#and since this truly isn’t bout them | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

minkdelovely · 4 months ago

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

chapter ten: part two

“i won’t die for love but ever since i met you you could have my heart and i would break it for you.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags/warnings: nothing scary to report here — welcome to your happy ending 💖

word count: 8k

author’s note: cherished ones… i can’t believe we’re finally here at the end 🥲 it’s taken me much longer than anticipated to get this out, but i hope it’s worth the wait. allow me to extend my sincere gratitude to you all for hanging in there and going on this journey with me and this series. this started out as pure self-indulgence and turned into something much more along the way and i hope this is received by you as the gift i intended it to be. they’re not off the album i used as the platform for this series, but feel free to listen to rain and take me back to eden by sleep token, which i listened to A LOT while writing this. thank you again for all of your kindness and support. i truly don’t think i could have finished this without it 💖

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The last couple days had been… good.

Vaggie had approached you the morning after your little sleepover with Angel to see if you’d actually take her up on the offer of managing the hotel’s books. It was a welcome distraction, easily falling back into the routine of your old work. And honestly, their records keeping system needed a complete overhaul. It kept you busy and focused, hours passing like minutes as you honed in on creating the foundations of your system.

Funny how in Hell the work you had always approached with a level of disdain in life had become something to look forward to. Something that was all yours. It was nice. Familiar.

Ironic.

You also hadn’t gone to the bar — the biggest improvement, or at least the one you were happiest about. Feeling more like yourself again and less like your father, who had been no stranger to bouts of liquored-up sulking. It was not a way you wanted to remember him by, nor make a habit of for the eons to come. And beyond just feeling better without alcohol in your system, it was great to see Husk in a more friendly capacity again. Haunting his bar in the way you did wasn’t something you were ever planning to subject either of you any time soon.

You were regaining a level of comfortability in your room as well. Sleeping better in your bed, which had been difficult to do. For the first few days you slept on the loveseat, where you’ve now spent the last two nights curled up with a book in front of the fireplace.

It was a decent distraction, but thoughts of Alastor still plagued you. Try as you might, it was hard for them not to. He felt so present as you went about your day despite maintaining the separation; feeling his aura hovering around you like a sixth sense. You wanted to ask Husk and Niffty if they felt it like you did — if at all — but hadn’t gotten the nerve yet to do so.

What if they said no?

It was too embarrassing even to think of. The possibility of it being some kind of adverse affect from sleeping with him making your blood rush to your face.

Maybe I took a piece of him, too…

The heat on your cheeks intensified at the thought. Isn’t that exactly what had happened?

Sure, in a literal sense he had been the one to take a piece of you. But in return, you had witnessed him in yet another state that no one else — in this building, at least — ever had. Just the fact that he had let you help undress him… That wasn’t something you look lightly, even at the peak of your anger toward him. The nervous way your heart fluttered against your ribs at the memory only further proved the point.

You wanted the opportunity to do it again. Undress him, that is.

What followed after wasn’t of much consequence; you’d be satisfied just the same. Whether that was helping him out of his day clothes and into pajamas or preparing him to pound you into the mattress — either result was made from the same circumstance. You found you had enjoyed it even more than dressing down his bed for the evening, which had always been a nearly meditative part of your day.

Or, well… it used to be.

Did he even bother with that now? Hell, did he ever? Or was it just more busywork? If it was… you missed it.

Taking care of Alastor was tedious at times but it hadn’t been all bad. He was petulant too, which is probably why he was always deflecting and pointing the finger in your face. But past his venom there was charm. His euphemisms and anecdotes. Grumbling into the newspaper with his ears downcast whenever he came across an unpleasant article, which happened more often than not.

He enjoyed his coffee black and extra hot, but god forbid if it was burnt. That was one of the first things you had been tasked with perfecting, and mercifully, had been able to accomplish. Alastor never made you handle his food, not out of lack of trust but courtesy. Due to the gruesome reality of what he enjoyed eating, it wasn’t a chore he ever charged you with. And you’d busy yourself with cleaning while he ate to allow him as much privacy as possible.

As much as he adored the structure of his morning routine, beyond that the day was his for the taking. Living the monotonous life that you had, it was admirable. Sometimes inspiring. He had a mischievous, opportunistic outlook on existence — no doubt a quality that followed him into the afterlife — while you had been (presumably) buried jaded and trepidatious.

He was… fun. Even when he was irritating.

Before Rosie pawned you off on him, the last time you had ever felt something close to fun was killing your grandmother. A horrifying revelation, but true, though that had more to do with the satisfaction you felt from it than anything. But fun was something that was right at your fingertips with Alastor, when you looked back on the last couple weeks. He had quite the proclivity for antics when he wasn’t being crushed by the weight of his self-imposed grandeur.

The memory of when he brought you back to the alley the day after what you had done came to mind. His inspection of the bag you’d left behind had upset you so much in the moment, but now all you can remember is the glimmer in his eyes. The nearly childlike glee in his fanged smile. Sure, it had been at your expense, but that was how he liked to joke. Satire and whimsy adorned with the pretty bow of his voice and charm.

But his jokes were sometimes too one-sided. His delivery too harsh and actions… demeaning. It wasn’t a facet he aimed at you often but the sting of his cruelty ran deep, almost to the bone. Your hand came up to your throat, the pain in your neck only barely subsided. It had been impossible to tell if the chain had bruised you under all of Alastor’s love bites, but if you were being honest with yourself, there was no way it hadn’t. If even just a little.

You made due with covering yourself up. Managing to find some high-collared button up shirts left to rot in the laundry room. Nothing a good washing wasn’t able to fix. And as the days passed and the marks faded, you were able to transition back into more familiar (and revealing, in comparison) pieces of your wardrobe.

Still, being left to your own devices when Alastor had been the one responsible for not only the marks but ruining the dress that would’ve easily solved your problems with its modesty nicked at you. Not that you had expected gifts after the argument, but considering how he made you wear that dress as uniform there was no way he didn’t have plans to provide a replacement that morning. But it never came.

Instead he had given you a threat and left you on the floor in nothing but a towel, feeling used and humiliated and alone. And yet here you were, with a book in your hand you hadn’t absorbed the last few pages of because your mind was busy remembering the feeling of removing Alastor’s coat.

Or how disheveled and boyish he looked the morning you went into his room without permission and found him in bed. The strain in his eyes before you walked into Valentino’s arms. His drawn brows and open, kiss-swollen mouth when he made you his own on the bed right behind you. That face would haunt you for the rest of your afterlife.

But there was another face that earned the honor, too. An expression that eclipsed even your grandmother’s worst sneer. Was what you said to him that morning really so outrageous that it had warranted such wrath and disdain? Alastor had been in quite a decent mood too, before the conversation took a turn. Not that it made you feel any better, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something bigger than that. You had copped attitude before and Alastor had either laughed it off as a mild tantrum or course-corrected you before you even had a chance to realize it.

Beyond that, there were also the things he had done after you fell asleep, face buried in his scarred chest. The medicine he had waiting at the ready for when you inevitably woke up from the ache of his bite, which he had taken the liberty of cleaning and bandaging. He had more than likely done it by hand as well, the same as when he tended to it on your bed that awful morning. No magic, no minions. Despite being the least he could do since he inflicted the wound, that didn’t mean he had to do it himself. But he did.

Your stomach turned thinking about it. The force of his anger just didn’t match up with the efforts he took in caring for you after your entanglement. It was the push and pull you had been battling all week, and your eyes flitted to the door. Going up to his room wasn’t something you had entertained, knowing better than to try and call Alastor’s bluff, but the desire to speak with him now was a temptation you worried you’d lose the battle against.

Knock.

The single, hollow sound echoing off the door sent a jolt through your body, sitting up from your relaxed position on the small sofa near the fireplace. It was Friday, wasn’t it? Meaning everyone had left the hotel already except for you and…

There’s no way.

Your pulse spiked.

Maybe you just imagined it. Or the hotel was settling. Things like that could still happen to buildings in the afterlife, right? Ghosts and hauntings and creaks and groans seemed fairly on-brand for Hell. Alastor’s shadow — that you had found yourself missing as well — was proof of that all on its own.

It was that final thought that brought you to the door, hand hovering over the knob as your breath thinned; perspiration beading your skin like morning dew. Tormented by the prospect that opening it would either reveal him or nothing at all.

Unsure of which you were hoping for as you let your forehead fall forward, a huff of air passing your lips. Eyes closed as you relaxed into the cool lacquer of the wooden door, reaching out. Alastor felt especially close now. Typical that he would show up now that you were not only beginning to feel better, but also reaching the end of your rope in your banishment from him. If you weren’t too busy fighting the whiplash of frustration and want coursing through you, you would have laughed.

Even reconciliation had to be on his schedule…

If he was actually on the other side of the door wanting to make up, of course. This could all be your imagination, which would be particularly cruel on your mind’s part considering how just moments ago you were feeling so desperate to see him, if only just to talk. You sighed, condensation from your warm breath pilling under your mouth hovering near the door.

Was he really there?

Your hand gripped the handle in response, heart heavy and loud in your chest as you turned it and pulled. There was only one way to know for sure.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Alastor took you in as you opened the door. An apprehensive expression on your face, but with an underlying relief. Though he didn’t need eyesight for the confirmation. Your heartbeat and scent told him all he needed to know with an honesty that betrayed you for his benefit. It was rather unfair, wasn’t it?

The life coming back to your eyes did not go unnoticed, either.

He felt what was left of his vitriol drain out of him, and in a rare moment of self-deprecation he found himself hoping his unpolished state would put you at ease. Despite the lingering tension that was still eating away at him, he truly did wish to avoid an argument. Shouting matches were simply… nasty. In a way he did not much, if at all, enjoy.

Conversation is called an art for a reason.

A true favorite of his and it was much more his speed. With such an adaptable form you could be fencing one minute and duetting the next. Unless, of course, the conversation was bad, which was a fate worse than death. But that hadn’t been a problem with you, for the most part. He’d like that to be the case now as he prepared to linger for as long as it took to reach some kind of resolution.

Things couldn’t stay the way they were. He knew you’d both return to yourselves eventually, but you had gotten a head start on him. Leaving him to grasp at what was on the other side of this only in regard to himself. If ever he needed you, you’d be just a summoning away. Tied to him always by your contract. Something that typically provided a sense of security to the point of aloofness. But the uncertainty of how you would approach your days independent of him in the aftermath made him falter. Made evident by the color that had returned to your face, that spark of ferocity in your eyes.

Deep down he understood that you would carry on.

Tied to him, yes, but not entangled. There was an unpleasant tightness in his chest at the thought, his jaw flexing with irritation. He wasn’t through exploring this, relishing the fire he felt in his blood at seeing you again up close, lungs taking in your scent to feed the flame. Your racing heart a sonnet so sweet in a way that only he could truly appreciate. Feeding a part of him that either had not existed or had been lying dormant which, now awakened, was eager for more and he found himself wondering when it ever would be satiated.

More of your voice ringing in his ears, whether it was coated in insolence or lust… or laughter. More of your scent in his lungs, oxygenating his blood with the bliss of childhood summers. More of your taste on his tongue. Blood, sweat, tears. He’d take it all, or whichever morsels you were still willing to give him. Even if all that left him with was cordiality, it would be far better than letting you slip through his fingers. How wasted you would be on some tramp off the street. Not even taking into account that the average soul couldn’t appreciate your scent, attributes like responsibility and integrity weren’t typically admired here in the pit.

Who else could see you the way he did?

Past the pout of your lips to the lethal fangs hiding behind them; that sleeping anger you managed to keep at bay but weren’t afraid to use if necessary. Would you ever reveal that ferocity and glowing eyes to someone else in the ways he had witnessed them — induced by tapping into some of your baser instincts? It made stomach twist just to think it.

Alastor’s imagination began to run away from him then. Flashes of you making some other sinner’s bed, fetching their coffee, and picking up clothes. Drawing a bath, hanging their coat, laughing at their jokes. That now-dear sulk of yours aimed at the faceless menace when one of those jokes went too far. Phantom hands stripping you of clothes, cupping your face, roaming your body… holding your chin. And though his urges were few and far between, worse still was the thought of you crying out a stranger’s name like a reverent prayer, writhing underneath them as you fell apart.

Foul.

Bile scorched his throat as he fought to maintain his composure in your doorway. The filthy handprints he had just pictured all over you gone in the blink of an eye as his own hand twitched behind his back, eager to hold you once more and feel the heat of your skin soak into his palm. Easy as it would be to reach out and satisfy the urge he refrained from doing so, smothering his desire in his fist. Now wasn’t the right time to succumb to impulse.

As much as Alastor wanted to pull you into his embrace he knew there was still a hatchet to bury. You had touched quite the nerve that morning, after all, and his actions had been less than genteel as a result. As justified as he had felt at the time, it settled in now as something he was less than proud of. Warranted… What a fool he was to think so. Though misguided, all you had done was try to make sense of things. You would be well within your rights to sever any further personal ties with him, and he swallowed against the anxious lump in his throat.

He had spent so much time wallowing in liquor, wasted countless hours justifying his anger toward you to ease his own unrest. Even if you had picked the fight… hadn’t he brought you right to the edge of it with his antics over the past weeks? In truth, hadn’t making you lose your composure been his goal from the start? He had certainly got what he wanted, just not in a way that was originally intended; culminating in a misunderstanding that threatened to keep parts of yourself locked away from him for, quite possibly, eternity.

Desiring someone’s comfort the way he did yours was something he never expected to have to face, let alone something he ever feared to lose. Alastor wondered for the first time how things between you would be had you met sooner. Granted, you had only been in Hell for two-or-so months, but he was a different man now than he was even then. The Alastor of two months ago still had his microphone, for starters. His sword and shield. Now nothing but another one of his corpses left to decay in the bayou.

That man hadn’t had his confidence shaken, his power drained. Alastor had felt so invigorated when he retreated to the radio tower to mend himself after battling Adam, but the healing process hadn’t been simple. Seeing as the weapon that caused the wound was made of angelic steel, Alastor expected it would take more time than usual, but he had underestimated the reality of it. So many arduous, slow hours had passed as he used all his strength just to make minute progress in closing the gash. It took a week to finally get it to seal, the scar barely formed by the time he encountered you at Rosie’s.

Simply put, you had weathered emotional storms that he typically had much better control of. There was a sourness in his soul that had been poisoning him from the very beginning of your relationship, which you took — more often than not — in stride. As much as he felt there was no one who fully appreciated you, Alastor believed it to be a two way street. Whether there was anyone else who could take your place — paramour, caretaker, or otherwise — was inconsequential. He simply wasn’t interested in the prospect. Hadn’t he gotten along just fine in his relative solitude before you fell to suffer your infernal fate?

It wouldn’t be the same.

It already wasn’t, in fact, which is why his feet had brought him here when his stubbornness wouldn’t. Opening the door to him was only the first step. You could still slam it in his face, effectively shutting him out; leaving him standing alone in the hall as the Overlord who owned your soul and nothing more.

He found it to be a dreadful prospect.

“May I come in?”

Even he could hear the exhaustion in his voice, making the question heavy in air as he watched you contemplate. Nervous fingers tapping the doorframe to the same beat as his heart before you stepped off to the side to make way for him. Alastor managed to fight the instinctual twitch at the corners of his mouth. Now wasn’t the time for smiling, despite the wave of relief he felt at your accepting of his request to enter.

As long as it takes…

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You watched as Alastor practically collapsed on your sofa, massaging his temples with a single hand as he leaned back to cross his legs. Still doing his best to maintain decorum despite how worn out he was. Discontent, you shifted on your feet, not wanting to give into the pity you felt towards him too easily.

As much as you tried to remember your anger, there was no denying the relief you felt at being near him again. Hearing his voice. And knowing he could pick up on it only made it worse. Would it ever be anything but an uphill battle for you when it came to him? Your eyes couldn’t help but look just past him to where you had fallen to the floor, left to console yourself in your shame and grief. The memory didn’t fuel what was left of your animosity, but pricked at your sadness instead, making you feel the weight of the day.

I’m so sick of this…

Alastor’s gaze followed you as you moved to take your seat next to him, picking your book up off the cushion and placing it on the small coffee table in front of you. His eyes and hand lingered on the cover as you sat down.

“I just missed the first draft,” he said quietly, static replaced with the distant sound of remembrance. Eyes never leaving your copy of A Farewell to Arms as he continued with a small, humorless laugh. “I was eligible for the others but the only Divisions I could have been placed in were booked. Funny, isn’t it, a quota on the worthiness to die at war? But I suppose that’s a conversation for another time…”

The glimpse of his human life caught you off guard. Vulnerability wasn’t something you expected from him, especially not in the wake of your argument; the admission was given so casually you couldn’t help but soften just a bit, leaving you hungry for more of his secrets.

He turned to you then, somehow looking even more tired than he had before. “We have our own battle to rectify, don’t we?”

You sighed and positioned your body to face him, bringing your legs up to sit criss-cross. This was shaping up to be a long night, so you decided you might as well get this out of the way. Even managing to get a piqued eyebrow out of him from the sober look that was no doubt on your face as you considered what you were about to say.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that I enjoyed our…,” you trailed off, looking for the right word.

Our what?

Things had become so muddled you weren't quite sure what to call it. Sex, obviously, but… it had felt like more to you in the end. No matter how many times you reminded yourself that it wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a one night stand at best — and had spent the whole week drowning your sorrows trying not to think about the worst.

“I know you weren’t.” He said it in almost the same tone when you had admitted it in the first place, but his eyes were soft. “I enjoyed it myself, the second time. I thought that was obvious, but when you asked about the pheromones that morning… they had nothing to do with it. Not that evening. I… initiated that. Which is why I was so incensed by the implication that I was acting outside of myself.”

The confession sunk to the bottom of your stomach. You hadn’t expected him to be so forthcoming and even keeled regarding it. And while you felt relief that the pheromones weren’t at play that evening — and that he had not only enjoyed, but desired it — you didn’t miss the implication of the words he kept to himself regarding how you ended up in this mess in the first place. The more you thought about it, the more you were beginning to understand why he felt the way he did. Was that why he had returned you to your room to wake up alone, because being in his bed was too much of a reminder? Had he really regretted it that much?

Because you didn’t.

The truth was you had been more than willing to give yourself to him that afternoon. Yes, you knew something wasn’t quite right, but you didn’t know he was fighting against Valentino’s nasty little trick. You’d never know what would’ve happened if you had denied him instead, because that’s not what happened. Would he have gone into a rage? In the state he was in, that wasn’t an impossibility. In fact, that was what you had been expecting, wasn’t it? In a way you dodged a bullet — received his affections, however intense, instead of his violence. The bruised remnants of his mark on your shoulder were a dizzying mix of both.

Though the ferocity you received the next morning… had it been lying in wait? Using the chain on you the way he did compounded by the words he spat at you was a tough memory to forget, to the point where you wondered if you ever could. He had only punished you that way one other time, but it had been nothing compared to this. Blood burned under your cheeks as you recalled how humiliated you felt. How different would things be right now if he had just let you stay?

“Look I…,” you sighed and ran a hand through your hair, but resisted the urge to look away from him. “I really do understand why you’re unhappy with how things happened that afternoon but…”

Here goes nothing.

“It’s something I’ve been aware of in myself for a little while but… you don’t know how much it meant to me, being touched that way by you and how you let me touch you back it —” You wiped a tear you couldn’t stop from falling and cleared your throat, but the thick, choking feeling didn’t subside. The pinched look on Alastor’s face nearly sent you over the edge, but you couldn’t stop now that you’ve started. He needed to hear this as much as you needed to say it. “It made me really happy, if that’s even the right word for it.”

It wasn’t. But you didn’t know how else you could try to tell him how wanted and safe you felt underneath him. That no one had ever managed to turn your blood to kerosene; every bit of him the match, the bed behind you kindling. At this point it didn’t really matter that you hadn’t known him for very long. You cared about him, much more than you ever expected to, and you wanted to be near him in whatever capacity you could be. Whether that made you his errand girl or concubine, so long as you were spared from the more acidic side of his temper.

“And when I think about how much you regret it, it kills me, even though I know why you do. But… I don’t. You didn’t take advantage of me, if that’s something you’ve been worrying about. Honestly, now I can’t help but wonder if it’s the other way around…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffed, lightly exasperated as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’ve only ever gone along with my impulses and games. My behavior in this has been… unbecoming. I fear my mother would be quite ashamed, and rightfully so, but you’ve come to know me at a low point.”

Everything about him felt wrung out and far off, from his posture to the defeat in his unfiltered voice. It had been absent from the moment he asked to come inside, but for some reason was only hitting you now. Though you couldn’t fight the ache in your heart from the poor state of him, there was still more you needed to know before you could let yourself give in. No matter what subconscious queues your body was undoubtedly feeding him in the meantime.

“You say unbecoming…,” you began tentatively, worried that what you were about to ask could possibly upset him again. “Is that because of how you punished me that morning, or the toying you’ve subjected me to?”

If you had to choose, you really hoped that he’d feel apologetic for the chain. While they could be annoying, his games and tricks were mostly harmless. You had admitted to yourself not too long ago that you were even beginning to miss them. That was not a feeling you extended to the invisible leash that bound you to him, not the way it had been used then, at least.

Alastor removed the hand from his nose to meet your eyes, the speed of his movement catching you off guard. For the first time all night his eyes were clear and earnest; that steadfast, hypnotizing red you had come to seek and cherish.

“Would you accept it if I said both? By pushing you I think I may have set us up for the argument. I won’t say that what you said that morning didn’t upset me, since it did, but… Perhaps if I had given you less reason to think I was playing at another game it would have never happened in the first place.”

His voice was soft as he held his left hand out to you, a different charge in the air as your eyes broke contact to flicker down to his open palm.

The olive branch.

There was no doubt he could hear the way your heart had picked up, nearly choking you with its fervor as you swallowed against it… and gave him your hand.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“I was so humiliated that morning… I’ve been so mad at you.”

Alastor could hear the tears threatening to spill behind the statement, and he squeezed your hand before his thumb began to rub in soothing circles as you looked away from him for the first time that night. He took a quick moment to follow your line of sight and grimaced when he realized you were looking at the spot where he had treated you so harshly. There was nothing he could do to take back what he did. Regret was such an awful weight, reminding him of long nights trudging through the swamp to discard one of his victims. His mouth soured. It would seem he’d need to add your name to the list.

Things were never meant to end up this way. This… tangled.

He dared to lean forward, not that there was much distance to close on your quaint loveseat, and cupped your face with his other hand to draw your gaze back to his. The conflict in your eyes went right to his stomach with a kick — the chance that you would turn him away forever still there, but he was thankful you hadn’t rejected his touch. He really couldn’t have suffered through the empty ache in his hands for even another minute; the heat of your skin already refilling his cup.

And despite how much he wanted anything but, he knew he had to give you an out. It was only right.

“I was a brute… I can’t undo what’s been done but if you’d like me to leave you alone, I will. I’m not keen on releasing you from our contract, but I would let you leave this hotel if you wish.” The words scorched his tongue, but they were true. He would let you go if that’s what you really wanted. You deserved that chance. “It’s safer here, but I would know immediately if you faced any trouble. Well… any trouble you couldn’t handle yourself, that is. I know how capable you are.”

Alastor gave you a small smile, the first time his lips had curled up with any sincerity for days. It was the most generous offer he had ever given a soul under his heel, and your short, dry laugh in response was music to his ears. There was no bitterness in the sound, nor was there any coming from your scent, but that wasn’t an indication of what was going on in your mind. Something the Overlord needed to remind himself of more often. He took a moment to really breathe you in then, floral notes of almond warming him on the inside as your body warmed him from out. Would it be the last time he was ever surrounded by you like this?

He didn’t know when his thumb began to absently stroke your cheek, but he loved the flush it brought to your face as you considered his words. A hint of iron gave the sweetness in the air just enough bite to make him swallow, his throat now parched and wanting. It took all he had not to close the remaining space between you, needing your answer before he would move an inch save the part of him caressing your face.

A jolt ran through him as your eyes locked onto his with a resolve that made his hair stand on edge, and he steeled himself as your lips parted to speak. Never could he have imagined that you would join the short list of people to hold his fate in their palm. And fewer still, one that he didn’t hold resentment toward having that power. There was security in your hold, not malice. Such a rare thing to stumble across even in life, let alone in this sulfurous chasm that had been home for the last near-century. As unworthy as he felt to receive it, the thought of losing it was even worse. He wasn’t in love… but it wasn’t impossible that he could be, with more time.

If you would give it to him.

“I don’t want to leave the hotel,” you said quietly, and brought your free hand up to hold his chin in the same way he had held yours countless times.

Alastor felt his ears lower despite how attuned they were to hear what you would say next, though the thumping in his chest didn’t help. To reach out and touch him of your own accord this way was bold, and he tried not to hone in on the bashfulness he felt burning his face. Why choose shame when he could have comfort? That was what he wanted, after all. A reprieve from The Radio Demon. There was nothing to be gained in postering, not with you. With you he could be… anything. And no matter your decision, he vowed to provide you with the same space.

His schemes to mold you into something you weren’t fled him with every exhale of his lungs. It was a senseless desire… Remorseless murders were a dime a dozen here. Thrilling as it had been to see you decapitate that wretch with your teeth, the fact that you refused to do something akin to that again merely for the sake of it like so many others was refreshing. He could appreciate only killing with purpose. That had been his modus operandi in life, after all. Murder was a tool he now used to illicit fear and respect, though most souls here were free game to him even under his mortal code. You were not, and it had taken him much too long to acknowledge it.

“And I don’t want you to leave me alone… ever again, but…”

But…

The shakiness in your voice felt like the blade of a guillotine, hovering above his neck while he agonized over when you would let the rope loose and seal his fate.

“I don’t know if I could handle that again. The chain, your anger — ” A small sob escaped you then, tearing through him like a hurricane.

Alastor didn’t even realize he was kissing your face until the salt of your tears registered on his tongue. Every little press of his lips an oath to never make you cry like this because of him ever again. And when your hands cupped his cheeks he only had a moment to relish in his relief, sighing against your skin before you captured his lips with yours. A familiar green glow enveloping you both as an unspoken agreement was made.

Peace.

What a magnanimous gift to receive.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Low voices pulled you out of sleep, making you aware of the cold that was beginning to sink into the front of your body. You had been so warm… so comfortable.

Safe.

More mumbling at your door as you groaned, the grievance in the sound not lost on you even in your groggy state. It wasn’t lost on Alastor either, saying something you couldn’t decipher beyond its tone of finality followed by the closing of the door.

“It’s still the middle of the night sweetheart, don’t stir.”

You didn’t even have time to ask who was at the door before he ran a soothing hand through your hair, maneuvering himself back into place in your bed. Pressing the length of his body in close against yours as he nuzzled into your chest, humming as he found the pulse of your heart. The warm, claiming kiss he placed there sent a shiver through you, your shared embrace tightening in response.

“What’s gotten into you? You promised you’d be good,” you mumbled, wriggling a little from the way his breath tickled your skin.

Even to yourself the warning was half-admonishing at best. But you were also just barely awake. Fingers betraying you as they lightly massaged his undercut, his contented sigh making you hide your face in his hair as if he could see the flush on your cheeks.

You’d be stronger in the morning.

Pet names and kisses like this weren’t something you were expecting to receive again so soon. It had been discussed, and you had both agreed to try and take things slow. A fresh start, of sorts. While you were used to him calling you dear, it was a term he used frequently toward other residents as well.

Sweetheart was… special.

Which he no doubt knew. Most likely saying it when he did so he could press up and relish your rapid heart like you were none the wiser.

“I know, I know,” he conceded, his words muffled by your skin. Inadvertently kissing you more due to the sheer proximity of his lips to your chest. Feeling closer to you now than he had during intimacy.

And, admittedly, cuddling in bed wasn’t exactly what you’d call taking it slow. But by the time you had finished talking — and making out on the loveseat — the two of you were so exhausted that letting him spend the night had seemed innocent enough. Like platonically sharing a bed with a friend. Though that’s not a word you would use to describe what Alastor was to you.

More than friends, not quite lovers. Beholden to each other all the same.

“Which is why I’ll only do this… for now.”

Alastor’s words and the warning, low tone of his voice hardly registered before you felt his tongue lap at the valley between your breasts, leaving a scorching trail in its wake that made your breath hitch. The soft groan from his open mouth right over your heart only making it beat harder, pleading for more of him. His large palm splayed against your back as he pressed you against his lips to nestle and kiss and suck, as if trying to pull the frantic organ through your skin through desire alone. You gasped as the light prick of his nails between your shoulders sent a fresh shiver down your spine, ending in a warm bloom between your hips as you curled into his touch. His responding needy hum as he grazed you with his teeth making you whimper.

Stronger in the morning…

“You’re not playing fair,” you complained, but it was a pathetic attempt at a scolding. You didn’t really want him to stop. Alastor’s responding chuckle told you that he knew it, too. The sound of it making your heart ache, and you were unable to suppress the small whine from behind your closed lips as he nipped and licked at your collarbone. “I missed you so much.”

You barely managed to finish speaking when he moved up to kiss you properly, slow and sweet, hand leaving your back to cradle the crown of your head. Melting into his touch, you moaned as his tongue entered your mouth; gentle and hot, coaxing whimpers and gasps from both of you as you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him close.

“I missed you, too,” he said quietly, nudging your nose with his.

Tears fell unbidden as Alastor caressed and kissed the lingering bruises from his bite, seemingly determined to make them disappear through sheer willpower. Every little touch — administered or received — was comforting in a way that you feared would leave you insatiable, but the thought that formed in your mind through the haze of affection was a reassuring one.

This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

“Fess up, toots.” Angel plopped down on a chair across from you, gleaming as he rested his head in his hands and leaned forward conspiratorially. “You’re havin’ all kinds of sleepovers now, huh?”

You nearly dropped the mug in your hands from the sudden question, and quickly looked around to see if anyone else had overheard. Not that the reconciliation was going to be secret — which would have been impossible to pull off anyway, considering how much the two of you had been moping around the hotel — but you had hoped to at least make it through the morning with the knowledge kept to yourselves.

“That was you at the door last night, I’m assuming?” The nonchalance you were aiming for just enough to get a laugh from him. “What did you say to him anyway?”

“Just that I was checkin’ up on my girl — which he did not appreciate me callin’ ya, by the way — after missin’ the big night out. I hope I didn’t send him to bed too mad.” Judging by the smug look on Angel’s face, he knew that Alastor definitely had returned to bed at least a little ruffled. “Buuut after I heard ya wakin’ up I figured I’d save the teasin’ for another day.”

“And you started bright and early,” you quipped, unable to help the smile tugging at your lips as you went back to preparing the breakfast tray.

“Well ya ain’t exactly bein’ subtle, what with the two mugs and all,” Angel taunted, jerking his head in the tray’s direction, “but jokes aside… I’m glad you were able to patch things up with Smiles. Who woulda thought all it’d take was an empty hotel, huh?” He gave you a wink and you narrowed your eyes at the suggestion, but he cut you off before you could even begin to ask the question forming in your mind. “Look, I gotta run, but I’m expectin’ a full report when I get back from work, capisce? Oh! Speakin’a which — guess who’s supposed to be on set tomorrow?”

It was your turn to laugh. “It’s about time that lazy bitch went back to work. Making the rest of you pick up the slack is just rude.”

You both snickered as you added the finishing touches on the tray, rounding out the coffee with some croissants and fruit. It definitely paid to be in the Princess’ circle; grapes in particular were very hard to come by. There wasn’t much time to relish in your mirth with Angel before you felt a cool, slinking tendril climb up your leg. Alastor’s shadow soon emerging over your shoulder to glare at your friend and whine in your ear.

Angel put all four of his hands up in mock defeat and pushed away from the table. “Duty calls, I get it,” he chuckled and gave you a knowing look, popping a grape from the tray into his mouth before making his way out of the kitchen. “Make sure the boss man knows ya got plans for tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you called after him, glancing behind you as the shadow growled at the spot where Angel Dust had been. Its face reverted back to sullenness when you pursed your lips, admonishing him with only a look. Any lingering irritation dissolved as it tugged at your sleeve, urging you back upstairs, and you conceded with a sigh. “You wouldn’t even be here to come get me if it wasn’t for Angel, you know. I expect you to be nicer next time.”

The shadow nodded its head and pulled on you again, its phantom grin quickly returning when you picked up the tray and began to walk back to the elevators. Baseless hostility toward Angel aside, it was hard not to smile as you watched it flitter across the floor; pausing every few feet to materialize and look back, ensuring you were right behind it. If your theories about this creature were right, it was merely acting as an extension of the demon you were making your way back to, and he was apparently quite eager for your return. A warm rush of pride left your body tingling at the thought.

Then again… it wouldn’t do well for the two of you to be late to your sudden appointment with Rosie. Who, according to Alastor, was very anxious to see you both and had something special planned that he had nothing to do with.

Yeah, right…

When you entered your room, you found Alastor at the loveseat still lounging in his pajamas and you scoffed, “That was a lot of urgency from someone who hasn’t gotten dressed yet.”

“Well, I had to do something. Our mutual friend was getting you off-track. I thought we took the same pleasure in this morning routine of ours, but perhaps I’m mistaken?” Alastor’s tone was light, his smile teasing as he watched the blush burn your face.

You cleared your throat as you took a seat next to him after setting down the tray and decided to change the subject. What point was there in admitting what he already knew?

“Rumor has it that Donny’s finally scheduled back to work tomorrow,” you said conversationally, helping yourself to some of the fruit.

Alastor’s eyebrows shot up in surprise before his face lit up in a hearty laugh; the ebullient sound of it making the mark he had left over your heart radiate with fondness. His face sharpened with that menacing, debonair grin as he looked down at you while you poured his coffee.

“Took him long enough to pull himself together, didn’t it? You did do quite a number on him, darling.”

You hummed, pleased with the proud look he gave you, and passed him the mug; a shock running through you as your fingers touched. Silly, considering how you had been pressed together all evening… not to mention all the other marks he left that matched the one currently throbbing between your breasts.

Even in life, you never could have imagined something like this. Sitting in the parlor with a suitor, giggling over coffee and breakfast after an evening of whispering sweet nothings between kisses. It would be foolish to think a peace like this could last forever, but this was the afterlife. Wasn’t peace the absolution from mortality and its fickleness? As you watched Alastor sip his coffee, his free hand absently massaging the back of your neck as he hummed along to the radio, you couldn’t help but think so.

Peace, friendship, sanctuary, love, and power.

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was home.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

ps: a special shoutout to my darlings @hazelfoureyes and @sugoi-writes for giving me their shoulders to lean on while i worked on this final chapter. you both have listened to me ramble off ideas and scenarios and have supported me with such patience and grace… i don’t know how i’ll ever repay you but i will never stop trying!

pps: i do have plans for an epilogue, but don’t have a timeline on it just yet… stay tuned 😌💖

tag list: @fairyv-ice, @wat4r, @midorichoco, @raynerrold, @krak-jj, @tremendoushearttaco, @redfoxwritesstuff, @chibistar45, @kaylopolis, @cutiebimbo, @lousypotatoes, @rfox1998, @cosmiccandydreamer, @stardustandbrimstone, @cherry-cola-100, @wonderlandangelsposts , @catticora, @velvette3, @sailorsmouth, @alastorthirsty, @reath-solia, @junieshohoho, @cxrsedwxrlds, @fraugwinska, @littlebluefishtail, @nxcxllxsevens, @swagkittybear

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #song fic #if i can't have love i want power #love and power #slow burn #hazbin hotel slow burn

155 notes · View notes

i-am-hungry-24-7 · 7 months ago

Note

Hiii, i love your work so much. Thank you for writing those beautifull stories.

Could I ask you to write the story about ghost x reader based on this?

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C6mnJpELBf_/?igsh=Y2ExOXVmYWNrNmlh

And could you make happy ending bout them, please?

Thank you❤

~~🐬~~

Hello 🐬 anon! OMG I have a new sea creature anon yay (collecting pokemons??) tyvm for the request and praises I'm in tears🥹💖 and this is such a nice trope to write!! I kinda based on a little drabble I wrote weeks ago (the husband!Simon and car crash wife!Reader), and I hope you will enjoy this since I think this is full of warmth 💖

Husband!Simon*F!Reader.

Summary: You wake up from a car crash and suffer temporary amnesia, your husband Simon helps you with it, and your room is always decorated with your favorite flower by him.

Till It Blooms Again

It’s raining outside.

Rainy days usually bring you tranquility, or that’s what your instincts tell you, but you doubt the preciseness of it after you’ve been told that you temporarily lost your memory due to the severe head smash you got from the car crash a week ago.

You don’t even know why you woke up on the bed in a silent ward, the dull headache and the pain from your broken ankle set in first, then followed by the man – bulky, wearing a face mask to cover his features, but as his surprisingly soft eyes landed on you, and reassured you in a gentle tone that doesn’t match him, you were utterly confused.

Because who was he?

The masked man cooed in a low voice, trying his best not to frighten you, but the shock in his eyes was truly more overwhelming than yours when you spoke the first sentence since you recovered from your coma.

“Who are you?”

Now fidgeting the ring he gave you before he left to grab you some food, you trace your thumb along the names imprinted inside the ring. Simon and your name engraved the promise of your love towards each other on the ring, yet you stare at the words that just sting you every time you read it slowly in your mind.

“So– Sorry, are you okay?”

Apologies spilled profusely out of your mouth as the man in front of you stiffed immediately, your words were like lightning to him, as he got struck and left in a trance, until the reality settled in. An audibly shaky breath escaped him, with him blinking furiously, as if it could dispel the grief that started clouding in his brown eyes.

“Yeah, don’t worry.” it isn’t difficult to sense the fake calmness covering his voice, but of course, you didn’t mention it “The doctors said you might have lost your memories from the hit. I’m just not expecting it to truly happen.”

“hmmm… May I ask your name, Sir?”

“Name’s Simon.”

“Simon, why are you here?”

“...I’m your husband. We’ve married five years ago.” and that’s the information you managed to process and believe even if you can’t recognize him from that day.

The vow on the ring stings you. You feel sorry. sorry for the man who stares at you with endless affection swirling in his brown eyes, but you’re unable to return the feelings as all you can barely come up with is your name.

An imperceptible creak barely catches your attention, as Simon steps in with lunch in his left hand, and an elegant flower bouquet you're unable to recognize hugging closely to his toned body carefully.

“Wow, what are they?” You point at the flowers as you dig a hint of pink out of your sparsity

memories.

“Rain Lilies.” He puts them into the bottle on the bed table while responding. “Sure you will like them, love”

He’s not wrong, the peaceful purple provides a serene calmness to your hollow heart.

The bitterness aching and burning in your chest from the day you woke up, devouring you from inside, magically when Simon’s by your side, it subsides.

“Thank you…” staring at the petals, you grin and meet Simon’s eyes, and he reaches out his hand, but halts suddenly in the air.

“It’s okay.”

So his palm shakes with hesitation and touches your hair. and ruffles a few times.

You search your mind again, just like what you did every minute from the day you were awake. It’s still occupied by an eerie blank, obscuring you to seek if the man now treats you with such fondness is in there.

Yet you lean into his touch no matter, the warmth that can console you like no others.

You must be a lucky woman to have him wish you with his whole life.

One month later, you’re back to the house where you used to live with Simon – confirmed by friends and family that you regained your knowledge to.

The gray staining your mind is fading day by day, and you start to remember some people and things, such as your name, friends you met in high school, your cousin…

Simon isn’t one of them. You still can’t find him in your past.

The guiltiness sprouts every time you see him. The man never left your side from the first day in the hospital room, helps you shower, chants you goodnight, and teaches you how the world operates.

“It’s okay, there’s no need to feel sorry for.” He hugs you, trying not to squeeze too tightly and scare you off with overloaded intimacy.

This is a habit you two own when you startle awake one night, panting as blood haunts you in hallucinations. You were floating away from reality, arms wiggling in order to anchor yourself from wandering away, and your chest heaves more intensely every second until a pair of heating hands wrap yours.

“I’m here, it’s okay, you’re safe, love.” The owner of the voice recited it repeatedly until you focused on him.

There’s Simon, with tired and languid eyes, rubbing circles to soothe your panic. You almost teared up the moment you realized he jumped into comfort you the second he was woken by your noises.

“May I hug you…?" After he shushed you from apologizing, you asked him with irresolution. The coffee-like eyes never darted from your figure widened when he took in your words, but softened with him opening his arms.

“Of course, love.”

He slowly closured them and caged you within his embrace. It’s too conciliatory, his temperature broke the clothes and radiated on you, tempting you to lean closer against him.

You understood that was what you were missing and craving, so you always requested one attentively when you felt insecure, so as he always answered with equal adoration and wide arms.

and now he offers you again when he reads you like an open book and senses your unhappiness.

“Take it slow, you don’t need to force yourself to remember.” He caresses your back as he reassures you.

“What if I never got those memories back?”

“Then let’s create new memories together.”

You know he clearly isn’t as composure to your situation as his exterior when you pull back and notice him blinking frequently, struggling to turf out the tears gathering and sneaking out.

“Yeah, let’s create new memories together.” The smile finally reappears on your face.

Simon decorates the house with rain lilies, which you love the most, and you assume that’s your favorite flower in the past either, since Simon never questioned your obsession with it but put them all over each spot of the house.

So when you suggest buying seeds and planting them at the idle little garden in the backyard, Simon heads out to the tools straight away and comes back with a bag full of seeds for different colors of rain lilies.

“There! Plant the pink one!” The golden velvet of sunshine covers you both when Simon kneels on the ground with you sitting in your wheelchair beside him and instructing him.

“There’s like ten pink already but only one yellow.”

“Any questions, Mr. Riley?”

“Negative, ma’am” He chuckles as he turns back to fiddle with the soil.

When the sky is smeared with orange, the little garden is finally settled.

“Thank you, Simon!” You flash him a smile when he gets to his feet once again, and you just can't help but smother the dirt on his face, till his cheeks are a bit dirty.

"You look so cute like this." You whistle as he bears your cheekiness and unmoved as you poke him.

"I suggest you to check your eyes, ma'am"

Your journal is filled with the things you experienced, and the memories revealed from the barrier of blurriness. Sometimes you still stare at the whole room of rain lilies, wondering why you still don’t remember the memories between you and Simon, and you want to know if Simon’s thinking the same when he puts on the fresh flowers every week.

It’s definitely a lie if you say you don’t care about the past with him anymore, you’re still curious about how you met, and where you went before.

“We went to a park on our first date?" You quirk your eyebrow with confusion when Simon shows you the photos taken before.

“You chose it, You said there was a sea of rain lilies there and you wanted to check it out.

“I don’t know I’m such an unromantic person to choose a park as the place for a first date…”

“Surely are, because you threw me surrounded by a bunch of bloody couples and dived into the flowers yourself.

“Damn…”

The journal records how the rain lilies grow in your backyard too. When it’s nearly sunset, Simon will support you to the garden and observe them.

“We really need more rain huh. They’re only little sprouts now”

“That’s why they’re called rain lilies.”

“Thank you, Simon, I’m not an idiot.”

“You know water’s wet?”

“You think you married a dork?”

These banters will be written into your journal with an unconscious grin spreading along your lips.

One morning you’re woken up by the obnoxious burnt smell, and you swear that’s the fastest you drag your feet to the living room after you injure your ankle.

“What happened?! Simon?! You okay?!”

You swing open the door to the kitchen when you don’t spot him and the concern swirling in your body.

“...”

You both stand in silence as you look between the plate in Simon’s hand and his embarrassed face.

“This is… uh…”

You watch him blabber as you pick a piece of half-burnt cookie from the plate and take a bite.

“Wow… ehh… this is good, Simon. I mean I guess.”

“The bloody frown on your face said the opposite.”

Eventually, you both burst into laughter when you shove the rest of the piece into his mouth and his face turns into disgust instantly.

He tells you the recipe and process – which you doubt at first but still write them in your journal because he claims it’s the cookie you always made him – and you can’t wait to bake him when you’re able to move around at your own will freely.

You know he can’t stay at home and accompany you every day, but when he packs his stuff in a bag before he leaves, you still can’t help the sadness fuming in you.

“I’ll be back soon, just a month or two.” He pulls you into a hug when you stand at the front door and watch him put on his shoes with a tiny pout.

“I just want you safe, I can wait.” you sigh in his arms, and eventually push him back to fish out a thing stuffed carefully in your pocket, and show it to him.

An amulet lies in the center of your palm. The edge of it is slightly crooked, and a dried rain lily is pasting on it.

"I understand if you think this is stupid, it's just... ummm."

"It's not stupid." he snatches it from your hand "I love it."

"Stay safe, okay?"

He nods to you before stepping out the threshold.

Unknown to you, he presses a kiss on the one you just handed him, and the one you gifted him years ago and always kept in his pocket wherever he went.

The rainy season arrives after a month since Simon was deployed.

You watch the garden through the window as the raindrops splatter on the glass.

Rain lilies bloom abundantly after rain, and counting the days, you're sure when Simon gets back home, the flowers will blossom to their full extent.

You take over his work of replacing the rain lilies in the house with fresh ones, to make the house just like it was before he left.

It doesn’t feel the same.

You stare at the pink rain lily in your grasp.

The house just doesn’t feel the same without Simon, even though they’re still arranged with your favorite flowers.

But isn’t it why you like them? They blossom the most after the rain, after the clouds and dark which make people depressed. It’s most beautiful when they confront the gloominess.

Just like every time you wait at home for months, pray for him to come back in one piece, and cuddle on the bed after reunion.

You hold your breath when you remember the reason you like rain lilies so much.

That’s why you love the rain lily. You remind yourself again as you rush to grab your journal.

You saunter to the front door when you hear the noise of fidgeting keys behind.

“Hey, love.”

Simon greets you with an exhausted voice, pats you on your shoulder, and bends down to untie his shoes, but he stops and straightens up when he hears your greetings.

“Hey, Si.”

His eyes are round like a full moon and mixed with disbelief and excitement.

“You– You call me what?”

“I said…” He tumbles over and lands on the ground with you as you drag him into a tight embrace “Welcome back, Si.”

You caress his hair when he buries his face in your chest and hugs back adamantly, trembles are restrained to its minimum, yet it’s unignorable when you two squish your bodies as if trying to merge together so it’s impossible to be separate again.

“I made your favorite cookies, perfect ones, unlike yours." You hear him huff out a laugh against your chest.

“How about the rain lilies?”

“They’re beautiful, let’s see them together now?”

“Sounds good.”

The flowers flutter like a pink stream combined with a few yellows in the breeze, and you both set eyes on them, basking in the sun.

“I remember why I love rain lilies.” You shift to meet his gaze, and that’s the moment you discover he’s already been staring at you. “They flourish after heavy rains, just like each time I wait for you to come back, that’s when I become complete.”

“Feeling poetic today?”

“Already told you I’m a smart woman.”

Simon’s tummy growls with agreement when you finish your sentence.

“You hungry, big boy?" You snicker, and start walking him back into the house.

"I want to eat the biscuits.”

“No snacks before the meal, babe.”

“Then I want lasagne.”

“Okay… hey I just said no snacks before the meal! you idiot!”

You scoff when Simon ignores you and starts stuffing his mouth with your freshly baked cookies like a hamster, and the rain lilies beside him come into your sight again.

Yeah, just like rain lily. After an unnerving storm, everything will bloom again.

a/n: tyvm for reading! have a nice day/night! :D

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x reader #queued post

166 notes · View notes

wildemaven · 1 year ago

Text

bloom : two | joel miller

-> pairing: joel miller x florist f!reader

-> wc: 4024

-> content warning: lots if fluff and mutual pining, ellie being ellie (terrifying at times), talks of divorce and failed relationships, mention of food, reader is a single mom (adoption) and has zero physical descriptions

-> a/n: excited to share this! everyone is meeting and things are happening. big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a gem and listening to me stress over this and reading through this and correcting all my mistakes— she’s truly the best!

one / series masterlist / playlist

Sarah keeps asking questions.

She always has, ever since the day she could form coherent sentences. Always wanting to know more, seeking out more information to feel informed and ready for her next move.

So it comes as no surprise that she’s asked him the same question about five different times in the span of 24 hours.

“So, where are we going again?” Sarah’s question floats through the cab in between munching on the tart green grapes she brought along to snack on.

“That flower shop. That one you always comment on when we drive by— Wilder Floral. I got your flowers from them.” Joel glances over to where Sarah is sitting in the passenger seat.

“Hmm. Oh yes, the place you haven’t been able to stop raving about for the last week. Remind me why we are getting flowers?” Popping another grape into her mouth.

“For Nana. Why you askin’ so many questions? I already told ya all of this.”

“Just tryin’ to get a better understanding as to why we’re goin’ to buy Nana flowers. Her birthday isn’t for another 6 months, and there’s no occasion that would require flowers that I know of.”

“Why you goin’ so hard in your ole man? Can’t I buy my mom flowers, just because.”

“Never said you couldn’t. Just askin’ that’s all.” Her exposed hands in front of her show no ill intent was intended.

“Alright, ‘nough interrogating me. We’re here— hey, let’s keep all this talk about me not shuttin’ up about this place here in the truck, ‘kay?” Joel says as he pulls his truck up alongside the curb in front of the floral shop.

“Sure, Dad.” She says before hopping out onto the sidewalk and closing the door behind her.

The bell rings as he pushes the door open, allowing Sarah to walk in, following right behind her. The shop hasn’t changed much in a week's time. There’s new arrangements in the case, some similar to ones he looked over last week, some different. There’s buckets of flowers of all shapes and shades lining the ground near the workbench— trimmings scattered across the top must mean they’re being prepped for use in new arrangements.

Joel continues to scan the space, in hopes to land on a familiar face who has overwhelmed his every thought for the better part of the last week.

“Look what the cat dragged back in.” A voice pulls his attention to the side of the entrance, a spot he hadn’t looked over yet.

“Ellie. It’s good to see you too.” Joel gruffs, shoving his hands in his pockets, wanting to feel less exposed to her cynicism.

“Couldn’t stay away long, could ya?” Ellie snarks, leaning into the broom handle she has in her grip.

“Um, guess not. This is Sarah, my daughter I was tellin’ ya bout last week.” Joel gestures to where Sarah is standing next to him.

“Hey, aren’t you the girl that plays guitar at school?” Sarah asks, thinking she knew she had recognized Ellie from somewhere, then placed her as the girl who sits on the brick wall at lunch with her acoustic guitar, singing an array of classic ballads.

“Uh, yeah. I didn’t think anyone ever really paid attention though.” Ellie seems to have shrunk down a little, a twinge of self consciousness washing over her.

“I thought you looked familiar! Dad, this is the girl I was telling you about the other week, the girl who was singing The Sun Always Shines on T.V.” Sarah reminds Joel. “My dad has been singing that song to me since I was a baby.”

“No shit?” Ellie looks at Joel briefly, studying him, as if trying to imagine how he’d look and sound.

“Yeah, you’re really good. I always stop and listen when you play.”

Joel watches how Ellie absorbs the information, the slight grin that she tries to hide as she looks at the pile of dust and flower clippings she had been sweeping before they had walked in.

“Thanks.” Ellie huffs out, the compliment unexpected since no one at school ever seems to notice her playing, she doesn’t mind, but she’s grateful there’s at least one person enjoying when she does.

“Small world. Anyway, we were in the neighborhood and wanted to get some flowers and thought we’d stop in to get some for her Nana.” Joel breaks the silence, pulling Sarah in front of him, his hands on her shoulders to keep a barrier between him and Ellie’s sharp words. Sarah gives her a meek smile and wave.

“Makes sense, seeing as how we’re a flower shop.” A burst of air snaps from the gum Ellie is gnawing at, her sarcasm fully intact and back in action, her brows shooting up at the obvious reasoning for Joel and Sarah’s visit for flowers.

“Is your mom around by chance?” He asks, peeking in the direction of the doorway that leads to the back room.

His hold on Sarah’s shoulders tightens slightly when she tries to wiggle herself away from his grip, hoping she could free herself from the awkwardness that’s started to simmer.

“Well, seeing as how she owns the place, what do you think old man?” And she’s back, Ellie’s brutal response has Joel speechless. Sarah ducks her head to hide her snickering at her dad being called an ‘old man.’

“Ellie!” Your voice booms through the shop, catching the tailend of what Ellie had said to Joel.

Joel turns to see you frozen in place. You look mortified by Ellie’s bluntness, your grip tight around the buckle of florals you have in your arms.

“What?” Ellie rolls her eyes as she looks over to you.

“Knock it off! Don’t be rude— especially to the customers.” You say as you make your way to your workbench, your calculated steps indicating the contents of the bucket are heavier than they look.

“But it’s not just any customer, it’s Mister I’m sliding into third base Joel.” Ellie snarks, looking at Joel with the biggest shit-eating grin he’s ever seen. “Besides, I’m just kidding! Geez— no need to get your undies twisted.”

Sarah pretends to take in the store, avoiding the back and forth taking place around her, biting back the laughter that’s been building in her chest.

Joel takes this as his cue to leave Sarah with Ellie, deciding she’s far less likely to be hit with a barrage of sarcastic remarks based on how well Ellie took her compliment about her singing and guitar playing.

“Here let me help you with that.” Joel says as he jogs over towards you, his arms reaching out for the bucket ready to take on the load himself.

“Oh! You don’t have to do that—“ You start to tell him, but he’s already grabbing the bucket from you, placing it alongside the other ones you already carried out prior to their arrival. “Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it.” The way you’re looking at him has his heart rate ticking up a few beats, feeling fidgety as he tightens his hands into a fist then releases, trying to release the nervous energy that is flowing through him. “How’s the finger doin’? No other injuries I hope.”

“No other injuries and the finger healed up nicely. Thanks to a wonderful stranger coming to my rescue.” You hold up the finger in question. No bandage. No sign of where the rose thorn had embedded itself into your skin. “It was probably the kiss— you know, that made it better and all.”

Joel reaches out, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist, needing to inspect the injury site for himself. He places your hand in his, his thumb tracking up your exposed palm and the length of your finger, smoothing over the area he had the privilege to be up close and personal with a week ago. He likes the way your skin feels under his touch, silk like and warm, even with how much you work with them. He has to rein in his fiery thoughts, wanting to know how every inch of you would feel.

“Always does the trick.” His voice teeters on a nice balance of gentle and rough.

Joel looks up from where he’s still holding you. Your eyes already fixed on him, beaming and bright, giving your smile a run for its money. He’s not quite sure what convinces him to do it for a second time, but finds he doesn’t really care either when he places a kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. He lets his lips linger for a moment, catching the brief gasp you let out and the way he can feel your pulse quicken as the milliseconds tick on.

“I-I didn’t think I’d see you so soon. A very welcomed surprise to my busy week.” Your voice soothes something within him, seeping into his heart and filling the cracks he struggled to keep from breaking entirely.

“Sarah and I were in the area and thought we’d stop in again— as promised. Need to get some flowers for Nana— my mom, her grandma.”

“Well, I appreciate you stopping in. What’s the occasion?” You ask as Joel gently releases your hand, you pull your clippers from your well worn canvas apron, placing them next to your other tools.

“Uhh, no real reason. Just ‘cause.” But what he really wants to say is ‘Just ‘cause I needed to see you again, and this seemed like the best way to do it.’

He’s not sure what it is, but he felt it the last time he was here too. This blooming effervescent attraction to you. Infatuated by your mere presence in such a short time. He usually runs in the opposite direction when feelings and commitment start to unveil themselves, but something about you has him running straight for the things that scare him the most— wanting to know if you feel it too.

When Joel thinks back on his dating history, post divorce, he can’t remember a time where he actively went out of his way to see someone. It could have been because there hasn’t really been anyone serious since he and Sarah’s mom divorced. There've been a lot of blind dates set up by friends and his brother Tommy, none of them making it to a second date or really establishing themselves as relationships. He’s met a few women that he thought had potential for a future with, one he had even considered proposing to after a year of dating, but it ended when she decided marriage and a kid wasn’t something she saw in her life at that moment. Joel put dating on the back burner, focused on getting his construction company off the ground and Sarah being his main priority as far as he was concerned.

Then Joel walked into your shop last week, and everything he thought he would never have or deserve was gone. And now he finds himself searching for any reason to walk through that front door of your little flower shop, just so he can see the way your face lights up.

“That’s so sweet of you! I’m sure she’ll love Just Cause flowers— everyone always does. I have these new arrangements I just put together if you want to give her one of these??” Pointing to the several arrangements in glass vases that you had been working on all morning. “These protea are my favorite to work with. Their petals are kind of velvety and they’re perfect long after the rest of the arrangement has expired, she can dry them and have them forever. They are kind of cool flowers too, they’re adapted to survive wildfires because their stem contains buds that will produce new growth after fires. And they’re one of the oldest living flowers on the planet, so that makes them double cool.”

Joel studies you as you continue to share random floral facts with him, adjusting and readjusting the arrangement in front of you. Each flower placed with intention, pausing from time to time to take a slight step back, your head tilting to the side as you look over everything as a whole, then back to arranging and rearranging.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to ramble like that.” You say as you look to where Joel is leaning one hip into your workbench, as he hangs on every word you're saying.

“No, don't be sorry. I like it.”

There’s an ease that flows nicely between you. Joel wants to pick your brain, find out what makes you happy, the things that make you sad— all the things in between. He wants to talk to you for hours on end, or not talk at all and just listen— to anything and everything you have to say.

“Like what?”

“Listenin’ to you talk. I like it— a lot actually. And the little facts too. Shows how much you love what you do to learn special details like that. You could be tellin’ me about how mushrooms could start a zombie apocalypse, and I’d find it interesting— terrifying, but interesting.” Joel hopes you can hear that he genuinely means it.

“Well, I won’t tell you how that possibility is more likely to happen than you think based on the research that’s been done over the years.” You both laugh at how ridiculous sounding a mushroom zombie apocalypse would be.

“They seem to be getting along nicely.” Your chin pointing over to where Ellie and Sarah are giggling to themselves at the front part of the shop.

“Sarah’s a pretty easy goin’ kid. Gets along with pretty much everyone she meets, even Ellie it seems.” Joel looks over his shoulder at the girls.

You both share bits about each of them. Their differences, similarities and all the fun little quirks they’ve both had since they were babies.

Joel asks about Ellie’s singing, and you tell him how she taught herself by checking out books at the library to help her master the chords and beginner songs. Joel tells you how he used to play growing up and that he doesn’t play as much as he would like to now, but sometimes Sarah can twist his arm enough to dust off his guitar and strum out a few songs at the end of barbecues or random summer evenings.

He tells you about Sarah’s latest soccer game, how she’s an all-star player and usually helps carry the team to victory throughout the season. You tell him how Ellie had been on the track team briefly, she was a sprinter, but was kicked off the team for punching a runner from another school because she had elbowed Ellie during the 400m race, causing her to trip and lose.

An hour passed before you both don’t realize you’ve been caught up talking about your kids.

“She’s like head over heels in love with your dad. She literally jumps when the front door dings, hoping it’s him again. It’s gross.” Ellie tells Sarah, looking over to where you and Joel are, completely wrapped up in a moment together.

“Hmm. We stopped in to get my Nana flowers.“ Sarah repeats what Joel had told Ellie earlier.

“Your dad mentioned that when you came in.”

“Yeah, well she’s been on vacation for a month and won’t be back for another month. So I don’t think we are here just getting my Nana flowers.” Sarah takes a glance over now to see you and Joel laughing. “I think it’s safe to say my dad is just as head over heels for your mom, too.”

“Well, we’ll get outta your hair. Promised Sarah we’d stop on our way home at The Picnic, get some lunch and ice cream.” Hating that he can’t stay, knowing that he can’t hog all your time— but maybe one day.

“Oh I’ve always wanted to go there. I’ve heard so many great things about all their food trucks. Ellie and I will have to check it out sometime. She’s on a Chef Boyardee kick right now, as one would be when they’re a preteen. Would be nice to mix it up for her though.”

If it wasn’t too forward with it only being his second time meeting you, Joel would ask if you and Ellie wanted to join them. He would even chance the gutsiness and ask you out, spend the evening getting to know you better until both your stomachs and hearts were full. Ellie’s words hit him, “she needs to be wined and dined before you even think about kissing her.”

“Nothin’ wrong with some canned ravioli— lived on that shit in college. But yeah, you both would enjoy it. Definitely take her.” He decides gutsiness isn’t winning today, or it’s his fear of being on the receiving end of Ellie’s wrath that has him wanting to do it the right way, just not today.

“I hope Nana loves these. And feels special getting just ‘cause flowers.” You hand Joel the ceramic container filled with different shades of pinks and greens in varying heights, shapes and textures.

“I’m sure she’ll love ‘em no doubt. How much do I owe you?” He gives the flowers a look over, not in an analyzing manner, but admiring the way you manage to take these flowers and effortlessly pair them all together and create something special.

“You’re in luck! I’m running a special today!.”

“A special?” Joel is frozen in confusion.

“Yes! Free to customers that go by the name of Joel.” You say sweetly, he catches the way you bite at your bottom lip after you say his name.

“‘N what are you gonna do when another Joel walks in wantin’ some of your pretty flowers?”

“Well, there’s limits of course. And it’s only valid for one Joel.” You wink at him, prompting his stomach to flip and knot up. He needs to ask you out!

“No, I can’t let you do that again. Let me pay this time, please.” He insists, setting the arrangement down on the counter he pulls his wallet from his back pocket, flipping through the large bills stashed inside. “How much?”

“Joel— my shop, my rules. There’s no arguing— just take the flowers.”

“Hi! I’m Sarah. Thank you so much for the flowers, my dad and I haven’t been able to stop talking about them. I have been bugging my dad to bring me here, it’s so pretty.” Sarah tells you as she stands next to Joel, arms crossed over the counter.

“You are so welcome. So glad you’re enjoying them.” Even with this brief interaction, you decided Sarah is one of the sweetest teenagers you’ve ever met— Ellie wouldn’t even take offense if you told her such, she would most likely shrug and agree.

“Hey, Dad. Are you almost ready to go? I’m starting to get hungry.” Sarah asks, turning to look up at him.

“Right— sorry, babygirl. We got caught up talkin’ and now I’m tryin’ to convince her to let me pay, but she’s insistin’ we just take the flowers.”

“Sounds like you shouldn’t argue with her. Just say thank you and take the flowers.” Sarah grabs the arrangement and snags Joel’s keys that are dangling from the front pocket of his jeans then starts to head for the door. “I’ll meet you in the truck dad. It was nice meeting you!”

You wave goodbye to her and watch as she stops on her way out to tell Ellie bye, telling her she’ll see her around at school, the bell dings and the door slowly closes as she walks out. She settles herself into Joel’s truck, its engine roaring to life soon after, signaling Joel to say his farewells and head finally head out.

“I guess I’ll see you around then.” Joel slowly walks backwards, prolonging his departure from you.

“I’ll see you around Joel. Hopefully sooner than later.” You wave to him then you’re straight back into work mode, moving buckets of flowers to be cleaned and prepped for your next round of arrangements.

Joel’s hand settles on the door, but releases it and turns back to where Ellie is finishing up her sweeping through the shop, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he interrupts her.

“If you take a picture it’ll last longer. Although, might be a little weird with you bein’ an old man and all.” Ellie is quick on her feet. Joel hopes that’s the last of her intimidation tactics.

“Hey, umm— don’t say anything to your mom ‘bout this, but sometime this week why don’t you take her out to eat somewhere. Give her a break from cookin’ and what not.” He holds a double folded $100 bill between his middle and pointer finger, encouraging Ellie to take it from him.

“This feels like some sort of thing my mom should've warned me about. We’re not a charity case, we don’t need your money.” She continues sweeping, grabbing leaves and a few days worth of dust bunnies that have collected under display tables.

“It’s not— I don’t think you’re a charity case. I just— I wanted to— umm.” Joel releases a deep sigh. He’s flustered, stumbling over his words trying to figure out what he is wanting to say.

“You wanted to ask my mom out, but you’re too much of a chickenshit. So you’re conning me into taking her out instead. Thinking that maybe I’ll soften up to you a bit.”

“Yeah, pretty much all of that.” Joel huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at how easily she was able to read him.

“I’ll tell ya what— I’ll take her somewhere, but I keep half.” Ellie bargains with him, making sure she still has the upper hand.

“Half?”

“Kids gotta make a livin’ somehow.”

Joel thinks it over, actually contemplates the pros and cons of being worked over by Ellie. Each positive gained him an in with Ellie, not really a guarantee, but he’s hopeful that maybe she would consider downgrading her verbal assaults a notch or two. The only negative Joel can come up with is… Ellie keeps the money and he has to come at this from a different angle, one he’s not really sure about yet.

“Okay, okay. You keep half, but take her somewhere nice-nice.” He holds the bill again out to her, she snatches it quickly and shoves it in her back pocket.

“Yeah, yeah old man. Under one condition. Next time you come in here acting like you’re buying flowers just so you can see her— you ask her out yourself. None of this middle man BS.”

“You gotta deal, kid.” He holds his hand out to her, and they shake on it. A truce cementing the fact that he agrees to not being a chickenshit— something he’s not sure he’s ever been called before. “Maybe go easy on the old man part a bit.”

“See ya around ol— Joel.”

“See ya later, Ellie.”

The driver door slams shut as Joel settles into the seat. The cold air already flowing through the cab, Sarah singing along to The Clash with the flowers secure in her lap. Joel fastens his seatbelt and shifts the truck into drive, his thumb drumming along to the beat as he drives away.

“So, you got a crush on the cute flower lady?” Sarah asks, her infectious smile extending from ear to ear.

“What? I— what makes you think that?” He looks over to her, his brows slightly raised at her suggesting he likes you— he does, he just didn’t realize it would be two teenagers picking up on it. .

“For starters, Nana’s been on vacation for a month, and she won’t be back for a while. But also the way you look at her, it’s so obvious.” She plays with the petals of the flowers, waiting for Joel’s response.

“Anyone ever told ya you’re a smart kid?” He shakes his head and laughs.

“Yeah, you do all the time Dad. So, are you gonna ask her out?”

“I’m afraid if I don’t, Ellie’s gonna have a hit-man out for me.” He’s joking, but also not. “Yeah, I’m gonna ask her out.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #no outbreak!joel miller #TLOU au #bloom series #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #tlou #pedrostories

267 notes · View notes

jqmalikhsgib · 8 months ago

Text

stars

one

yn is a very private person. has been since the start of her career. it’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the love and her fans, she truly does! she wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them, for that she’s grateful to have them in her life.

she just likes to keep the good, the bad, and the ugly to herself. yn airs out her dirty laundry in her music. letting the world know the love and heartbreak she’s been through in her past and in her present. sharing her art through her music is such an amazing honor!

yn has been through so much. she’s still recovering from all the heartbreak she’s experienced throughout her lifetime. as for today, in this very moment, she’s been loved unconditionally by the most amazing man in the world!

it had been three years of being so in love with aaron hotchner, it feels like it was just yesterday she asked him and his boy to move in with her! it’s been the most amazing time of her life. yn was ready to shout to the rooftops about her love for her boyfriend and the little boy that now calls him mamma!

yn is cuddled up to aaron in bed. he’s propped up, one arm around her, the other holding one of rossi’s books. he had his reading glasses on—which he looked amazing wearing!—heavily invested in the book.

“aaron?”

“hmm?”

yn looks up at her boyfriend. “i think im ready to tell my fans about us. bout you and jack.”

aaron sets his book down. yn sits up as aaron turns and smiles. “if that’s what you want, darling.”

“yeah, but what do you want?”

aaron grabs her hands and caresses them before bringing them up to his lips. “baby, it’s your life, your fans. whatever you wanna do, im with.”

yn sighs. “but it’s your job and your son, aaron. what you want matters too. your life won’t be the same once people know. neither will jack’s.”

“our son, lovely! and if my beautiful, amazing, smart, talented girl wants to tell her fans about our family, who am i to say no? our lives changed the moment you and i started dating. i knew the risk and what i was getting jack and i into. if i didn’t think about it, i wouldn’t have pursued you.”

yn heart beats fast. she couldn’t believe how lucky she is to have this man in her life. it’s one of the many reasons she’s ready to share with the world. all the love songs she’s written about him, the smiles she’s had when being photographed by paparazzi, the text she hid from prying eyes during events, all of that was gonna be released to the world. she couldn’t wait!

aaron kisses her passionately. yn climbs on his lap and begins to straddle his waist. aaron smirks during their make out session.

“don’t you think you’ve had enough, lovely?” he whispers as he kisses right beneath her ear.

yn shakes her head. “could never have enough of you.”

riri

Liked by derekmorgan and 10,645,000 others

riri lover took this ❤️

View all 43,000 comments

dojacat hi, im lover

billieelish you cheating on me?

sexxyred 👀

champagnepapi wait, i didn’t take these :/

riri do i know you? 🤔

szaseason who is this lover?!

derekmorgan 😷

riri don’t be jealous dee

ririnewws okay, now i need to know who took my wife away from me?!?!

badgalriri hmm??? 🤨

riri

Liked by ririangels and 13,000,000 others

riri gonna see babe ;)

View all 34,000 comments

ririaesthetic wait, he’s an fbi agent?!?!

rihannafans1 so man isn’t famous but an agent?! oh, she’s down bad for sure!

riri 🫣

rihannafeve riri took fuck the police too literal

riri 😌

badgalriri holy, fuck! our girls dating an fbi agent! he gotta be sexy as shit!

riri and is 💁🏽‍♀️

#aaron hotchner x black!reader #aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #jqhotchner #jqhotchner masterlist #stars jqhotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x female reader

69 notes · View notes

pa-pa-patato · 30 days ago

Text

Headcanons

•Boris always smile big with all his teeth, cause his real relaxed smile looks like his drunk

•bendy accidentally enters other people’s dreams He doesn’t realize it and him doing actually helps them not have nightmares (he also travels through different universes )

•bendy teaches cala how to cook and bake which results in them singing and dancing in the kitchen when they are alone (or think they are alone)

•baby and snowball go on little adventures together

•cuphead has dyslexia so he doesn’t read books However bendy figured out they have similar taste in books and faked that it’s easier for him to read out loud so he and cuphead can enjoy books

•Holly found a random picture of some guy and keeps it in her wallet as a joke

•cups has a burn mark on his ass in a shape of a cat He will not explain how he got it

•cuphead and Boris often eat food that’s gone bad cause they forget to check the expiration date

•bendy has a habit of starting at everyone cause he tries to study their facial expressions so he can draw

•demitess found an ancient artifact that she uses to sometimes appear in cupbros dream She always to far away to be able to see them But just knowing their alive is enough for her

•cupbros made a mistake of leaving bendy alone with a bunch of mafia man thinking that since Boris isn’t there he won’t befriend then and just ignore them They quickly realized that bendy was the reason Boris is like that when they came back and saw bendy playing rock paper scissors with one of them as other flirt with him or try to convince him to join

•bendy can also do the puppy dog eyes thing And it is as affective as Boris The catch? He can’t do it on command

•there were angel and demon lovers that demons are required to study and read it is one of the most heartbreaking historical stories that demons read But the angels completely destroyed their relationship in books so now angels are thought that they were ‘casual friends’ and every time demons hears an angel say that it makes them want to start another war

•children love cuphead and he has no idea why

•Mugman didn’t understand queer people and how demons were so accepting of it but the look of happiness and relief his brother had when they were learning about it made it impossible for him to even think of hating them

•Fanny is a lesbian

•bendy and Cala like to snack on lemons

•the whole house likes to gossip they will drop whatever they are doing when someone goes “You will not believe what I just found out”

•bendy cries whenever he has a strong emotion Sad ,happy ,angry? He will be crying

•bendy draw how he thought everyone would look like as a human

•cuphead made a sexist joke once when he was drunk and got the stardust slapped off him by Alice

•bendy makes unhinged joke shirts as pjs

•bendy bout stickers and told everyone that he will give them away to anyone that does a good job (on cleaning cooking ext) he didn’t think it would be a big deal . It was and now they are all showing off their stickers

•Alice tried to be cute and do something bendy told her he liked…but bendy forgot he told her and was confused and scared as to how she knew about it

•cuphead is extremely overprotective over everyone if they start getting close (romantically) with someone outside the house He will find everything about them and present it to the person as the reason why they shouldn’t date

•bendy has a sixth sense on whether or not a person is a good person (the only people he truly sees as bad are rapeist pedos and child abusers )

•there is a competitions on who can find the coolest stick , every few days someone presents a cool stick they found

•bendy trained rats and mouses in sillyvision they were the only animals that didn’t fear him and he misses them

•if cuphead trained he would be able to control and use his blood as a weapon

•Bendy is so curious about cupheads magic and want to learn more about but he never asks cup anything cause he doesn’t want him to see him as hat

#bendy and boris in the inky mystery #inky mystery #babqftim #the inky mystery #babitim #questers headcanon #I’m supposed be sleeping #but i am not #and I’m writing this #hope you enjoy

22 notes · View notes

olympeline · 3 months ago

Text

Carrying on from this ask and post, let’s talk about omegaverse Arthur’s often lamentable love life. 😳 I’ll start with FrUK and maybe do USUK and some others later if people are interested. The OTP must always be first

I go back and forth on whether I like Francis as a beta or an alpha. In the ScotFrUK variant, I make him a beta so the OT3 can have a nice a/b/o mix. Since I’ve already written about beta Francis there, here I’ll make him alpha for some variety. He’d be a non-traditional one the same way Arthur is a non-traditional omega. Less open aggression and bared teeth, more refinement and poise. Still deadly, though. France was always a naked steel epee under perfumed silk. A sleek hunting dog to other alphas’ snarling wolves.

Francis and Arthur grew up together just like they do in canon. Francis was older and presented first, neatly ticking the alpha box his people hoped and prayed for. Arthur was in childish awe and obviously jelly, something a smug Francis was very aware of. When Arthur presented beta (cough) after loudly insisting he would also be an alpha when his time came, Francis went beyond smug to full blown schadenfreude ecstasy. Here was yet more proof that he was the superior nation. Suck it, little beta Angleterre! You will never be an alpha. Hon hon hon.

Anyhoo, afterwards the two carried on in their normal merry, cross-channel rivalry way. Until the time came for their first truly epic clash: the Hundred Years War. Our scene is set just as the French have found their second wind (here “second wind” means “guns”) and started pushing the English back. Francis meets Arthur on the battlefield and they have their usual duel. Except, even with his newly found advantage, Francis can’t help but notice Arthur is seriously off his game. In fact he fights so badly that Francis not only wins but actually manages to take him prisoner(!) when the English retreat. Something that’s possible but unusual for their kind. As if things weren’t going crap enough for Team Anglo. Now they’ve lost more land and their national personification has been captured. Bloody hell, mate. Bit harsh, all in all.

As much as he’s loving all this, Francis is itching with curiosity as to how it happened. Arthur has proven himself a ferocious opponent over the years but in their last battle he was a joke. Flushed and unsteady, Arthur spent their bout stumbling around like a newborn foal and swinging his sword like a concussed drunk. Francis ran rings around him and it barely took any effort to knock his rival down and pin him. Truly a pitiful display. Francis knows Arthur is many things but a bad fighter isn’t one of them. So he goes to Arthur’s cell to see what’s up. And hopefully get a little more gloating in while he’s at it. Hon hon hon.

Once there, he finds Arthur in a terrible state: collapsed on the floor, delirious, and burning with fever. Francis sends word to his boss, who orders their prisoner transferred to a proper room and treated. If it seems weird he would do this, remember that if Arthur died he’d “regenerate” back in England and the French would lose a very valuable hostage. Arthur ends up in Francis’s bed so Francis can both nurse and keep an eye on him. If Arthur suddenly rallied, no way ordinary French guards could stop him escaping by themselves. Nation-people are strong, yo. Not that Arthur was very strong at that particular moment in time. It’s very odd he’s this sick when - as far as Francis knows - nothing is happening in England to cause it. No plagues, economic disasters, or the like. Arthur’s illness is a real mystery. That is, until Francis gets close enough to scent him. It happens when he climbs into bed for a cuddle. You know our FrUK pair: no matter how spiteful their rivalry, when one of them is really badly off they’ll always band together for support. Arthur is suffering with this fever and so Francis, moved but unable to help in any other way, does the only thing he can and holds him like when they were young.

That’s when he notices the unmistakable scent of pre-heat of a late bloomer. Yeeep, we all saw this coming a mile away, lol. Arthur’s long delayed second sex presentation happened in the worst place possible: the battlefield of an enemy country. Because he’s Arthur Bloody Kirkland and no matter what the universe, he’ll always have the luck of someone who ran over a gypsy every day for the last ten years. He’s still out of it so the classic “You’re an omega!/No, I’m a beta!” convo is even less coherent than you’d expect. The pre-heat moves on to full blown and Francis has to deal with his burning, slicking, still delirious rival trying to kiss his face off and begging to be fucked. His still delirious rival who suddenly has a scent like pure, uncut sex which tests Francis’s self-control like nothing ever has. Fortunately Francis is someone who not only believes that real love only comes with full, sexy consent, but also has a soft spot for omegas and Arthur. It’s tough and every kiss makes his dick feel like it’s going to tear right off his loins, but Francis still refuses to give into his worse urges and take advantage of Arthur when he’s defenceless. It’s a truly ass time for them both (no pun intended) but eventually the heat ebbs and they’re left to deal with the aftermath. Arthur is still weak and disoriented but now he can also add “mortified” and “devastated” to the list. A beta presentation was disappointing, omega is a disaster. Not only that but the frog knows! The frog, who he’s currently losing a war to. The frog, whose bed he’s nesting in. The frog, who Arthur just spent days and nights begging to fuck him. Just kill him now. There’s no coming back from this. Just throw the whole of the British Isles away.

Arthur expects Francis to rake him across the coals for some truly epic blackmail. Only to be shocked when Francis instead is…kind? Kind and…actually reassuring? Promising he won’t tell anyone else if Arthur doesn’t want him to. Arthur can’t believe it. Tries (and fails) to sit up and intimidate Francis into revealing what he’s really up to. But Francis only soothes him again. His soft spot for omegas and the hard life they lead is genuine. He assures Arthur that, rivals though they may be, Francis would never use Arthur’s second sex against him. Such a detestable thing would be below him as the country of love and beauty. Not only is Arthur’s secret safe with Francis, but Francis swears he can always come to him for help if need be. Whatever help he likes, no strings attached. Then Francis presses a soft kiss to Arthur’s forehead and oh dear, oh dear, is some of his heat still clinging on? It must be since Arthur is suddenly hot and dizzy again. Francis is very close and very handsome. Git. Stupid git. Stupid sexy frog git…

Arthur gets back on his feet thanks to Francis’s care and manages to slip away and escape. Yeah, Francis didn’t try very hard to stop him. But, you know, shit’s been tough. Let Arthur have this. A nation-person can’t disobey their boss and Arthur has to come clean when his king asks where the hell he’s been. Resulting in much fury, disgust, and “so that’s why we’re losing this damn war!” leaps of logic from the English rulers. Not much fun for poor Arthur. Ever the disappointment to a royal family who don’t even bother to hide their contempt for what fate has given them. They swear their national personification to secrecy and Arthur starts his long period of faking the second sex they thought he had before. Life goes back to normal, Anglo-French rivalry included, with one notable exception: Arthur takes Francis up on his offer of “help” with his new heats. They’re still Arthur and Francis - still enemies and rivals trying to one-up each other all over the world - but Francis is true to his word. When Arthur needs relief from a bad heat, they meet and Francis takes care of him. They’re nations so no risk of accidental pregnancy. Just good sex and then sprawling, sweaty and sated, in a nest for cuddles and afterglow. Arthur always slips away before Francis wakes up. They never discuss it in their day-to-day rivalry (“The first rule of heat club…”) but the odd truce holds strong for centuries. Only to finally unravel when Francis supports Alfred against Arthur in 1776. The resulting bitterness he feels is so great that Arthur would rather suffer through his heats alone than find relief in Francis’s arms. Things only get worse between them when the Napoleonic Wars roll around. When Arthur brings Francis’s dreams of superpower crashing down, Francis - raging and bitter in turn - lets his thirst for revenge get the better of him. He breaks his word and spitefully reveals Arthur’s secret to the rest of the European powers. The absolute nadir of the FrUK enemies-to-lovers journey? Right here. They never hated each other as much as they did in that moment.

Arthur is mortified, betrayed, and even more driven to prove himself and regain respect on the world stage. Francis’s fury takes a long time to cool and it’s only afterwards that guilt begins to gnaw at him. Vengeful as he was, that blow was still beneath him. He tries to apologise but Arthur brusquely rebuffs every attempt at contact. Things are strained between them even when they become allies during the Crimean War. They work together out of necessity but it takes years, and the rights and standing of omegas starting to improve at last, before the break begins to heal. In the late nineteenth century, Francis happens to be in London when Arthur’s heat comes calling. It’s a bad one made worse by the abuse of newly invented hard suppressants. Arthur had been popping pills like candy because it’s the Victorian Age and medical regulations are still “gentle suggestions” at best. They sold cocaine for headaches bro, lol. Francis sees Arthur once again in a bad state and pounces on his estranged lover/rival. He drags Arthur home and makes him stop taking the suppressants so his body can heal. Arthur feels bad enough in heat and coming down that he agrees to let Francis help him again like he used to. Afterwards, nesting together for the first time in nearly a century, they actually talk. Yes, really. Finally, they talk. About their relationship, their history, their falling out, complicated feelings, and where they go from there. It’s a slow start but a start nonetheless. They make enough progress that Francis goes back to helping Arthur with his heats again. Years pass, things continue to get better, old wounds close and fade, then comes Entente Cordiale, then two world wars, and everything after. Omegas finally win the equality they’ve always been denied. Francis by his side, Arthur makes peace with his second sex at last. At some point, even though it’s Summer, Arthur starts wearing one of his hand knitted scarves. Still his tsundere, embarrassed, self, he wants to hide the mating bite Francis gave him until it heals to a “respectable” scar. Francis wants him to show it off but you know Arthur. Stubborn till the end. Francis loves him anyway. Happily, the feeling is mutual. ❤️

There you have it! My thoughts on how FrUK could work out in Hetalia omegaverse. Hope you enjoyed reading ^^ I wrote so much aaahhhhh I’m embarrassed. This OTP makes me so silly

#hetalia #fruk #hws france #hws england #aph france #aph england #omegaverse #asks #my posts

27 notes · View notes

716chr · 5 months ago

Text

“WE ARE M・T・T・B” - Chapter 1

📍 HAMA House’s Terrace

Chihiro: Soooo, here’s the deal~!

Chihiro: To all the lovely Chiitizens watching the stream right now, Chii’s got a hot announcement for all of you~!

Chihiro: Remember that dance vid Chii did with Ten-cham? It, like, went totally mega-bombshell-viral thanks to all of you ♪ So, thanks a bunchies for all the love and views!

Chihiro: And that ain’t even all, ‘cuz here’s the real-real-real-reeeal kicker! That vid was so viral it landed Chii an invite to the “Street Dance Extravaganza” with all the top influencers around~!

Chihiro: Ahaha! Nice to see you guys just as hyped~!

Chihiro: Wuzzup wuzzup~? “Isn’t the ‘Street Dance Extravaganza’ the one with all the top dancers from around the world?”

Chihiro: “Our Chii-sama’s gonna become a global sensation!”?

Chihiro: Doesn’t matter where, Chii will always be right by your side ♪

Chihiro: Hmm? “That vid was so dope, I’ve been looping it constantly! You’re definitely gonna enter, right?”

Chihiro: Abso-cutely Chii’ll be there~! Chii’s all set to join anyway, ‘cuz y’know, influencer events like this get massive clout, right?

Chihiro: My boss was like, “Join the event and make HAMA Tours even more famous!”

Chihiro: “Are you going solo?”, Man~, figured y’all would be curious ‘bout that.

Chihiro: There’s a solo category and a team category for teams of five or more people, and you can choose either~.

Chihiro: Since it was the vid with Ten-cham that got us here, Chii thought it’d be so totally awesome if we could compete together. So, Chii’s goin’ in with a team! Ten-cham’s our first confirmed member ♪

Chihiro: At first, he was all, “What a pain in the ass”, but after some diligent daily persuasion from yours truly, he gave in! Impressive, right?

Chihiro: “I’m sooo stanning Chii-Ten’s friendship right now.”? Aww, that makes Chii real happie~!

Chihiro: And with that being said! The remaining 3 members are gonna be a fun and inchresting bunch, all handpicked by Chii——

Neighborhood Cat: Meow.

Chihiro: Hm? “Is that cat one of the members?”

Chihiro: Nooooo, ��course not, this kitty and her babies have just been wandering ‘round here recently. The real members will be revealed during this stream~

Chihiro: Haha! Guys, chill! We’re gonna do a surprise reveal righty now~!

📍 HAMA House - Snake Room

Chihiro: Up first, we got the color wizard, Kirokkuma~!

Kiroku: ……..Natsuyaki……san?

Nanaki: What’s with this “Up first” thing?

Chihiro: Come on over, you’ll see, so c’mon~♪ Chii’s gonna borrow Kirokkuma for a bit, kay!?

Nanaki: Ah, sure, go ahead.

Kiroku: Wh…Wha….

📍 HAMA House - Horse Room

Chihiro: Comin’ up next isss~ The Avant-Garde helmet guy, Munecchi!

Muneuji: Natsuyaki-san, what are you doing here with Kinugawa?

Ushio: Wait, huh!? You got a camera with you…..! Don’t tell me this is a livestream? Please, don’t show my face on there.

Chihiro: No worries, put some trust in Chii’s filming skills, mmkay~? Alright, Munecchi, c’mere~!

Chihiro: As for our final member…..You, who’s watching the stream right now. Chii’s comin’ to get you…. So wait patiently, alright? ♪

📍 HAMA House - Boar Room

Toi: Aaah~~~~~! I’m so excited! Who’s the last member? Who is he going to pick up!?

Toi: Always know how to keep us on the edge of our seats, Chii-sama, no matter where or when….. You really are the ultimate idol ever…..!

Toi: Huh.

Chihiro: Annnd there we have it~! Our final member, the pure-hearted angelic fortune-teller, Sugarael, aka Tonya~♪

Toi: …….Huh……. Whaaa……

Chihiro: Ahaha, Tonya, did cat got your tongue? So kyute!

Toi: M-Me…….. Huh?

Chihiro: So, with this team, we’re gonna rock the hell out of that event~! Everyone, be sure to hype us up with everything you got, Chii’s leavin’ this honor to y’all ♪ Well then, that’s it for today’s stream! Buh-bye~!

TL Notes:

Chiitizens: Term I coined for Chihiro’s fandom name (ちぃ民)

Sugarael: Toi’s alias (シュガエル) is a pun between “Sugar” and “Michael” so I just combined them in English like that

#18trip #18trip translation #event story #we are mttb

40 notes · View notes

hyuckbeam · 2 years ago

Text

hit or miss

you’re given a bet by your own best friend to finally earn you some kissing experience at the ripe age of 18, but what if he’s the one you’ve been wanting to kiss all along?

pairing | bff!haechan x reader

genre | fluff, just a bit of angst

warnings | y/n uses she/her pronouns, both y/n and hyuck are dumdums! kind of slow burn, curse words are explicitly mentioned, cousin!winter, i think that’s all but lmk if i missed anything!

wc | 4.3k words

note | this is pretty inspired by the webtoon “the kiss bet” because i currently have a hyper fixation on it and i absolutely love all the characters ;0; this is also way longer than intended but anyways,, i hope u enjoy! all rbs and likes are appreciated, thank you <3

D-15.

“in three, two, one, happy birthday, y/n!” your best friend, haechan announces aloud for everyone in your apartment complex to hear at 12 in the morning.

“come on! make a wish before the candles blow out!” winter, your cousin, urges you with a big smile on her face.

having just finished your night time routine and prepared yourself for a night's worth of sleep, you were rather shocked to see them with one of those trendy bento cakes and rainbow colored party hats adorning their heads.

despite your confusion, you walk up towards them with a grateful smile resting upon your lips. “seriously, when did you guys plan this?”

“oh, it was all my- ow, hey!” haechan gets cut off midway through his statement because of a nudge from winter’s elbow.

“what he was trying to say was it was all my doing. you’re welcome bubs!” your cousin beams, eyes creasing into crescents. “though i’d wish you’d hurry up. this cake isn’t holding itself up for you, y’know?” she adds on rather playfully but you can tell she truly meant it.

gathering a deep breath, you blow out the candles and cheers erupt from the people you deem closest to you. winter then sets down the cake on your coffee table in relief as your best friend slings his arm over your shoulder.

“sooo y/n, got anything planned for the year? a small resolution or something like that, i don’t know.” he rambles off, suggesting the idea of having a goal to work towards now that you were deemed an adult (though, haechan kept referring to this as the year that marks your jail-ability era).

you feel a little tingly from his touch, even when you know the two of you are just friends and nothing more. what you’re feeling is probably just a phase. it’ll go away.

“i’m not really sure, got any ideas for me?” you ask the two instead, eyeing them both in a back and forth motion.

“we can always work on that dating experience of yours- last i remember, it was up to the high number count of… zero.” your cousin chips in from the side as she slices the cake for the three of you to share, her tone sarcastic while she teases you.

it’s true, you didn’t have a lot (re: any) of experience in the dating sector, but perhaps that could change starting this year. “that… might not be such a bad idea.”

haechan’s interest seems to have been piqued — he’s making that look. that specific expression where the corners of his lips turn upwards, a brow raised, and that glint in his eye. oh, you know it all too well.

“come on.” you urge the boy. “start sharing your idea. i can practically see your mind ready to explode.”

“well, since you’ve asked me ever so kindly. how ‘bout a bet?” he starts, taking a few steps towards you with that cocky expression of his. “i bet you 10 dollars to kiss someone in two months. not that hard, right?”

“what- you want me to kiss some random person for 10 bucks?” you gawk out in surprise.

he only shakes his head, “i never said it needed to be a stranger. just, someone in general.”

you processed the idea thoroughly, running all sorts of possible scenarios in your head. wouldn’t it be much easier to kiss… haechan himself? that just seemed like the most plausible approach for you.

he wasn't a stranger — the furthest from one. you were comfortable with him. the kiss didn’t have to mean anything (though it might mean a tiny bit more to you), and in addition, you’d be making some cash.

everything seemed to check out. the only problem was that you had to ask him to kiss you. still, surely this was better than any other alternative, right?

“i’ll do it but… can’t i just kiss you and get it over with?” you finally voice out your thoughts, pretending to make your question sound playful in case the request backfires on you.

“you’re my best friend, that’s a little odd, don’t you think so?” haechan replies in the same tone, lightly ruffling your hair before going over to retrieve a slice of cake from winter.

ouch. way to have your first bit of “dating experience” be your best friend… friend zoning you. what a lovely start to your 18th birthday.

D-13.

a few days had passed since the bet you made with haechan had been established, but not one ounce of progress had been made.

to be fair, how were you supposed to kiss someone else when all you’ve ever wanted was for that kiss to be with your best friend? that’s tough luck.

you attending classes today doesn’t really help with your thoughts either, especially when both haechan and winter had been asking about said progress one after the other.

you’d be lying if they weren’t starting to give you a headache.

as if on cue, winter approaches you, some lecture books in hand and her bag slung on her shoulder. “y/n! how’s your progress?” here we go again.

“just as i told you yesterday, nothing yet.” you reply with a small sigh.

winter senses the frustration behind your words, encouraging her to suggest ideas to help you. “how about finding someone you like? it might make it easier for you know… to kiss them.”

“i don’t think that’s still a good- actually, you might just be onto something, minjeong.” your gears start to churn in your mind. in order to wash haechan off your mind, you might as well find someone else and maybe get an actual relationship out of it.

the idea was just perfect for you.

“have i ever told you how much i love you? i gotta go but i’ll see you after class, winter!” you excitedly bid her a goodbye, rushing to your classroom so you could better plan out your new gameplan.

though the most ideal situation was long gone, you now had a back up plan and you weren’t going to back down so easily from the bet.

you were now busily scribbling on your notepad, forgetting that a new student was to transfer into your class today. the teacher calls upon your attention and as you look up, your eyes land on a boy with great resemblance to a cute bunny.

apparently he’s the new transfer student.

the teacher gives him a moment to introduce himself. “hello everyone, my name is na jaemin. i hope we all get along!” so that’s his name, you thought to yourself.

surprisingly, he was told to take the seat in front of yours, offering you a small smile and a curt wave, one that you gladly return, before he takes his seat.

actually, maybe you really could forget haechan for just a teensy bit.

D-6.

a week goes by without haechan seeing you once. an entire week. was he always this eager to see you? to bask in the warm sight that is you? he thinks he must be going crazy.

the only time he ever gets updates about you is through winter which aren’t much to go on. he does remember a key detail she mentioned previously about how you’ve been spending time with that new student, jaemin.

what was so special about him anyways? well, he was surely going to find out soon.

as the bell rings to signal the start of recess, he dashes out of his classroom, taking big steps towards yours.

there, haechan finds you in his seat and he’s about to approach you until he sees you’re in the middle of a conversation with the one and only, na jaemin.

“this is how you do this, right?” jaemin asks you, directing your sight to a piece of paper that has a bunch of math formulas written on it.

“yeah! i’m surprised you got that rather quickly.” you compliment the boy in front of you with a small laugh.

your thoughts on jaemin have changed drastically since the first time you met him. he’s a sweet boy, someone you could never take advantage of. it just felt wrong to you so you just dropped your entire plan as a whole.

it was alright to lose the bet. at least you kind of made a new friend out of it, right? you smile to yourself at that thought.

to haechan, however, your smile is so bright in jaemin’s presence, it’s practically blinding everyone in sight. have you ever smiled at him like that? wait- why does that matter?

he doesn’t like you, no way.

you’re best friends, yeah. his love for you is as platonic as can be — at least that’s what he tells himself.

for someone as bold as haechan, he can’t seem to find the confidence in him to walk towards your table and steal your attention. instead, he steps out of the classroom, unnoticed by you.

D-5.

“JAEMIN DID WHAT!?” haechan yells into his phone, winter being on the receiving end of the call.

the girl tuts, “scream one more time and i’m hanging up on you. and yes, i heard he confessed to y/n. i don’t think she gave him an answer though.”

“sorry, look, i was just really surprised.” a deep sigh comes out from haechan before the call goes silent. he takes the time to process the situation, but the idea of you and jaemin being together just rubs him off the wrong way.

“doesn’t she see how bad he is for her?” he finally reasons out.

“uhuh, in what sense exactly?” winter retorts.

“he’s probably just using her to gain attention or something! can’t i look out for my own best friend?” the response is laughable, even to haechan, but he goes along with it.

winter laughs into the call, “are you even hearing yourself? that’s pretty baseless, even for you haechan.” she replies shortly afterwards. “seems to me like you’re jealous.”

“are you hearing yourself, winter? no i’m not! get your head screwed on properly!” haechan answers back in the same incredulous manner as she did to him just a few seconds ago. “who would i even be jealous of?”

“jaemin. who else? i think it’s pretty clear to most. you aren’t that great at managing your feelings, y’know-” the girl’s voice cuts off for a second, “-oh, i’m being called to dinner now but seriously, get yourself together haechan. i know you like my cousin. bye!”

the line goes beep and haechan tosses his phone onto his bed. she really did just leave him hanging like that. how could she after bringing that idea up?!

jealous? not a chance. haechan never gets jealous.

D-4.

haechan wakes up the next day feeling tired, having not slept a wink after winter’s words kept replaying in his head.

i know you like my cousin.

you like my cousin.

you like her.

and these same words follow him as he makes it all the way to school. perhaps seeing you in school would help him understand his feelings better.

he really just wants this to be over with.

with trudged steps, he makes his way to your classroom and luckily enough for him, there you were already in class before the first bell rang.

he blames it on the lack of sleep but you look so ethereal sitting down in your chair as you bop your head lightly to the music that’s presumably playing on your earphones.

the sight is something to behold- that is until he pivots his head ever so slightly and sees jaemin accompanying you. god, why does he have to be there.

so maybe haechan does get jealous. sometimes.

maybe that’s why he acts without thinking, swiftly dragging you from your chair and out to the school courtyard despite your protests.

“hyuck let me go-” you grumble, tugging on your arm but he doesn’t budge one bit. it’s only when you reach a bench in the furthest part of the courtyard he decides to get go of your wrist.

“seriously, what is wrong with you?” you scoff out in disbelief. “this is the first time we’ve spoken in days. i think you could’ve just asked me if you really wanted to talk.” with the addition of those words, haechan finally realizes what he’s done. he knows it was wrong but he isn’t going to back down from the argument that was brewing between you two.

“me? how about you? you’ve been so lovey dovey with mr. perfect all this time! don’t you have yourself to blame on why we haven’t seen each other in so long?” he spat out coldly.

your heart sinks, and yet, you can’t help but feel even more enraged. its true, you’re part of the reason for the lack of communication between you two. after all, communication is a two way system. but doesn’t that also mean he’s also to blame?

“i enjoy jaemin’s company a lot! is that so wrong?” you shoot back, biting your bottom lip before mumbling the latter part of your statement. “at least he isn’t as grumpy as the person standing in front of me.”

ouch.

the boy hears this and gets ticked off even more. maybe it really is the lack of sleep but he seriously can’t understand her reasoning anymore. instead, he assumes she’s just doing all of this for the bet.

“do you really want to win the bet so bad? if that’s what you want, just kiss me and be over with it. i’m literally letting you win. you can stop seeing jaemin now.”

and that’s when it hits you a little.

why is he bringing the bet up all of a sudden when you just want a genuine relationship with jaem- oh. he couldn’t possibly see you as someone like that right? he said it himself! he doesn’t like you and even denied your request to kiss him a few weeks ago.

but, if that were all true, what other explanation would there be to his actions?

he takes your silence as a no, prompting him to leave you in the courtyard all alone.

you couldn’t seem to understand him at all no matter how hard you tried.

as soon as you got home from classes that same day, you rushed yourself back home and into the comfort of your bed and pillows — treating them as if they were your closest confidants and cried while you shared your troubles.

it wasn’t productive on your end but it was much needed for you to at least think straight. you’d been bottling your contemplations all day long after all.

here you are laying lifeless on your bed, using all your braincells to dicern what the fuck happened earlier this morning.

you know haechan doesn’t like you. you’ve said it to yourself so many times now.

maybe he’s just jealous you’ve been spending more time with jaemin because, although you have different intentions before, you realized you couldn’t see him in that way nor had the heart to just use him for your own gain.

haechan was a different story though. you feel flushed just thinking about him, knowing full well the both of you are in the middle of an argument between each other.

remembrance of the frustration hits, making you groan at the thought of having to remedy it. if you and haechan had anything in common, it would be the stubbornness you both share.

the last time you both got into an argument this big was back in junior high. neither of you spoke to the other for an entire month. it got so bad that both your parents had to call each other up to devise a way to get an apology out from the both of you.

though it would make the entire situation much easier, your parents no longer delve into these types of problems — and neither do haechan’s. you’re both all alone to fix this one yourselves and you wish you’d been more grateful to your parents for mending your relationship with haechan.

deep down, you already know the both of you will struggle to find the right timing, but you certainly hope that day would come soon. you didn’t exactly like being away from him either (even if he made you feel like shit for the rest of the day).

you decide to sleep off your worries for the night, hoping and praying that tomorrow would be a better day for you.

D-3.

tomorrow is not any better of a day.

jaemin and haechan both invited you to eat with them for lunch which quickly escalated into a light argument between the two. you couldn’t even bring yourself to butt into their conversation, seeing how they were fighting over something so silly.

“i’m her best friend, we do this pretty much everyday!” you hear haechan yell at jaemin, his frustration for the other getting the best of him. “plus, i need to talk with her. without you.”

“if the two of you are just best friends, then what gives you the right to dictate her answers?” jaemin fires back, keeping a calm and collected appearance throughout.

this shuts haechan up and the entire cafeteria goes dead silent. oh boy, did you want to curl up into a little hole. everyone was staring and you didn’t like that one bit.

nevertheless, you decided to be the bigger person — uttering a small apology to jaemin before walking off to the table you usually sat at with haechan — the latter following you a few steps behind.

neither of you speak as you begin to eat your separate meals, another sign the relationship between you two was starting to fade out into dust.

winter joins your lunch table shortly after witnessing the drama unfold, she looks at haechan with an unreadable expression and the boy stays quiet during the whole meal.

didn't he say he wanted to talk? an apology for the day before would have been nice.

you get fed up by the silence, placing your food back on the tray before picking it up. you mutter a quiet “i can’t seem to understand you at all.” directed at hyuck before leaving and switching over to the table where jaemin and his friends are sitting.

it all happened too fast and haechan didn’t realize you were leaving until you already did. he really did want to talk but how was he supposed to do that after having that situation with jaemin?

he wanted to calm down first but you had other plans. you really left him in shambles this time.

winter can’t help but sigh at the ongoing conflict. she silently wishes she wasn’t involved this much if it was going to turn out like this.

D-2.

haechan knows he truly has to make it up to you (including a long overdue explanation of why he’s been acting weirdly the past few days) but doesn’t know how to do that. apologies never came easy to him. his mind couldn’t help but go blank everytime he tried thinking of a way to approach you without making things more complicated than they already are.

the sheer amount of times he’s hit a brick wall has him calling the only person who probably knows more about you than he, himself, does.

he picks up his phone, searching through his contacts before landing on a single person, now waiting for the phone to ring.

“hello?” winter’s voice reaches him through the call. “i knew you’d call after what happened at the cafeteria.”

it takes a moment for haechan to answer, “maybe if jaemin wasn’t so aggressive–”

“you both were. now spill, have you gotten your feelings sorted yet?” the girl pushes his dramatics aside, getting straight to the point.

“i… think i do. you were right all along.” haechan finishes. although it was hard for him to admit at first, now that he’s actually said it out loud, it might be the first time he’s been feeling a sense of clarity after so long.

winter hums at his confession. “at least you’re finally taking a step in the right direction. now, to win her back…” she smiles to herself, already having a plan in mind.

you, on the other hand, have been seeing haechan and winter together often for the past week. naturally, your mind begins to wonder if your own cousin is the reason why haechan rejected you way back during your small birthday celebration.

the evidence matches up pretty well — he probably couldn’t reject you directly because she was in the room with the two of you that day. he isn’t spending as much time with you anymore because he’s spending time with her.

they look good together.

those words linger in your head more than you’d like to admit.

you feel cast aside by the people you’ve known practically your entire life but you don’t have much of a choice but to return to jaemin’s company. after all, you chose to eat the rest of your lunch at his table instead of the one that brought familiarity to you.

D-DAY.

day after day, the two of you just seemed to grow even more distant and you wondered if the end of your long-term friendship was nigh approaching. you barely saw him roaming through the halls of campus anymore, much less your cousin.

you didn’t dislike the new friend group you had (jaemin introducing you to his friends after you finally told him about your situation with haechan, but you couldn’t help but feel… dissatisfied with your current situation.)

as your class ends, you prepare yourself for another silent walk home. despite having those new friends, you felt lonelier than you ever had. you missed them. you missed him. and yet, life seemed to have other plans for you.

even trudging down these halls filled with other students made you lonely.

truthfully, you would do anything to have them back- a pain to your forehead snaps you out of your thoughts. you had bumped into someone. well, not just someone, but the person you’ve been longing for the most.

haechan. he was right in front of you after who knows how long it’s been.

you felt like crying on the spot but held in your emotions to appear like your life was anything but lost. haechan knew that look on your face, presuming you haven’t been well ever since the two of you have spoken. he takes your hands that have slumped to your sides into his, and the small gesture reminded you of the warmth he’d bring into your life.

“are you up for a short conversation perhaps?” you only nod and he takes that as a signal in the right direction, though, he isn’t used to you acting around him like this. oh boy, this was going to be more than a short conversation.

haechan leads you into the gymnasium and the two of you sit down by the bleachers with no sight of other students in the area.

“before you get mad- i wanted to apologize first. i shouldn’t have acted the way i did. i was childish.” he begins, holding eye contact with you to show his sincerity. “frankly, i was jealous. jealous you spent more time with jaemin, and you seemed to enjoy you time with him more than the times we hang out together. i shouldn’t have made you feel sad in any way, but i did and that’s completely my fault. i’m sorry.” you know his words hold both his feelings and the truth.

he wasn’t going to lie to you. he never once did during the time you knew each other.

however, what he admitted to had you flustered.

he was jealous of you and jaemin? it was a little hard to believe until you remembered the latter confessed to you the past week. oh god, did word of that spread out? nevermind that, what happened between you and jaemin was the least of your worries, the boy in front of you was. what if haechan got the wrong idea from the rumors?

“it’s not completely your fault. we both were pretty stubborn.” you reply, a soft chuckle leaving your lips to ease the tension between you two. “and if… if you’re curious, i never returned jaemin’s feelings back.

haechan gets pretty taken aback by your statement, now wondering why you brought it up. “oh… i know.”

“you knew? did winter tell you?” you question in anticipation. “i guess the both of you are pretty close now.”

“she did but i swear our friendship is nothing like that!” it was his turn to get flustered. “she could never replace your spot in my life.”

“i’m a little confused though after all of this…” you gesture out, referring to the situation that has just recently moved past you two. “what spot do i even have?”

he pauses, taking his time to think of the right words he wants to tell you but they all get stuck in his throat. the expression on your face showed how you took his silence negatively, prompting him to speak. “i like you. i couldn’t admit it even to myself for the longest time and-” having enough of his rambling, you inch a little closer and give him a kiss on the lips.

it’s brief, and yet, it continues to linger on his lips. “you kissed me.”

“why do you think i never gave jaemin an answer to jaemin’s confession?”

“so you were really saving it for me? i’m honored.” he chuckles out, playfully holding his hand to his chest.

“well, you should be.” you add on with the same bright smile he’s seen you flash at jaemin, except this time, it was absolutely for him.

“i guess that also means you won the bet?” he recalls, a brow raising at you.

you give him a light nudge on his shoulder while suppressing a giggle, “oh, shut up and just kiss me. you owe me 10 bucks by the way.”

tags !!

#—hyuckbeam #nct fluff #nct angst #haechan #haechan fluff #haechan angst #nct #nct aus #fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct x reader #nct dream drabbles #nct dream aus #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst

779 notes · View notes