stepping into the elevator, he waited for you to join.

The ride down was far longer than you expected. Or maybe it was the silence that drove you crazy. No elevator music? Or maybe you had ticked the Radio Demon off to the point he shut it all off. Either way, you didn’t care because when those doors opened and Husk and Angel finally laid their eyes upon you, a wave of relief flooded through you so strong you collapsed into their arms. 

It hurt but you didn’t care.

“Holy, fuckin’ shit balls,” Angel breathed into your hair, making you giggle. His sclera were both white. No more black to be seen. His soul contract was over...

“Hey, kid,” Husk grabbed each of your hands, holding them in his paws. 

“Hey, Husky,” you smiled back. 

“You have a lotta fuckin’ explainin’ to do, Hair clip.” Angel crossed his arms, turning on his overprotective big brother mode. “And yous!” He took a step towards Alastor, finger pointed at his chest. “You got a lot of fuckin’ nerve keepin' her locked up this week! We was worried sick! Husk and I thought we watched her die on television, and the next thing we know, she’s locked up 'ere in your ivory tower! No calls! No updates! No nothin’! You…”

Wait, what did he say?

“Angel!” You stepped between the two of them, cutting off the spider demon’s protests. “Did you say television?” 

“Yeah! Vox was filming the whole thang! Well, minus you burnin' Valentino to a crisp. He wanted your death broadcasted so he could claim the stakes of finally unmaskin' the infamous Overlord. Until, he…” He juts his finger back at Alastor. “Shut down the whole grid! All of Pentagram City was plunged into fuckin' darkness” 

Your eyes find Alastor’s but again are met with a wall of cold steel. 

The blood. Did they see? 

No. His eyes seemed to say. 

You pulled the collared shirt closer around you, buttoning an extra level to hide the gold-soaked cotton bandages underneath.

Rosie had taught you how to magick your blood, to have it appear red as opposed to its usual gold. You’d bleed red unless met with an Angelic blade, unless met with a blow promising death, unless you were too weak for the magic to hold. 

Husk and Angel knew who you were but not what. Not yet. But Velvette and Vox? Velvette still has the blade, which means she saw the blood that stuck to it after she cut. Which meant the remainder of the Vees knew what you were - but not who. 

They knew how to kill you. 

Fuck. 

“We searched for you for hours!” Angel hung his head, his voice cracking. “And he had you the whole fuckin’ time.” 

“We thought you died,” Husk added, his eyes shooting daggers at Alastor. 

We thought you died. Died. You never thought about death. Angels never did because Angels can’t die. Even when Velvette pulled the blade, you didn’t think she would kill you. Maime you horribly, yes, but not kill you because Angels don’t die.

But couldn’t they? 

Your mind flashed back to the last extermination. The Overlords always disappeared in the hours before the Extermination. It was policy. Yes, souls came begging for protection - as they always did - but what protection could be offered? You couldn’t fight the Exorcists and even if you tried to hide the souls you owned, it just made for easier pickings when they eventually found you. Groups were targets. 

So the Overlords “left.” Technically, human Sinners couldn’t leave the Pride Ring, so you found other ways to disappear.

You and Rosie always went to Mimzy’s. The three of you sat in the basement and played cards. Mimzy didn’t know who you were; she thought of you more so as Rosie’s adopted daughter before she eventually brought you on as her club’s piano player. 

You were in the middle of a scandalous game of Belot when you felt a familiar tug behind your navel. Someone was using a card to summon you. And that someone was Carmilla. Orange and mint flooded your mouth - fear. Whatever was happening, it was bad. 

You excused yourself to the restroom and slid out the back door. 

Following the call, you found them at the edge of the Doomsday District. The Overlords kept their hiding places secret even from each other. You didn’t know where they were headed, and they didn’t know where you had come from. Your own hiding spot wasn’t in your territory, so why should theirs be? 

Carmilla and Odette were in the middle of the plaza, Clara in a heap of blood and broken bones between them. 

Exorcists flew in a flurry about your head. Sinners were screaming, 

It was a tornado of blood and death. A massacre of the defenseless. You hadn’t seen anything like it since… well, the time of the Old Testament. 

And a beheaded Exorcist lay ten feet from you...

Oh, Carmilla. What had you gotten yourself into? 

“Please, I didn’t know who else to call…” Carmilla grabbed you by the collar of your cloak and dragged you down to the cement. 

Odette sobbed, curling into her sister’s dying form. 

“I can’t…” You breathed. The feeling of her soul fading was like a whisper against your skin. She was fading fast. 

“Please!?” Carmilla begged. 

“I… I…” There wasn’t anything you could…

And then Carmilla screamed. 

She screamed your name. 

Not Thestral. 

Your name.

Your God-given name. 

She grabbed your arm and ran it against the silver in her leggings. Golden liquid bubbled from your skin and dripped onto the pavement before she thrust the wound into her daughter’s mouth. 

She knew. She knew you weren’t just any Angel. 

Not like a low-level Exorcist. Low-level Exorcists can't heal the dying. Low-level Exorcists can't summon Holy Fire.

You weren't a low-level Exorcist. You were special. 

The three of you held your breath as Clara’s wounds began to restitch themselves, as the blood finally stopped flowing. 

There was a gasp as Clara’s eyes fluttered open. Carmilla collapsed into a heap of sobs, holding her daughter close and whispering in Spanish into her ear. Odette pulled you in, thanking you before joining her mother. 

You were numb to the world until you got to your feet and locked eyes with a Sinner. 

At some point, your hood had fallen down.

He had seen your face. 

He had heard your name.

And so had about fifteen others now standing awestruck around you. 

Fifteen people who had to die. 

Fifteen innocent Sinners who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Fifteen people you turned to ash. 

“We didn’t tell the others what happened.” Angel’s voice brought you back to the room. “They think you were caught in the crossfire.”

“They don't know about Angel either,” Husk added. 

Fuck. 

Alastor must have seen the blood drain from your face because he took one step between you and the boys. “This meeting is over.” 

“What?” The boys gawked. 

He was right. The pain in your torso was throbbing, bringing a sting to your eyes. 

You reached out, hesitating before fingering the edge of his rolled sleeve. The demon turned to you in surprise, a look of… we’ll you didn’t know what sprawled across his face. You waited for the flinch, for the smack, for the scowl, but, to your surprise, he didn’t shove you off. “Twenty more minutes?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please?”

Something in his steel gaze softened. He wanted to say no. He wanted to drag you back upstairs and lock you away - but he didn’t. Instead, he locked the front door, pulled a chair from the Void for you to sit, and trudged back into the elevator. 

“Twenty, not a second more. Rolf will keep an eye on you.” 

The shadow detached itself from Alastor’s form and wrapped itself around your torso. For once, you found its coldness soothing. 

“Where are you going?” 

DING! The doors shut. 

“Okay,” Angel started, a pair of arms on your shoulders. “First question, who the Hell is Rolf?” 

____________________________________________

It was like a bomb going off. 

You hit the penthouse first, knowing the Overlords enjoyed a nightcap before turning in. Your weeks of spying had paid off and, luckily, Voxtek’s Angelic Security still wasn’t online. 

Valentino, Velvette, and Vox were spread out along their giant three-piece couch, looking absolutely dumbfounded when you crashed through the window in a blaze of blue flames. 

You went for the moth demon’s throat before he had a chance to react. Wrapping your claws around his neck, you jumped back into the night. You fell, summoning your wings to beat harder, garnering as much speed as possible. 

When you hit the pavement, Val first, an explosion ripped through the Entertainment District, taking out half a block of storefronts, cars, and anyone caught in the crossfire. 

You pulled a broken Valentino to his feet in a crater fifty feet deep. The pimp was barely breathing, his eyes unable to focus on anything. The demon was dead, and he knew it; unable to put up a fight, he just watched you and breathed. 

“This is for Angel,” your deep voice spewed.

And then the burning began. You made it slow and torturous, starting with his feet and the tips of his wings and moving upwards until it consumed him completely. He screamed - his last moments filled with the stench of orange and mint - with fear.

You had killed so many times before, but never had it felt this good. 

And then he was a pile of ash. 

“No!” Velvette screamed. The brat demon and Vox were huddled over the edge of the concave abyss, watching the ash of their fallen partner blow away in the wind. 

“You fucking arsehole,” she screamed. “You’re going to die for this!” 

She lept, her claws sharpened to talons. Behind her Vox transformed into his demon form. Nearly three stories tall, the demon was a mass of electrokinetic energy, his claws digging into the cement of the street as sparks of blue scattered across the street.

Now this was a fight!

Velvette didn’t have a chance to land, for you back slapped her so hard she went flying into the wall of the crater, cracking cement beneath her body. 

Vox was next, but you were faster. A surge of electrical wiring launched at you like a cobra striking its prey. You spun, easily dodging, and blasted through his screen like a missile. It wasn’t enough to kill him, but you were merely aiming to temporarily blind him while you dealt with the Bitch Queen herself. 

Velvette climbed out from the crater, calling you every swear word in the book and then some. 

She pulled a silver dagger from her jacket - a Carmilla Carmine blade. “I’m going to gut you like a fish!” 

And then she attacked. 

Eventually, Vox recovered, using any opening Velvette gave him to compliment her onslaught. And you were holding your own for a while, attempting to find various ways to stall Vox so you could get to Velvette, until...

You sent a wall of flame at the female Vee before turning to Vox and...

“Unknown.” A familiar female voice chimed. “Unknown. Unknown. Unknown.”

“What the fuck!?” Vox screamed, shaking his phone before slamming it against the ground. 

The Soul Scanner. He was trying to get a read on who you are, but the technology couldn’t register your soul.

The media demon paused before his eyes met yours, the gears behind his irises turning in his head. And then something like recognition flashed in his eyes. Before you had a chance to think, a cackle echoed behind you. 

Vox’s distraction left an opening, and as you spun, the female Vee ran that blade diagonally across your body. 

You collapsed, your back to them, golden liquid pouring onto the pavement.

Velvette cackled, “Fucking, finally! Now I’m…” Velvette screamed, her sentence cut off abruptly. 

You needed to get out of there. You needed to flee, but before you could summon your wings, a wave of darkness swam over you. 

In one blink, you were in the Entertainment District; the next, you were outside Pentagram City in the Nothing. The outskirts of the City dropped off to nothing but endless black dirt and red sky going on for what everyone assumed was forever. Natives called it the "Nothing" because that was what was here: nothing. 

A pair of red and white dress shoes appeared at the edge of your vision before everything went black. 

____________________________________________

“And then I woke up here,” you finish - you left out the part about bleeding golden Angelic blood, of course. 

The boys were silent until Angel leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

“Seriously?” Husk shot him an exasperated look. 

“What I wanna see 'er wings! Can I see ya' wings? I mean where the Hell do you put ‘em, anyway? I don’t see you carryin’ a purse or nothin'." 

You giggled, the action burning through your chest. “Uhm,” God, your body hurts. “I can try, but I’ll rip the shirt.” 

“So? Smiles probably has like fifty more up in his castle.” Angel waved it off. 

You looked to Rolf for permission but the shadow was oddly still. “Okay.” 

You stood and summoned your wings, but the wave of pain that came because of it manifested as dizziness and nausea. Luckily, Husk caught you before you fell. 

“Get her upstairs, Rolf,” he passed you off to the shadow who somehow was able to hold you up despite being incorporeal. 

Your vision blurred with the movement as he loaded you into the elevator. 

“Ah, shit! I’m sorry I didn’t know!” Angel? 

DING! The doors closed, and you ascended. Shivers wracked through your body, drowning you in sweat. Suddenly, the lights were too bright, the sounds too loud, and the world began to blur.

DING! 

Alastor was there, his face full of worry, his usual smile replaced with straight-lipped concern. With elbows under your knees and hands behind your shoulders, he carried you back to his room, your dark wings scraping the floor as he walked. 

His face was so foreign in this moment, like seeing him without a smile somehow made him a completely different person. It almost felt like he was sharing a secret with you, one only you knew about and one only he let you hear. 

The demon pushed open his bedroom door with his foot, the lights of Pentagram City illuminating the air about him. Alastor was glowing, his form ethereal as golden hues danced about his ashen skin. He was almost angelic...

And that made the lack of his smile all the more disconcerting.

“Huh,” you slurred as he set you on the bed, the world beginning to blur. “I always wondered what you looked like without a smile.” 

Darkness took you. 

Al - "I will kill you!" You - *actively starts dying* Al- "No, wait!"

The Vox blowup is coming, Hoteliers, don't you worry ;)

-> Chapter Nine

Link to Masterlist: Masterlist

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added): @sirens-and-moonflowers @wonderlandangelsposts @saccharine-nectarine @goyablogsstuff @mommymilkers0526 @eris-norwega @missgirlsstuff @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog @its-a-dam-blue-brick @sillywormtrixareforkids @cloverresin20

[astropookie]

Ascendants at different degrees🦚🦢 pt 2

Venus in retrograde started🎶if your ex comes back or there’s an end, you know what to blame 🤪 jk

Pinterest

Ascendant at Cancer degree (4°, 16° or 28°)

they’re sensitive in a way I think they can manipulate the atmosphere, at least they have this sensitive nature. They could have had a “rebel” era, putting it with “ bc in reality it wasn’t that kind of era, they were being themselves or they needed help and were misunderstood by people around them. that’s why when they grew up they seem more mature, like a mother figure, with their cheesy side, bc they don’t want people around them to be worried and also they have had matured? they constantly idealize the idea of being with someone that ‘ll take care of them, how they have been doing it with everyone. they love food and feeling at home, there’s one person that occupies that big heart. THE BABY FACE.

Ascendant at Leo degree (5°, 17° or 29°)

they don’t know they’re the center of attention until someone tells them. they attract people easily. the way they do things have something unique. childish or excited. when they say or do something impulsive, they think about it and then the worry doesn’t last longer (depends on the moon sign. Idk but the people Ik with ascendant at leo degree have had difficulties at choosing their career, they either are delusional and not have a concrete plan or they have two options. They lack of confidence when’s about their abilities, they’re pessimistic. They could have a hard time analyzing themselves. They need to do sports so they can have a healthy copy mechanism that actually helps them. They’re proud. They’re like little kids running but at the same time with a huge ego. They get bored EASILY and you’ll always find them with their hiperfixation, they can’t live without it, could be tennis, gardening, doesn’t matter. People like them, they do the bare minimum and people sympathize with them. Could be bc of their charisma. They care about what others think TOO MUCH, in a way they don’t care but they do.

Ascendant at Virgo degree (6° or 18°)

omg these people get manipulated easily, you don’t have idea 🙄. they’re not flexible, they try! And they have todo things in their way and they’re in this constant stress when people that’s around them don’t acr the same as them. since details like if you’re eating pizza without a plate and they get mad bc you have to do that and etc. or when they went out and -you can’t lie to me about it- and then criticize or point out things that disgusted them. I don’t want to justifícate them and I’m not going to but that’s how virgo loves? Or acts or how they live? They care and that’s how they show it -and also bc they have a god complex, but beside that..-. THEYRE MANIACS, they have to have their order. They have to heal darling, they have to😩 stop trying to fix others problems or taking too much time on them instead on focusing on your unresolved trauma, bc god you have. that’s why you’re so manipulated and manipulative. Manipulative bc you know exactly what’s the other Achilles’ heel and manipulated bc you haven’t find yet yours and if you had, you haven’t healed it.

Ascendant at Scorpio degree (8° or 20°)

they went though shit that haunts them till now, they’re healing but IS REALLY hard for them to not feel the memory. to not understand things as they come, that life can be unfair. and that not always the ones that made you suffer the most have to pay BY THEIR HANDS, karma exists babe. they’re kind souls that went though a lot and want to protect their loved ones no matter what. they can overthink too much to the point they thought you hated them bc their intuition was confused with paranoia. they’re always on vigilant mood -if they’re not, it’s with the ones they feel more comfortable- and ALWAYS analyze the person before taking the first step. sadly, one of their family could have been part of that insecurity/trauma that accompanies them in the present. bb pls stop blaming yourself for things you have no control and if you had, to learn you’re human ❤️

—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

❀ Based on my personal experience and what I’ve analyzed in my surroundings.

❀ English is not my first language.

❀ I’m not a profesional astrologer, I just love astrology and I’m willing to learn.

Thank youu. baibaiii🫣🫶🏼💋

Do not copy. Please give me credits.

[razorblade180]

Sunny Side

Whitley:Ruby. Wake up. *shakes her*

Ruby:Mmm, where’s the fire? It’s like five in the morning.

Whitley:It’s strawberry season in Patch.

Ruby:I am aware….

Whitley:Let’s gets some fresh fruit in breakfast. You can sleep on the airship.

Ruby:Okay- wha?

[The airship]

Ruby, half awake:….*looks to the right*

Winter: *listening to music*

Sparrow:I bet I can fly this.

Penny:Sir, please sit down. I already have a co-pilot.

Oscar:That is- he is a literal retired soldier.

Jaune and Weiss:*reading*

Nick and Summer:Zzzz

Ruby:Uncle Qrow?

Qrow:*playing cards* Yeah?

Ruby:We married rich.

Qrow:Is that sinking in now?

Ruby:Little bit.

Nora:And we’re reaping the benefits.

Ren:Whitley just didn’t want to feel your anger about a breakfast trip.

Valerie:*writing* I’m not complaining. My book report wasn’t finished.

Ruby:…Baaaaabe?

Whitley:What’s up sleepyhead.

Ruby:Can we make a detour?

xxxxxxx

Bzzz bzzz b-

Yang:*grabs scroll* Uuuuggh. Where’s the fire?

Ruby:Look outside bitch.

Yang rolls out of bed and practically crawls to her window where Blake is staring to see a fancy airship hovering near her house.

Ruby:Grab your pants, wife, and child. We’re gonna make mom’s pancakes.

Yang:….Sure.

xxxxxx

Whitley:Welcome to the breakfast express.

Yang:You need less money.

Blake:I bought some honey, syrup, and spices my mom made.

Whitley:This is why you’re my favorite member.

Ruby and Weiss:Wow that’s craaazy.

Veronica casually walks on board in her pjs and heads straight towards the twins without a second thought. She picks up a sleepy Summer that leans on her brother and moves her one seat down, then sits down. She tugs Summer so she falls back in place, offering her own right arm as a substitute while resting her head on Nick before promptly going back to sleep.

Yang:…At least she was nice about it.

xxxxxx

Knock Knock Knock

Tai:*opens door* ….Strawberry picking?

Yang and Ruby:Hehe, yeah.

Tai:I’ll go grab your old baskets.

xxxxxxx

Nick was used to the rich life, but even had to admit it was pretty surreal to be at home in the cold one moment, then woken up a few hours later to put on a sunhat and pick some berries. Everyone this morning was just…cool with it. This was life right now. Singing early birds and strawberry baskets.

Nick:Wasn’t there school today?

Summer:Don’t be lame and keep picking. Gods it smells nice out here. I’m a little jealous we don’t come here more often.

Valerie:The sun has barely risen and yet it’s so warm.

Veronica:Country air smells different from the sea or city life. I visit Gramps occasionally and even I’m not used to it. It’s pretty jarring.

Summer:Kinda like waking up in a different plane seat.

Veronica:If that’s what you want to compare it too.

Summer:Don’t sweep that under the rug!!!

xxxxx

Ruby:Pancakes 🎶

Yang:Whoop whoop🎶

Weiss:Pancakes 🎶

Winter.Whoop Whoop🎶

Nora:Pancakes pancakes pancakes pancakes🎶

Ren:Buttermilk, Strawberry, shortcake, or tall!🎶

Jaune:You already know I’m eating them all!🎶

Qrow :Crack a few eggs and hash a few browns!🎶

Tai:Put em on my plate and I’m gonna chow down!🎶

Penny:Grab a plate and some friends to tag along…🎶

Everyone:Took making cooking fun with the breakfast song!🎶

All the kids slowly set the table as they watched the grown ups cut up fruit, flip pancakes, pour drinks, and butter pans.

Veronica:You’re not gonna sing?

Blake:There are enough people in that kitchen.

Oscar:Yeah satisfied fixing chairs.

Whitley:*sitting* Zzzz

Sparrow:This guy planned everything and now decides to sleep!? *pokes face*

Ruby:Leave him alone!

Sparrow:Did she even turn around?

Oscar:Did she really need to with you?

xxxxxx

It took about half an hour before the smell of breakfast was rich enough to wake Whitley just in time. Now it was his who was wide awake as she happily carried trays in hand alongside Yang, Weiss, and Penny; they happily danced side to side in messy aprons as they put food on the table for everyone. Nora would’ve joined if she could be trusted, and Winter was happily on Nora restraint duty.

Stacks of strawberry pancakes in the shape of roses and buttermilk pancakes in the form of the sun were presented with hash browns, eggs, sausage, biscuits, ham, the whole spread and additional goodies for everyone to eat. They took their seat and looked at Whitley as if he wanted to make some grand speech.

Whitley:*smiles* You waiting for an invitation? *raises glass* To a good day.

Everyone:To a good day!

Not a moment was wasted passing around plates. Whitley went to grab a fork when his empty plate was suddenly replaced with a full breakfast by Ruby. The lady quickly cut a piece of the pancake drizzled in cinnamon syrup and raised to his face to make him blush.

Ruby:Thank you for the trip. Now say aaah~

Whitley:I-In front of everyone?

Ruby:Don’t be shy now. It’s just for the first bite. It’s tradition here. Then you give me a bite.

Qrow:If your sister can do it, you can too.

Winter:*chews shamefully*

They look at Weiss to see her eat off of Jaune’s fork without hesitation. She even opens her mouth again to receive another bite before giggling. Meanwhile the likes of Penny, Nora, and Blake, treated this like an everyday occurrence. With a display like that, Whitley had no choice but to summon the courage to say “aah” and get fed a bite.

Ruby:How is it!?

Whitley:…I can go for another.

[coolshadowtwins]

How Ep 5 could have went:

Alastor:🎶 it’s a little funny! You could almost call me dad!🎶

Lucifer: Hold on now-

Charlie, squealing: Oh my god, do you both want to be my dad?!

*record scratch*

Lucifer: Uh…?

Charlie: Are you guys going to be married then? What about mom?

Alastor: Princess-

Mimzy, bursting in the room: Alastor’s getting married?! Why didn’t you tell me?!

Lucifer: What?! Who s this??

Alastor: Mimzy! No you misheard-

Mimzy: Don’t you worry your little head, Ally! I will plan the whole thing! Unless you want Rosie to do it of course but just between you and me I think I have more style-

Lucifer: Hold on now-

Mimzy: Do you want a big wedding or a small one? I could see you going either way, with that ego of yours! Showing off to everyone in Hell that you managed to bag the King of Hell himself-!

Alastor: Mimzy, I am not getting married-

Mimzy: are we inviting the other overlords? Would it be rude to only invite Rosie? But, oh, you’ll probably want to show off, right? Ha! Could you imagine Vox’s face, having to sit through a ceremony like that?

Alastor:…

Lucifer: Huh?! You bastard, stop looking thoughtful-!

Mimzy: He’ll probably blue screen! …and take out the city’s power. Again.

Alastor: …. I think a large wedding would be preferred.

Charlie: Oh oh! We can have it here at the hotel!

Alastor: Excellent idea! Free marketing!

Lucifer: Have you all lost your minds?! We are not getting married!!

Alastor:….

Mimzy:….

Charlie:…

Mimzy:…. Cold feet so close to the wedding, huh? I hear it happens to the best of them.

Alastor: I’m sure he’ll work out his issues soon. Imagine how sad Charlie would be if I got left at the alter!

Charlie: It’s ok dad! Were you this nervous with mom too? … were you married to mom?

Lucifer: *screams*

[handmade-witch]

I Think He Knows ~

[AN: hi there! this is my first time ever posting my writing so feedback is appreciated~ i'm not sure yet if I'll post more writing, but I was proud of how this idea turned out. Hope you enjoy!!]

Pairing: Lorenzo Berkshire x Reader

🎶 I think he knows when we get all alone I'll make myself at home and he'll want me to stay. 🎶

You and Lorenzo sat on the floor of your room, a box of half a pizza and a near empty bottle of wine next to you. Music played from the speaker on your phone. You threw your head back in laughter, clutching your sore sides. Lorenzo grinned at you. He couldn't help but melt at the sound of your laugh. It was like sunshine, warming him from the inside out. And he loved being the reason you were laughing.

"Stop it! You're gonna mess it up!" You gasped, trying to catch your breath. You took Lorenzo's outstretched hand in yours, picking back up the nail polish brush. You bent your head over his hand, trying to concentate on your task.

Lorenzo couldn't help but admire you as he watched you. He had stopped trying to deny to himself that he had fallen completetly in love with his best friend. How could he not? You were funny, kind, and beautiful. He loved spending time with you and missed you terribly whenever you weren't around. You just made everything feel a little brighter for him.

🎶 I think he knows he better lock it down, or I won't stick around 'cause good ones never wait 🎶

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his enamored trance: "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Enzo felt his face flush and he turned his head. His hand was still held in yours.

"Just thinking." He hummed. You returned your attention back to his hands.

"About?" You inquired. You put the finishing touches on his right hand, switching to his left. He shrugged in response.

"I guess I've just been thinking about you a lot lately."

Now it was your turn to blush, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

"Oh?"

Silence hangs in the air between the two of you for a moment.

"If I say something can you promise me we'll still be friends?"

You dropped his hand. "Well now you're making me nervous Enzo."

🎶 He got that boyish look that I like in a man 🎶

"Do you every think we could be something more than friends?" He leaned forward, searching your face for a reaction. Trying to see if he had misread things, if he was pushing too far. Your eyes met his and you leaned forward too.

🎶 I am an architect, I'm drawing up the plans 🎶

"More than friends, Enzo?" You smirked, a mischevious glint in your eye. "But I thought we were already best friends?"

"More than best friends." His voice was barely a whisper. He smirked back at you, leaning even closer. His eyes flicked down to your lips and then back at you.

"Lorenzo Berkshire are you asking me out?"

🎶 He's so obsessed with me and boy I understand. Boy I understand. 🎶

"That depends," he chuckles softly, "on if you're going to say yes."

"And if I say yes?"

"Then my next question is: Can I kiss you?"

🎶 He got my heartbeat skipping down 16th avenue, got that oh! I mean- 🎶

You leaned forward, closing the gap and capturing his lips with yours. His lips were soft against yours. Yours tasted like cherry chapstick, he thought to himself. When the two of you broke apart you rested your foreheads together.

"God I've been waiting so long to do that." He breathed.

"What took you so long?" You teased.

🎶 Wanna see what's under that attitude 🎶

Lorenzo sat back very suddenly, looking offended. "Well I'm sorry." He crossed his arms across his chest, "You could've pulled your weight a bit more."

You laughed again, that throw-your-head-back cackle that had Lorenzo grinning like a lovesick fool.

🎶 Like, I want you, bless my soul 🎶

"Now look what you did." You scolded, taking his hand in yours. "After all of my hard work and you messed them up!" His nail polish was smudged.

Lorenzo just shook his head at you but sat still while you repainted his nails.

"So Berkshire, where are you taking me for our first date?"

🎶 And I ain't gotta tell him I think he knows 🎶

[thescarletnargacuga]

OOooOooh SCALEEETTT

Because until now do i realize that im allowed to put two asks-

MAY I SUGGEST THIS

WITH A LITTLE BIT OF CAINE BEING A SMUG MAN AND BOTHERING SHADOW ABOUT IT.

Ty🩷 DONT OVERWHELM YOURSELF WITH WORL IM WATCHING YOU

🫵

A/N:🎵I always feel like somebody's watching MEEEEE 🎶

SHADOWED ADMIRER

A SWEETTOOTH ONESHOT W/ SHADOW!CAINE

WARNING: little angsty, anxiety

~~~

The circus members gathered to await Caine to announce their daily adventure. They made idle chit chat fully unaware of the being luring in the shadows, watching.

Shadow made sure to peak subtly and silently, going completely unnoticed as he focused on one circus member in particular. The red headed ragdoll, Ragatha. Her cheerful smile and sparkling eye make his heart skip a beat. She always seemed so full of life and energy, it made him almost wish he could go on adventures too.

Her braided yarn hair looked soft to the touch, I often wondered what it would be like to have it run between his fingers. He was even envious of her patchwork dress, as it got to hug her frame every second of every day. He left out a quiet, lovesick sigh. He knew he could never tell her, but it was nice to think about what it would be like to hold her...to kiss her...to tell her how much he-

"Morning!" Caine popped into existence next to his shaded kin.

Shadow completely dispersed for a second, becoming nothing but black smoke that clung to the walls, then reformed with a glare aimed directly at Caine.

"What are you up to on this fine day?" Caine asked with a smile.

"Nothing. [%$!#] off." Shadow grumbled.

Caine looked over at his circus members in the distance. Then back at Shadow. "Wait...were you spying again? You know you could just ask me what adventure I have planned. I don't mind telling you."

"This isn't about you." Shadow noticed some of the circus members looking his way and he moved out of sight. "Now go away. You're too loud."

Caine narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "If it's not me...what is it? Hm? You jealous my cast gets to go on adventures?"

Shadow felt heated by Caine's incessant questions. "No! I don't give a flying [%$!#] about your adventures!"

"Alright, then WHO is it? Who are you watching so obsessively?"

"I'm not obsessed!"

"Shadow, this is the third time this week alone I've caught you snooping. Come on, you can tell me."

"The [%$!#] I can. You'll just announce it to the whole circus!"

"I will not! In fact, I don't want you to tell me. I'll just guess." Caine smirked.

"You really don't listen when people tell you to go away...and you wonder why no one likes you." Shadow didn't bother disappearing. caine would just follow him if he did. At least here he could occasionally glance at Ragatha.

"No need to make this personal." Caine cleared his voice. "Now, I am convinced this is about a particular person. You have a crush."

Shadow was no better at hiding his emotions than Caine. "Wha-!? No!"

"Uh-huh, sure you don't. Is it Pomni? Because I hate to break it to you, she's called for."

"Eugh! NO! That ball of anxiety in a jester hat is all yours, you freak."

Caine deadpanned. "You should really look in a mirror sometime. Not Pomni. That's a relief. Jax?"

"No! None of them! I wouldn't tell you even if you guessed correctly."

"Ah-ha! So there is a correct answer!"

"[%$!#]" Shadow swore under his breath.

"Okay, it's got to be Gangle. I didn't think someone as sweet as her would be your type, but-"

"Will you knock it off already!? God! Fine! IT'S RAGATHA!" He said so loud, it echoed through the circus. The cast members that had been talking all stopped to look around for the source. Shadow and Caine were out of sight where they were. Shadow lowered his voice before continuing. "There. Now can you [%$!#] off already!? Just leaving me alone!"

"Ragatha?? Wow, that's an even bigger surprise than Gangle. Come on, Shadow, you shouldn't be ashamed! Ragatha is wonderful! I could introduce you."

"NO! No! Absolutely not! She isn't getting wind of ANY of this! Understand!?" Shadow blushed heavily in his flustered panic.

Caine sighed dramatically. "Fiiiiiiine. Mum's the word. Promise. Cross my code and hope to fly!"

"....that's not how- whatever." Shadow pinched the top of his bottom teeth in exasperation. "Just don't tell her. Seriously. It's...better if she doesn't know."

"But why? I bet she'd love to go on a double date with you and me and Pomni. They're best friends, you know. And even if she wasn't interested, she'd be nice about it. Ragatha is a very kind person."

Shadow was silent for a moment. "It's not the rejection...it's the disgust."

"What do you mean?"

"LOOK AT US!!" Shadow snapped. "You got lucky finding someone so pathetically desperate, they accepted affection from the likes of us. Ragatha would never."

Caine was taken aback, then angry. "There's no need to insult Pomni. Her interest sees past this." He gestures to himself. "It's not about the avatar, it's about the person behind it."

"We aren't people, Caine. We're.... we're nothing but code. And I'm even less than that. I'm not even rendered." Shadow looked at his inky black hands.

"Don't be so quick to judge how she'd react, Shadow. I had the same fears confessing to Pomni. How could she love an AI like me? And yet, here we are. It wasn't out of desperation. It was out of mutual respect and longing for connection. If you respect Ragatha, you'll tell her. Creeping in the shadows will get you nowhere."

Shadow went quiet again. His eyes falling on Ragatha. His heart ached to tell her, but it ached even more out of fear. "Not...yet. I can't."

Caine nodded. "It takes time, but don't wait too long. You know I can't keep my mouth shut forever." He winked and teleported to the circus members to introduce the adventure.

With everyone properly distracted, Shadow could look fully again and admire Ragatha from afar. His daydream of her smile being aimed at him was interrupted by the intrusive thought of her being angry and insulted that he dare say anything to her. He tried to shake it, but thinking about confessing made fear grip his heart. She'd never accept him. She'd never want him. He would forever belong to the shadows. Alone.

[chloeworships]

As I created this image I heard

“The Plan”

This is what the LORD showed me.

See Psalm 119 for details and pay attention because the LORD is about to reveal his instructions. Act immediately when he does.

He’s too funny though. He showed me his writing ✍🏾 ☺️🥰😍

What you up to God? What you up to bestie? 👀😅

Why am I hearing “he’s making a list, he’s checking it twice, he’s gonna find out if you’re naughty or nice” 🎅 hahhaahahahaa oh myyyy. Btw Santa means Saint in Spanish. Santa was St. Nick who helped rescue two girls from being sold into human trafficking. He gave all this wealth away to make others happy. So when we celebrate Christmas, remember St. Nick and his altruism and since I am hearing this song and the LORD spoke about singing a song in Isaiah 12, something will happen on or before this Christmas.

The 12th month of the year is Christmas 🎁

PS. Maybe he’s doing something for the December babies… again. I keep getting this.

I think God loves the number 12 too. There were 12 disciples 🫣

I also heard the movie Schindler’s list. Babes on a day like today this is deeply meaningful

😯

Verse 6 confirms the dream the LORD gave me with him standing amongst the crowd as they cheered and watched Israel burn. It confirms he lives among us. He saw it all babes. He saw it all.

Whatever has passed and transpired in your life was apart of his plan ✅

Come back and testify to the goodness of our God!!

[kuroppiii]

Hi! I saw your Brazilian reader and I was wondering if you could do it again? This time its Sugawara x Filipino reader where she is an exchange student from the Philippines? I hope this is ok, thank you!

  binibini ᵕ̈       sugawara kōshi x filipina!reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : japanese boy tries to ⋮⋮  harana no clickbait

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 🥛     ♡ # ~850 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 ( wow i got carried away )

🎶 on shuffle “ mundo ” - iv of spades

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ SOBRANG OKAY YAN ! started doing backflips when i first saw this nonnie , salamat sa request mo 🫶 i hope you like it !!! ( i ' ve said this before but my tagalog isn ' t the best :,) so pls correct me nicely if i ' m mistaken anywhere ! ) ”

sugawara was spacing off the day you arrived

he didn’t even catch when the teacher announced their section has just received a new transfer student

but what he did notice, was how stunning you were once you walked into the classroom

like the grip on his pen goes slack and it rolls off his desk and onto the floor clattering (😭😭😭)

he quickly picks it up before looking back up to find which desk you just sat down at

he sneaks glances at you the whole rest of the period

AND WHEN YOU ACCIDENTALLY CATCH HIM 🫠

internally he panics and freaks out and almost shuts down completely bc what if you thought he was looking at you bc he thought you were weird or something

when that is DEFINITELY not the case!!!

so on the outside he gives you a warm and reassuring smile

if you smiled back before looking to the front of the classroom again

you’d miss how his ears have turned an excruciatingly obvious shade of red

he’ll ask around about you during volleyball practice, specifically with the other third years

“have you seen that new girl in your classes too?” [sugawara]

“which one?” [asahi]

“y/n? the one from the philippines?” [daichi]

“the philippines?!” [sugawara]

he had no clue (since bro was not locked in when the teacher first introduced you)

now he’s wondering how you’re getting by, coming to a completely new country and all

can you speak the language here? are you having a hard time? can he help you with that?

sugawara’s such a gentleman, he can’t help but worry for your well being!

(he especially can’t help it when you look so pretty whenever you pass him in the halls in-between classes)

sugawara isn’t necessarily a shy guy, so he eventually (bc granted it took a few days for him to muster up the courage) comes up to you one day at the end of class

“hello! how is school here for you so far?” [sugawara]

“oh! um, it—” [you]

“MY NAME’S SUGAWARA BY THE WAY OR YOU CAN CALL ME SUGA EITHER IS FINE.” [sugawara]

yeah he totally nailed that. went totally to plan

“my name’s y/n. nice to meet you sugawara!” [you]

you know enough to talk to him oh my god you’re talking to him so he feels more encouraged to keep talking to you more!

whether that’s after class, or in passing in the halls

or for instance he’ll eat lunch with you if he ever sees you eating alone while you’re still in the process of making friends after your initial transfer

shows interest in what baon you have packed for the day

always eager to listen to you talk about where you’re from and your stories from back home

as you talk, he listens sooo intently with the most admiring look on his face "he wants that cookie so fucking bad"

if you get hung up on finding a translation for a word, he’ll help you through it

is quickly looking up translations of words in tagalog on his phone under the lunch table

he thinks you don’t catch it but you totally do he’s not slick

(despite this, sometimes you make it into a little game)

“so it’s like mcdonald’s?” [sugawara]

“nooo! jollibee isn’t a… a… ? oh, what is it in japanese—?” [you]

“franchise? like more than one shop?” [sugawara] (furious typing can be heard)

“no, it’s the person with makeup.” [you]

“mascot? the one in a costume?” [sugawara] (more aggressive backspacing and typing as he occasionally glances to something at his side)

“almost! the one with big shoes!” [you]

“clown? pasayo?” [sugawara]

“yes, clown! thanks suga!” [you]

(your smile is so cute as you thank him for helping you that he feels like he can melt right then and there) (you knew the word for “clown” the whole time)

asks ukai like every week if his store is carrying any of the snacks or foods you’ve mentioned—chippy, clover, piattos, mang juan, pancit canton—anything he can get his hands on to see your face light up when he surprises you with it

will watch any teleseryes you recommend

and when he sees the whole harana courting deal on those shows, he’s like “ok bet”

that’s how he’s going to turn this friendship to something more!

will start offering to walk you home sometimes, and if you live with family members he would try to get good on their good side and always politely waves hi to them when he drops you off

writes you small and cute notes in class or slips them into your bag when you’re not looking as his own kind of love letter sitch

and when he’s ready to really shoot his shot

he has kiyoko to help him fold origami flowers (real ones would’ve been harder to hide in his bag) so cute i’m sobbing </3

and before he drops you off one day, he might not feel confident enough to sing to you 😭

butttt instead he finds popular filo songs and queues them up to play from his phone in his pocket

then he gives you the flowers <3

“p-pwede ba kitang maging boyfriend? (google translated "can i be your boyfriend?")” [sugawara]

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist : @akaakeis , @19calicos , @berrisweet kumusta lovelies ;)

[rosewaterandivy]

got lovesick all over my bed

Summary: it might be worth it for once.

Warnings: facetime shenanigans, rockstar!gf had one too many glasses of merlot, my usual brand of filth™️

a/n: be a slut, do whatever you want!

🎶 everyone wants him, that was my crime, the wrong place at the right time 🎶

It was stupid.

Borne of desperation and one too many glasses of red wine, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Steve was off filming for the next few weeks and you were back in an empty house in Laurel Canyon. You tried, unsuccessfully, to not be a bitter Betty about it all; oh, woe is me! My incredibly talented boyfriend has to go back to work.

Were you even his girlfriend? 

Jesus Christ.

It’s been what, less than two weeks and you’re already spiralling. 

Shuffling from the couch you pocket your phone and try to ignore the desire to double-text.

Hey

Could you be any more pathetic? Hadn’t even “defined the relationship,” whatever that meant, and already slipping. You know he’s busy, on-set, and suffering through night shoots in the desert somewhere.

Leaning against the island of your kitchen, you uncork some wine and pour it into a glass. Watching as the crimson liquid sloshes against the curved glass, you idly wonder if you should seal the deal and live your best Olivia Pope fantasy by having popcorn for dinner.

Before you could think better of it, you felt the subtle vibration of your phone in your pocket,

S.H.: Hey yourself

wow, so clever

wow, so bratty

You bit your lip and took a sip of wine in an attempt to quell the low swoop of your stomach.

The texts were intermittent for the next hour or so before he was called back to set. It was a nice distraction from the utter lack of plans you had for the evening. Your producer had sent over the final mix of your new album that you needed to proof and sign off on, so that was the plan while Steve was off filming for the next few hours.

He’d asked if he could call you later, once filming wrapped for the evening and you’d agreed not realizing that it would be nearing  2 a.m. and you’d be half a bottle in. 

Settled back in your bedroom freshly showered and laptop atop the duvet cover, you’re only briefly startled when the FaceTime ring trills out.

“Shit!” 

You quickly pause the song you were listening through and hope you look halfway decent before answering Steve’s call. Mussing your hair, you minimize the image of yourself and enlarge the one of him.

“Hey sweetheart.”

Steve smiles slow and sweet, huffing a laugh at your poor attempts at primping.

“Stop messing with your hair, you look great.”

“Uh huh,” you brush off with a smirk, “Watch me make red wine drunk the next trendy TikTok look.”

He looks to be back at the Palm Springs house, settled against the headboard of the bed that you swore was going to fall off the wall from the sheer amount of times he’d fucked you into the mattress the last time you visited. 

Your skin warms at the thought.

“Can’t wait.” He smiles and takes a screenshot as you flip him off, he’s always doing shit like that— his iPhone or one of his many film cameras or, your least favorite, FaceTime. Says he has to have up-to-date photos of you for the Missing Person posters he'll make once the coyotes finally get you out in the Canyon.

What a dork.

“How was your day?”

“Oh fine,” you say with a sigh. “Did a whole bunch of nothing, showered, I was proofing the final tracks for the album and then you called.”

“Oh,” he pulls a face, grimacing because he thinks he’s disrupted you at work, “I can fuck off if you—”

“Harrington, if you finish that sentence I swear to god—”

“Fine, fine,” he relents with a chuckle and runs a hand through his hair, knocking the glasses off of his head. “So that’s where these went.”

You roll your eyes, this man, honestly.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just tired is all.” He heaves a sigh. “These night shoots are the fucking worst.”

You hum, “I can imagine. The cold desert at night?” You blow a raspberry, “And you’re worried about coyotes carrying me off?”

“I have a vested interest in your safety, y’know.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” You tease, taking another sip of wine. “I got thick thighs and a fat ass, and the only person I want to eat me is you.”

“Aww, I’m touched.” Steve laughs, hand to his heart. “Look at you, gettin’ all sappy and borderline cannibalistic over FaceTime.”

“I know,” you demure and bat your lashes. “I’m so emotionally mature.” Setting the glass on the nightstand, you lean forward inadvertently giving him a generous view of your tits.

“Anyway,” you sit back against the pillows of your bed. “What’re you wearing, honey?”

It’s like his brain glitches for a moment or two, and he needs to reboot. 

“Uh,” he glances down with a furrowed brow. “Boxer briefs.”

“Thrilling.”

Could it be that Steve’s never done something like this before? It hadn’t been exactly discussed between you, but he was looking so delectable and you missed him so much.

Fuck it.

“What about you?”

A slow smile splits your face, a waggle of your brows. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Instead of a verbal reply, you pan the camera down to display your latest lingerie acquisition— pale pink and adorned with tasteful floral embroidery, because Steve is a sucker like that. You can hear him swallow and his shallow breaths from the speakers.

“D’ya like it?”

“Fuck.”

There was a rustling sound as he settled more comfortably on the bed. The room lights were dimmed casting shadows across his bronzed skin, an errant lock of hair falling in his face. His voice was so low when it came through the speakers that it sent heat straight to the pit on your stomach, “Wish you were here.”

“Me too baby,” you purr and set the macbook further down on your bed. “Tell you what,” you say taking a final sip of wine, “Why don’t you go ahead and record this for those lonely desert nights, hmm?”

His eyes nearly fall out of his skull. “Y’sure?”

“Course I am handsome.”

He was leaned over in front of the camera, undoubtedly attempting to prop it up on something and hit record.

“Gonna be good for me?” you rasp when he comes back into view, “Let me take my time with you?”

Steve nods, eyes finding yours as his breaths even out. You watched him hook his thumbs into the band of the boxer briefs and drag them down his toned thighs on screen. His hard length sprung to his stomach once the waistband passed his tip, hard and thick where it lay. You licked your lips.

He took himself slow, his fist tight at his tip as he slid down his length at an excruciating pace. That was how he usually slid into you, savoring that first push as you surround his cock in your warmth.     

Your core fluttered in time with the stroke of his palm, slow and deep passes up and down his length that would no doubt feel like ecstasy inside you.

“Feel good baby?” 

You own hand skates down your torso, lingering here and there before ever so gently brushing against your clit. 

“Thinkin’ about my pretty mouth wrapped around your cock?”

He let out a moan, eyes rolling back at a particularly good stroke. 

Fingers stuttering over your clothed clit, your free hand snakes behind you to unclasp the bra and let it fall down your arms. 

You watched as he fell back fully on the bed, his hand picking up pace as the other reached down to cup his balls. A choked moan came from the screen followed by even more hushed words. 

“Miss you daddy,” you whine. “Want your big cock fucking my mouth n’ gettin’ me all messy.”

Barely able to swallow around your dry mouth, you watched him lift his head and watched his hand stroke his length. Steve’s face was obscene; eyebrows furrowed deeply and mouth hanging open in pleasure.

You were overstimulated if anything, never imagining you would have such a visual of him getting off while you were beyond wet, almost uncomfortably so. Your clit pulsed as you caught on screen Steve moan a choked fuck as he writhed on his borrowed bed. 

Fingers pressing headily against your clit, you rubbed tight circles around the slick bud at the sight on the screen. Couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this wet for long-distance sex, no matter the hour. Dipping your fingers beneath the lace of your underwear, the slick of your slit wetting your fingertips. 

A small whimper left your lips as the contact, wishing that they were Steve’s fingers slipping through your folds instead. 

“Fuck, I’m so wet for you.”

He cursed deeply as he slowed his pace, mostly likely trying to hold out from coming too soon. Everything made it hard for you to articulate what you wanted at that moment.

On screen Steve brought you back, his head tilted back as he pumped his length beautifully. You could see his stomach tensing. You could see the tops of his thighs jumping before they disappeared from the camera’s view where they hung off the edge of the bed. You could see his jaw clench every time his tight fist circled his tip. The sound of him spit slick and stroking himself was so lewd paired with his pants and moans. 

While you were enamored with the screen, the fingers of your free hand brushed your nipples. You couldn’t stop your gasp if you wanted to. Every touch had your cunt clenching and begging for attention.

You could tell he was close, and kept teasing your skin but refrained from dipping a finger into your slit. Your breathing was labored, soft whines elicited from the back of your throat as on screen Steve moaned your name. 

“So pretty daddy, wanna see you come so bad.”

He was breathless at hearing your words, the low rasp of your voice filtering through the speakers. Fuck, does he miss you. 

You sigh again, whimper like a little punctuation, sheets rustling. “Thinkin’ bout your tongue and how wet you make me,” and your voice is so low, so needy, “I wish you were here. Touching me all over.” And the picture in his mind of you, so pretty and open, wild at the mere memory of him—

“Keep going. Think about me riding you, baby. Slow at first, how you like, taking you a little bit at a time. You’re always so hard.”

There it is, egging his own fist on to match the pace of a subtle and steady sluiced-up rhythm, your fingers working over, inside, back out, twisting and turning.

He’s lost in the way his heart pounds all the harder at the sounds you make because it means you’ve let yourself go. How you’d scramble for his fingers next, lacing them through yours, squeezing him there and everywhere.

And oh, how exquisite you look with that sheen of sweat across your chest. Hovering over him like a goddess and fucking him like a wet dream.

“Baby,” red lip pulled pale between his teeth, hands working in tandem—imitation and imagination constructing a well-oiled machine in your absence. “Baby, fuck. Miss you on me—miss you fucking me. God–”

“Yeah? Gonna come?” You’re panting, too, noises high and obscene, the background echo of your hand growing more frantic and unrestrained. “Me too, pretty boy. I want to do everything with you—have all of you. Your hands, your mouth, your cock.”

It’s all too fast. Your words, his words, your hands, his hands. Feels like he’s barely started when his eyes roll back against his lids. He’s spilling out, over his fist, up his clenched abdomen, body pulled tight, panting heavy and hard as he tugs at himself a few more times, breathing and listening, heart rattling against his ribcage when you whimper one last time.

Watching him come was enough to bring you hurtling over the edge, fingers pumping messily in and out of your sopping cunt, imagining yourself there and clenching around him instead. Your eyes flutter close, your release drenching your hand.

Steve aches then. His eyes flutter open. Heat smothered cold and lonesome like the embers of a dying fire. His neck hurts. His heart hurts.

“Babe,” you say and he hears it in you, too—the same ache, the same want. Like at the end of every call you’ve made to him since you’d left Palm Springs.

“When you get back,” you sigh, the telltale mantle of sleep falling over you, “I’m gonna let you know just how much I miss you.”

He’s hot all over, chasing the ghost of your doting kisses, the phantom touch of your skillful hands. “Jesus, sweetheart.”

A cheeky wink followed by a sleepy wave, and then you’re gone.

He closes out of FaceTime and types out a text to Robin.

Need an appointment with Lorraine Schwartz ASAP pls.

And if he peruses the jeweler’s instagram studying engagement rings for the next hour, well, no one needs to know.

[crappymixtape]

soft sweet sounds

EDIT -> there’s a part II cos 🫠 — okay, well apparently you get this from horny!me at 7:30am on a monday ( idk what my problem is 😵‍💫 ) – roommate!steve comes home from work to hear you in your room upset and he just can't help himself from offering you a shoulder to cry on | ( 958 words – roommates -> something?, tiny fluff, tiny smut, steve x you )

S O F T S W E E T S O U N D S 🎶 touch tank, quinnie

It had seemed silly to Steve at first, living with you. Living with his best friend, but it was cheap and made paying the bills easier because god knew Family Video wasn’t making him rich anytime soon. And you’d figured out a routine, shared your work schedules, told each other when you’d be out late or staying over with your boyfriend — or Steve with someone else. Cooked dinner together and watched movies until 1am and no pressure. Ever.

Until now.

He’d just come home from his shift at Family Video and could hear soft crying coming from behind your door. His stomach twisted with worry as he sat his keys on the counter, wondering what happened, wondering what your asshole boyfriend did this time.

Steve hated him. Your boyfriend. He was a complete douchebag and if it wasn’t him forgetting to pick you up at work it was making plans and flaking out an hour before, so you’d have to excuse Steve for assuming your crying was his fault.

Walking down the hallway Steve pressed a his palm to you door, the other resting on the handle.

“Hey,” he called out, gentle, sympathetic, “Everything okay?” And as he slowly pushed it open, he swore what he saw was going to kill him right there on the spot.

Your cries weren’t cries at all, not even close to sad or upset as his brain worked overtime to process what he’d walked in on.

You.

Laid out all pretty on your bed.

Panties hooked around your knees and your shirt rucked up your stomach. Hand pressed between your thighs as your fingers drew tight, messy circles over your clit. A pinch between your brows with how good it was making you feel, so good you didn’t hear the door at first, but then you did hear Steve.

Heard him asking if you were okay.

Heard him coming into your room without knocking and it was all just a second too late.

“Oh shit–Jesus Christ–oh my god–I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, fuck-“

“Steve??” you gasped, yanking your sheets over your body in a failed attempt to hide as he practically tripped over his own feet and back out into the hallway.

“Fuck. Shit,” he pressed his back into the wall, chest heaving and heart hammering heavy against his ribcage, unable to breathe. What was he thinking??

A huge invasion of privacy. A fucking rookie move. ‘Doesn’t anyone knock anymore??’ he hears a voice mock in his head. There’s no way you’d trust him after that.

Burying his face in his hands he groaned, you idiot! Waited for you to yell at him to get out, to take his things and find somewhere else to live, but then your door slowly opened again revealing a sliver of your face. Cheeks flushed and pink, a lighter tinge than the deep red that had settled on his.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a minute as he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I just heard crying and–but obviously you weren’t crying—I just thought something bad happened and–and I know how he can get sometimes, so I thought you were upset and maybe I’d try and cheer you up, but I didn’t know you were in there doing that and–“

“Steve,” you said softly, cheeks still pink. Still warm from teasing yourself. Still warm from Steve, “It’s okay.”

He opened his eyes slowly and looked at you through the crack in the door. Your curls perfectly messed. Framing your face. The soft curve of your lips, the long sweep of your lashes, the half smile you were giving him and he exhaled. A small sigh of relief.

“I’m really sorry,” he said again, features still pulled down with concern as he roughed his hands through his hair, still stressed and worried about what you’d think of him now.

“It’s okay, it was really sweet of you to worry about me,” you reassured him, opening the door a little more. Enough for him to see you’d put on a pair of pajama shorts, you shirt half tucked into the waistband in haste.

“Sure, course,” he murmured, the lines of worry on his face melting at the sound of your voice.

“I broke up with him,” you confessed, chewing at your bottom lip. The sting of having an ex now instead of a boyfriend still fresh, but the lack of weight on your shoulders told you you’d made the right decision.

“Oh,” fell from his lips softly, sorry again, his mouth pulling down into a half frown again.

“I know,” a small sigh pushed itself from your lungs as you leaned against the door frame, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“Anything I can do?” Steve asked, and he meant it. He’d give you the world and all the stars and galaxies. Give you whatever you asked for. Anything.

“Uhm,” you murmured, a little shy, but feeling bolder as Steve took a step toward you. His hair falling messy across his forehead, big brown eyes edged with long lashes. Your best friend. Your roommate. Your Steve. His lips parted ever so slightly, hanging on your silence. Waiting.

Anticipating.

“Could you help me?” you asked, swallowing down the nerves in your throat as your hand reached out to tangle your fingers up with his.

“H–help you?” Steve’s voice sounded strangled, like he couldn’t quite understand what you were asking of him, and so you decided to show him instead.

“Yeah, please?” and you lifted the hand that was wrapped up in his and pressed his palm against the plush of your waist. Pulled him back into your room. Tugged him down into you and kicked the door shut behind you and asked him to help you forget about things for just a little while.

crappymixtape™ • steve harrington masterlist // stranger things masterlist ♥️ reblogs and comments keep me going, friends! ily! ♥️

[siriuslychessi]

Day 01

@jilytoberfest

AO3 || FF

🎶 “Before the dawn I hear you whisper in your sleep, ‘Don’t let the morning take him.’” 🎶 - Judas Priest - Before the Dawn.

James had been gone for most of the night. The Order had gotten details of dark magic being registered in Crawley and there was a stake out with James, Sirius and the Gideon brothers, trying to see if the allegations were true. 

Most of the night they had been squinting in the dark trying not to get caught. At some point they split and Sirius decided to turn into Padfoot, see if they could manage to get their other senses to work properly and get this sorted sooner rather than later, because the autumn night had them beat and soaken due to the light rain that did not seem to stop. 

It was 4am when they finally decided that whatever it was that was tipped to the Ministry it was either a poor bloke’s imagination or just false alarms. And it was 4:20 when, after getting home and finally out of the damped clothes and into warm pyjamas, James got into bed next to his wife.

Sleep did not find James, even with Lily next to him, in the safety and warmth of their home, his mind kept thinking of the outside world. How it seemed that no matter how much they tried the prospect of seeing the end of the war was almost none. No matter how many missions they took, or how many tips they followed, it felt like Voldermot and their followers were ages ahead of them. 

He sighed, as if trying to push the bad thoughts away. To try and hold on to hope. 

Lily stirred next to him, and he could not help but turn to his side. 

Her hair cascaded on her pillow, and he could smell the faint scent of her apple shampoo and floral perfume from the day before. 

His heart twisted familiarly, with a love so immense that it could not be contained by just that muscle, and all his worries quieted as he let love take it all. 

James let the familiar weight of Lily’s body next to him anchor him to his marriage, to his family and love. Letting go of the worries of dark wizards and even obscure plans, and just letting himself remember to feel the happiness, the hope that this too shall pass and that what would remain would be them.

Lily moved beside him once more, whimpers escaped her lips as if in pain, her hands holding onto something; the sheets, the matters, even her pillow; as if she was preventing someone from leaving. “Not him,” she pleaded in her sleep, “not James…” she continued, and James realised that she was having a nightmare. 

He moved swiftly and carefully shook Lily’s shoulder, “Lily,” he shook her again, “Love, it’s just a nightmare, I’m here.” he repeated a couple of times, until she was finally awake, her green eyes bright even in the darkness, looking everywhere, as if there was some ghost that would get them if she was not alert. 

“It was just a dream.” he repeated, his hand on her cheek, moving it to look at him, to pay attention to his words, his touch. “I’m right here.”

It took a moment for Lily’s eyes to focus back on James, his worried face, also his squinting eyes due to the lack of specs. All Lily could do was stare, look at the man in front of her and how he looked worried, tired, but okay. He was safe, he was not in any dungeon being tortured, or almost dead in an unknown place, he was there, with her. Her heart filled with relief. 

“J-james,” she choked a sob and held him close, feeling all of him, his thinning frame, his tousled hair, his safe arms, even the raspy five shadow beard that was about to grow. The soft and rough edges all mixing into one thing: James. “You’re s-safe,” she repeated, more to calm herself than for any of them to be sure. 

“I am,” he said softly, just holding her close, his hand rubbing her back softly. Hoping somehow that it would calm her. “I’m home, we are okay.” he repeated and let her cry, because the gods knew that they needed to vent their frustrations from time to time. 

“I’m so happy.” she replied, in contrast with her tears, but he knew they were of relief and not of sadness. That sometimes the world was too much and you needed to come undone. 

After a while Lily calmed, the sun started to come out slowly, the room catching the yellow and oranges of dawn, James and Lily just holding each other; James finally asleep, Lily praying that morning would not take him, that this was not just a dream within a dream.