#This is becoming quite suspenseful for me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-leclerc · 3 months ago

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don’t lock the door ☆ cs55

genre: fluff, humor, smut, angst, thriller/suspense, mentions of depression, mentions of suicide, mentions of homicide, erotic literature, tragedy

word count: 9k

An oleander is beautiful—yet deadly. You’re beautiful—yet deadly. But Carlos has always been gentle, and has always known how to take care of things he loves. And even if he doesn’t, he’s willing to learn, just for you. But you can’t outrun secrets. Not when they have everything to do with the only thing he adores—you.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... fingering, riding, car sex

STOP AND READ:

The story you are about to read is not meant to be admired or looked up to. Regularly, the types of fics that I like to present to all of you are light, humorous, and sweet. While I feel that this story does have occasional glimpses of that, it also deals with heavy topics such as; suicide, depression, and homicide. At the end of the day, I care about all my readers, so if any of you feel like this is not something for you then you are always welcomed to head over to my masterlist for much lighter reads. You all know me by now, so you must know that sometimes I like to mix a story of traditional love with a dash of real life struggles, such as trauma and guilt, in this case. With that, I hope you enjoy word for word.

cherry here!...did you miss me????

Tension is normally one’s enemy. It’s fairly simple, you try your best to avoid what makes your skin crawl. Isn’t that how the story goes?

Not quite.

There’s tension, yes, but it's only because you’re the opposite sex. Nothing beyond that. It could also be because you’re both introduced to each other as a pair of miserable singles. Lewis is the person you share in common.

She’s a close friend, he proclaims as you two shake hands. The touch is sticky, just like hot glue— and for a minute—it feels like a knife cuts this invisible strain in half. He lets himself salivate over your lioness stare; dark, sharp, amorous. You lean towards him just the same; dominant, mature, suggestive.

I’ve seen you race.

He hums, still attached to your desirable touch. Yeah? Why haven’t I seen you then?

Fingers press sternly against his warm skin, as if to provoke him more than he already feels himself falling into. It should be alarming the way his mind slips into a frenzy because of it, but likes it. The rush.

Maybe because I wasn’t rooting for you.

There. Right then, he disconnects. I was hoping that wouldn’t be the case.

You grin. Well, now you know.

“You know what? Mingle—”

“Who says mingle?” you and Carlos question at the same time, judgemental eyes staring coldly.

Lewis blushes. “I-I-Is that not a thing anymore?” Silence. “Fuck, I really am getting old...”

The night consists of mimosas, because according to you, it reminds you of your late-mother. “She liked something fruity, but also fun enough to make her head spin. It was entertaining to watch.”

“How so?”

“She’d ramble on and on. Slurred about her dreams.” A sad smile. “That’s the only reason why I ever found out she wanted to become an author. She was fifty—five decades too old—but she said she wanted one last adventure before retiring. It didn’t even matter if she made it onto the New York Times Best Seller list.”

The way your eyes even out, round and almost doughy, makes him trip for a second because this is not the same girl he shook hands with nearly three hours ago. No, this version of you was almost childlike, but he supposes that's how everyone who loses a parent becomes.

It comes out shy—closed off—your laugh. As if you just caught yourself being too vulnerable. That was always the worst. “Look at me making you my therapist. I have got to stop doing that.”

His mouth opens lamely, ghostly scoff sitting upon his lips. And if it were to be released, it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. It was a weird thing to note. “I like hearing you talk.”

A beat. “We’ve only just met.”

Carlos grins, crinkles tracing the corner of his eyes like some beauty. “Then let's meet some more.”

The opportunity is there, the kind you’ve been looking for. With a sheepish smile, you nod. “I should warn you though, I’m a bit of a mess.”

Finally, the scoff escapes. And like envisioned, you laugh at the sound.

“Consider me warned.”

He fucked you that same night in the back of his car. It was late, so dark that you barely even had the chance to register the fact that you squirted all over his vintage Ferrari.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he pants as he snaps his hips up again, fast motion making you head loll bad. You wonder what he means, but as soon as his long fingers circle your swollen bud, you’re just as good as gone.

He asked you out an hour later, when he dropped you off right in front of your apartment. You happily accepted, unable to hide your excitement.

Your smile falters. “Give me a reason as to why I should say yes.”

“Um, well, you sort of already said…yes?”

The confusion that settles onto his handsome features makes you glow with satisfaction. “I could always change my mind. Pretend this night never even happened.”

Panic rushes harshly against his shoulders. He doesn’t even know why he cares so much, but he does.

Vulnerability is a bitch.

“Huh,” he hums, relaxing against his seat, head hitting the expensive cushion. And you can see it. The challenge. He clicks his tongue, bored all of a sudden. “Listen, I want you, but I certainly don’t need you.”

You realize right there and then—you met your match.

You realize right there and then—you two share the same green pride.

You realize right there and then—

“It was nice getting to know you.”

The only reason you’re even friends with someone like Lewis is because your mother married rich.

Filthy fucking rich.

Then, somehow, married richer by her third and last marriage. The man was twisted, but you never knew just how much. Not for a very long time.

He dabbled in stocks, or some boring shit like that, and later invested in some other crap. Somewhere along the line, you met the Brit.

The same Brit who now hisses at you through the phone.

“God damn it, what happened? Weren’t you two getting along?”

You sigh, rubbing your feet together as you admire the way the navy blue paint covers your pedicured nails. Stormy clouds match your mood as you shake the bottle of pills that lay on top of your desk.

“He’s too vain.”

He groans. “You my dear, dear friend, are looking into a mirror then, I suppose.”

A sharp gasp. “Are you insinuating I’m the same?”

“If the shoe fits…”

“May I remind you that you sit and stare at yourself for God knows how long before any race? Newflash, dickhead, you’re going to sweat, look like shit, and one out of ten times, you’re going to win.”

“I see I triggered something.” He sighs heavily. The sound tells you he’s not really upset or anything, but more so worried. Ever since she died, you’ve been that way.

Snappy. Defensive.

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be. I know you.”

And although he can’t see, you still smile fondly. Rattling the bottle of antidepressants, you inch up higher and higher onto your chair until you face your own reflection. Shattered glass stares back at you as you feverishly look down.

“Do you still have an extra pass to this weekend's race?”

There had to be something wrong with you. Everyone could tell, and quite frankly, you could agree. Would you admit to it out loud? No, now that’s something different. Or maybe you’re just odd. That would also make sense. Whatever it was, it would explain as to why everyone around you screams with excitement as the fast cars fly by. You, on the other hand, simply stare with straight lips and empty eyes.

While all clap cheerfully when Lewis finishes on the third step, you cross your arms. While everyone runs out of the Mercedes garage to declare front row, you drag your feet slowly to the last.

While Carlos makes eye contact as he lifts his trophy—notably bigger than the Brits—you yawn.

You’re not impressed.

She’s not impressed, the Spaniard remembers thinking to himself as he smiles wider towards the stacks of cameras that turn him temporarily blind. He selfishly thinks you’re here for him, but he knows that's straight bullshit. Truth be told, it didn’t seem like you were here to support your friend either.

“It’s been so long,” Lewis huffs in disbelief as you stare across with vacant eyes. To him, you’re simply jetlagged. “Can you believe it?”

An exhale. “You did good.” Extending your legs outward, you admire the black tiles that shine back brighter than if it were to be white. “Drinks. On me.”

The Brit laughs. “Deal.”

Somewhere close by, they play jazz.

“Pretty,” you softly speak as you connect your lips to the glass. The live band sways back and forth, only adding to the charm you seem to like. And you like it a lot. “Dance with me.”

Lewis snickers. “I love you to death, but I’m gonna have to go with no.”

You frown. “Come on. I never ask you for anything.”

“You were born with a golden spoon and have used retinol since you were ten, you’re not allowed to ask for anything when you’ve already had everything.”

“Yeah…well not this.” You’re secretly envious of every lady in the room. The way they beam with sincere smiles at their husbands. Boyfriends? Flings? Affairs? Who cares honestly, you were jealous nonetheless.

The Mercedes driver watches as your fingers lazily tap against your lap, as if signaling you’re free. Guilt slithers down his neck as he sighs in defeat. “Fi–”

“Nice seeing you two here.”

Lewis wants to cry with utter thankfulness as Carlos inches closer with a lousy grin. “Hey! Oh God—hey.” You blink. “Wh-what are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining, of course, because I’m not.”

The Spanirad shrugs. “I won. Wanted to celebrate, I suppose.” Brown eyes flicker towards you like thunder and suddenly you feel naked under his gaze. You swallow. “You look nice.”

And there it is again—tension.

He cocks his head to the side, almost as if waiting for a compliment of your own. Instead, he finds himself being ignored. Crossing your legs, you lift the empty glass up as the bartender hurries for a refill.

Finally, Lewis speaks up. “I think I’m gonna hit the hay—”

“Who says hay?” you and the brunette spit out with snarkiness. You bite back a smile while he releases a chuckle.

The Brit stands up, chugging the rest of his drink as he waves you two off. “I’m not that old,” he shouts as he turns the corner and disappears.

Carlos takes the time to catch up on your appearance. Last time he saw you, you had longer hair, now it appears you’ve had a trim. He likes it. You were slightly tanner, but now appear a shade lighter. It could just be because it’s winter. It's nice seeing other versions of you.

“So, how have you be—”

“Why are you still here?”

He freezes. It takes him a while to find the strength to open his mouth.

“We never finished our conversation.”

He didn’t fuck you that night, no, he took you dancing. And maybe that’s why it worked this time around. Instead of taking the time to learn all the different types of moans you have, he took the time to learn all about your upbringing.

I learned how to bike when I turned six. Had severe trust issues for a year, so I tried again when I was seven.

That must be where your scars are from, he thinks to himself, but he finds them endearing.

I like long hair, I find it beautiful, but as soon as it’s starting to grow out I think it looks too weird on me.

That must be why your hair is shorter than he remembers, but he loves it. Has the urge to run his fingers through.

My favorite movie is How Harry Met Sally, but quite frankly, I don't find Harry attractive at all, so I never really understood why Sally settled down with him after so long.

And you’re honest. Brutally honest. And he finds that attractive.

“How about you, Mr. Singapore?”

I learned how to kart before I learned how to bike, actually. I, too, have scars on my hands from small crashes.

You blush as you hide yours beneath your coat.

I have two sisters, so I mainly learned how to dance because of them. I hated it at the time, but now I’m quite grateful.

Is it possible to swoon harder?

And I don’t have a favorite film, necessarily, but I’ve watched How Harry Met Sally, and I would agree. Sally was too good looking for him.

You have to laugh. “Is that so?”

He smiles. “The name Harry sounds so…” He winks cooly before running a hand through his locks. You giggle. “He looks more like a Bob.”

“Oh my God! Could you imagine? How Bob Met Sally?” You pause. “Wait, that actually doesn’t sound half bad…”

He chews on his bottom lip slowly, nodding in agreement. Silence engulfs you two as you stare at each other with round eyes. He’s the first to crack a loopy grin and you quickly follow with a sheepish one. Then, it vanishes and he’s left looking like he swallowed a frog.

“Listen, about last time…”

“Long forgotten.”

He halts, almost surprised by your response. “No, no, there’s no need to pretend, I was a—”

“Jerk?”

The Spaniard rolls his eyes. “Great, so you haven’t forgotten.”

You shrug. “I’m a girl. We remember everything.”

“Got it,” he declares. “Ask me again.”

Now it’s your turn to freeze. “What?”

“Ask me why you should say yes to a date with me.”

“You don’t have to do this, we’re good—”

“I know we are, but I still want you to ask.”

You lick your lip anxiously before relaxing your stiff shoulders. He tilts his head as if urging you and you nod. “Why should I say yes to you?”

Satisfaction settles. “Because you like a good challenge.” He leans closer. “And isn't that what this is?”

Carlos Sainz Jr. was made for you.

“Leave me alone,” you scream, veins throbbing, as you rush past him, heading towards the guest room. You’re glad his parents aren’t home at the moment because Lord knows the embarrassment you would feel.

“No. Not until you talk to me.” As simple as that. Your eyes twitch as you turn back, then bring your hands up to your hips. He adores it when you do that, though he probably shouldn’t right now.

“You want to talk?” You let out an unhinged scoff. “Oh, would you look at that, he wants to talk! Now he wants to talk. Well guess what, fuckhead—I don’t.”

With that, you march out into the balcony. His eyes follow the way you light up a cigarette. The way you drink the last drops of champagne that linger in the bottle gifted to you by his mother.

She was kind. She was beautiful. She didn’t deserve someone being this mean to her son.

You barely recognize him because of how blurry your vision is, but his scent does it. Musky. Woody. Calm.

He hands you the familiar pill, then a glass of water. He rushes the champagne away, then takes the cigarette and squashes it against the cold floor. He doesn’t so much call you out for being a lunatic, for upsetting his dogs with all your yelling, or for pushing him. No, he doesn’t do any of that. And you have never been more in love with him than now.

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes…” A sniffle. “I swear I try to catch onto it so you don’t have to deal with any of this, but—”

“You don’t mean it.” He tangles his fingers through your hair as you sob. And it’s soft despite spending the entire day near the ocean. It feels silky. He’s obsessed. “I know you.”

You were made for Carlos Sainz Jr.

“How do I look?”

“Like an angel.” He swears he turns bright red when you blow him a kiss. “Your name must’ve been Bonita in another life because look at you…” A hand flies up to clutch onto his heart as he makes a face. “Though, I must say, you do know how to make me look bad.”

You giggle. “Oh? This old thing? I thrifted it. Nice, eh?”

He groans. “Very, but you’re supposed to be rooting for Spain.” A gag. “Not Italy.”

You frown. “That's all I had. Plus, you’re basically Italian given your working status.”

“No, amor, they pay me to like Italy. It’s a cover up, think about it.”

You huff, popping your hip outward. “Still. I like it, so I’m wearing it while cheering for the opposite team.”

“Always over complicating things.” He laughs. “Can’t say I’m surprised, you’re a complicated person.”

A deadpan expression. “Suck your own dick.”

“Oi, relax.”

Spinning to face the mirror, you fix your jersey one last time before skipping out the door, tube socks sliding as you go. The Spaniard lets out a dreamy sigh.

Were you flawless? Not at all.

Were you put together? Not without a prescription.

But he loved figuring it all out with you. And that’s called love.

You’re in the middle of a rampage, during dinner. While everyone stares at you puzzled, he simply laughs at your cartoon expressions.

“I mean, I offered!” A pout. “I clearly stated I could get the cap signed for her and she gave me the nastiest, ugliest, dirty-looking glare! I for sure thought her face was permanently damaged.” You relax against the chair, your shaky hand finding its way to your water bottle. “Like sorry for riding your favorite driver…”

Charles laughs nervously. “I don’t think that was a necessary thing to include…”

You shrug, raising your brows over to your boyfriend who struggles to breathe.

The conversation flows easily, like most nights you're all together, but this time there’s a minor bump. You’ve been good about it; avoiding the question for so long. Over the course of time, you’ve managed to be so mendacious, that truly no one knew the truth. Not even Carlos.

“I hope it’s not overstepping, but how did your mum pass?”

He means no harm, Lando, but you just wish so badly that you could believe that. While Carlos and Lewis were the closest thing you have to a family nowadays, even they knew not to ask. You never laid the rules out loud, but they could tell it was an unwanted topic to have on your behalf, no matter how curious they got.

All of a sudden, your mood deteriorates. The look in Lando’s eyes makes sure to strike off as an apology, but you’re so busy looking down onto your lap that you don’t even pinpoint the meaning. The table grows awkward as time ticks by.

No one has the power to change the subject, save you the same way doctors tried to save your mother—because they, too—wonder.

You gulp, feeling small, but far too seen at the same time. It was confusing. “She, um…her last husband…” Everyone feels bad, like you’re some limping puppy, zigzagging down an empty highway, but remain quiet. Then, you look up, stone cold but the tip of your rosy nose and blotchy face is enough reassurance that you still have a beating heart.

“Husband number three strangled her to death.”

You say it like you don’t care. Like it hasn’t affected you at all, and that makes Carlos blink twice as fast as everyone else in the table. A droplet makes its way down your cheek as you let out a light laugh.

“I guess he thought he was some Superior God who had a say in cutting her time short.”

They all freeze.

“I am so sorry for asking—”

“I didn’t need to respond.” You smile lamely. “It’s fine, Lando.”

But it’s not, not even close. They ripped the confession out of your throat, at least that’s what it felt like. No one stepped up, no one said anything.

Your eyes flicker to the only man who makes your heart speed.

He reaches for your hand and you grip it hard.

No one said anything.

Not. Even. Carlos.

You’ve always excelled at holding a grudge. It came fairly simple.

But as you stare at him through the screen, for the first time—and only the first time—you struggle. Maybe it’s his puppy eyes that betray you, or his gentleness anytime he steps near you, you don’t really know.

And you don’t want to.

“I was thinking mariscos.”

Hair flies past your eyes as you squint. He looks particularly handsome today, wearing a linen shirt that drapes over him like some silver armor. Long waves brush against his temples as he returns the squint, slightly smiling at your lips.

“Sounds good to me.”

Soft music roams the isolated restaurant that almost seemed to belong to just you two, and that helps you relax. You could tell it helps him too.

“The car felt good today.”

“Yeah?”

He nods, biting onto a piece of shrimp. “Felt like I was flying.”

You let out a whistle. There’s a comfortable silence that lingers for a while before you raise a brow up to the open sky. “Hey,” you start as his orbs flicker up with all the attention in the world. “Do you believe in angels?”

A moment. “I’d say so, yes. Yes, I do.”

Hum. “You sound freakishly sure.” You inch forward with teasing eyes. “Why?”

“Easy.” Chocolate orbs swirl with adoration. “There’s you.”

“I don’t count.”

He frowns. “And why not?”

“Because you love me, of course you’d say that only to be nice.”

“I say so because I know so.”

“Love is blind, love is blind,” you chant, sipping on his open can.

A second ticks by. “Why do you ask?”

And like the first night he met you, your eyes merge into doe eyes. “Because I do.” A sheepish grin. “And sorry to disappoint, but it’s not you.”

“What’s his name?” he jokes.

But you’re not even listening. “My mom was pure. She was a good person, Carlos.” A beat. “She’s my forever angel.”

His heart physically hurts at your glossy eyes, immediately reaching for your hands. “You must really miss her…”

A wet laugh. “Is there a word stronger than ‘really’? If there is, then that would be one way to say it.”

And he has to apologize, even if it’s seven days too late.

“I’m sorry for not stepping in that night. I-I-I should have said something and you should have said nothing.” Thick brows knit in together. “You don’t know how shitty I felt, but—”

“You wanted to know as well.”

The way his features freeze is enough confirmation. And you can't be mad. Not even a little. Not even a lot.

“That doesn’t make you a bad person, Carlos. I should have been more open and honest with you first.” A gust of hot air slaps you across the face. “I tend to shut out people like you because…I don’t know.”

“Vulnerability is a bitch?”

You laugh. “That’s one way to say it.” Orbs scan his beauty with no shame before falling back. “You still have plenty of questions, don’t you?”

“O-of course not.”

Another laugh. “It’s okay. You caught me in a good mood. Go on.”

He’s awkward at first, but slowly eases with the sound of your breathing. “Why hasn’t he been arrested?”

“Because he’s a multi-billionaire.”

He gulps and you blink. “Why haven’t you sued?”

“Because I’m not a multi-billionaire.”

“So…he did a cover up with a wad of cash?”

“Mhm. No one dared ask whose hand shaped bruise was imprinted in her neck.”

He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but he knows he needs this because he knows it will keep him up the same ways it’s kept him up since that god forbidden dinner.

“This was the cause of your…” He doesn’t even want to finish his sentence.

“Depression…yeah. Losing someone you love will do that to ya.”

But he wants to ask—he wants to ask more because he knows there has to be more. He’s lost people he loves too—and he loved them very much—and he never got this way. In a flash, he feels guilty for comparing his healing process to yours but quickly looks down onto his lap.

And the hot summer rain is enough warning for him not to question you any further.

The Spaniard shares a grateful smile. “Thank you for trusting me. To take care of you, and all t-that,” he stutters, blushing.

“I love you, Carlos.” A beat. “I’ve always trusted you. The only person I don’t trust is myself.”

“Be quiet,” she hisses, urgently signaling you closer. “And make sure to shut the door.”

Confused, you hesitantly push until you hear a click. Inching closer to your mom, you slowly become more and more lost as you eye the scattered papers all over your step-dads office table. “What is all this?”

Color drains from her normally youthful face. Even the brightest shade of red can’t help add life. “Proof of embezzlement.”

“What?”

She slides stacks of black folders towards you and you quickly flip through, to which you don’t understand a single thing. “He’s stealing money, that’s what. We’re not talking thousands, we’re talking millions,” she whispers frantically before growing green. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Okay, okay, hold on, you’re okay.” Rushing to be next to her, you clumsily tie her hair up into a messy ponytail before fanning her with the white sheets. You wince, quickly placing them back down. “How did you even come across this?”

Just as fast as a lighting bolt, she spins the chair. “I’m starting my book—” She gags, “I was supposed to start today, but I came in here looking for his typewriter. You know, the one with the tiny cherubs?” Across the office, you spot it, the tiny angels delicately painted onto the infamous typewriter. You nod. “Well, I started to search for some paper and instead found all of this…”

Even you grow dizzy as you eye the infinite zero’s that jump out against all types of sums. That’s not even enough to spend in ten lifetimes. It was no wonder he just recently made it onto The Forbes list. Her eyes—honest as ever—make you panic as you twirl your thumbs. “Wait…you’re not thinking of confronting him about it, are you?”

“I have to.” Pause. “Right?”

No. You don’t want her to. Not in any scenario. It’s taken you both so long to reach the life you deserve, and now that you were finally here it’s about to be ripped away from you? Your lack of words makes her glare.

“I don’t know why I’m asking you, I have to! It’s the right thing to do.”

Adrenaline. “Mom, just think about it—”

“I did not raise you to be avaricious,” she spits out, fire practically fuming out of her. You flinch. “I’m going to talk to him.”

“Y-you’re right.” There goes all your money down the drain. “I’m with you no matter what.”

Knock knock.

Like mother-daughter, you both freeze as your eyes flicker to the sound.

“Angelica, are you in there?”

You never liked the name Angelica. Not on anyone else that wasn’t your Angelica.

Running over to open, she finds herself face-to-face to Lucifer himself as he cocks his head in humor. “Locking me out of my own office now?” He enters. “Fun.” Dark eyes roam the messy area. “Fun.”

Her eyes plead with you in a language only you both knew, but never did you mean to obey. You wanted to stay with her—something told you to stay with her.

“Honey, give us some privacy, yeah?”

“U-uh…” He winks like that was the go-ahead. Like that was the last permission you needed to agree. And maybe it was.

Deep down it’s almost like you knew he had sinister intentions. Deep down it’s almost like you knew he was capable of committing those sinister intentions.

Deep down.

It’s like you don’t even care.

You smile, tight lipped. “Whatever you need.”

You heard the argument that night, you heard the threats. You heard her pleads, you heard her chokes. You could only imagine what was going on inside, but you were your mothers daughter. You could imagine quite a lot.

She could’ve been an author—with his resources she might just have hit the New York Times Best Seller list. She could have been a grandmother one day—surely your kids would have lived a luxurious life.

She could have been obedient. Why wasn’t she obedient? Was it so hard to brush it all under the rug?

He was sweating, just as much as a pig. Or maybe he’s glowing, he is smiling after all. Here and there he apologizes in a lousy manner, but you didn’t care. All you cared about was—

“How much money am I gonna get to keep?”

He’s intrigued. “How much do you want?”

“Enough to not have to worry.” You can still see it; cramped rooms, tin canned meals on paper plates. You could never go back.

An eye roll. “You’re just like her…” A beat. “Fucking greedy.” You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You’re embarrassed—-of course you were—who is he to judge? He sighs. “No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“It means I’m not transferring you anything. I want you out of this house no later than Sunday.”

Plump lips open, then snap shut, teeth gritting. “I’ll tell everyone that you’re a murderer. You’ll lose it all, w-watch.”

He’s not phased. Not even in the slightest. “And who’s going to believe you? Tell me, really, because I’d like to know.”

Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything. Fuck him for having everything.

And fuck yourself for having nothing at all—again.

Months swept by, the death was ruled a suicide, and antidepressant became your loyal friend. There was no one else, and sometimes you feared there would always be no one else.

Then—by some miracle—there was Carlos.

He was handsome. He was shy. He was sweet. He was kind.

He was rich.

You played hard to get, but so did he. You played the long haul, but so did he. You were a fantastic liar, but he was an ever better believer.

And it all clicked.

Just the way it was supposed to.

You’ve been accustomed to a certain lifestyle for years now, but somehow you’re always surprised about the sudden boost you’ve switched to ever since you’ve met him.

Chanel heels turned into red bottoms. Last season dresses turned into those that were not yet released. You loved everything about it.

“You look so beautiful, cariño,” he groans against your lips, desperate for more. His large hands play with the silky fabric, fighting to slide it up against your hips. You shudder. “I mean…come on.”

“Hey, hey—that’s sweet and all—” You push yourself closer to his toned body, immediately feeling his erection. You nearly whimper. “But why don’t you fuck me instead?” A kiss. “You missed me, no?”

And instead—he whimpers. “How dare you even ask?”

With that, he picks you up with ease, pinning you against the wall. You’re dizzy, because unbeknownst to him, he’s casted a spell on you. Never did you think you could fall in love, much less, have someone reciprocate.

Tender fingers make their way to your clit as you lunge forward, biting down onto his shoulder. It should amaze you how he holds you up with one arm, but you’re not. If anything, you leak more and more by every passing second.

His dirty pants make you fold as you clench around him. The way they curl, the way they pulse, all of it was your kryptonite.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you squeal, keeping your eyes trapped shut, feeling the familiar knot forming. He grins, pecking your sweaty forehead, digits speeding up. Berry lips form an O as you moan louder with every push.”I-I’m c-c-close—oh God.”

“Shh. It’s okay, let go for me, yeah? I’m right here with you.”

Gritting your teeth harder, you moan like some pornstar as you finish all around him. Almost like some rule, he desperately sucks his fingers clean. The Spaniard hums like he’s living his biggest dream of all before opening his round eyes.

“So sweet.”

You blush. “Yours tastes like shit.”

He laughs. “And yet you beg for me to finish all over your face, isn’t that so?”

Nearly choking at his bluntness, you fight back a smile as you play with his floppy locks. They’ve grown so much from the last time you saw him, so this was certainly eye candy to you. He sighs, relaxing as you continue to twirl thick strands around your fingers.

Soft legs still drape over his waist, hands still lay around your waist, and even breathing connects you both. Carlos feels like he’s nearly dozing off, but his hand remains firm, preferring to take a bullet than to let you fall.

You like to think that you like his lashes the best. But then there’s his eyes. And his nose. And his heart. And his lips. And his hands. And his sculpture body. And his jokes. And his laugh. And his freckles. So you never could choose, not truly.

Inching closer to his ear, you smirk slowly. “Wanna fuck my mouth?”

His eyes snap open, jaw clenching. “You’re such a tease.”

A shrug. “Want to or not?” You bite your lip, legs letting go of his hips as you slide down. “Because this offer ends in five…” He raises a skeptical brow. “Four…” You motion him closer to which he steadily follows. “Three…” He laughs. “Two, one!”

Sprinting up the stairs in a flash, you giggle as he chases after you. The sound of his steps make your heart beat faster as you jump onto your shared bed. Rushing past the corner, he cocks his head to the side as he clicks his tongue. Stepping into the room carefully, he swung the door closed before locking it. You frown.

“Reassures me that no one will walk in.”

“No one will walk in,” you whisper as your stomach drops. “There’s no need t-to—”

“No, yeah, you’re right,” he agrees, taking in your breathless state. “But I prefer it this way. Just you.” A closer stride. “And me.”

Palms are sweaty. Blood slithers down your throat and thighs. And yet your freeze. You feel hot and cold, all at once. You don’t like the feeling, any of it, but you try to ignore the inner monologue.

“You look stunning,” he states, finally reaching you. “You always do.”

Your speeding heart lessens. “T-thank you.”

A beat. “You’re not nervous—are you?”

Hastily, you shake your head. “N-no! Of course not!”

Thick brows knit together. “Because you normally aren’t.” His smile fades. “W-we don’t have to do anything tonight if you don’t want to, you know that right?”

Physically, you’re cringing. Mentally, you’re spiraling. The act itself makes the Spaniard withdraw, taking a steady step back and shaking his head. Panic rises fast as you crawl closer to him, reaching the end of the bed.

“I just have a lot on my mind, but I want this.” A beat. “I want you.”

It’s as if you’re a blank sheet of paper, blinking up at Carlos with such innocence. So much so, it makes his heart stop. He looks for reassurance, which you give him, and he looks for it again, which you give again without hesitance.

“Come on, Carlitos…” you slowly whisper, batting your eyes. “I know you’ve missed my mouth.”

If you weren’t so breathtaking, if you weren’t so seductive, if you weren’t so goddamn tempting then surely turning you down wouldn’t be an issue. By alas, you’re here—and even better—you’re all his.

“Eres un sueño.” It seems like an eternity passes by before he finally steps close to you once again, getting rid of whatever distance you ever had. Like it was never meant to be there to begin with. “Can I kiss you first?”

It’s sweet that he feels the need to build up to fucking you sore, but sweet nonetheless. That’s one thing you love about him—and there’s a lot to choose from—his respect towards you. Smiling warmly, you extend your arm, inviting him like an angel before he smashes his lips against you like the devil.

The contrast. It’s just what you needed.

“God, I fucking love you.”

“I—” His lips press harsher as he continues marking his territory. All of it was making your head spin like a rollercoaster. “I love you too,” you manage to spit out as he makes his way down. You blush. “I-I-I sort of wanted to…”

He blinks. “Sort of what?”

“Well, you know…” You point towards his hardened cock.

And he actually snickers. “Cat got your tongue today or what, bella?”

A groan. “You’re so fucking annoying—”

“No, no, no,” he cuts in with a whistle. “By all means, go ahead.”

Desperate hands crazily reach out towards his belt in a nanosecond. You should be ashamed how hopeless you are, but you don’t find enough strength to care. Not when he was looking down at you with hungry eyes.

“Tan linda,” he whispered underneath his breath. As if you weren’t meant to hear him. As if he can’t quite believe it’s you he gets to keep. This must all be a dream to him, he thinks.

Just as you’re about to pull his jeans down, large hands get ahold of your wrists. Confused, you look up at him, head tilted and messy hair falling over your shoulder. He grins wickedly.

“Just one more kiss.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me—”

But his soft lips move with such urgency that you don’t even have time to bitch and moan. Not that you’re trying. You can feel it; the hunger, the lust. The way you run your fingers through his hair, or how he squeezes your ass. In a matter of seconds, the room grows steamy, hot breaths expanding with every peck. It’s as if Carlos was too afraid of being ripped away from you even for a second, scared your lips might change and he wouldn’t know a thing about it.

Not knowing you might be his biggest fear.

It happens without a warning, his grip. You feel it slide slowly up your ribs—you remember thinking how much you like it, how much it tickles. Then it reaches your chest, to which his eager hands squeeze your tits, pathetically moaning into your mouth. You can’t help but giggle, but still not separating. And then…

It reaches your neck.

As soon as he squeezes, your eyesight begins to blur, but he doesn’t notice. Your chest begins to rise and fall at an alarming rate, but he doesn’t notice. And you’re terrified.

But he doesn’t notice.

“Carlos,” you whimper, but he takes it as a good sign, mouth moving with ease. “Carlos, honey…”

“Yeah, baby?” His voice is deep. “You like that?” Large palm squeezes harder. “Bet you do.”

“Okay, stop!” you scream, arms flying like some madman. “Let go of me!”

Panicked, he releases you in a hurry, jumping off of your trembling body. Color drains his face as realization hits him, but it's too late. You’re sobbing hard, shoulders bouncing up and down. The way you crawl back with fear makes his heart break as he shakes his head, running a hand against his jaw.

“Fuck.” More cries. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—I am so sorry, baby…” Desperate eyes stare back at you as you hide your face against your shaky hands. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have known, I should have known.” Inching closer proves to be a mistake when you leap off the bed, throwing a mountain of pillows like daggers.

“Stop it,” you demand. “Stay. Right. There.”

He flinches. “Are you afraid of me?”

The laugh that erupts from your throat is unlike the others he’s heard. It’s almost maniacal. It makes his skin grow with goosebumps. “Is that even a question?” Dark mascara runs down your cheeks as you breathe heavily. “You just tried to kill me.”

“No,” he pronounces. “No, you know that that’s not true. I-I-I thought you’d like it!” The glare you flicker is enough for him to wince, pinching the tip of his nose. “I should have known better, okay? Please, just…calm down.”

All your sniffles come to an end as you freeze. “Are you calling me crazy?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Oh my God.” Pushing your hair back, you release a chuckle. “You actually think I’m crazy.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy, stop putting words into my mouth.”

A scoff. “Okay, wow.”

He doesn’t have a clue as to how he continues to dig himself into a hole—and yet—here he is. Digging his own grave. Exhaling hard, he licks his lips before looking straight into your glossy eyes. “I love you,” he starts, but you remain as still as a statue. “And I want us to work through this. I want to be able to talk to you, yeah?” A beat. “I’m sorry about…what I did, I should have never done it knowing you’re…traumatized.”

He’s almost scared to see your reaction, but it never comes. Instead, you blink hastily, as if you’re mortified.

You should’ve known. You should have figured that karma would catch up to you sooner or later.

I mean, all sins must be paid for, right?

As soon as he starts closing the gap, you’re thumping heart picks right back up. “I just want to talk—”

“No.”

Despite his hurt, he continues his march towards you. “I just want to be near you, please—”

“I said no!”

It happens almost in the blink of an eye, the sound of glass shattering. He sort of thinks he must’ve imagined it, your hand flying to punch the mirror right besides you, but the gentle blood that oozes out of your hand makes his heart stop. Suddenly, all the scars you have make sense. So much makes sense.

“Just…stay there, Carlos,” you say, voice trembling, small hand holding out a piece of sharp glass towards him like some wannabe knife. You bite your bottom lip. “Just—there.”

“Cariño…”

“Stop it with that,” you plead, teardrops slipping. “Stop calling me that.”

Somewhere in the shard, he catches his reflection. Half-scared, half-brokenhearted. He doesn’t even know how you two got to this point.

He gulps. “Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop, but please put that down.” You shake your head fast, splotchy cheeks flushing furthermore. Carlos sighs desperately. “Come on—you’re bleeding.”

“I’m used to it by now.”

Tension resurfaces once again between you both as you stare at each other, awaiting for the next challenge. Playing the silent game for a second, curious to see who breaks next.

“Why did you lock the door?”

He almost laughs. “We always shut the door—”

You raise the blade up higher as you begin to lose patience. Deep down, you know you’re not capable of harming him, but how could you ever let your guard down once again when he tried to strangle you to death?

History almost repeats itself, and you’ll be damned if you ever let it happen.

“You said it, we shut it but we never lock it.” A soft cry. “What were you planning on doing to me, Carlos?”

It’s like a knife to the heart, you’re sudden distrust. The brunette finds himself struggling to breath as he blinks like a lost deer.

“You know that I would never hurt you. Not on purpose, at least…”

You let out a wet snarl, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you.”

A flinch. “All of this was a mistake and I adore you.”

“You don’t, though,” you protest, the shaky vision intensifying. “If not you wouldn’t have tried to mur—”

“For the last time, I’m not your step-father!” It’s as if he’s finally reached his breaking point, just now. His body is tired. His mind is tired. Everything is just tired of trying. Carlos shrugs lamely. “If you don’t want to believe me…so be it.”

The pain that rains out of him should be enough for you to know that he’s telling the complete truth. He’s a good guy, with pure intentions. He’s not here to get even with you on your mothers behalf. None of what you’re imagining is true.

But you just can’t seem to understand.

“I don’t believe your lies, alright?” you spit out with deep breaths. You drop the blade, finally. “Open the door.”

With his head hung low, he complies, feet dragging with every step. And finally, with a hand on the knob, he turns to give you one last glance. He can tell you’re holding in your breath and he doesn’t know why it bothers him so much. Why it make him feel so much like a monster…

Click. The wooden door swings open as he pushes it gently.

“Now leave.”

A wave of nausea strikes with your words. “Amor—“

“Stop. Don’t even look at me.” Tension. “I don’t want to see you ever again—not even by accident.”

And that was the last stab that ended it all.

Every now and then, he wonders how you are. Hopefully better.

He hears your name mentioned once in a blue moon, but instinctively blocks it out, too disturbed at the thought of what occurred between you two.

What did occur between you two?

He could take a guess and say that you’re internally fucked. Straight and simple.

But it’s still annoying. The way he wishes to forget you with every passing birthday wish.

At first, it was because he missed you. He just wanted to forget you because he missed you—yes.

Later, it was because the memory of the cramped room suffocated him. The sound of glass breaking was stronger than the sound of his car crashing. And somehow the latter seemed better.

He just wanted to forget that day—yes.

Staring off into space has been his thing for a long time, often getting called out on it. Now, he finds himself with his eyes closed, too scared that someone might notice his feelings and feel the need to ask if he’s okay.

He hasn't been. Not since you.

“Grape or watermelon?”

Popping and eye open, he catches a glance of Lewis before rolling over. “I’m good.”

It’s tough, this silent war between both his friends. The break up simply made this…tough. Especially when no one really knows what happened.

Setting the electrolytes down, the Brit claims a spot next to the brunette. Groaning at the unwanted company, Carlos switches to sit upright. Brown eyes glare strongly before Lewis laughs it off.

“How you doin’, bud?”

Great, no yeah, just severely depressed thanks to your so-called friend. Would you mind asking her where she gets her antidepressants from for me? I mean, I would, but last time we saw each other she, uh, I don’t know, tried to stab me? And you know what’s the most fucked up shit? It’s the fact that I still love her just the same.

I just wanted to help.

He forces a shy smile. “Fine.”

A pity grimace. “I can tell she misses you, you know?”

Carlos hates how excited the thought of you alone—dreamily sighing for his return—gets him to sit up straighter, suddenly interested. It’s foolish, really.

“She would never admit it, but I can tell because I know—”

“Her?” The Spaniard lets out a mocking scoff. “Trust me, you don’t. Not entirely.”

That shuts Lewis right up as he sits there, staring blankly. A dark brow furrows. “Listen, I don’t know what happened between you two—not that I need to know—but she’s a good person. And so are you. So…don’t be afraid of reaching out.”

He flickers his brown eyes accusingly. “Why should I? Did she put you up to this?”

“She didn’t—“

But the fact is, the hesitation gives him away. Anger arises as the Spaniard rolls his eyes. “I knew it, God, I knew it!” A second. “I know her.”

The Brit drowns with nervousness as he waves his hands in despair. “She just wants you to apologize!”

A singular laugh. “Apologize for what?” He pauses, squinting at his friend. “She didn’t tell you why we broke up, did she?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t really know who’s fault it was, do you?”

Lewis looks down onto his lap. “No. Not really.”

“Great, then let me be the one to tell you that it was both of ours. I’m no saint but neither is she.”

An award silence lingers as the Spaniards voice echoes the room. Lewis nods. “Understood. I got it, okay?”

He sighs an irregular sigh. “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it, man.” A sheepish grin. “It’s not my place to fix anything about your guys’ relationship, I get it.”

Carlos’ face switches to bright red as he nods his head once. “T-thanks.”

The Brit, ever happily, stands up firmly before patting his back. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”

“Gracias.” Lewis is just a few steps away when he clears his throat before he can even stop himself from asking. “How’s she doing?”

It came across almost softer than a mumble, and one might have missed it if not alert, but not Lewis.

Spinning to face the almost manchild with round eyes, he smiles as bright as the sun, and that makes his stomach turn. Because he knows. He knows you’re doing—

“Really well.”

Fluffy hair falls down as he tilts his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s good.” Sure. He returns the same smile with a twitch. “That’s really good.”

Lewis has known you two for a long time now. He’s unwillingly memorized your ticks. How the right side of your face slightly twitches before every lie, or how the left side of his does the same before every lie. Much like right now.

The Brit contemplates for a minute, then two, then opens his mouth in the most hesitant manner.

“She’s moving to Germany.” Carlos freezes. “Only for a few months. Maybe a year, who knows. But…you should read her book.”

He unfreezes. “Her what?”

A faint smile. Eyes crinkled. “It’s a tough read, but I believe it was necessary. You know, to finally talk about it.”

He never quite believed you would open up this way, and yet here he was, in an unknown bookstore, spacing out. Your name jumps out like some shooting star, too difficult to ignore.

Without a doubt, you’d get a lawsuit from your step-father. Of course—you were only dragging the last name of what seemed to be the world's richest man.

For what it’s worth, Carlos is proud. This must mean you’re open to moving on. To get the necessary help you so desperately need. From start to finish, the pages are enticing. You go into gruesome depth, something you never seemed to have a problem in doing. From the mention of how her eyes remained open with no sign of life, only terror, to the fact that you got your many scars from punching the door, trying to get in on time. How he bribed his way against the laws.

Everything seemed to be coming out.

So then why, as he sits in his driver's room, staring at your picture in the back of the book, does he feel like doesn’t believe it?

Not even a generous half.

Angelica lived up to the first five letters of her name.

She was there for you in the moments you needed her the most. She braided your hair for playdates, she tied your shoe laces even when you were too embarrassed to ask, and she worked her way up, making sure you had it all.

Undeniably, she was one hell of a woman. Then again, she had more within her—pulled some trigger you never thought she’d pull.

You were going to lose it all, why couldn’t she foresee that? That conversation was going to rip your inheritance straight from your tight grip; the one that ensured your future vacations. How could she ever betray you? Her own daughter?

You were acquisitive. You were possessive. You were partially responsible for her death.

But call it naiveness, you really thought it’d work.

No one will truly know the way your soul left your body when you heard you wouldn’t get a single dollar. Not even a fucking cent. You had to find some other way to stay secure.

But Carlos was out to get you, you just know he was. You don’t have a clue as to how he found out about the truth, about what happened inside that stupid mansion, but he knew it all. And you had to get out of there.

Only it led you back to square one. With no purpose. With no money. Fuck men and their actions, seriously, too all hell with them.

However, you were your mothers daughter at the end of the day.

You could be a writer. An even better one that she could've ever been. If you wanted to, you could do it.

And that is exactly what you did.

You typed, and typed, and typed until your fingers would cramp up. The multi-billionaire was a leviathan and everyone would see that no matter what.

You, on the other hand, were an innocent bystander. Too weak to intervene, to fight back. Too young. Yeah. That was what happened that night.

But you also had your own perspective. One your mom could never match.

While she married for the illusion of love, you would’ve married for money with no shame. Carlos just happened to be the luckiest of strikes because you got both.

While she always was at the front of the room without having to try, you were always in the back with a bitter smile. Why did she get to have two dimples? All eyes would have surely been on you if you had at least one.

And while she never cared about reaching the New York Times Best Seller list—you did.

She would have jumped with joy just by selling ten copies, but not you. You always wanted more—craved more. Label it as ambition.

More copies sold means more money. A trust fund means more money. Playing the victim against your step-father means even more money. So yeah…

You did care about that stupid list.

Tilting your head back against your seat, you flinch at the taste of the pill, too familiar for your liking, but the wine helps. It always does nowadays.

Buzz.

Picking up with a level of indifference was all fake—you had been yearning this call for what seemed like your whole life.

“Hey.” His voice is almost raw. Like he could use a couple cough drops. “I-I-I read your book. It was incredible.”

And for the first time in a while, you smile. “Thank you, that means a lot, Carlos.”

You can hear the static against the line, indicating once again that you’re on opposite sides of the world and not together. You can almost bet that it will always stay that way.

The Spaniard coughs awkwardly into your ear.

“Oh, and also, congrats on making it onto the New York Times Best Seller.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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riiwrites · 11 months ago

Text

boyfriend!dazai who…

a/n : for my love @perfectlyjollyland who requested this ages ago but i didn’t see until recently because i only pay attention to my inbox! im so sorry ill be checking comments too next time, hope you’re well! <3

a/n : also i hope you’re okay with the pre-boyfriend/before boyfriend part, i just thought that’d be cute i love lovesick!dazai sooo much.. more boyfriend dazai under the cut!!

chuuyas version | atsushis version

dividers used belong to @/benkeibear

masterlist | taglist | main page

pre-boyfriend!dazai who at the start asks you for a double suicide (as per usual), but when you give him the cutest smile and giggle and say no, he knows he’s too deep in now.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who becomes head over heels when he first meets you and now has a new mission, making you reciprocate those feelings.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who loves the cliches, the random ‘anonymous’ love notes on your desk when you’re at work or the random flowers delivered to your workplace/home - he loves it all.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who respects your boundaries if you were to tell him to lay off or if he was making you uncomfortable.

pre-boyfriend!dazai who finally gives up..gives up throwing hints and just decides to take his shot.

“So..say, if a handsome stranger who’s kind of not a stranger since you know him as an acquaintance asks you out because he’s given up with all of the deadpanned hints he’s been giving you for the past few months but he’s kind of scared of being rejected..what would you say?”

You stare him with a few blinks as he looks at you with a great smile on his face, although you can see subtle drops of sweat dripping down the side of his temple.

"..Is this said handsome stranger you, perchance?”

Dazai let’s out a single laugh, placing his hands on his hips.

“Ha! How bold of you, though..I am charmed your first thought of this handsome stranger would be me, bella~” He coyly smirks, closing his eyes in what you can’t tell is either pride or suspense.

You furrow your eyebrows with a little smile, fixing up your paperwork as you place them on the desk. “No, I just figured since it was you who’s been leaving such persistent and eager notes on my desk as of late.”

You watch his expression slightly change as he lets out a cough of embarrassment, locking eyes with you now.

“Well..” He starts, then gives up halfway through.

“..Is it a yes?”

pre-boyfriend!dazai who not only is taken by surprise by your response, but his heart does a few jumps in joy as his efforts became a success, making him now your boyfriend.

boyfriend!dazai who has his hand down your back pocket whenever you two are walking together.

boyfriend!dazai who’s love language is both physical touch and acts of service, always having his hands on you in the littlest way and also providing the most he can to his s/o.

boyfriend!dazai who has the reputation of being quite the flirtatious one, gives it up to his precious s/o.

boyfriend!dazai who googles cheesy and dirty pickup lines to try and rizz you with, always ending them in a winky face.

boyfriend!dazai who sends you little messages every day now that he has your number, little words of affirmations and talks to get you ready for your days.

boyfriend!dazai who if he had a tiktok account he’d make slideshows of you two and repost videos of couples relating to you two.

boyfriend!dazai who you spend all of your holidays with, especially christmas and new years.

boyfriend!dazai who practically lives at your house now, but nobody’s complaining.

boyfriend!dazai who has a box of every little thing you’ve given him, so when he’s feeling down he can look at it and smile.

boyfriend!dazai who tries to keep you away from his past, to protect you from the ugly truth.

boyfriend!dazai who opens up about oda, not all of it but most of it since he believes oda would’ve liked you.

boyfriend!dazai who takes you to the places he has the fondest memories in. the lupin bar, the art gallery, the agency.

boyfriend!dazai who appreciates the little things, as he’s not someone who can afford much he tries to give you the best he can.

boyfriend!dazai who always argues that he loves you more trying to get the last word and when you think you have it, you hear a little mumble of “I love you more” as you walk away.

boyfriend!dazai who loves your hands, tracing the lines of your palm and fingers and creating little shapes on them makes him feel at peace.

boyfriend!dazai who can be possessive but in a good way, he has good reasons to be possessive.

boyfriend!dazai who when he sees someone give you a half lidded smirk or bedroom eyes, he gives them a deadly stare that could imprint on their skull as he wraps an arm around your waist.

boyfriend!dazai who constantly babbles on about you at work with the agency, always telling Atsushi about the cutest things that you did the night before or what you did the day before that.

“Ahh..and the way they just clench their fists at their sides when they are angry with me! Ah~ I could melt..”

“That’s..really nice, Dazai-san..”

“Oh! And the way they grab my hand so tightly when we’re in public ahhh~ I could melt!”

“D-dazai-san..-“

“Ahhh, and the way the-“

boyfriend!dazai who ends up with about 14 wounds all over his body because of kunikidas beatings..kunikida says he’s lucky it wasn’t 15.

boyfriend!dazai who you take care of at his lowest.

boyfriend!dazai who sometimes can’t understand why you put up with him, but you reassure him with words and kisses all over his face.

boyfriend!dazai who peppers your face with kisses back and gives you a small smile despite how sad he can feel.

boyfriend!dazai who watches the fireworks with you and doesn’t think of going out just as beautifully because why would he let such a precious thing slip out of his hands like that?

boyfriend!dazai who doesn’t care about himself or his mental health, but cares the most about yours.

boyfriend!dazai who once felt like he was drowning, but then found his light to the surface who has a smile of diamonds and a heart of gold.

TAGLIST : @hauntedsol @hopefulpain @forgotten-blues @ruru-kiss @texas-bitch-yee @lvstyangel @thetizzler @is-therelife-onmars @atlasnessie @101strawberries101 @reesesnieces @suzurans-world @mackereland-slug @heartsfourdazai @iratherowan @onlinewhisper14 @nomnomventi

white = unable to be tagged :(

@/riiwrites - reblogs are highly appreciated ❤︎︎

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bones4thecats · 5 months ago

Note

Hi hi hello! It's me 🧑‍🧑‍🧒 again, hehe. Your writing always sparks joy! And I have a new idea for a request (^w^)

Could I request Ace, Deuce, and Floyd with a reader who often patches them up or straightens out their hair/clothes for them whenever they get into some sort of mischief or fight? Like, they clean wounds and uses plasters or bandages with cute designs or fix crooked ties or collars. It's their way of showing affection (like a little cleaner shrimp haha)

I hope you have a wonderful day! Remember to stay hydrated (⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

When Their S/O Straightens Them Out

Characters: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, and Floyd Leech Requester: 👪Anon A/N: This is honestly so cute! By the way, like in my other Twisted Wonderland pieces, the reader is not considered to be MC (or Yuu Sei and I have dubbed him in my au) ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Book 1 Chapters 24-28 and Book 3 Chapters 33-39 (not fully-centered - just mentioned) and Mentions of speaking lewdly, fighting, injuries from fights, and physical assault leading to almost-permanent damage ⚠️

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»»———————————-　 Ace Trappola 　———————————-««

🪅 Ace has always had a big issue when it comes to relationships. It is literally canon that he had a girlfriend in middle school and when he lost interest he ghosted her till they broke up

🪅 But, when he finally met you, the first year began to seemingly become more mellow around you. Well, he was still a little rascal to others, but he loved to just sneak behind you a spook you instead of dunking buckets full of water on you

🪅 And he was the same until another Heartslabyul student began to get a little close to you. And by close, I mean by stating his care for you loudly during practices, oblivious to the fact that your boyfriend was a mere few feet away from him

🪅 Let's just say the jealousy bubbled over and he threw a basketball at his face, sending the other into anger. And to sum it up, you and the teachers were beyond pissed

"I mean what were you thinking?! You could've gotten suspended, and if you think Riddle would get super angry about a missing tart imagine a suspension!"

🪅 Ace sat there as you began to re-wrap his injuries from the fight, and seeing the fairly deep cuts and scrapes reminded you of when you helped the rest of your dorm and the magicless human and his pet cat against Riddle's overblot

🪅 He watched carefully and pretty much ignored your scoldings in favor of seeing your face flush slightly in anger and contort as you spoke. Ace may not seem like it, but he does love to observe you caring for him. Some would call that slightly creepy, but you found it flattering, he paid you more attention than his homework

🪅 You began to put the bandages away with the cleaning materials when you felt two arms hug you from behind and a man's chin lay on the top of your head

"Thank ya', lovely."

"Anything for the Ace of my Heart."

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»»———————————-　 Deuce Spade　———————————-««

♠️ Despite what he wants, Deuce does still have his delinquent urges inside of him. He is severely protective over you to the point where others would think that he was forcing you in the relationship. Thankfully you know better

♠️ He loves to see you happy, even if it means others make you that. But Deuce can tell what someone is really thinking. He spent quite a bit of his childhood around people who hid their true emotions, heck, he was even one of those people!

♠️ So, seeing this random Pomefiore student come up to you constantly and act as if he just wanted friendship, but in reality he was just trying to woo you over. Wanting you to leave Deuce for himself

♠️ Deuce was getting angrier by the day, so it was bound for his anger to finally take over and cause him to act out

♠️ All it took was hearing the other man speak awfully gross things of you in the changing room after Track and Field practice. And he took the first hit

♠️ Next thing he knew you were fixing him up and trying to heal around the collar that came from Riddle earlier that day. The housewarden had found out about the disagreement and yelled his signature spell's name, making you sigh in annoyance

"Dearest, I understand that you love me. But you shouldn't have put yourself through that kind of action, Great Seven knows if he were to press assault charges onto you!"

"Y/N... I'm sorry. I've tried so hard to be the perfect straight-A student for you, my mother, and grandmother and then hearing that- that bastard talk about you that way just made me snap. Y'know?"

♠️ You smiled gently as you laid the extra materials aside and held your boyfriend's face to look at you. You rested your forehead onto his as he sighed and hugged you back

"I love you so much, Deuce. Just the idea of you being minorly hurt, nonetheless severely hurts."

"Understood. I'll try to be a bit better, okay?" Deuce asked, his smile enlarging as you nodded and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you so much for loving me, Y/N."

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»»——————————-　 Floyd Leech 　——————————-««

🎭 When you first met Floyd during your first years at Night Raven College, you knew that you would feel sorry for his future one and only. Little did you know that you were that one and only

🎭 Everyone understood the memo when Floyd was around. Do not speak ill of him or someone he was close to, it would only result in the sadistic eel-mer to pop up and practically squeeze you until you had a permanent dent in your ribs

🎭 Unfortunately for a new Octavinelle first year, he viewed the rumors as dumb. He was obviously acting this way to gain attention in that way, there was no way that a puny-looking eel-mer was stronger than the gorgeous and powerful betta-mer that he was!

🎭 Over the passing couple weeks, you have been hiding every interaction close to flirting away from the Octavinelle trio, knowing that either Azul and Jade would tell Floyd in a heartbeat

🎭 But, again, sadly for that new student, Floyd was walking around instead of being on his shift -due to finding it boring- and found the male taking his hair, which was flipped onto one side, and attempting to use dark-red and white colors to attract you. And that was not just going to pass by Floyd like nothing

"Y/N! Who is this you're talkin' too? A new friend?"

🎭 The sharp row of Floyd's teeth poking out from his smile didn't even spook the other male. And when he tried to lay a hand on you, Floyd snapped and began to twist the other male's arm to the point it was on the bridge of breaking. He just smiled as you laid a hand on his shoulder and asked him to put the guy's arm down

🎭 He did and watched with amusement as the other being began to run away in pure fear, gripping his arm as the pain echoed. You just groaned and adjust Floyd's jacket and look over his hands for any kind of scrape from work or being an idiot

🎭 Floyd smiled with wonder in his eyes as you cleaned him up like a little shrimp. Kind of like the magicless guy from Ramshackle!

"Y/N~ Would you ever leave me for that little baby fish?~"

"No. Why, you jealous?"

"Psh! Please. I know that I'm better than all those other bottom feeders."

#Twisted Wonderland #TWST #Heartslabyul #Octavinelle #Twisted Wonderland x Reader #TWST x Reader #Heartslabyul x Reader #Octavinelle x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Ace Trappola #Ace Trappola x Reader #Deuce Spade #Deuce Spade x Reader #Floyd Leech #Floyd Leech x Reader

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papayadays · 15 days ago

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🧸 + denial. realization. obsession. + lando (maybe a little friends to lovers 🤭)

a/n: ohhh maddie i love your brain!! (oops i kinda went overboard for this)

you and lando had known each other for what felt like ages. the two of you had gone to the same country club when you were younger, both of you often following your parents. you instantly hit it off, becoming buddies as you wandered around the country club together.

since then, you and lando had become fast friends normally, staying close despite lando making it into formula 1. you still kept in touch as much as you could with countless facetimes, online games, and texts about each other’s day. you often couldn’t go to races, having been busy with work; however, when max and the rest of lando’s friends in quadrant decided they were going to go watch lando race, an invitation was extended to you.

you were hesitant at first, knowing the expensive lounges they were going to choose, but max said that he’d pay for it. (which meant that lando would pay for it, most likely) so now, you were getting out of the car, heading towards the track. you and ria were laughing about something when some teenage girls tapped you on the shoulder. “excuse me, are you lando’s girlfriend?”

your eyes widened with surprise, shaking your head. “no, i’m a close friend of his,” you answered. glancing up, you expected ria to be just as surprised as you were, but she gave you an amused smile.

“that was odd,” you commented to her, walking towards the mclaren garage.

“right, odd,” ria murmured, but it was almost a half-hearted agreement.

you were about to respond when you heard a voice behind you call your name. spinning around, you saw lando, who had a look of surprise on his face. “you’re here!” he grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you in a tight hug. lando nuzzled his face in your hair as he spoke. “i didn’t know you were coming, but i’m so glad you’re here.”

“glad to be here, lan,” you beamed. you both pulled back, maybe a bit reluctantly, and turned back to the rest of the group, who gave you the same amused glance ria had. but to add to that, the mechanics in the garage also shared a similar expression that you couldn’t decipher.

“this your girlfriend, norris?” one of the mechanics asked, chuckling. lando’s eyes changed into something veiled, something you couldn’t place. “you two make a good couple.”

“thanks, she’s one of my best friends,” lando responded, throwing an arm around your shoulder. you nodded, smiling at him, though something in your gut twisted at his words. best friends, that’s what you and lando were, so why weren’t you happy with that?

but. wait.

lando had said thanks to the compliment about being a good couple. and he hadn’t necessarily said you weren’t a couple. your mind was reeling with the implications, heart fluttering at the thought that maybe you liked him. what made it more suspenseful was that he quite possibly felt the same.

“hello? you good?” lando laughed, waving a hand in front of your face as you blinked. “spaced out, huh?”

you chuckled, though somewhat nervous, and tugged at his hand. the surprise and faint hope in his eyes wasn’t lost on you. “wanna go for a quick walk?” you suggested. “my brain’s a little busy.”

lando quickly nodded, hand on your waist as he guided you out into a quiet area in the paddock. with your newfound epiphany, you were paying attention to every single detail. had lando always put his hand on your back? when did he start? did his touch always make your heart flutter?

“are you okay?” lando asked softly, eyes seeming green in the sunlight.

“i’m fine,” you replied. “it’s just…” you trailed off, not brave enough to voice your hopes about something that could change your friendship.

“just what?” lando questioned, scrunching up his nose in confusion.

“everyone’s been asking me if i’m your girlfriend lately,” you started.

“is it bothering you? i could-”

“lando, no, it’s not that,” you said, cutting him off. “but i was thinking. if you’d ever thought it about. us dating, i mean.”

lando glanced at you, surprise in his expression as he took a step towards you. “i do think it about it,” he nodded. “every time i look at you.”

your jaw dropped at the revelation, and you mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid. he had had feelings for a while now? and you had still maintained that you were friends? “what if,” you started, “we could tell people that it was true?”

lando’s mouth curled up into a grin, arms wrapping around your waist. “is that what you want?”

instead of answering him verbally, you pulled him down, smiling as you kissed him.

#😽 joyce's birthday celebration #maddie <33 #papaya writes #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #ln4 x reader #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader

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imagine-knowing-a-name · 1 year ago

Text

A Study of Silence

Summary: Your life of married bliss is failing. A moment of heated arguing finally reveals the reason Natasha is pulling away from you, so you offer her the choice: stay or leave?

Word Count: 862

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warning: Angst

A/N: I wrote this at 1am when my flatmates set the fire alarm off, so forgive any mistakes lol. It's loosely based on 'Fluorescent Adolescent' by the Arctic Monkeys.

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Silence. Then the occasional turning of a page. In your mind, there are three types of silences: a comfortable silence, a suspenseful silence, and an awkward silence.

This fell firmly into the third category, but you made no move to change it - wondering instead how and when such an activity – sitting silently in your wife's presence – had turned from comfortable to awkward.

It hadn't happened just in this session: that was doomed to awkwardness from its start - but a month ago? a year ago? It was hard to recall a single moment of comfortable bliss outside of the early days of your relationship.

Everything had seemed so bright: an Avenger falling for a simple mechanic, a match made only in your dreams… though sometimes you wondered if it should ever have gone beyond that. She'd promised to quit her job for you, retire herself to deskwork upon marriage. "I want to do it," she had promised, "my love for you overshadows any job I do, and if this means I'm not spending months away from you and you're not spending months worrying, then it's an easy decision."

You swore your life to her then, showed her your love and your devotion. That love never faded. But where did it go wrong?

"My love?" you said. The redhead didn't look up from her book; you tried to see what it was, but she maintained her senses enough to shield that from your sights. With a sigh, you continued into the silence, "I was thinking maybe we could cook together tonight?"

She looked up now, fingers sightlessly marking the page. "Again? Didn't we do that..." she trailed off, searching for a memory, a recent excuse.

You finish her sentence for her: "last month? Yeah. I thought we could maybe do some bonding this month too, but nevermind."

"Y/N, we can-"

"You're clearly not interested, Nat, I'm not going to force you, so go hang out with your old Avengers buddies again and I'll make dinner alone."

There was a bite to your words that you knew you'd later regret, but in the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. Fighting had become the only sure fire way to end the stagnant silences, and these days, neither you nor Natasha were afraid to use the method.

"You always do this," Natasha seethed, "they're my friends. I used to spend my every moment with them, living together, working together, everything! And I gave that up for you! You want me to give up even seeing them too? Would that finally be enough?!"

The silence fell again. A fourth type: one of contemplating, one of heated feelings and unwitting confessions and, finally, understanding. You understood. In her anger, Natasha had revealed the secret to it all, where it had all gone wrong.

You softened your voice, speaking quietly as if your wife were an injured animal, easy to startle. "I didn't make you give that up. I don't want you to give up more and I don't want you to blame me for your choices."

She stayed silent, though her jaw tightened and her eyes focused on a point behind you. You didn't have to turn to remember which picture lies there.

"I love you, Natasha," you confessed again, knowing it could be a last confession. "I love you and I want only the best for you. And if you miss the superhero days, the risk, the team, everything... if leaving that and marrying me is the mistake that's making you miserable, then I'm giving you the chance to undo that mistake. I don't want to be the reason you live your life in nostalgia and regret."

You didn't wait for her to respond, what was the point? Her gaze was still fixed on the picture behind you: the team in its heyday, when they were still young and wild and disorganised. She clang to until she got sentimental, forgetting that you had been the one to take the photo, right before Natasha became the first of the group to settle down.

Her response would come soon enough, you knew, so you went to your room and waited. You hoped for the eventual knock on the door, the long awaited conversation, then either the forgiveness or the conclusion. You hoped all through the evening, even as you cooked by yourself, ate by yourself, and slept by yourself.

A night with the Avengers might have been what she needed to make her decision.

Natasha Romanoff came into your life with a burning passion and a humanity to her that few people could ever achieve. You expected it to last forever, but come morning you realised the truth: Natasha Romanoff was a spy born and raised, and no amount of humanity can ever erase that from her.

Her ring was on your bedside table in the morning, the house left in a state of suspended silence. Natasha herself was nowhere to be found, disappearing like a spy, with no words spoken on the matter.

She had made her choice, just as you had made yours.

You loved Natasha too much to keep her; she loved you too little to stay.

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taglist: @canvascoloredin

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #reader insert #fanfiction #self insert fanfiction #ikan writes

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jazjelspen · 9 months ago

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my angel baby (part 5)

(angel w/ angel daughter reader)

(caution!!!!!: mild descriptions of violence)

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hotel. angel reader resembles a fawn.)

(tags: @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @just-here-reading @avitute @iam-d3ad-ins1de @des-deswain5621 @xephieeee @glowymxxn @potaturkey17 @insomniacfigure @pooplyface1423 @mo-0-o @thekanrojimitsuri2 @nevermorekisses @wildfire153 )

My lovely editor<333: @kruncher

You were now in Rosie’s Emporium.

In Cannibal Town.

God.

In absolute shambles you were.. if it were in any other place it would be embarrassing seeing your state but considering the drastic circumstances and absolute 180 in the changes of temperatures, colors, smells, energy and even uncovered emotions that you haven't felt since you were a human finally coming out of the shadows and resurfacing, it all simply felt too much and was overwhelming your psyche.

Yet despite this— you knew you had to tough this out.

But here you were, gentle hands trembling and holding a cup of.. tea.

At least you really hoped it was tea.

“Now sweetie what in the unholy world are you doing down here? Hm?

Now now don’t keep me in suspense, if it helps any I’m not going to let anyone else’s filthy hands get on your pure little self!

Oh and me included, minus the filthy hands, mine are quite taken care of.”

This lady only made you cower a bit more simply by talking. Her sharp teeth and this confident air around her only intimidated you more.

If that’s the case.. how’d you even get in this building? Surely you had enough time to run from her in the middle of it..

Well, it's simply because she kept you from getting eaten by yet an oncoming crowd that saw the interaction with you and this apparent 'Susan' to which they seemed to have taken the old lady’s comment a bit.. too much to heart.

Their claws and baring mouths full of sharp bone, tongues salivating in wanting to try a taste of your fresh golden blood that gave off a sweet scent to them from afar.

She managed to scurry them all off with a few demands and a set of sharp words of her own, keeping you safe from becoming cannibal food for the day and honestly you'd rather be on this lady's good side if she had that kind of power to drive away the cannibals the way she did.

Your wing was even cleaned and bandaged by her despite your constant flapping in distrust and fear when she came near, feathers sprawling everywhere as if several pillows were ripped open in a kind of violent pillow fight. You were seated at a table with two chairs facing each other on each side, a bit farther back in the emporium.

“…Promise you won’t eat me, miss..”

The lady smiled fondly, her expression looking like she’s smiling towards a young child scared of the big wide world. She seemed to be genuine and true with her actions but you just really wanted to get to the hotel as soon as you could..

“Of course little thing, I promise I won’t.

Oh and where are my manners! The name's Rosie, sweetheart, I own the Cannibal Town and I lead the Cannibal Colony. Absolutely pleased to meet you."

You looked up at her with eyes full of fear and a hesitance to trust her, to give her any information at all about your circumstances.

But you weren’t raised to lie.. maybe twisting the truth wouldn’t hurt much? Keeping a few things under the rug?..

“Nice to meet you too miss Rosie..you may call me-- uh- ______.

Look I’m.. Im just looking to get back home. I heard Charlie Morningstar can help since she was in heaven awhile ago and she's the Princess of Hell, I must speak with her soon..”

The woman’s face brightened up like the sun with her sharp-toothed smile widening in remembrance. Spooking you out a tad..

“Charlie Morningstar! A real sweet thing that girl, adorable little blonde. Just a few months ago she came about and managed to convince my town of misfits to help her in preparing to defend the hotel against the angels! My goodness did she sweep them off their feet!

But yes, I know exactly where her hotel is! I can take you there as well, not a long stroll from here I'm sure. Oh but.. "

She paused with the back of her hand gently grazing your spread injured wing, it recoiling back at her touch.

"Wouldn't be surprised if any other wild sinner would want to hunt you down for sport, so maybe a nice stroll would be out of the question."

Her pale hand then moved to hold the end of her chin, the other resting on her hip as the gears in her heard started moving to find a safer passage to the hotel for you to get there.. her piqued interest in you has her wanting to see you advance a bit to see what potential you could have in this entire quarry between the both worlds at war.

"Aha! Perhaps we could have you hide inside one of those delivery carriages the townspeople have been taking in and out here to bring materials and food to the hotel. That way you avoid being seen by any potential eyes that could bring bad luck to you."

She walked up towards the large window illuminating the inside of the emporium as well as the two of you with light from Hell's pink and red hues that brighten the entirety of the realm. Her eyes now searching for a particular large object and... voila! She found it right across the town square and standing right in front of a local shop.

"Oh isn't this just perfect! There is one right there, the timing couldn't be more convenient."

You inhaled a quick breath and exhaled it as fast as it came, somehow still incredibly nervous being in a small space with this woman. Oh geez..

But you couldn't exactly complain since you did contribute in having yourself in this situation.

"So.. could we perhaps go.. now? I just.. want to head home as soon and safe as possible ma'am.."

She then suddenly turned to look at you, dress twirling and the feathers on her hat swaying in a way that indicates their movements could barley keep up with hers.

"Oh but of course! Considering half of the town's population is working on the hotel I must visit and check up on them as much as I can. I also must visit a dear ol' friend of mine, real gas that man is.

Well, then let's hop to it now shall we? We better hurry up while our tool of transportation is still here."

Your ears peaked up in slight delight at the fact that you're actually going to be heading over to the hotel now! So soon as well! This saves you so much more time, effort, and blood in trying to find the place you just knew you had to thank the woman in dark fuchsia and gray for taking you all this way. A little voice couldn't help but nag at you at how too convenient this all is.

Too bad you didn't think too much into that.

"Y..Yes! Yes ma'am!" You got up from your seat and set down your cup saucer on the table and scrambled to catch up to her and her pace with your heart pumping in your chest.

Both of you strolled across the Cannibal Plaza towards and up to the local shop with two large delivery carriages that seemed to lean on to a more older style, with them seemingly from the 1900s and were designed as if they were to hold containers like dairy and such and even people, it includeda large window on the driver's seat where they could peak in by turning their backs and looking down.. oh and it'd be a crime to not mention the horses! Although they seemed more undead and violently volatile like their cannibal owners they still were a nice touch.

Rosie and you approached them, Rosie with more confidence and you.. the opposite. "Walter, George," she spoke, an air of casualness persists "Good to see your faces alive and well! Hope you two got a minute to speak to two esteemed gals?"

The men, named Walter and George, looked up at the two of you with interest.

"Well if it isn't our Rosie! Good to see you as well madame, we sure hope you're enjoying this fine day with glee!" the man, seemingly the one called Walter spoke.

Rosie chuckled, "Oh I sure am, I even found myself a new little friend here! Which leads me in having to ask the both of you for a favor that is of most importance."

The other cannibal that goes by George focused his eyes on her and her words, "Why, anything for our beloved Rosie! What can we do for you ma'am?"

You hid slightly behind Rosie, feeling a strange comfort in just her status and power over rest of her people that made you feel at least a bit more safe from them. You would've continued listening to her conversation with the two men if the distant yet also near sound of explosions echoed across all of Hell which made you jump a little and stifle a gasp ever so slightly.

No one exactly noticed this or acknowledged the sounds too much which got you thinking if this is truly just an everyday thing.. of course it is it's hell but-- geez.. how can anyone live like this! Explosions, blood, guts, corpses, drugs, diseases, infections running rampant and indulged in the way pigs would at old farm food.

Just the thought of that damn severed hand being eaten by that little kid that you stumbled upon earlier just made you sick.. ugh.

Is this what Alastor indulges in as well?.. in his own sick way? Is he truly comfortable in a place like this?..

He must be, if he's murdered as many as he did when he was alive, you didn't dare think how many he's hurt and murdered down here as well.

He truly did belong here, in hell. He was a sadist and a psycho through and through.

And that's what disgusted you the most.

"You hear that dear! One of them is half near empty! Let's head on at once!”

Rosie finally snapped you out of your thoughts, you then just nodded as if you were present in the moment this entire time.

Rosie put a hand behind your back to guide you to the back of one of the delivery carriages and as one man held the doors open for the two of you, you both went in and sat down on the neat little benches on the inside and you couldn't help but to acknowledge the several boxes of nails and other unmentionables that you assumed was meant for the hotel and the people working on it.

Eventually after the doors closed you managed to get light by the large window that brightened up the darkness in your new much smaller environment.

“You know ______ darling, you remind me of someone I know.”

Rosie’s sudden voices spooked you quite a bit, it was a bit out of nowhere as it interrupted the awkward silence between the two of you.

“I.. do?”

She nods as her hands rested on the handle of her closed umbrella, sitting in a most elegant way.

Thank goodness she was versatile, considering the circumstances.

“You remind me of a certain friend I’m going to see when we reach the hotel, you see he’s a very powerful fellow. Charming and helpful but.. what interests me more is how alike you both look..”

It’s starting to click slightly once she said ‘he’.. god you just hoped she wasn’t referring to Alastor -- even though you knew how likely it is that she was.

"Oh? Really?.. " acting oblivious I see, but before you could properly respond to her the sound of a whip could be heard with the loud neighs of a horse following right after, making the carriage start moving.

The ride wasn't too bad, a bit traumatizing sure and you really got a good experience of hell.. more or so decent.

In the middle of your ride you seemed to have passed by a rival gang having a shootout considering the two flying bullets that punctured your vehicle which most definitely tensed you up, yet you tried to relax seeing Rosie's opposite reaction.

Then you heard many yowls and screams of ache and pain, all with their own sounds of bodies falling or the sound of wet and squishiness following the disgusting act of puncturing with some sort of weapon you couldn't even imagine can be heard despite passing by the sounds quickly.

The live murders made you feel queasy in ways that made you almost want to throw up but knew you had to keep your head up high.

God, knowing you can't see anything but still hear everything is absolute torture for your wild imagination.

"Miss Rosie, does this--" a loud boom from afar interrupted you, making you almost shrivel up "--does this.. amount of chaos truly...happen everyday?.. I know it’s.. hell but-- isn't there at least one day where this isn't happening?.."

"Oh it never stops darling. It's hell and it will keep going this way until the end of time. I do apologize though.. seems as if your pure little head isn't used to this kind of environment." Duh. "Oh but then that means you'll surely get along with the princess, if anything she seems to be more fit to be an angel."

You simply huffed as your hands trembled on your lap.

This place was downright unpredictable, and you truly hope you would be able to leave this place right after the war.

You miss home already.

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

Finally arriving at the Hazbin Hotel was a real treat.

Not really actually-- pfft.

At least not when you had to be around even more cannibals..

Now you knew why the town seemed a little.. empty. The rest were all here.

Charming of them to be helping out but thanks to 'Susan' you didn't want to interact with any of them.

Walking out of your carriage you felt your heart up in your throat and slowly start to beat at a violent pace. Your anxiety was rising.

Rosie lead you to the front of the hotel doors, seemingly dusting herself off fixing her hair and hat before her hand turned into a fit to knock at the door.

You did the same thing she did, except in a more nervous and trembly way. Alastor was in here.. you were sure of it. You could feel it in your bones and your veins wanting to pop blood from out your ears and nose was seemingly close to happening with how hard the beating of your pulse got once Rosie finally did what you were dreading slightly.

knock, knock.. knock.

'okay _____ stay calm. you knew this was going to be bad, but you're here now.. just breathe, breathe...' you followed your own advice and took an inhale but as you let your shaky exhale out the door was slowly opening.

your eyes were staring dead at the head of the door.

was it Charlie? Vaggie? Alastor?--

"Hello there, just came to deliver someone who was looking for the Hotel. Oh and I came to check up on my cannibals and on Alastor."

Rosie all but confirmed it.

She knew Alastor.

For some reason, your heart sank, not just because she knew Alastor very well apparently but because this feels like a sort of strange betrayal.

You really wished she would've told you.. but if she did you would've freaked out even more-- and maybe she could tell?.. wait-- how would she even know your connection to him anyway??.. looking like a fawn couldn't just straight up tell her..

Yet when you finally looked up at the now open door it was actually none of those three that you knew of.

It was a.. cat? A grumpy lookin' one.

He looked at you and up at Rosie, her arm proceeding to go behind your back to push you gently up closer to the door as if to tell the cat to let you in. His eyes widened at the look at you and your physical attributes.. your wings and halo catching his eye but your fawn like appearance only enhancing the tension in his face a lot more.

He eventually let out a husky sigh with the expression on his face relaxing, his voice being very low and his years were audible in his vocal chords he then turned behind him to loudly announce one single thing from afar:

"You've got company."

He turned back at the two of you and opened the door for you to go through, Rosie guiding you in first.

"He's inside talking to the princess, just walk ahead, take a right and you'll see him." He spoke straight forwardly and serious, it made you feel a little unwelcome. Yet as you walked in you couldn't help but feel those eyes of his stick to you like glue.. you couldn't really blame him-- you were sure they don't see an angel everyday the way you are with hell's environments.

The clicking of Rosie's shoes and the gentle pitter patter of your own gave you goosebumps up your arms, and the more you walked and the closer you heard certain voices the more your spine crawled.

One step.

Two steps.

Three steps.

Four steps...

You could barley hear anything but the thumping of your own heart.

The small area of the hotel seemed to have been a sort of living room, sets of chairs and sofas surrounding a television box that seemed to be from one of the more later years after your time.

A calm Alastor and a stressed out Charlie were seated on the two different sofa while facing each other with papers and maps scattered around the table in the middle. Rosie lead you further to have you be in the view of the both of them.. you could've sworn her smile stretched as she did so

"Well if it isn't our beloved Rosie! What a warming surprise!--" Alastor's voice cheered until the end, where a sharp radio static interrupted his sentence and irritated those ears of yours.

"Rosie!" Charlie stood up from her seat in a polite yet frazzled state "Thank you so much for visiting!.. and I-- oh.."

The silence was deafening. You waved awkwardly as you avoided eye contact with your father and faced Charlie herself, her eyes basically ready to budge out and her jaws hanging slightly.

"Just came to visit and bring a little gift! I found this little bird during my stroll around my cannibal town and she seems to need your assistance! Isn't that right ______ darling?"

Rosie finished her sentence by patting your shoulder gently before her hands finally rested on the handle of her umbrella once more. You fiddled with your hands as you shined an awkward smile.. you looked like a child about to give a powerpoint presentation to a class..

'oh dear.. "

—--------------------------------------------

It was yet another cold and dark night in the beautiful New Orleans, faint night music can be heard even in the dead of night from the nearby clubs. A fresh and gentle night,

Ah but.. Alastor wasn’t exactly getting his hours of much needed sleep, for he had been rudely awakened by the cries of a baby.

Yes, you were around ten months old at this time and Alastor was yet to get used to this. There wasn’t a day that passed by where he didn’t think of dropping you at an orphanage. But then again.. It wasn’t that hard to get you to stop crying so those heinous thoughts left very quickly. Except for this day, he was getting challenged by a ten month old you.

“Shh shh shh.. goodness _____ please just go to sleep..” he mumbled, definitely frustrated. Despite his pleas, you just kept on crying and crying while resting over his shoulder. He fed you, patted your back, rocked you to sleep.. nothing worked– unfortunately Alastor wasn’t thinking of one of the most obvious solutions to this situation since the poor guy was too tired to truly think properly.

He kept gently patting your back, shushing you and cooing softly in hopes to tire you out. Your small yet mighty cries continued to rage against his ear..

god he had no idea what to do.

That was when he held you, his hands under your arms as he had you held in front of his face. His glasses were sloppily slapped above his nose, eye bags under his eyes, and a small smile was threatening to turn into a huge frown.

“Little lady.. I don’t appreciate you keeping me up longer than usual tonight, what in the world could you want?” Alastor asked you despite knowing you couldnt understand let alone talk to him back. You simply looked at him with big innocent eyes filled with tears, your baby face stained with dry and wet tear stains and your mouth nibbling on your hand on the verge of crying all over again. Alastor couldn’t help but to look at you almost blankly, he just wanted to sleep.

Gahh but then your eyes started watering again, your little bottom lip curled up over your top one as it quivered and looked at him with these little pained eyes as if he just told you the worst thing ever.

“Oh don’t look at me like that..” he mumbled.. Dreading the feeling you gave him when you cried– it felt like your cries were hurting him, it pained him hearing you cry so hard.

He wasn’t exactly fond of feeling this.

Your loud crying resumed once again, Alastor let out a huge sigh.

“Oh fine- I apologize.. There, better now?” you cried harder, clearly.. no.

He groaned as he then rested you on his chest, your face over his shoulder once again. If your crying wasn’t going to stop he might as well listen to a song to calm his agitation. And so he did, he headed to the living room to then turn on the phonograph. With the device already having a disc in it he simply had to turn it on so it could play where it left off and the second it released the sound of bliss he let out a sigh of relief, that at least despite the crying he could at least go through this as calmly as possible.

The music wasn’t exactly loud, very faint in fact yet he could still hear it a little bit over your crying. He hummed to the tune of the song as he simply patted your back gently and waited for your cries to disintegrate.

This was one of his favorite songs as they were from a musician that is recently becoming incredibly famous in the music industry and Alastor was fascinated by their use of melody and sound.

Melodies that reminded him of the days of his mother when she was still gracing the earth, a real saint that woman was.

Sometimes he talks to her through a photo of her on the wall, asking her questions she’ll never answer, seeking advice and wisdom that he won’t ever be able to hear again.

If only her sickness didn’t overtake her as fast as it did, maybe she would know what to say to motivate him more in this moment of struggle.

He thought and thought and thought as if his head would burst if he didn't.. wondering how she would help him in raising you. What she would say, her suggestions, recommendations.. what would she do in a situation like this.

He knew he had to stay calm and stay in control, he had to keep smiling for that’s what his mother always did no matter what came her way.

She handled it with grace, poise, and with a smile.

It took him around an hour of overthinking about his mothers death, you, his future, his job, and his.. pff.. fascinations.. the lack of sleep seriously taking a toll on him as his want was slowly getting tired of patting you.

But most of all he was thinking about you. His future included yours.

How kind.. despite being so heartless.

Oh.. the song ended and all that was left was the soft static from the machine, blissful silence was all that was heard.

Wait..

Silence?

He looked over his shoulder to look at you, your little baby cheeks squished against him, your eyes closed and your breathing steady..

Finally! You're asleep.

Another sigh of relief released from his lips, continuing to loudly hum the same song that was playing earlier as he slowly walked out of the living room towards his room, now stopping at your crib.

He continued humming as one of his hands held the back of your head and the other held your back, gently placing you in the crib while humming the tune he kept you close while he set you down so you wouldn’t suddenly burst in crying again.

Once he gently managed to place you down with no fuss.. He was darn ready to sleep.

Oh but he took a moment to look at you, leaning against the railings of your ‘bed’ made specifically for you.

Your little baby fat and your squishy cheeks that made your little face even cuter– once again, he was never fond of kids let alone babies but hell if only you didn’t look at him the way you did on that rainy day he found you.. Giggling and smiling even when you didn’t have a single clue of what your situation was as a month old baby.

“You are definitely a handful.. If you kept crying I might have left you in an orphanage by now.” he whispered and joked to himself– no matter the cruel jokes he makes he’ll always find laughter in moments or scenarios of despair.

He’s too far gone now though, he’s bought all your necessities and his home basically screams of a baby’s presence, so even if he truly wanted to do that he knew it’s too late to turn back and you're stuck to him forever.. Well however long ‘forever’ is.

"Domestic life was never quite my style.. still isn't, but I can simply make a few exceptions."

“Well now.. sweetest of dreams, little dove.” he mumbled quietly before finally heading to his own bed himself.

Alastor finally settling in and finally getting comfortable and very slowly falling asleep himself.. glasses back on his nightstand and the noise around him becoming fainter and his mind seemed to finally start powering off for the night.

Finally.. time to sleep.. there's much work to do tomorrow.

Until he heard shuffling from the crib.

‘Oh god.’

(thank you so much for reading part 5 of my angel baby! the stakes are gonna get real high between the reader and Alastor! hope everything goes well for the two when one of them starts interacting!(alastor lmao) hope to see you all in part 6 if you are willing to stick around! Im really only planning to finish this series until the very end or until you guys stop wanting it but nonetheless I hope we reach the end of this story soon!!)

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mitch-the-silly · 9 months ago

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Totally love your works. I have an angst idea 😆 so fem!reader and Vox have been in a long term relationship, like during the time Alastor was gone. Now that he's back, he's become his obsession and starts to neglect reader and brushes any affection she's trying to give and receive off. When she finally tries to talk to him about how he's focusing all his energy on the radio demon, he basically goes off on her and says how it's the only thing that matters. She, feeling unimportant, leaves and it's not until he sees her things gone from their shared place that he realizes he fucked up.

Can lead to him groveling like a simp and end in fluff comfort and makeouts. Or can end there if you wanted to leave your readers in suspense if you want to do it in two parts 😈 muaha I'm evil.

RAHHHHHH!!!!

I took some time with this one because I had to cook it up with care. When I tell you Alastor and Vox's dynamic is what I BREATHE FOR-

Now add someone else to the mix on Vox's side- This is something I've been waiting to write for WEEKS-

RAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

I was going feral writing this- Anyway, enjoy your angst >:DDD

This is a two parter!!!

Vox x fem!reader

Angst!!!

"Can't Seem to Hold Me, Can't Seem to Let Him Go" Pt.1

Part 2

It was a privilege to receive affection from Vox. Not even that, but it seemed that if it wasn’t for you, his life was boring and mundane. Nothing truly got him all excited and manic anymore, and he was starting to hate his life a little bit. He was already at the top of the game, he and the rest of the Vees were the most powerful overlords. What else was there to do around here?

But, well, all was not bad, he had you. While the power he held had a kick to it, there was nothing like the drug of rivalry. But with Alastor gone, he had to settle for the next best thing, love. Oh, it ought to be an adventure. And that drug had such a kick, oh he was obsessed with it.

And that’s where you came into the picture, he met you at a nightclub. So pretty and talented, just the kind of people he loved to surround himself by, just what he wanted, just what he craved… And you kept him as entertained as he needed to be. To the point that he felt like perhaps he was sort of falling in love with you. Oh, how the bliss of forgetting his fights of the past with a pretty woman. He’d allowed his heart the validation it needed and he figured if someone loved him as deeply as you did, truly everyone loved him.

Of course, he still had to balance Velvette and Valentino, but that was the mundane part of his power-hungry scheme. The mixture, of your attention and doting intertwined with his total control of the population… oh he was living the life… truly. Or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. Ever since Alastor disappeared, he felt a hole in his heart. Something that couldn’t quite be quenched by all the power the world had to offer or the women this land had to throw at him.

It was the pure thrill of obsession that he missed, that he craved, but no one was a worthy opponent to him anymore. Alastor was gone. Alastor… his one and only obsession… what was he to do now? He could not fathom being this bored and empty all eternity. But what could he do about it? Nothing but sit and sulk, truly. But to himself, of course, he knew that telling you this would just leave you confused about your position in his eyes. And he truly did care about you, but… you were the only interesting thing in his life, and his one fatal flaw was always wanting for more.

You had your arm linked with Vox’s, ascending from his TV surveillance room onto the upper floors. You tapped his shoulder, catching his attention. “You’ve got a little somethin’.” You chuckled, pointing at the corner of his mouth. “Let me get it.” You giggled, gesturing for him to lean down. He obliged and you wiped the edge of his lips with your thumb.

“Forgot to get that spot. It’s hard to get all of them, you know? You should start cleaning up your own mess.~” He teased.

“It’s not my fault someone wanted to make out down there…” You huffed jokingly, linking arms with him again. You two stood still, smiling like cardboard cutouts as you waited for the elevator doors to open. The second they did, a crowd surrounded you two. Asking both of you all sorts of questions. It was always this way, an everyday routine since Vox was a celebrity, and by dating him, so were you. Every public area you were in was nothing but camera flashes and microphones. It was a bit much at times, but Vox enjoyed it so much, that you didn’t seem to mind too much. Once their questions were answered, and Vox shooed them away, you two went to your destination freely. And you continued to do this for days and days after that. You loved your routine, and found peace in the sort of monotony you two had.

But oh no, no good thing lasts forever. An unlucky morning, you found yourself in Vox’s surveillance room, sitting on his lap, enjoying each other’s company. It was a day like no other, truly.

“Look at that!” He shouted, pointing at one of his monitors, “What does it feel like to be with someone so rich and fucking powerful, baby? Just look at how easily they flock to me~” He chuckled, caressing your face.

“Oh~ You’re just the perfect mastermind~ I’m the luckiest sinner in hell~” You cooed, kissing the bottom corner of his screen, leaving behind a red lipstick kiss stain.

“Why don’t you kiss a bit higher?~ You missed my mouth entirely~?” He cooed back, fake pouting at you as to request you kiss his lips.

You obliged, leaning closer to him, but just before you planted your kiss, his face blared with an incoming call screen. His ringtone was so stupid, but it was charming nonetheless. You saw who was calling him: Velvette. She was either calling to annoy him (which you totally respected; annoying Vox was your favorite pastime after making out with him), or because she needed something important. So you sat back down in his lap as Vox answered the phone, passing the call from his face to a television.

“Hello there, Velvette! How are you this… hellish morning?~” Vox chuckled, picking up his coffee mug and taking a sip from it, after which he pecked your lips. He was a huge fan of flaunting you to his fellow Vees.

“Oh cut the shit Vox. I need you up here. Now.” Velvette demanded, side-eyeing you slightly, but then smiling when you looked at her.

Vox, continued to tenderly touch you, caressing your cheek, not even looking at Velvette anymore, just admiring your precious face. “Whatever could be the problem, dear?”

“Well, your little boy-toy, is wrecking my department while I’m trying to pull together a show! And-” She paused, to turn behind her, Valentino could be heard in the background as flying body parts flew behind Velvette. It was most definitely another Valentino tantrum. Vox had no choice but to turn to her now… “So get your ass here! Now. And don’t bring your girlfriend, it’s NOT going to make Valentino feel any better, you know how he’s always bitching about her.” Velvette yelled, after which she turned around to yell at Valentino, immediately hanging up afterward.

Vox sighed, the adoring smile he gave you morphing into an annoyed frown. “Stay here, doll. I have to stop another tantrum…” He picked you up and placed you on his chair. Then he walked away, muttering under his breath about how tedious having to check on Val was and how he hated his life.

A bit of pity overcame you, but you figured it was simply the burden power came with. You frowned at being left out of the situation, but you smiled at the realization that you didn’t have to sit there and wonder what came of this whole fiasco. Vox’s cameras! Oh, they were all over the place, and you knew how to work the surveillance room perfectly.

So you began to observe him, watching him talk to some paparazzi, announcing a new product or line, perhaps, then leaving towards Velvette’s department. And ‘in shambles’ was an understatement when it came to describing what you saw in there. Models running around, Velvette yelling at some designers, Valentino had definitely thrown the place off course, but you knew Velvette had it under control. She was always on top of things.

You observed how she spoke to Vox, shooing him up to Valentino’s tower… You hated that place. You would have started off there if it wasn’t for Vox seeing you first. And oh the stories you’ve heard about it… You didn’t talk to Valentino much, but the very few times you did he was very passive-aggressive. You didn’t like him much, but you understood that the porn industry was something Vox needed to have control over in order to have the power he desired. You weren’t too fond of… his history with Vox, and you didn’t even wanna know if they still had something going on. You preferred to stay in the shadows about it. If anything was still happening, you were sure it was because Vox needed him in check. And Valentino was a tricky one for sure, but you’d rather not think about the subject.

You observed Vox enter Valentino’s quarters, his room was full of that red smoke he always had around him. You knew it was a drug of sorts… it made you sick to your stomach to think that maybe Vox was under it too… But, again, not something you liked to think about. Vox approached him and the second Valentino saw him, he got up, smashed his cocktail glass on the floor in pure rage.

You weren’t one to criticize people’s maturity (it’s not like your Vox wasn’t quite the man-child at times), but you hated the way Valentino tended to pounce at first signs of anything. His short temperament sort of pissed you off. Or maybe it wasn’t his temperament that ticked you, it was probably the attention Vox gave it. You proceeded to listen to their conversation, Valentino complaining about another one of his employees… Typical of him. It didn’t surprise you it was Angel Dust who he was bitching about. He always bitched about his star employee.

And you could tell Vox was uninterested, observing him text on his phone as Val ranted. Funny enough he was texting you. You found it so cute how perfect his grammar was over text. He loved to portray himself as refined and superior in every aspect.

Val’s rambling again

What do you wanna get for dinner?

I was thinking, maybe… Chinese?

What do you think, Doll?

After which, a phrase Val said caught his attention and he indulged him with a response. Response which was met with more screams and whines from Valentino. And just as you were about to text Vox back with the answer to his question, you saw how Val took Vox’s phone and smashed it into the wall. You sighed in annoyance. You were about to switch off their conversation until you heard Valentino say where Angel Dust was…

He was living with Lucifer’s daughter? Angel Dust living with Princess Charlie? This only meant he could be in one place, that hotel you heard her announce. Valentino rambled about going there and killing everyone there, which Vox immediately shut down. It was his perpetual situation. He always had to put Valentino in his place, reminding him that his delusions were not to be acted upon.

He always talked to Valentino like he was a child. He did the same to you too, but it was more loving… You were sure. When he spoke to Valentino that way, it was more condescending. You liked to hear that even Vox thought this was stupid. Either that, or he was using his TV Show Host Voice to get through to him. You huffed at the sight of Vox lighting a cigarette for Val, listening to what they were talking about again. Since you’d zoned out while mentally criticizing Val.

“You know…~ Angel isn’t the only one spending time at this ratty hotel with the devil’s Princesa~...” Valentino cooed, turning back to Vox who was messing around with some of Vaelintino’s things.

“Oh? Who else is in there? Someone who… owes you money?” Vox replied, as uninterested as before, but still attempting to put up a facade for his fellow Vee.

Valentino laughed at his response, “Someone who owes us much more than money~...” He chuckled, shaking the ashes off his cig.

Vox lifted a brow, pretending to care. But he was about to care about what Valentino had to say, very soon.

“The Radio Demon is there…~” Valentino cooed.

Vox’s demeanor switched in a millisecond. The mere name sent shivers down his spine, his hypnotic eye bulging on his screen as he dug his claws into the nearest piece of furniture. He began to crackle with electricity, his voice was low and extremely reverbed. "W̵h̵a̷t̸ ̴d̴i̵d̸ ̷y̶o̷u̷ ̷j̵u̵s̶t̶ ̷s̴a̴y̷.̵.̷.̵?̶ ” He muttered, turning slowly to Valentino.

You could see something in him change. It was a bit scary in all honestly, you knew Vox to be one to put up masks, but this one… it was one you didn't even know he had up.

“Oh, you heard me~.” Valentino replied, grinning back at him.

“Alastor… came back and he is with Lucifer’s d̶a̸u̶g̸h̴t̴e̵r̶ … and that wasn’t the F̷I̷R̷S̴T̴ ̵ F̷̺̕Ủ̷̺C̵͕̕K̵̟̚Ị̵̉N̸̺̂G̸͖̍ ̵͔̽T̷͍͊H̸̫͘I̸͇̒N̴̪͘G̵͙̿ ̸̦͠Y̵̜̎Ọ̴̍U̶̫̎ ̸̪͘T̴͓̕O̸̙̎L̵̼̓D̴̛̥ ̶͊͜M̷̮̆Ē̷̫?̴̧̆!̶͎̕ ” Vox roared, grabbing Valentino by the collar.

The taller demon brushed this gesture off, walking away from him, “Hey~ Killing Alastor is your kink~!” Val chuckled, sitting on a countertop near some monitors.

Without wasting a second, Vox zapped towards the little surveillance Valentino had in his room. You could barely see what was on that screen, but it was enough for you to be able to tell that The Radio Demon was in that footage. You watched the way Vox observed him. It was obsessive, so attentive and careful. It… it made you a tiny bit jealous, in all honesty. For the past seven years, he’d only looked at you that way, or rather, he’d never looked at you that way and to that extent at all.

You observed Vox mutter about Alastor, (ignoring Valentino’s complaints about Angel Dust) he was buzzing and crackling like crazy. Was he livid? Excited? You just couldn’t tell. But you didn’t have much time to think, because, in the blink of an eye, Vox wrapped his conversation up with Val and zapped his way out of his tower.

After which, you heard the doors to the room you were in open up. You got up, seeing Vox approach you. You tried to speak to him, but he shoved you to the side. “Not now Y/n. Go upstairs.” He commanded.

Sitting in his chair, he pressed a button, connecting himself to the machine before him. He was getting ready to broadcast.

His behavior took you aback. You couldn’t believe he’d done this to you. But what else could you do? He’d ignored you.

So you went up the elevator, observing his display via television.

He was losing his fucking mind. Spiraling. You’d never seen Vox like this. And yet, one would think he’d be pissed by this new discovery… but he was… genuinely smiling… you’d never seen him this happy.

Shit got interesting when Alastor responded, however, beginning his radio broadcast. Of course, Vox broadcasted this on the channel too with the intention of beating Alastor on air. A mistake he was sure to pay for. You watched Alastor tear him to bits, hearing even that Vox had asked Alastor to be a Vee and him rejecting the offer as the reason for their rivalry.

And then it clicked… Vox saw Alastor as his main priority. And if what Alastor said was true… Vox’s approach to this refusal was “If I can’t have him, I must destroy him.” Of course, you weren’t allowed to ponder on this much, since Vox began to glitch.

He was losing his patience, spiraling more and more, threatening Alastor until he caused a blackout and ending his broadcast.

Over the darkness of the room you were in, in the distance, you could hear the ominously menacing voice of Alastor as he warned Vox that the time of his reign was over… you could imagine what this made Vox feel. He’d essentially lost the argument by losing his composure.

Alas, you were sure you could try to find him downstairs. He confided in you, you were sure about this. So after a huge blow to his ego such as this, you had to go to him and console him. So you made your way back to his surveillance/broadcast room. You opened the doors to see him crouched down over a screen. He swiped through the footage of everyone in the Bee district speaking. “Where is he? Where is he broadcasting from?” he cried out, switching from screen to screen, checking every camera on every sector on the Pentagram. “He put a fucking tower in that hotel?!” he raged.

“Vox…” You mumbled softly, approaching him.

“Not now.” He blurted bluntly. “Ughh… I need to meet with the other two… Alastor’s return brings in a new set of problems.” He chuckled. And while he tried to sound as annoyed as possible, you couldn’t help but see that light in his eyes. One you didn’t even know was missing. He was obviously enjoying himself, but why? Why was he this excited?

“Don’t overexert yourself, ok?” You suggested, trying to look out for him.

“Don’t overexert myself? Alastor is fucking back! I’m not sleeping until this fucker is taken down!” He spat back, walking off.

You let him be, it seemed to be important. But as days went by, he began to spend less time with you to the point in which he began to ignore you. He’d shove you to the side to spend his day obsessing over sabotaging Alastor. Days passed and he shut you out, completely cutting you off in order to spend more time feeding his obsession. You couldn’t stand this, you had to tell him to turn your way.

So you went to his broadcast/surveillance room, observing the way he peered over his screens. Spreading rumors and lies about Alastor in order to smear his image. He muttered as if he was spiraling, speaking things that sounded like gibberish when paired with the sound of his revered and staticized voice.

“Vox…” You spoke, trying to catch his attention.

“W̶̥͗H̸̠͒A̵̳̓T̵̩̏?̷̲̕!̵͎̓” Box yelled, turning to you in annoyance.

“I need to talk to you.” You spoke, a bit taken aback by his reaction to you speaking to him.

“I’m too busy for that. Another day, sweetheart.” He spoke, shrugging you off.

“No, another day will not do. I want to speak now.” You demanded.

“Now’s not the time to be a brat. I’m busy and that’s final.” Vox huffed, attempting to get you to leave.

“Why are you ignoring me?! Ever since Alastor came back, you haven’t even said more than three sentences to me! Am I not important to you?” You cried out, getting all up in his face. If he refused to acknowledge you, you were going to make it impossible for him to do so.

“Hey hey hey! I’m busy! Go bother someone else, this is important!” He protested, pushing you away from him.

“You’re not listening to me!! Am I not important!?” You screamed, shoving his arms away from you.

“Alastor is important to me right now! Does that answer your question?!” He yelled back, turning away from you to do as he had before.

You stood there in shock, he’d essentially told you that you weren’t important to him. What was truly important to him was Alastor and the sabotage of his power. So you walked off, running away from him.

Vox did not realize what he’d done. He was too obsessed and preoccupied with his own obsessions that he didn’t seem to notice that he’d driven you away…

#rahhhhh #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox #vox #vox x reader #hazbin alastor #valentino hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #vox hazbin #vox hazbin hotel #i had so much fun

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devilfic · 10 months ago

Text

❝friends of the web❞

plot: you have a fear of spiders, but you've made a promise to work past it. peter thinks your determination is really quite adorable. pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: fluff, humor, established relationship, spiders (not graphic), reader has arachnophobia but is being so brave about it, based on the poem "ten legs, eight broken" by I, e on tiktok because it fundamentally changed the way I interact with small bugs forevermore. words: 1.2k.

a/n: I have had pretty bad arachnophobia my entire life and after reading ten legs, eight broken a while back, it convinced me to start saving little spiders I find in my house. this fic is 100% based on how that ends up going every single time. minus peter parker coming to save the day

He's careful, stomach coiled tight to control his breathing. One hand is delicately pinching a bolt with tweezers, the other holding his webshooter frighteningly still. One wrong move would trigger the suspension, and about four hours' worth of fluid refill would end up all over his research notes. He has to be slow. He lowers the tweezers another half inch.

Gently, the bolt's thread catches and he releases the breath he'd been holding. In that same moment, you shout and his tweezers slip.

It's the feeling of webs spraying him in the face that he registers first, their tendrils catching onto his glasses and eyelashes and lips. Then it's your rushed breathing, the pumping of your heart nearly beating out of your chest. He doesn't feel a tingle along his spine but your shout jolts Peter out of his spell. In an instant, he's batting away the webs and throwing himself out of his office with enough velocity to take down a wall. He's expecting scorpions, vultures, lizards, his hearing zeroing in on you, and-

-and he turns the corner and there's you, crouched on the floor, hands cupped in front of you—cocooning something. "Hey, hey, hey, whoa, whoa." Peter's eyes flit around the room, looking for the threat his senses ought to have picked up on by now, and kneels beside you. He focuses on your hands and your complete and utter lack of urgency. "What's going on?"

You glance to the side, so quick he doesn't even think you register the panic on his face, "Pete, thank God. Can you talk to this thing for me?"

You move your hand and the other breathing thing in the room becomes apparent. A spider, barely the size of a crumb, is crawling over mountains of carpet thread. It's moving quickly but in circles, clearly confounded by the terrain. Peter looks at you. He drags each syllable out as he asks, "What is happening?"

You shift and Peter shifts with you, keeping an eye on the spider, "This thing- this spider is such a jackass."

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying to get him outside and he won't go."

You've got a flier for Pilates in the Park clenched in one hand, while the other is cautiously putting a wall between the spider and the abyss under your sofa, a place where even Peter dares not go. "Why don't you just kill it?"

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say. You look horrified at him as you answer, "I can't kill him!"

"Do we- are we sure it's a him? Have you decided he's a him?"

"I made a promise to myself that I would stop killing."

"I don't think... okay, what is going on here?"

You struggle to explain and focus on the spider at the same time, "It's a resolution I made for the new year. That even though I'm terrified of these things, I won't kill them anymore because... because they're living beings just like me." Peter watches you bite your lip, a twinge of pity sewn into the divot between your furrowed brows, "So I'm putting them outside whenever I see one... if only they would stop being jackasses about it."

Peter half-laughs, half-sighs. The little spider crawling around on the ground is none the wiser to your inner peril, "This isn't just because your boyfriend is, like, 1/3 spider, is it? I won't take it personally if you hit him with a shoe."

You snort and place your flier in front of the escaping spider, watching it crawl over the word "yoga" before making a u-turn for the carpet, "Of course not, my spider overlord."

You try to scoop up the spider again but every time you lift the paper, it dives off the other side and back into the carpet. "How long does this usually take?" Peter asks. He sits back on his ass, propping up a knee to rest his arm on.

"Ten minutes at best. If I don't lose them."

"Hm. And this works for you?"

You pout up at him, scooping up the spider again and watching it fly off once more, "I usually manage to get them outside, I'll have you know."

"And the screaming?"

"I never said it was a peaceful process."

"So, let me get this straight," Peter leans into you, "you spot the spider, you grab the nearest piece of paper, you try to get the spider on the paper, and then you...?"

"Scream and run until I make it to the window."

"Why- why the screaming?"

You wince, trying not to lose the bug in the carpet, "Because I'm scared they'll touch me." Your boyfriend tickles his fingers along your arm and you shiver, swatting him with your free hand.

After another failed attempt, Peter places his hand in front of the spider's path and it crawls into his palm to get to the kitchen. Before it can cross over into tiled territory, it's forced to a sudden stop, and Peter takes advantage.

It takes him three strides to get to the living room window, yank it open, and release the spiderling into the wild.

You're standing behind him with a look of frustration on your face, even though your shoulders have finally sagged with relief, "How'd you convince him to sit in your hand like that?"

"I didn't. Sticky hands." Peter wiggles all his fingers at you, amused.

"Wh- that's it? Do they not usually listen to you or something?" You grab one of his hands and quickly realize he's using that ability on you this time. He's got you stuck in a handhold.

"I can't remember when I ever said I could talk to spiders."

"I mean, it seems like a pretty fair assumption," you grumble, trying to shake his hand away before giving in, "they put their juices in you after all."

"Why would you say that?"

"Thanks for the help, by the way. I'm still... getting used to not panicking when I see them."

Peter raises his other hand to your hair and gives you a kiss on the temple, smiling against your skin, "You are so, so, so brave."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's pretty brave to show mercy to something you fear, right? You could've killed it or asked me to do it, but you didn't. You wanted it to live."

"It doesn't mean to scare me," you bring your intertwined hands up to your mouth and press a kiss to his knuckles, "I'd want it to take pity on me if it was the other way around."

"I think the spiders will appreciate that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then why do they give me such a hard time?"

"Well, you're so scared of them that you don't even realize they're just as scared of you. You gotta make 'em like you, you know?"

"Got any tips for that?"

Peter guides his free hand to your waist, rocking you side to side, "Hm. Buy them sushi. Take them to a midnight showing of Night of the Living Dead. Tell him you think his nerdy rambling after the movie is sexy..." You giggle into Peter's chest and his heart swells, "Don't laugh! It worked on me."

You tilt your head up and he steals a kiss without hesitation, making you stumble on what you say next, "How about you just come let them out for me next time, hm?"

"And if I'm not around?"

"...make me a super scientific spider catching gadget?"

Peter hooks his hands underneath your thighs and hikes you up around his waist, "I'll make you one if you refill my web fluid for me."

"You can fill me with your web fluid."

"Okay. I'm putting you in time out, freak."

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #spider-man #tasm #marvel #mjwrites

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wonies-cheeks · 1 month ago

Text

The Book That Knows | l.hs

Synopsis: A day where reality and fiction collide, a seemingly normal day for you spirals into terror when you discover a mysterious book in your home. The book eerily mirrors your life, with each page recounting events happening in real time.

Genre: Ghostface!Heeseung, Psychological Horror, Thriller, Supernatural Fiction, Suspense

W/C: 3.9k

Warnings: Violence, Psychological Horror, Supernatural Elements, Manipulation, Implied Threat of Death, Betrayal, Cursing

A/N: Sorry it took me a long time to post something new. University has been stressing me out and i just never had time to just sit down and write. Don't be afraid to send me requests, I'll make sure to try and answer all of them. And i will try to post often. I hope you enjoy!

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*⭑*•̩̩͙⊱••••✩••••̩̩͙⊰•*

It was a dreary Sunday afternoon when you first heard about Ghost Face on the news. You weren't paying much attention at first, mindlessly flipping channels as the rain poured against your window. But something about the chilling report on the television caught your ear, making you pause.

The anchor’s voice, calm but laced with tension, described a recent string of brutal murders happening in a nearby town. The killer —known only by the alias "Ghost Face"— had yet to be caught. The mask they wore, white with hollow eyes and a twisted, grinning mouth, had become infamous. What made it all the more terrifying was how they blended into the victims' lives, often posing as a friend, a neighbor, someone familiar — until it was too late.

You shivered, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV, trying to shake off the eerie feeling creeping up your spine. It was just a story, after all, a terrible tragedy happening somewhere else to someone else. You were safe, tucked away in your cozy home, far from the horrors playing out on the screen.

You had found an old, tattered novel at a second-hand shop the day before — a horror story with a faded cover, its title barely legible: “The Silent Watcher”.

Something about it had drawn you in, though you couldn’t quite place why. The pages smelled of old paper and mystery, and you had a hunch it was the type of book that would get under your skin.

You settled into your favorite chair, the rain tapping softly against the windows, and began to read.

The story started off simple enough: a small town, an outsider moving into a creaky, old house, and a series of strange occurrences. The protagonist, a person with no name yet, began to notice odd things happening around them—a door that wouldn’t stay shut, a strange knocking at night, the sensation of being watched.

As you turned the pages, the descriptions of the protagonist’s life became unsettlingly familiar. They lived alone, much like you. Their house had the same creaking floorboards, the same slightly peeling wallpaper, the same view of the park across the street. You told yourself it was just a coincidence. Old houses often shared these traits, and plenty of horror novels leaned into these types of clichés.

But as you continued, the details grew more specific. The way the house’s front door stuck if you didn’t pull it hard enough. The exact placement of the furniture in the living room. The faint stain on the ceiling in the kitchen that no amount of scrubbing could remove. Every description matched your own home.

You put the book down, your heart starting to race. The rain outside had picked up, and the house was filled with that eerie quiet that comes after dusk. You stood up, walking to the window, peering out at the empty street. The park, with its benches and swings swaying in the wind, looked peaceful enough, but you couldn’t shake the creeping feeling crawling up your spine.

Shaking off the unease, you sat back down and opened the book again. Maybe it was just a trick your mind was playing on you. Maybe you were getting too absorbed in the story. You continued reading, your fingers trembling slightly as you turned the page.

The protagonist was now feeling watched, just like you had when you first noticed the strange coincidences. They began to hear footsteps at night, soft taps in the hallway that made their pulse quicken. You could feel your own breath quicken as you read, the words pulling you deeper into the mystery.

Then came the part that made your blood run cold.

The protagonist, unnamed until now, was given a name—a name that was yours.

You stared at the page, blinking, convinced you were seeing things. The name was printed clearly. Your name. It couldn’t be. Your mind whirled, trying to rationalize. Maybe it was some bizarre fluke, or maybe your mind was playing tricks on you, inserting your own name into the story because of how eerily familiar it had become.

You flipped back a few pages, scanning for when the name first appeared, but it wasn’t there. Your name hadn’t been mentioned earlier in the book. Yet now, it was all over the page, as if it had always been there.

Heart pounding, you turned to the next chapter. The protagonist—you—was walking through their home, checking the doors, locking the windows, making sure everything was secure. As they—you—moved through the house, the words began to describe something new. Something you hadn’t done yet.

You froze.

The book was describing your exact movements, as though it was watching you. " You glance at the clock. It’s 7:14. You place the book down on the side table and stand up, walking to the kitchen to make sure the back door is locked."

Your eyes darted to the clock. It was 7:14.

The book was reading you. Your movements, your thoughts, every detail of your life was being played out in the story, one sentence ahead of your actions.

Suddenly, you felt like you weren’t alone. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, thicker, like something was watching, waiting. You stood up, the book slipping from your hands, and glanced toward the hallway. The faint tapping, the sound of footsteps, echoed from the dark.

You turned to the book, still lying open on the chair. You didn’t want to, but you had to know. With trembling hands, you picked it back up.

"You walk slowly to the hallway, your heart racing. You know there’s something there. You know that, just beyond the corner, it waits for you."

The tapping grew louder. A steady rhythm, like fingers drumming against the wall.

"Your breath quickens as you step closer. You don’t want to look, but you can’t stop yourself. You turn the corner, and there it is. The watcher. It has been waiting for you all along."

You took a step forward, the hallway looming before you, every nerve in your body screaming at you to stop. But you couldn’t. The book was in your hands, and you had to know how it ended.

"The watcher is not human. It never was. Its eyes are fixed on you, unblinking, never leaving, always waiting. And now, you are part of its story. Forever."

You stopped at the edge of the hallway, unable to move. The footsteps had stopped. The house was deathly silent.

Slowly, you closed the book, but you knew it wasn’t over.

You stood frozen at the edge of the hallway, the eerie silence wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket. The book, now tightly gripped in your trembling hands, felt heavier than before, like it was something alive—breathing, watching, waiting. The words haunted you, the image of the watcher lurking just beyond the corner. But there was something else now, a new presence that made your skin prickle with a strange mix of fear and anticipation.

A soft knock echoed through the house. Your heart skipped a beat.

Someone was at the door.

For a split second, you wondered if you should even answer it. Every instinct screamed that something was wrong. But the knocking came again, more insistent this time, pulling you out of your paralysis.

You moved toward the door, the sound of your footsteps unnervingly loud in the stillness. When you finally reached it, you hesitated for a moment, your hand hovering over the handle. The knock came again, this time more insistent, followed by a familiar voice.

"Hey, it’s me, Heeseung. You there?"

Relief washed over you. Heeseung was your next-door neighbor, and more than that, your best friend. He was the first one who introduced himself to you once you moved here. He kept you company and helped you out when things got tough. He was the first one that felt like home. If anyone could calm you down from this bizarre, twisted night, it was him. You hurriedly reached the door knob, almost too eagerly, and opened it.

Heeseung stood there with his trademark grin, a hoodie pulled over his head and a baseball cap barely concealing his messy black hair that stuck to his forehead. He looked like he had just come from the rain, drops glistening on his clothes. His warm brown eyes scanned your face with an intensity you couldn’t place. For a moment, the world outside seemed to fade into a blur of rain and shadows. It was like the space around him didn’t quite exist, only he did—sharp and real, with an energy that made your pulse quicken.

“Hey,” he said, his voice steady, almost too calm for the moment. “I saw your light was still on and thought I’d check in. You okay?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. The words felt heavy on your tongue. "What.... What are you doing here?"

The man smiled softly, though there was something about it that made your heart race, a mix of warmth and something else —something unreadable. “I’m your best friend dumbass, your neighbour too,” he said simply. “But you seemed like you needed someone right now.” Something about his presence put you slightly at ease, as though he was meant to be there. Like he'd always been there.

But your mind snapped back to the book, the horror of what you’d just read, and the watcher that had been described waiting in the shadows. Could this be another coincidence? Or was he something more—something tied to the terrifying mystery unfolding around you?

"Hey," he said, stepping in without waiting for an invitation, "you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost." He wiped the water from his face, his eyes scanning the room like he was searching for something. For a moment, he glanced at the book on the table, its pages slightly open, but he didn’t mention it. Instead, he leaned against the wall, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp.

You almost laughed at how close to the truth that was. "Yeah, I just—" You hesitated, glancing back at the book sitting on the armchair. "I was reading this creepy book, and it’s messing with my head. It… feels too real, Heeseung."

He raised an eyebrow, peeking over your shoulder at the book. "What do you mean, 'too real?'"

You sighed, trying to calm your nerves. "It’s like the book knows what I’m doing. It started describing my house, my movements, even my thoughts. And now I feel like something’s watching me."

Heeseung chuckled softly, though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Come on, it’s just a book. You’re letting it get to you." Heeseung tilted his head, giving you that playful, reassuring smile that had always made you feel better.

Heeseung was right—this had to be your mind playing tricks on you.

As you looked at him, it seemed as if he wanted to say something but was hesitant. You were about to ask him about it but he then spoke after a moment, his voice soft but firm, “But truthfully, I’ve noticed things too. Weird things. I thought maybe... you’d want to talk about it.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. He had noticed things? Things like what?

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Heeseung’s expression darkened slightly, his brows furrowing. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I think you’re being watched. I’ve seen someone—or something—lurking near your house at night. It’s hard to explain, but... it doesn’t feel right.”

Your pulse quickened, fear curling tightly in your chest. Was it the watcher? The same figure described in the book? How could Heeseung know about this? How could he have seen it when you only just read it?

As if sensing your rising panic, Heeseung stepped closer, his voice gentler. “Listen, I know how crazy this sounds, but I’m not lying. I’ve seen it. And I don’t think it’s just a person. I think it’s something worse.”

The book’s words flashed in your mind: "The watcher is not human. It never was."

Your throat went dry. “How do you know?” you managed to ask.

Heeseung hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because... I’ve been through this before. A long time ago, in another town, another place. It started just like this. The feeling of being watched. The strange occurrences. The book...”

Your heart stopped. The book.

Heeseung followed your gaze to the novel sitting on the table. His face paled slightly. “You’ve been reading it, haven’t you?”

You nodded slowly. “It’s... about me. It knows everything. Every detail of my life, every move I make. It’s like it’s writing my story as I live it.”

Heeseung ran a hand through his wet hair, his face grim. “It’s not just writing your story,” he said, his voice low. “It’s controlling it.”

You stared at him, a sinking feeling gnawing at your stomach. “What do you mean?”

Heeseung took a deep breath, his eyes darkening with the weight of what he was about to say. “Once you start reading it, it doesn’t stop. The book—"The Silent Watcher"—it latches onto you, like a parasite. It watches, it waits, and then it pulls you in. You become a character in its pages, trapped in the story it writes. The watcher... it’s part of the book, part of the story, and it’s after you.”

Your mind reeled. The watcher, the book, Heeseung—everything was connected. But how? Why?

“How do we stop it?” you whispered, dread settling deep in your bones.

Heeseung looked at you, his eyes filled with both fear and determination. “I don’t know if we can stop it,” he admitted. “But there might be a way to survive. We need to finish the book. And whatever happens, we need to make sure it doesn’t write the ending.”

The air around you seemed to grow colder, the walls of your house closing in as the weight of his words sank in. The watcher was out there, lurking, waiting. And the only way to escape was to face the story head-on.

With Heeseung by your side, you knew there was no turning back.

The book still lay open on the table, waiting for you to turn the next page.

Together, you took a deep breath and plunged back into the story, knowing that whatever came next, you were no longer alone in this nightmare.

The rain had slowed to a soft patter against the windows, but inside the house, the tension remained thick. You glanced at Heeseung, whose calm demeanor seemed to waver for a moment as he stared at the book on the table. His earlier words echoed in your mind—"The book is controlling your story. The watcher is part of it."

But something about him wasn’t sitting right.

You shook your head, trying to focus. This wasn’t the time for doubt. You had just discovered that your life, your every move, was being dictated by the book. You were living out its plot, a puppet in someone else’s hands, and now Heeseung was telling you that the watcher wasn’t just some figment of your imagination. It was real. But how did he know so much? How was he so familiar with the horrors unfolding around you?

Heeseung shifted beside you, his eyes scanning the room as if he were looking for something—or someone.

"Do you hear that?" he asked quietly, stepping closer to you. His voice was soft, but the way his eyes stayed fixed on the book sent a shiver down your spine.

You strained your ears. The house was silent, save for the ticking of the clock and the faint dripping of rain outside. "No… What are you—"

He cut you off, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. "It's closer than you think. We need to be careful."

Before you could respond, something clicked in your mind—something off about him. There was a confidence in his movements that seemed too practiced, too precise. The way he watched the shadows, as if he was waiting for something, felt more deliberate than concerned. And then there was his sudden arrival. Why had he shown up tonight, of all nights? How had he known to come?

As Heeseung stepped away from you, pacing the room like he was calculating something, you caught sight of the reflection in the window. For just a split second, you saw it. The faintest hint of something dark, something familiar—the outline of a mask. It was familiar to the one you saw on the television just moments before. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, but your heart lurched in your chest.

You blinked hard, trying to push the thought away. It couldn't be true. Heeseung was helping you, he was your best friend. He seemed as terrified as you were, didn’t he?

But as he turned back to face you, his eyes meeting yours, something in his gaze had shifted. There was a glint, a spark of something cold, something calculated. You had seen that look before. Not in Heeseung, but in the very stories you had read—where the killer wore a friendly face, a mask hiding the truth underneath.

Your pulse quickened, the room suddenly feeling too small. "Heeseung," you said slowly, your voice barely above a whisper, "why are you really here?"

Heeseung stopped, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you for what felt like an eternity. Then, he let out a low chuckle, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I told you—I’ve been through this before. I’ve seen it happen. I’m trying to help you.”

But there was something wrong with the way he said it. The way his voice dropped, too smooth, too casual, as if he was reading from a script. And then, without warning, he stepped closer, his smile lingering just a little too long.

You took a step back, your breath catching in your throat. "Help me?" The question came out shaky, your nerves fraying. "Or are you just watching? Like the book says."

His eyes darkened, and for the first time, you saw it—an unsettling amusement lurking just beneath the surface. "It’s funny," he said, his voice soft, "how easy it is to blend in, to be the hero in someone’s story when really…" He trailed off, a twisted grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your heart raced as the truth began to dawn on you. Heeseung wasn’t here to help. He was here because he was part of the story. He wasn’t just a bystander or some random figure from the neighborhood. He was the watcher.

Heeseung leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and whispered, "You should’ve been more careful. You never know who’s behind the mask."

The room spun as the pieces clicked into place. Heeseung—he was the one watching, controlling the story from the shadows. He had lured you into this twisted narrative, guiding your every move, setting the stage for his own sick game.

And now, you were trapped with him, the very person you thought was your ally.

Fear gripped you, cold and unforgiving, as Heeseung’s hand drifted toward the edge of his jacket. Slowly, deliberately, he reached inside and pulled out the unmistakable white mask, the one you had seen in countless horror movies and nightmares. The very one you saw on TV.

Ghost Face.

He held it in his hand, turning it slowly, watching your reaction with a sick kind of satisfaction. “You really thought you could just read the book and escape?” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. “This story was never about escaping. It’s about survival.”

Your legs felt like they would give out beneath you, but you forced yourself to stand your ground. The book had warned you, laid out the plot, but now you realized—you were never meant to win.

Heeseung stepped closer, the mask now in place over his face, his voice deep and distorted as he spoke through the iconic grin. “But don’t worry. I’ll make sure your ending is… memorable.”

Panic surged through you, and before he could move, you bolted toward the hallway, your heart pounding in your ears. Behind you, you heard the low chuckle of Ghost Face, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he followed.

You stumbled through the hallway, your breath coming in ragged gasps, trying to make sense of the nightmare you were trapped in. The sound of Heeseung’s slow, deliberate footsteps echoed behind you, growing louder with each passing second. He wasn’t rushing—he didn’t need to. He had the upper hand, and he knew it.

How did it come to this? Your mind raced as you fought to keep yourself from spiraling into panic. Just hours ago, he was your friend—your ally in this strange, terrifying situation. But now, the realization that he had been the orchestrator of everything, the puppet master behind the mask, hit you like a punch to the gut.

You skidded into the kitchen, eyes scanning wildly for something—anything—to defend yourself. The drawers. You lunged for them, pulling one open and rifling through its contents. A flash of metal caught your eye, and you grabbed a kitchen knife, gripping it tightly in your trembling hands.

A soft, mocking laugh drifted from the hallway. “What’s the plan now?” Heeseung’s voice was calm, almost playful, as he spoke through the Ghost Face mask. “You think you’re going to fight me? You’re in my story.”

His footsteps were getting closer.

You backed up, heart pounding in your chest, gripping the knife so tightly that your knuckles turned white. “I’m not just going to stand here and let you kill me,” you spat, your voice shaking but defiant.

Heeseung’s figure emerged from the shadows of the hallway, the Ghost Face mask a chilling, distorted smile in the dim light. His head tilted slightly, as if amused by your bravery. “That’s what I like about you,” he said, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of admiration. “Always a fighter. But that’s what makes this fun, isn’t it?”

Heeseung raised a gloved hand, revealing the long, sharp blade of the knife that had been hidden beneath his coat. The sight of it sent a jolt of terror through you. You took a step back, keeping the kitchen table between the two of you, trying to buy time, trying to think of a way out.

“This isn’t a movie, Heeseung,” you said, voice trembling. “This is real life. You’re not going to get away with this.”

Heeseung chuckled, the sound dark and menacing. “But that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, twirling the knife in his hand like it was an extension of himself. “This is a story. And you’re still playing your part. You always have been.”

Your back hit the counter, and you realized you were running out of space. Heeseung was toying with you, taking his time, savoring every moment of your fear.

The book’s final pages flashed through your mind as you were trapped, the chilling truth seeping into your bones. You weren’t just a character in the story anymore.

You were its prey.

Part 2?

#enha #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen #enhypen fic #enhypen angst #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen heeseung #heeseung lee #enha imagines #enha scenarios #enha x reader #enha heeseung #ghostface #reader x enhypen #reader x heeseung #engene

127 notes · View notes

kalims · 2 years ago

Text

cupping their face

parts. one , two , three , four , five , six , seven

characters. heartslabyul

content. gender neutral reader

riddle

he has very squishable cheeks despite his concerning diet mainly revolving around tea, biscuits, and whatnot (tarts).

you suppose the chubbiness in it comes from the mounts of sweets he can't exactly resist. of which trey is probably to blame.

riddle grew up with his very picky mother with her particular food choice for him so when he arrived in NRC without her eyes he gained a lot of freedom.

so if you hold his face in your hands the fat from his cheeks pokes out of the hole between your thumb, and pointer fingers. it's so cute 😭 so you can't resist the urge to sneak a squeeze.

it makes it all the more comical becomes he looks so confused, furrowing his brows at you like he can't believe whatever the hell you're doing right now.

plus points if you start to randomly caress his face cause he's slowly realizing that this is just a show of affection and is turning more red by the minute.

it would be a flustered riddle without the steam out his ears after all!

riddle avoids your eyes. "what in the world are you doing?" but makes no move to... well, move.

trey

uhh compared to riddle he's not in that level of squishy cheeks despite him being a baker and all.

I mean it's more of a 'you can feel the curve of his cheekbones' rather than the 'chubby cheeks' kind of thing. let me tell yall, the muscles in those damn arms aren't there for show!!

but yeah I firmly believe he just takes bites out of his batter / finished product to check if he should add a certain ingredient from the taste.

but it's usually the other people that do the eating.

though if you pinch hard enough you might be granted the satisfaction of smothering his cheeks (and a trey who is trying his best to keep the increasing pain off his face cause you seem to be enjoying yourself too much.)

anyways yeah cupping his face! from my memory, to me he seems like a person with a more lean face? (I have not seen him in a while lmao) but when you do he just raises his brow a little and watches you patiently.

you won't know if he's caught on what you're doing but you'll know he's starting to enjoy it when your palms are growing heavy from trey slowly leaning the weight of his face on it.

"is this a reward for my hard work?" trey huffs in amusement. "tell me when it's too heavy."

cater

wow he's so cute 😞

cater likes to snack every now and then and all that food just teleports to his face rather than anywhere else so it's prominent even if he laments about it.

I think it just makes his smile cuter cause you can see dimples pop out of his cheeks as well 😭 it tempts you to poke them all the well.

notable. they're also kinda stretchy, you can poke, pinch, and stretch them wow. the versatility. at this point everyone should have a cater to poke, pinch, and stretch out his cheeks.

^ stress reliever.

as you're cupping his face his response is just to automatically cup you back? and he's already giggling about this 'couple bonding' thing so you're not quite sure how to proceed.

but cater's laugh is pretty contagious so you end up laughing along. both of you are cupping each other's face, and you can feel the curve of his grin from your palms.

... next thing you know in a poof of smoke two more cater appears wearing similar pouts, of which are whining about their turn..

"you guys go away!" the cater which you remember to be the original dramatically pours himself over you. arguing with.. himself. "this is og cater and (name) bonding time, shoo!"

ace

is his cheeks squishable or not? we will never know cause everytime your hands are near his face he's flying backwards to avoid you.

what a menace with the suspense and all. ace is always trolling you so it's understandable. he's like: "haha get trolled." AND WHEN YOU ACTUALLY IGNORE HIM HE'S LIKE: "wait no that was a prank too pls."

if his ego wasn't taller than him he definitely would have regretted it 💀 honestly I'm so in dynamics with ace where he thinks he's the dominant one in the relationship and if you tell him to sit he's immediately sat.

it's gonna be more of a challenge to actually get a hold of his face but pro tip: just tell him to stop with a stern face, and he's just gonna go stiff but grumble when he feels your fingertips.

he's looking annoyed the whole way but you notice the twitch of his brows. suddenly he's looking just a little more comfortable in your hands.

point it out it out if you want but his face is just gonna revert to that annoyed look, just honestly let him loosen up (and loosen up he will, don't be surprised if he just starts demanding those face caressing thing you just did in the future.)

^ well he's only doing that if you initiated it a handful of times. if not he's taking that desire to the grave.

"wow. are you really that much starved for me?" ace smirks, and nods. probably praising himself in his head. "just keep doing whatever you want, I don't care." ???

deuce

the most squishable cheeks. I take no objections, I do not care ‼️ (even though certain official art might not say so) I bet he eats with a mouth full of food, it just inflates his cheeks lol.

if we have characters we call baby girl like jamil over here, we got deuce spade our resident baby boy.

probably the one that eats up all your attention even if he's embarrassed. not of you of course! but if you ever do public displays of affection he's just hyper aware of the eyes kqbsjajss.

but he likes you a lot so he just tolerates it <3

cupping his face hmm... honestly he looks like a very innocent puppy, he's watching you with those kind of eyes. curious and patient 😭 he's watching to see what you'll even do next.

he doesn't really speak. was this man even actually a delinquent before? who the hell was that cause all you know is this very endearing, shy deuce of yours.

if there was a tail it would be wagging slowly!

man the inner man is him is wrestling him rn cause where is his pride?! but the person it's fighting is his love for you so the inner man is losing lowkey 😞

"..." there is no words, just a very flustered, pleased deuce.

end notes

trey the gentleman fr.. also ace's part is vv chaotic lamao

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iveriee · 1 year ago

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What about a one-shot where yan!Tom kidnaps reader and tries to make a point of the whole "you'll never escape me now" thing but reader goes "why would I want to leave? I love you" or something like that?

★;ANSWER: That's a really great idea! Once again, i apologise if this is rushed.

★;CATEGORY: A yandere x reader

★;PAIRING: Yan!Tom Riddle x Gn!Willing!Reader

★;SUMMARY: In which...you are trapped inside the Chamber of Secrets.. yet you do not seem to mind.

★;P.S: This contains severe mentions of obsessive and toxic behaviour, as well as stalking and kidnapping. This is only for entertainment purposes and I do not encourage such acts. My immediate thought after seeing this was, of course, the chamber of secrets, because what better place is there for such a situation? I apologise for the quality of this fic. I forgot to mention this in my introduction, but English is NOT my first language. I've been going through some complications with my friends, so i once again apologise for the length and quality .

Your eyes unlatched open. This was not [Your house] common room. Your back nudged a wall seemingly made out of archaic stone—Frigid wind smeared across you like an unyielding poltergeist, leaving your frame quivering. Upon the restoration of your vision, You had begun to make comprehension that you were in a perplexing chamber, all alone. Yet that was perhaps, only an illusion. As anomalous as it was, There was something —perhaps someone other than yourself that sauntered these glacial walls.

You had to think properly—Could this have been a mere jest? Or perhaps a mere dream? The thought seemed to birth solace somehow, like a cerulean lagoon in the midst of a withered desert, promising yet untrue. Your hands, of course—attempted to reach out for your wand only to met by your pockets being vacant, However, as some say, when one door closes, the other opens. In your case, it was no door that opened.

Footsteps, yes, indeed. Humanoid footsteps seemed to reach your ears—It would have been better if you were oblivious—if you did not know that something was here—One last resort was to sprint out, however, you had never been quite the runner. Faintly yet surely, you made your way across..this place, (whatever it was) as if a monstrosity might leap out out of the shadows and slit you to litter, until you were the barren dust of [Name] [Last Name].

Your heart almost concluded...There was someone's breath wandering above your shoulders—And henceforth when you turned your gaze behind—It was Tom-Freaking-Riddle! How amusing.. If you had perhaps attempted to tell such a thing, people would blaze into laughter—The suspension that this was a mere dream had become truly something you'd consider—and yet that was indeed reassuring in a way. Nobody possessing a right mind at Hogwarts would ever listen to your accusations. If you got out of here, that is. Fixing your vision and harbouring aspiration that this was a hallucination, It was, surely, him. It was that bewitching face of his that made your cheeks soak crimson—No, this was not the time. Your frame shuddered and henceforth, with a pond of courage flourishing inside of you. You met his gaze.

To gaze at his eyes was to gaze at a boundless puzzle—you could never comprehend it. Indeed, his last was Riddle afterall and you could not make of a reasoning when he smirked. His hands etched their passage to your cheeks—Perhaps lovingly?. No...That could not have been it. You aspired to question him...Why were you here? And quite even so, Why was he here? Yet words collapsed in your throat, never quite arriving at your mouth.

"Do you perhaps plan to stare all day long, my love?" He questioned, striding nearer. "Indeed if you strive to do so, i do not mind. However, i suppose I owe you an explanation, don't i?" He added curtly, his gaze weakening you like thunderous currents of the Black Lake. "It is quite complex to say very the least, So i must warn you to expect astonishment. [Name] [Last Name], i...love you." He murmured. The word 'Love' seemed,perhaps, unhomely to him, Your reasoning being when his face flashed a string of vulnerability that vanished in mere seconds. "In more accurate words, I desire you." Of course. It was mere desire, wasn't it? His words stung deeper than anticipated. "As you are well aware, i do not particularly enjoy sharing what is mine, and henceforth, here you are—locked up in the Chamber of Secrets, all mine with no route of escape whatsoever."

"Why would I even ought to escape?" You interrogated, tilting your head to the side. "I'd be content with residing here." You added in perplexity. "I suppose anyone would accept you being their kidnapper." To drown in honesty, You did not mind your current situation, Perhaps—You 'loved' him as well? No it could not have been such a feeling...He was a mere stranger to you.. Yet you felt inclined to stay, to embrace him, to be completely and utterly his..

His lips parted yet no words were heard. Never had you ever aspired that Tom Riddle would be astonished at your words. Of course, he collected himself after a mere second. The silence was serrating, like a honed dagger slicing through you, yet no pleas were heard from your throat. He grinned wickedly and tilted nearer, your noses bordering eachother as his hands seized your chin, angling it upwards. "I suppose I must reward you for your acceptance."

#harry potter #hp fandom #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle #yandere tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #wizarding world #yandere tom riddle x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #willing!reader #hp fanfic #voldemort

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whateverisbeautiful · 2 months ago

Text

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#57: The Father (1.06)

gif cred: @fishalthor

There are so many qualities I love about the character of Rick Grimes. A king among men. 👑 And one of my absolute favorite things about him is that he's such a good loving father. And in this following moving scene, we get to see Rick open up to Michonne about just how he feels not getting to be a father to his kids all these years 🥺...

But first, there's that suspenseful elevator moment. 😬

Rick hurries into an elevator with the last light of the world’s leader stuffed inside a crate. 😅 And as he waits for the doors to close, a tall soldier comes walking in to stand beside him.

And then it’s very tense as the two silently wait side by side while the elevator trudges its way down several floors. Rick then looks down and notices that blood is leaking from the crate which just ramps up the suspense even more.

Meanwhile, Michonne has made it outside - and I just have to note that her face card doesn’t even decline when covered in a helmet and mask. 💯

Michonne is obviously very conflicted after what she’s just seen in the auditorium and she knows they have to do something about it and fast. So after getting outside, she makes her way back inside like...

And the Baddest Chick in the Game also grabs some bombs while she’s at it. 💣

Meanwhile, in the elevator, the blood is still leaking from the container and just when the doors open, the soldier notices. 😬 So Rick is forced to go toe to toe with him.

And the one good thing the CRM did was give Rick some improved hand-to-hand combat skills. 👌🏽 I know some people be getting on that man for often finding himself on the losing end of a fisticuffs but hey he always came out on top of those TWD fights too. 😌

gif cred: @nerd4music

But now, Rick stayed in control for most of this fight with the CRM soldier and that had me so proud of him. He’s come a long way in this area so I'm just sitting here watching like...

Rick quite savagely beats the guy's face in until he’s dead and this is definitely that feral Rick we saw often in TWD.

When the doors open, Rick looks like he’s ready to just keep taking down CRM folk, but he quickly realizes the soldier in front of him is actually his wife when Michonne says his name.

And y’all, Richonne really are certifiably crazy because the way Michonne doesn’t even react to Rick covered in blood or the bloodied body on the ground. It’s just another day at the office for them. 😅

Michonne says they can’t go home yet and asks if he knows what the CRM is planning. Rick says he got the echelon but he’s more curious how Michonne found him right now. Me personally, I’ll just chalk it up to thinking soulmates like them can always find each other because they come with innate GPS trackers lol.

Michonne informs Rick that the CRM has a whole tent of bombs outside and that they’re going to be evacuating the kids and then taking out a whole city of people. Rick replies saying, “This is happening now. We can still get home, but not yet.”

I love that Rick’s now at a point where going home stays a part of the plan no matter what. And Michonne says, “We have to stop them because we can stop them.” And of course, they both know and believe they’re capable of handling this just the two of them.

Then there’s a great little moment of levity when Michonne notices the crate and casually asks Rick if it's his.

gif cred: @nerd4music

Michonne asks, "Is this yours?" and Rick's just like “Yeah.” Since he doesn’t elaborate further about the Beale-in-a-box, Michonne asks, “What’s in it?”

gif cred: @nerd4music

And the wordless ‘it’s complicated’ look Rick gives her is comedy.🤭 Something about this exchange between them was truly giving married and I’m here for it. 😁

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

And then y’all, after being entirely too late to the party, Pearl finally starts to become suspicious that something is up with her big brother Grimes. She sees that Beale isn’t in fact in the woods like Rick says so she goes off to investigate.

Next, there's a very heartfelt scene as Rick and Michonne are alone in a room to set up their plan to stop the CRM. 🥲

Rick asks Michonne how she came up with this explosive idea and Michonne, always one to honor Nat’s memory, says, “Took some inspiration from the genius known as Nat.”

After what the CRM did to him and his friends, I know Nat is looking down from above so proud of Michonne for using his techniques to take these soldiers down. Nat still got his payback like he wanted. 😌

Also, seeing Richonne both in the red-striped CRM uniforms, I like how this episode has them in matching outfits for most of the duration. Having matched in similar clothes and colors a lot within this franchise, it just feels right for Rick and Michonne to be matching in the finale too.

As Rick packs, he tells Michonne, “You know, Beale said I could lead the CRM one day.” There's something interesting to me about how, from all the things shared in the echelon briefing, Rick brings this specific point up.

It leads to a great and underrated moment, as Michonne just has a playfully sarcastic response saying, “Guess you were right. You could do this all by yourself” before giving Rick a very communicative look that says 'the CRM is not keeping my man any longer.' And then Rick has a sweet subtle smile back at her. 🥹

The reason I feel this quick smile moment is great is because many at the CRM have tried to tell Rick what he’s supposed to do and who he’s supposed to be these last seven or so years. Telling him that he has this power and he has to use it in the ways they deem fit. But Rick never wanted any of that. As he said in season 9, he really didn’t ask anyone to follow him. He's always, from Day One of TWD, viewed himself as just a man who wants to be with his family.

And so here when Rick brings up that Beale also felt he should use his natural-born leadership to take on a position of power that he doesn’t really want to take on, there is something so refreshing to him about Michonne just knowing he doesn’t want that and so he doesn’t have to do it. And especially doesn't have to do it alone. She's always let him know they're in this together.

So I always interpret his smile reaction as Rick feeling really appreciative that for the first time in a long time someone isn’t forcing that leadership role on him.

And after enduring so much alone, I love that he knows that now that he has Michonne back, he really won’t have to take on things by himself anymore. He and Michonne get to return to reordering things together like Rick most wanted. 👌🏽

And after his wife so welcomingly frees him from those CRM leadership expectations, Rick then gives some insight into what he actually wants when he says, “We could just go.”

What Rick wants most of all is to finally make it home and just live life with his family and I feel like because that reality is now more tangible than it’s ever been, there’s likely a part of him that doesn’t want to risk this CRM plan getting in the way of them making it home.

(Side note: I've touched on it before but just had to reiterate here that, contrary to some out there's belief, a lethal fighting machine is not all Rick is and it's not how this character wants to operate if he doesn't have to. I think Rick has been shown to be someone that would be fully content living a domestic everyday life that never again requires returning to intense fight mode. Savage Rick is certainly a part of him, but all the savage stuff he's done and does is to protect the family he wants to live a peaceful normal life with. Being a husband and father is Rick's core want and driving motivator. Which is why making TOWL about Rick getting to his wife and kids rather than just a guns-a-blazing fight against bad guys was the right choice.

And when Rick got taken from his family, he didn't spend those years pursuing some new motivation to obtain power or world domination like some want him to seek. He chose to die. Without his wife and kids, he'd rather be dead. That was made quite clear. And even when Rick agreed to Okafor's mission it had so much to do with wanting to save the world for his family, even if they never knew he did that. So it makes sense that TOWL would then have to be a more contained story and focus on Rick returning to his love and to himself after losing himself so deeply because he lost his family. And I love that in finding his family, his everything, Michonne, Rick really does return to himself - both the part of him that's a resilient fighter and the part of him that's willing to be admirably vulnerable.)

Michonne looks up at him and Rick says, “This is…” and I’m sure he was going to in some way express how risky this is, but Michonne finishes the sentence saying this is “...what we have to do. What sort of world are we making for them if we walk away from something like this?” And that always just hits my heart to hear her say 'for them' because she’s talking about their babies. 😭

And then my heart gets hit even more when Rick also talks about their babies as he opens up saying, “You know…I’m mad at the time I missed. Not seeing our kids growing up.” First of all - 🥺🥺🥺.

gif cred: @nat111love

I think part of coming back alive again means also having a whole lot of suppressed feelings rise back up to the surface. So it’s meaningful for Rick to now acknowledge that part of what he feels is mad that he missed so much time with his kids.

And especially knowing it was Rick who presented the idea of him and Michonne building for the future with a baby all those years ago, and now he's had to learn that he got what he wanted but missed out on so much of that baby's early years. That has to hurt. 😞

When Rick was taken, Judith was so young too so he missed a lot of early milestones in both his kids' lives. I know he would have given anything to be there loving them and raising them during such formative years of their lives. 🥲

Being a father has always been so important to him and so you know it weighs heavily on him that he was kept from being the dad his kids needed and from getting to be by Michonne’s side, raising their son and daughter together, and enjoying all the great moments of their kids growing up. 🥺

And again, hearing Richonne say “our kids” is music to my ears every time. I think too, after hearing the echelon briefing, the last remains of the CRM’s facade just came tumbling down to Rick because in some ways Beale sounded a little paranoid and crazy rather than saying anything concrete. So that has to just make it extra hard for Rick to feel like the CRM kept him from his babies all these years because of their warped paranoid belief system.

Rick then says, “I know we can’t, but I just…I think about that time and I just want to go back.” Annnnd cue my tears. This got me, y’all. 😭

gif cred: @nat111love

The emotion he feels when he says this. 🥺 This is a father whose heart breaks over the invaluable time he’s lost with kids and that breaks my heart. 💔

It’s super moving to see Rick have this moment of vulnerability with Michonne. One of the things that has always made the character of Rick Grimes so great and compelling is that he’s willing to be emotionally vulnerable. Being in tune with what he feels contributes so much to his strength as a man and as a character.

And I like how there’s layers to him saying he just wants to go back. It’s like he longs to just go back home right now but he also longs to just go back in time and be there with his family during all the years he missed.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

He should’ve had the chance to be with his babies. 😔 Rick deserved that. But while they unfortunately can’t go back in time, Michonne is here to help Rick shift his perspective with what she says next. 👌🏽

As Rick looks at her with tears in his eyes, Michonne instantly feels for him. I think about how in the TWD 'Scars' episode there was a scene where Michonne watches Judith and some kids play a game and she tells Aaron how she wishes Rick could see this.

gif cred: @michonnegrimes

Michonne knows how much she too wishes Rick could have been there all those years seeing their kids grow up. And it clearly moves her to now hear Rick express that same desire to have been there. 🥺

gif cred: @nat111love

Also, I was thinking about how another reason it was so fitting for Rick to have said that Michonne puts pieces back together during the proposal is because when their family experienced brokenness with the loss of Carl and Rick being taken, it was Michonne who had to hold the rest of their family together.

And it makes me so happy that now Michonne won't have to do that alone anymore because Rick is willing, ready, and eager to return to being part of their family.

I love the way Michonne looks at Rick and then drops what she's doing to go over to him and kiss him. Those were some loud and clear ‘I love you’ kisses, y’all. 💯😊 See, Michonne stays saying I love you without even having to say it.

gif cred: @nat111love

This was just the type of love and connection Rick needed at this moment. And it’s sweet how Michonne is so comforting as she keeps Rick's face in her hands and assures him, “We are back.” 🥹

It can be understandably tempting to be saddened by the past, but I think it’s really nice how Michonne reframes this to let Rick know they’re back now. And the present and future still hold a lot of opportunities for them to make it back to their family and spend lots of time with them the way they’re meant to.

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick of course resonates with Michonne saying this and then, true to them, he repeats her words from earlier back - knowing that saving people and stopping the CRM from bombing a whole city is what they do. And Michonne affirms that by saying “Yes it is.”

gif cred: @msanonships

I always love the way Rick looks at Michonne at this moment because as draining as it clearly is for him to fight all these battles, he always can get a fresh sense of strength when in her arms. And she's so tender with him as she rubs his face. 🥲

And then y’all know being a richonner means being spoiled, so this really sweet scene ends with the two passionately kissing and wrapping each other in their arms once again. Look at our lovely and crazy little lovebirds all making out in their Richonne bubble before they blow stuff up. 😊

gif cred: @msanonships

Like if I’m supposed to get over the fact that a show exists where Richonne kisses 100+ times, it’s not gonna happen. I’ll never be over it.😇

Every time they kiss it just makes me think about how these are two people who didn't know if this type of love would ever find them after what they had lost. And then not only did love find them, but the greatest and strongest love of all found them when they found each other. And it's everything Rick and Michonne deserve.

This final makeout is really sweet too because it's just so clear that Rick and Michonne both get so much comfort from each other. No matter what else is going on, they can always lock in with each other and find their center.

With this kiss, it's also clear that they're very grateful to finally be back in each other's presence after being deprived of each other for years. The sad days of being apart are over, and they cherish knowing they'll get to be by each other's side from here on out.

gif cred: @lousolversons

I’ll always love this scene for giving Rick and Michonne a genuinely touching heart-to-heart as parents and protectors and as two people who know they can always express their rawest feelings to one another.

Hearing Rick reflect as a father about how he feels having missed all this time with his kids was something I was hoping for when TOWL was announced. And I really appreciate how that was addressed in this touching scene. 👌🏽🥹❤️‍🩹

#richonne #towl #reveling in richonne #1.06 #RIR (57)#the ones who live #twd towl #michonne grimes #rick grimes #rick x michonne #twol #michonne #rick and michonne #twd: the ones who live #twd #richonnefandom

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amarynthian-chronicles · 3 months ago

Text

Tip the Scales Chapter 1

Prosecutor Sun, Prosecutor Moon, Judge Eclipse x Defense Lawyer (Devil's Advocate) Reader

(You are a charismatic defense lawyer in a constant competition with two ruthless prosecutors that do not understand your ideals about criminals deserving a second chance. You are also housemates with a certain bitter and retired judge, who has a habit of operating at night as a cloaked figure known as the Judge of the Damned. Things get complicated when your old friend Monty gets accused of a murder he claims to not have committed willingly. Will you balance the scales once more?)

Warnings: suggestive themes, possessive behaviour, mentions of violence

There was a particular universal truth that court employees would never dare to admit about court proceedings: not a single one of them actually wanted to be there. Those that did enjoy being present during a session were either lying to themselves or were being paid obscene amounts of cash to pretend to care. In other extreme cases, it was all a part of unhinged ambition sprinkled with a dash of insanity.

Normally the whole process was a dreary affair, varying from sordid and depressing, all the way to showing what an administrative inferno the whole institution had become over time. True to the Dickensian fashion of describing things, one could say that the gloomy and omnipresent fog that had consumed the city with the arrival of Fall was equally present in the courtroom itself, both metaphorically and literally, entering every pore and chilling everyone to the bone.

However, in our specific situation things were getting quite heated. The cold September fog had been rudely pushed aside by the steam of intense and fiery debate you were having with prosecuting attorney Sun.

A bitter rivalry existed between you and the celestial-themed animatronic, but over the past year it seemed to have bloomed into obsessive fascination on Sun's part. We could classifiy it as another universal truth that one was bound to eventually become infatuated and captivated by their “nemesis“.

Placing you two in the same room was a very bad idea. Or a very good idea, it honestly depended on who you asked. For instance, the general public that had come to listen to your long nonsensical argument had arrived there for the sole purpose of finding out whether you two would passionately kiss somewhere in the middle of the whole discussion.

The suspense was maddening, the tension was more than palpable. One of the clerks was fanning himself with a folder, wondering whether or not he had taken his heart medication earlier.

“Could somebody open a window, please?“

There had always been an unusually thin line between love and hatred, enemies and lovers, but somehow it seemed oddly fitting for you and Sun to combine both at the same time with no problem.

After a well crafted comeback, believing himself to be the victor, Sun winked at you, triumphant and his grin wide and sinister.

“Was that as good for you as it was for me?“

“My dear sir, I cannot say, I hardly even felt anything.“

“I was under the impression that we have long abandoned this little “playing hard to get“ scenario.“

“Goodness, that sounds serious, delusions could be a sign of a system malfunction, you should get that checked, Sun.“

“Don't be so high and mighty. You will lose today, both the case and the little bet we made.“

“Oh, my, so ominous. I sure am devastated on the inside, inconsolable, I shall probably never recover.“

You were driving him insane. Healthy competition was usually highly encouraged, but this was beyond ridiculous. No matter how eloquent and skillful he was in the art of rhetoric, you refused to yield. You were still a relatively young jurist, having passed the bar examination barely two years prior, but your legal reasoning was unusually innovative and your application of creative solutions to impossible problems was astounding. There wasn't a single thing that Sun could throw at you without you catching it and throwing it ten times harder right back at him.

The judge, an elderly man that was diligently counting down the days till it was socially acceptable to retire from what was regularly a life tenure, was listening to the two of you bicker as if it were the latest installment of his favourite picture show series. He wondered if he should simply let you silly lovebirds borrow his chambers for a minute or two. Or thirty, wherever the feeling takes you. He was very supportive.

He was also the only judge in the building willing to tolerate the nonsense that you and the Celestial Prosecutors kept pulling off in the courtroom. It was free entertainment and he needed some amusement in his old age. The rest of the judicial assembly would have to pull straws each time a new case had to be assigned.

He remembered how different things had been a few years prior.

It was an open secret that the judicial assembly missed the old days when the esteemed Judge Eclipse had still been in office, before his abrupt retirement under unusual circumstances. Eclipse would always volunteer to do all the work, snatching case files from everybody's hands and closing himself in his chambers, leaving the possibility for the rest of the assembly to simply enjoy their coffee and gossip in the conference room.

Intense and immensely dedicated to his work, unyielding, unforgiving and merciless, Eclipse had been akin to a dark deity of the afterlife, deciding the fate of souls that had succumbed to corruption. His golden eyes had held nothing but pure contempt for evildoers, his mechanical heart perpetually hungry for the suffering of the wicked. Court sessions under his administrations had been a thing of horror for some and an example of a job well-done for others. Deranged and disproportionate punishments had made Eclipse quite unpopular in the criminal milieu, and there had been quite a few attempts on his life that would usually end up with the assassins themselves having their spines twisted into a pretty pretzel.

Self-defense, clear-cut, no questions asked, nobody left to mourn a few dismembered rulebreakers.

The euphoria had been too intoxicating, the flesh of Evil too delicious, the screams of the damned a symphony unmatched.

One thing had lead to another, interfering into interrogations, conflict of interest, violating every possible rule of criminal procedure, prisoners being found dead in their cells, acquitted individuals dying under suspicious circumstances mere days after their release.

The courthouse and law enforcement would always turn a blind eye. Whispers in the corridors, silent gasps in the archive rooms, everybody knew of Eclipse's tendencies, his desire to play god. Nobody had dared to make a fuss about the whole situation, not even when a few fellow judges that had been accused of bribery had one day "mysteriously" disappeared. It was all a silent approval. Crime statistics had been fixing themselves, who would dare interfere?

Deciding to return to topics less grim and vile, the current judge smiled fondly at the prosecutors and the sly defense lawyer before him. Such a sweet change, whimsy and passion reigning supreme, banishing the sepulchral dread of olden times.

Contrary to custom, Sun was working with his brother Moon by his side. It was definitely unusual for two prosecutors to work together on same cases and appear in court as a team, but nobody had ever complained about it and regulations had no explicit rule against it. It was Moon's duty to make a thorough research and keep Sun informed of any new facts or legal acts in order for Sun to prepare a proper presentation to enthrall everyone in the courtroom or ask for appropriate actions.

They used all of their individual strengths and skills to achieve the best results. Reminiscent of their older brother's inclinations, their methods and ruthless determination in the pursuit of their version of justice at all costs had become notorious, eventually making the general public refer to them as the Grand Inquisitors.

All of that aside, the two of them still had to make sure that each investigation went perfectly by the books and that there were no irregularities made by law enforcement in the initial stages of each investigation. Being a prosecutor was akin to being a sea captain that constantly kept hoping that his crew was sober. One single mistake meant that the other party would pounce on it like a feral animal.

And pounce you did.

For instance, you were easily capable of rendering a whole confession useless by claiming it was inadmissible evidence obtained through coercion. It was no trouble for you to stage a whole scene.

You had pulled off such a stunt a few times in the past and the results would always follow a hilarious pattern: the confused police officers would simply blink and question their general reality on whether they had truly applied excessive force, the public audience would try not to snack too loudly on the popcorn they had brought, the defendant would do his best to keep crying and keeping his story straight about how absolutely devastated and tortured he was, the judge would hope that no reporters would come crawling in the courtroom and asking about human rights violations. Again.

The celestial twins were unused to such audacity and blows to their pride. Sun and Moon had always been a powerful force that had never known the meaning of failure, the playing field had been theirs to dominate and it was pure madness to even think that anyone could place an end to that. And then you showed up and suddenly the courtroom was a circus, you were the ringmaster and you turned the two of them into the lead jesters of the whole show.

They were furious with you for making a mockery of their act. How dare you?

Moon did his best to remain subtle with his temper, even if his pencils did audibly snap in half from time to time. He had to keep an appearance a patient man, someone courteous and polite. It was of great importance to keep that thick layer of ice above the boiling madness that stirred deep within.

Oh, how you tested his patience still. It all kept accumulating, over and over, cracking the ice bit by bit.

He could write a masterpiece of scholarly analysis and a seemingly perfect reconstruction of events, and you would destroy all of that effort simply by telling him he wrote a date wrong, messing up the entire chronology and all further conclusions, rendering the whole thing useless. You always tripped him with the little things, formalities, so many tidbits that made the whole construction fall apart.

The devil was in the details, after all.

Speaking of which, since the majority of your clients were desperate people that had strayed from the morals of society into a life of crime for mere survival, you had earned yourself the title of Devil's Advocate among your colleagues. The world of your clients, however, was quite grateful for your services and assistance, all of them calling you their Fairy Godparent.

You got them out of trouble, you found them alternatives and new respectful jobs, you gave and gave, granting wishes and making them all happily dance to your music. If anyone had issues or needed help, they knew who to come to. You were waiting with good life advice, cupcakes, a hot cup of coffee and assurance that you would solve all of their problems. In many cases, you were the last angel before the gates of Hell for them, grasping their hand and pulling them back to safety.

After all, placing their fate in your hands was a far better alternative than sinking deeper into darkness and one day being inevitably visited in the middle of the night by the Judge of the Damned, having their life taken as the midnight bells rang.

Because of this looming threat, you did your best to save each soul you came across.

In this particular case, it was a young man that had gotten himself in some serious trouble after associating with a dangerous faction of drug dealers. Such business always came with its risks and there was no true loyalty nor help if someone got caught. Moreover, it was common practice to silence the person from revealing the others by simply ordering their assassination in prison. The young man had gotten way in over his head, too ambitious and too confident in his own abilities, intoxicated with the romantic ideas of what he had seen in movies.

His older brothers had approached you for help after his arrest and you had accepted, of course. You would get the boy out of trouble, free of charge, under the condition that he dedicated himself to getting his life back on track and you would be making sure things stayed that way.

Sun was still waiting for you to speak, and the rest of the room was wondering whether or not you were truly speechless this time or if you were simply preparing something spectacular. Of course, it was the latter. You had pulled a lot of strings and cashed in a few favours, but it was all for a good cause. You heard Sun's impatient voice:

“Ready to admit defeat? There is no conceivable way for you to counter any of this evidence, it is over.“

“Only for those that lack the imagination to do so. I call in question the credibility and the competence of your toxicology expert. You cannot claim that my client was in possession or consuming a certain substance, if its chemical components do no even match what you claim it to be.“

“Pure cocaine was found on his person. He has been known to associate himself with dangerous smugglers of forbidden narcotics.“

“A second analysis, that I took the liberty of ordering from another expert, proved that it was mere flour.“

“Excuse me?“

“He is a baker's apprentice. Poor boy, he is just keeping all of that secret out of shame, which is why we did not mention this earlier, by the way. Alas, I cannot keep this silence anymore, for I must act in his best interest. You see, ever since he was a small lad, it was his dream to make fine Danish pastries, but everyone in his general vicinity was obsessed with the whole “dashing gangster“ persona that is so popular right now, so no wonder that this sad young man, just look at his eyes, this poor innocent child tried to emulate all of that simply to get some respect from his cruel peers. So, he walked around with flour and pretended that it was cocaine. It is all because of societal pressure.“

Had Sun been gifted with a detachable jaw, it would have fallen on the floor by now. It was madness. Your claim was pure madness. He wasn't certain, but he did feel as if all of his systems were about to crash down in a sad attempt at self-preservation. Moon's crimson eyes had turned black and he seemed as if he were silently rebooting himself. It was best for everyone to have him unconscious for a bit, otherwise he would have probably gotten violent. The stenographer stopped typing and blinked at you in a very “what the actual hell“ manner and the old judge took his glasses off emphatically as people normally do in such situations for no specific reason other than dramatic effect.

“God, I haven't felt this much excitement since my last divorce.“

The defendant was very much surprised to hear this as well. He gestured for you to come closer and whispered to you:

“I am a baker's apprentice?“

“You are now. Be the role, become the role, make the rolls. Also, you start next Monday at five in the morning, I got everything already arranged with the baker on main street. This whole process should by over by then.“

“What? The only dough I know how to roll is the monetary one.“

“You learn while you live.“

The poor man looked at you with the expression of someone that would really rather just go to prison than go through such blood pressure oscillations.

His brothers, three friendly chaps in dashing suits, homburg hats and leather gloves, were all smiling and holding a thumbs up in encouragement. He turned around to look at them with a genuinely desperate expression. Listening to this nonsense was punishment enough, regardless if he did the crime or not. They had assured him that you were the best, but nobody ever said that your methods were the sanest.

You cleared your throat and spoke up again:

“In light of this and to support these claims, I enclose all the necessary documents and I am prepared to call the relevant new witnesses if you agree, Your Honour.“

“I can adjourn, I personally got no problem with continuing this on a later day of the week. I have to tell you, you kids are keeping me young, I always thought that my later years in life would be boring. Boy, I sure was wrong.“

A partially drunk man from the spectator area began to clap.

“Bravo!“

The bailiff looked over at him.

“What are you clapping for?“

“I thought this was the theatre.“

“It's a courtroom, is what it is.“

“What's the difference?“

Just as you were about to sit down, Moon was suddenly by your side, having miraculously finished his little reboot session and feeling more energized than ever. It was rather concerning, since he was capable of pulling such a stunt within mere seconds, changing location so fast before you could even register it. You had a theory that he was probably capable of some type of flight or teleportation.

You made a little squeak of surprise as you felt his hands on your shoulders, pulling you close to his face plate, crimson eyes trying to cut your soul to shreds. Nevertheless, you refused to lose your decorum and you kept up an air of aristocratic disinterest.

“May I help you, sir?“

“Don't give me that. You know exactly what you are doing. I am not letting you humiliate us like this again.“

“And you are going to make things better for yourself by intimidating me in public like this? I really want to know what the plan is, I'm curious now.“

“Curiosity will kill you one day, little devil fairy.“

“I am certain that satisfaction will bring me back. What exactly do you want from me?“

He squeezed your shoulders and began to lightly massage them. It was oddly pleasurable, since you were tense and tired. Moon's voice was low, raspy, almost a whisper, akin to that of a nocturnal demon that haunted the shadows and ruled over nightmares.

“What goes around comes around and one day I will humiliate you, as well. I will tear those fairy wings apart.“

“Do you think I am afraid of you?“

“You should be. But, yes, I do have an additional request. Meet us in the conference room as soon as we are done here. We wish to talk.“

For a moment it seemed as if the two of you had forgotten that you were in an oddly compromising embrace in front of the entire courtroom. The same man from the spectator area whispered to the bailiff:

“Is this when the smooching starts? I could have sworn I read it somewhere in the play synopsis.“

“This is not the theatre!“

“Listen, Shakespeare once said that the whole world is a stage. He also said that we should kill all the lawyers, though, but I vote that we keep these three here, I need to know what happens next.“

A normal person would refuse to accept Moon's request after his little outburst, but you wished to talk to him and Sun, as well. Perhaps the old saying of “keep your friends close and your enemies closer“ had some wisdom to it, but you also genuinely wished to somewhat make peace with them. Maybe even explain your perspective and your ideas of justice to them. If things got really wild, possibly even form some fragile bond of friendship.

“Alright, I will be there, I just need some time to get my things first and I will also fetch a cup of coffee.“

You pushed him away and he allowed you to do so. However, his gaze was still on you even as everyone had risen and prepared to leave for the day. He watched you as you cheerfully talked with your client and his family, so warm, so caring. They gave you presents to show their appreciation, bags full of chocolates, teddy bears and a ridiculously large plush rabbit. Such whimsical things, childish and ridiculous, and yet your eyes almost had sparkles from how happy you were.

You were considered a beauty by many, but you were not coquettish, ignoring any amorous comments with your usual aristocratic disdain. Your hair was long and soft, well taken care of, but there were always a few little disobedient tufts that almost appeared like tiny and cute devil horns. It was impossible to straighten them out and you simply let them be.

You had a penchant for black pinstripe suits. However, the professional sterness was mitigated by the presence of a star-shaped pink diamond brooch pinned to the striped bow on your chest area. Moon found it conveniently suitable for your “fairy godparent“ aesthetic. The diamond would catch even the faintest amounts of light, reflecting it on surrounding walls to signify that you were approaching. You were wondrous, gentle hues of pink always heralding your arrival.

Sun spoke to him as the two of them made their way to the conference room, distracting him from his reveries:

“They are so cold to us and yet so warm to them. Did you see that smile?“

“Our fairy sees value in miscreants and mongrels. It is only a matter of time before those strays bite the hand that feeds them and then the little fool will come crying to us.“

“It would be cruel of us to refuse them a warm embrace, brother.“

Moon pondered the thought, the potential image of you in a disheveled state, disappointed and heartbroken. There was something wonderfully poetic about the idea of your rose garden withering away. It was a fair trade for all the times you kept trying to ruin their own view of the world. He and Sun were the righteous hands of justice and not even you could protect your little army of demons forever, shielding them with your dark angel wings till one day their final feather crumbles to dust. A misguided fallen little seraph had to have limits.

Sun and Moon waited for good while for you to arrive. Getting coffee was serious business, after all.

The windows in the conference room were covered with Venetian blinds, creating a game of light and shadow, giving it an air of mystery and melancholy. However, the moment you entered, your diamond brooch cast little sparkles of warm pink all over the walls.

You were carrying the bags with gifts and also balancing your coffee cup. It was honestly a miracle you did not spill everything yet. You set it all on the large table and for a moment you almost seemed to have forgotten the two animatronics even existed as you were fiddling with the little treats you had received.

“These chocolates are my favourite. It is a shame you two can't eat, you are missing pure heaven. Now, what exactly did you two want to talk about?“

Sun was very straightforward and went right down to business.

“You cheated, lied and manipulated facts today.“

“Me? I can only aspire to be that productive in one single afternoon.“

“Furthermore, you shamelessly tried to avoid the consequences of losing our little bet.“

“Tell me something: are you more upset about the case or the bet? It seems to me as if the latter is tormenting you more than the former.“

“I am not answering that.“

“If you wanted a date, all you had to do was ask like a sensible man, we don't need these convoluted schemes for something that simple.“

“Would you, then?“

“No.“

“See, this is why we need the schemes.“

“Such a tragedy your problems are, Sun.“

You opened another box of chocolates and you were wondering whether to try the one with dark ganache filling or the one with hazelnut cream. You were rudely interrupted when Moon lifted your chin up to look at him.

“You are no longer going to prance around acting as if the justice system is your own personal circus. If we expose what you did today, you will be kicked out of the Lawyers' Association and you will lose your license to practice.“

“That sounds so depressing when you put it that way.“

“I personally can appreciate what you were trying to do for all those people in the past year or so, but enough is enough. We could have offered you a plea bargain, had you only asked us. We are more than happy to settle if those puppies of yours mean that much to you, but they will need to serve time, whether you like it or not.“

“When they get in the system, it's over, it will haunt them and follow them for the rest of their lives, from getting employment all the way to daily life and relationships.“

“None of that is your concern, Y/N. You cannot save everyone.“

“With all due respect, Moon, you have no right to tell me what to do. I do not hate you, but I will not tolerate you being in my way either. Do not be fooled by my kind nature, you have no idea who you are playing with. Dreams can become Nightmares fairly quickly.“

“I am saying all of this because I do not want you to share the same unfortunate fate that keeps repeating itself in your family. Always best friends with the wrong lot. You need to stop fraternizing with criminals, for your own good.“

Moon expected a specific reaction from you with that statement, foolishly assuming that he would hit the right spot, that he would cause fear, pain, uncertainty and a need to run somewhere for some emotional safety. Even Sun knew that he had gone too far with that topic.

You were not having it. Yes, you were a regal and delicate flower. However, that flower was also poisonous and with plenty of thorns. You huffed at him.

“Oh, so we are playing that card now? While we are on the subject of family tradition and dubious practices, I am well aware of the person that gets rid of the truly bad people. Did he ever come for any of my current and recent clients? No. Therefore I don't see why you are so determined to lecture me about helping those that only do crime out of necessity, not evil. If anything, this is just petty revenge because you hate losing and because you are a manipulative jerk with no empathy for the misfortunate, Moon. If you wish to punish someone, start with yourself.“

That certainly did hit a nerve.

Moon went over to the window, pulling the blinds shut and letting the room bathe in darkness, the pink light disappearing. You blinked to adjust your eyes.

“Is this really necessary?

Moon's voice was unusually low, almost a whisper:

"Is darkness not a familiar thing to you, little devil fairy? You certainly seem to linger in the shadows, refusing to see the light, you are blind and unable to grasp reality as it is."

You sighed and shrugged.

"That is still better than believing in blind justice. Also, at least I got the comfort of knowing that Sun over here cannot see anything right now, either.“

The daylight animatronic made a huff at your words.

“I still know the basic layout of the room, thank you very much.“

Sun then leaned over to you and whispered:

“Now, why did you have to tell him all that? He is very touchy on that subject.“

“Well, he started it.“

“And you had to continue it?“

“Yes. I too am allowed to be petty.“

Moon's crimson optics were the only light left and they were getting closer, wicked and menacing. Their glow suddenly disappeared and all that was heard was Moon's malicious cackling. Even with Sun present, you knew you were pretty much screwed and that it was best if you made your merry way in the opposite direction.

An interesting chain of events followed that led to even more interesting consequences. You reached for the nearby bag that had the giant bunny plushie in it, throwing it in the general direction of Moon's laughter, hoping that it would hit him and buy you enough time to run out of the room. However, you miscalculated while waving your hand, accidentally hitting Sun in the face instead. In your defense, you could barely see a damn thing in the dark.

As this happened, Sun stepped backwards out of sheer instinct, bumping right into Moon as he was trying to elegantly sneak up. This caused Moon to lose balance and fall on the floor. As he tried to catch onto the table to pull himself back up, his hand landed directly on the coffee cup and the whole contents spilled over the edge right onto him, ruining his coat, vest and shirt.

Needless to say how much noise you three idiots had made in the process.

You reached for another bag, and you began to swing it around without a care in the world.

“Stay back, both of you, I am armed with plushies and I am not afraid to use them.“

Sun's face kept being caught in the collateral damage, of course. With a swift motion, he managed to catch you and pick you up, placing you on the table and pinning your wrists to it to stop you from further attacking him with such a deadly weapon. Meanwhile, Moon was removing his coffee-stained coat and vest, lamenting how the whole fabric was ruined now.

“This is not how I envisioned this meeting to transpire.“

The whole scene was then interrupted when a clerk opened the door, seeing the two celestial animatronics looming over you while you were lying on the table, Sun holding your wrists and Moon having half his clothes off.

The man blinked a few times, before clapping in joy.

“Oh, my god, finally. I have been placing my bets on the three of you for months. I have to tell the others that they owe me money. They said you three would get together by December, but I was a visionary and I said somewhere in Fall. Ah, passion! Such a fantastic thing. Have fun, you crazy lovebirds, you! I'll tell the group of people that is standing right outside not to disturb you for the next few hours, okay? Okay, take care.“

He closed the door and left, leaving the room in darkness again. A few moments passed and you burst out laughing, unable to control yourself. The situation was absurd and you were starting to love every minute of it.

“I must say, this madness is better than some boring date. We should do it again sometime.“

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