#anyways. anyways. care about them so much. what ever

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story where the reader is an F1 reporter who gets along well with everyone? She’s a close friend, and everyone considers her like a “sister�� (or maybe even more for some… I don’t know, let me be delulu here!) and when she gets pregnant, they all become super protective and take extra care of her. For example, if she’s struggling with the heat, they make sure she’s comfortable. Thank you!

golden child of the paddock (all drivers)

✦ pairing - all drivers x female!reader (platonic), carlos sainz x female!driver (non platonic)

✦ genre - protective drivers, romance

The first time Y/N stepped into the F1 paddock as a young, starry-eyed reporter, she felt a blend of excitement and nerves. She was new to the sport, young, and a little out of her depth, but she knew her passion for racing and her natural curiosity would be enough to keep her going. Still, when she looked around at the towering motorhomes, the thrumming of engines, and the throng of seasoned journalists, it was hard not to feel like she was in over her head.

"First day on the job?" a voice came from her side. She turned to see none other than Daniel Ricciardo, grinning with that trademark mischievous smile. He’d noticed her as she was nervously adjusting her press badge.

"Uh, yeah," she admitted, trying to sound more confident than she felt. "Guess it's pretty obvious."

Daniel laughed and gave her a friendly nudge. "You’ll be fine. Just stick around us drivers; we’re way more fun than those old journos anyway."

Just then, a few other drivers came over, drawn by the new face in the crowd. Lando Norris was quick to introduce himself, already full of playful questions.

"So, Y/N, are you here to keep an eye on me?" he teased, giving her a wink. "Because, let’s be honest, I’m the only interesting one on the grid."

"Right," Y/N said, unable to help the laugh that escaped. "I’ll try to keep my focus on you, Lando."

Max Verstappen raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "Good luck with that. But hey, if you ever want the real story, you know who to ask."

Y/N quickly felt herself relaxing as the drivers bantered with her, making her feel more at home. Soon, the entire paddock was buzzing with news of the young, friendly reporter. And the drivers? Well, they seemed determined to keep her close.

Over the next few weeks, Y/N found herself almost part of the F1 family. She’d interview the drivers in the press pen, and somehow, every single one of them found a way to add a bit of personal advice or a subtle check-in.

"Did you eat today?" Lewis Hamilton asked her once, holding out an extra protein bar during a post-practice interview.

"Oh, I… yeah, I grabbed something earlier," she stammered, a little caught off guard.

He nodded, handing her the bar anyway. "You’re going to need the energy. Trust me. This job doesn’t slow down."

Even Sebastian Vettel would occasionally pause to check in on her. Once, he found her frowning at her notes during a practice session. "Don’t worry too much about getting every detail perfect, Y/N," he said kindly. "You’re doing great. Just be yourself—that’s what people connect with."

"Thanks, Seb," she said, feeling a bit of relief wash over her. "I guess I’m just… I don’t want to mess up."

Seb gave her a reassuring smile. "You won’t. Just remember, we’re all here to help if you need it."

Then, there was Carlos Sainz. Unlike the others, his way of protecting her was a bit more… personal. The first time she interviewed him, he was warm and polite, but as the weeks passed, his demeanor shifted ever so slightly. He’d always look at her with this glint in his eye, his smile lingering a second longer than necessary.

"Amor," he greeted her one morning, his Spanish accent adding a warmth to the word that made her cheeks heat up. "You’re looking stressed. Are they working you too hard?"

She blinked, feeling a little flustered. "Carlos, I’m fine, really. Just part of the job."

Carlos tilted his head, giving her a small, teasing smile. "Maybe. But if you need a break, you let me know, sí? Can’t have you running around too much."

The way he looked at her, the gentle tone of his voice, and the pet names—amor, cariño—all of it made her feel a little thrill each time they spoke.

As the season continued, it became clear to everyone in the paddock that Y/N was something special. Not just another reporter but someone who cared about them, respected them, and brought a certain brightness with her wherever she went. And as they got closer, the drivers each took on their own version of ‘big brother’ with her.

One afternoon, she was struggling with some heavy equipment when Pierre Gasly spotted her and practically sprinted over.

"Whoa, whoa, no way, Y/N. We’re not doing this," he said, taking the bag off her shoulder. "You’re not carrying anything if we’re around, okay?"

"Pierre, I can handle it, seriously," she tried to argue, but Pierre just shook his head.

"Not happening. You’re stuck with all of us now, so get used to it."

She had barely gotten over Pierre’s chivalrous intervention when she felt someone tap her shoulder. Turning around, she found Charles Leclerc standing with a concerned frown.

"Y/N, I saw you trip on the stairs earlier. You didn’t hurt yourself, right?"

She laughed, brushing it off. "I’m fine, Charles. Just a little stumble."

He crossed his arms, clearly not convinced. "Alright, well, just… watch your step, okay?"

Everywhere she went, there seemed to be a driver looking out for her. They’d bring her water bottles when it was hot, extra snacks when she looked tired, and Carlos, of course, was always there to check on her, calling her mi vida and making sure she never felt alone.

One evening, after a particularly long day, Carlos found her sitting on a low wall by the track, staring out over the circuit, lost in thought.

"Mind if I join you, cariño?" he asked, his voice soft.

"Not at all," she smiled as he sat beside her.

They sat in companionable silence for a while before Carlos spoke. "You know, everyone here thinks of you as a sister."

Y/N laughed. "Yeah, I’ve noticed. I can’t even carry my own things anymore!"

Carlos chuckled, his fingers brushing her arm. "It’s because we care about you. And some of us…" He paused, his gaze turning serious. "Some of us more than others."

Her heart skipped a beat as she looked at him. "Carlos…"

He gave her a shy smile, something rare for the usually confident driver. "I just want you to know, Y/N. You’re not alone here."

She nodded, a soft blush spreading across her cheeks. "I know. Thanks, Carlos."

Just then, Max passed by, smirking. "Hey, Carlos, not hogging Y/N, are we?"

Carlos shot him a look. "Can’t a man have a moment, Max?"

Max grinned, winking at Y/N. "Don’t worry, Y/N. If he’s bothering you, just let us know."

As Max walked off, Carlos rolled his eyes, but his hand found hers, squeezing gently. "They’ll never leave you alone now, mi amor. Better get used to us all."

Y/N smiled, looking out over the track, feeling for the first time that she truly belonged. Surrounded by a family of drivers, each one ready to support, protect, and care for her, she knew this would be the beginning of something wonderful.

--

It was the last night of the race weekend, and the paddock was almost deserted. Only a few lights remained on, casting a soft glow over the empty garages and tents. Y/N lingered by the trackside, her heart racing in her chest. She had made up her mind—she couldn’t keep pretending she didn’t feel anything for Carlos. But she didn’t think she’d be standing here, ready to confess her feelings in such a big way.

"You got this, Y/N," Lando said, giving her a little nudge of encouragement. The rest of the drivers had banded together, helping her plot the perfect confession for the man who had her heart.

"But what if he… I don’t know, laughs?" Y/N wrung her hands nervously, feeling her cheeks flush. "What if he doesn’t feel the same way?"

"Then he’s an idiot," Pierre chimed in with a grin, his arm around her shoulder. "But trust me, he’s not that dumb. I mean, he calls you cariño every day. I’m pretty sure he’s already halfway in love with you."

Sebastian, who had come along to witness the moment, chuckled. "You’ve grown up so fast, Y/N. Look at you—confessing your feelings like a true professional."

"Just… be yourself," Charles added, giving her an encouraging smile. "Carlos would be lucky to have you."

"Really?" she whispered, looking at her friends with wide eyes. They all nodded emphatically, giving her the strength she needed to take the leap.

As she waited, Y/N glanced back at her team of ‘brothers,’ who were hiding in the shadows with poorly concealed excitement. George and Alex were practically bouncing on their toes, and even Max was grinning.

Finally, she saw Carlos walking towards her, his hair still a little messy from the day, his eyes bright despite the late hour. "Y/N?" he asked, his brows raised in surprise. "What’s going on?"

She took a deep breath, willing herself not to lose her nerve. "Carlos, there’s something I need to tell you. And, um… please just listen, okay? Don’t say anything until I’m finished."

Carlos’s smile softened as he nodded. "Of course, mi vida."

"Right, okay…" She took another breath, staring at the ground, feeling her heart pounding against her ribs. "So, ever since I started here, you’ve… you’ve been one of the best parts of my job. The way you tease me, how you’re always looking out for me, calling me all those sweet names…" She laughed, slightly embarrassed. "At first, I thought it was just you being nice. But then… I realized it’s more than that for me. I… I really like you, Carlos. A lot."

There was a soft gasp from somewhere behind her, probably Lando, but Y/N kept her eyes on Carlos, who looked utterly stunned.

"I just couldn’t go on pretending I didn’t feel this way," she continued, her voice trembling. "And if you don’t feel the same, that’s okay. I just… I needed you to know."

Carlos took a step closer, his gaze intense, and she could see a flicker of emotion in his eyes that made her heart swell. "Y/N," he murmured, reaching for her hands. "You have no idea how much I wanted to hear you say that. I was so sure… so sure you only saw me as a friend."

Her cheeks flushed a deep red. "Carlos, I’ve had the biggest crush on you for months. You call me cariño, amor—it’s impossible not to fall for you."

He laughed softly, pulling her closer. "Well, in that case, let me say it properly." His voice softened, his gaze never leaving hers. "Te quiero, Y/N. I want you, too."

A mix of squeals and cheers erupted from the shadows as the other drivers stepped out, clapping and wiping away mock tears.

"Finally!" Daniel shouted, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Our little Y/N is all grown up!"

George pretended to dab at his eyes. "I’m not crying… it’s just… allergies."

Pierre gave her an affectionate grin, giving Carlos a nod of approval. "You better take care of her, Sainz."

Carlos laughed, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist, pulling her into his side. "Don’t worry. I’ll treat her like the queen she deserves to be."

Max crossed his arms, his smile warm. "Good answer, mate. We’ve been waiting for this moment forever."

Y/N looked around at her friends, her cheeks sore from smiling. "Thank you, all of you. I couldn’t have done it without you."

Sebastian raised a pretend glass, grinning. "To Y/N and Carlos. And to all the big brothers who made this night possible."

Lando cleared his throat, looking almost sentimental as he pulled her into a quick hug. "We’re really happy for you, Y/N. But remember, if Carlos gives you any trouble, we’ll be right here."

Carlos chuckled, looking down at her with a playful smirk. "I think I have more to worry about than you do, cariño. With all these guys watching out for you, I’ll have to be on my best behavior."

"And that," Y/N said, squeezing his hand, "is exactly how I want it."

Surrounded by her friends—her family—she felt an overwhelming wave of happiness wash over her. As she looked up at Carlos, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of his gaze and the knowledge that she was exactly where she belonged.

--

A few years down the road, Y/N had cemented her place as the paddock’s heart and soul. Fans adored her interviews, and the teams always lit up when she was around. Being married to Carlos only added to the love everyone felt for her, and for Carlos, it made him proud—and fiercely protective.

The first few months of her pregnancy, however, had been kept tightly under wraps. Only she and Carlos knew, and they were still basking in the news in secret. But now, as she tried to hide her growing morning sickness and Carlos’s over-attentive concern, things were getting harder to keep quiet.

One morning in the paddock, Max Verstappen happened to pass by and saw Y/N doubled over, looking pale as she sat on a crate outside the Red Bull garage.

"Hey, Y/N, you okay?" Max asked, concerned, immediately handing her his water bottle. "You don’t look too great."

Y/N tried to wave him off with a weak smile. "Oh, it’s nothing, Max, I just… I think it was something I ate."

"Something you ate?" he repeated, narrowing his eyes. "You’ve been saying that a lot lately."

"Just bad luck, I guess," she said, but the nausea hit her again, and she had to lean over to steady herself.

Max’s eyes widened, and his jaw dropped as he pieced it together. "No way. No way. Y/N—are you…"

Y/N’s face flushed, but she couldn’t deny it, her weak smile giving her away.

"Oh my god." Max’s mouth fell open as he processed it. "Carlos got you pregnant?!"

“Shh!” Y/N whispered, glancing around in a panic. "Max, keep it down! We’re not telling people yet!"

Max clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes filling with tears. "Oh my god. Y/N, you’re pregnant." He blinked rapidly, his lips quivering as he tried to hold it together. "You’re gonna have a little Sainz?"

She bit her lip and nodded, smiling softly. “Yes. But you can’t tell anyone yet.”

Max was silent for a moment, his eyes shimmering. Then he let out a choked laugh and pulled her into a gentle hug, whispering, “I’m so happy for you. You’re gonna be the best mom, Y/N. I can already see it.”

Y/N laughed as he let her go, but not before he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Stop crying, Max,” she teased. “You’re making me want to cry, too!”

“I can’t help it,” he sniffled, looking sheepish. “This is huge! And now I have to protect you and the baby?”

“You don’t have to,” she laughed, but Max was already shaking his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand. I’m not letting you lift a finger,” he said, his face suddenly serious. “And I’m making sure Carlos does the same. You’ll have every single driver looking out for you.”

Just then, Carlos approached, his brow furrowing as he saw Max wiping at his eyes. “Max, what’s going on?”

Max pointed a stern finger at Carlos. “You, Sainz, have one job. You better take care of her and the little one. Or else…”

Carlos raised his hands, amused but wary. “I am taking care of her, Verstappen. Trust me.”

“No, not enough!” Max argued, his voice almost panicked. “She was just sitting here, pale as a ghost, and you weren’t even around!”

Y/N stifled a laugh, but Carlos just smirked, nodding in understanding. “Alright, alright, I’ll keep an even closer eye on her. Promise.”

Max softened a bit, but he wasn’t letting up. “Good. Because if anything happens to Y/N or the baby, anything, you’re answering to me. And Lando, and Pierre, and basically every guy in this paddock who cares about her.”

“Max, I think Carlos knows what he’s doing,” Y/N said, a smile playing on her lips.

Max looked between them, then grinned, his face softening. “Fine, but I’m still watching you both.” He took a deep breath, then pulled her into another hug. “I’m so, so happy for you, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Max,” she whispered, hugging him back. “I think we’ll need you and the others looking out for us.”

Carlos wrapped an arm around her shoulder, giving Max a nod of gratitude. “Gracias, amigo. She’ll have all the protection she needs.”

“Good.” Max wiped his eyes one last time, giving them both a fierce nod. “Because we’re all family. And now… we’re growing.”

--

The Singapore Grand Prix was notorious for its blistering heat, and this year was no exception. The sweltering air clung to everyone, and for Y/N, who was visibly and heavily pregnant, it was nearly unbearable. But duty called, and the FIA insisted that she continue her scheduled interviews.

As she was setting up for another interview, the heat making her dizzy, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” Lewis Hamilton approached her with a look of disbelief, glancing at her with concern. “You should be sitting in an air-conditioned room right now, not out here in this heat.”

“Lewis, it’s fine,” she said with a weak smile, though she was struggling. “It’s just a few interviews.”

Before he could respond, Max and Oscar joined them, both looking equally shocked.

“Are they out of their minds?” Max muttered, his face turning red with anger. “You shouldn’t be out here like this!”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Oscar added, frowning. “This isn’t safe. You’re not a machine.”

Y/N tried to brush them off, but she felt another wave of dizziness hit her. She steadied herself, but Charles had already noticed, his eyes narrowing. “That’s it,” he said firmly. “This is ridiculous. They can’t make you do this.”

“It’s okay, really—” she began, but the drivers were not having it.

Lewis crossed his arms, looking around with a sharp glare. “Who do we need to talk to? This isn’t happening, not today.”

As if on cue, a member of the FIA walked over, clipboard in hand. “Y/N, are we ready for the next interview?”

Max stepped in front of her before she could answer, his voice low and menacing. “She’s not doing any more interviews. Send someone else.”

The official frowned, clearly taken aback. “Excuse me? This is her job—”

“Yeah, and her job shouldn’t put her or her baby in danger,” Charles interjected angrily. “She’s done for the day.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “Get someone else. This isn’t up for discussion.”

The FIA official looked bewildered, glancing at Y/N, but Lewis shot him a glare that would have stopped anyone in their tracks. “You have plenty of other reporters. Don’t make us get security involved.”

Seeing no way around it, the official nodded reluctantly. “Fine. She can go. But this will be reported.”

The drivers didn’t care; they were already surrounding Y/N protectively, guiding her towards the paddock lounge.

“Thank you, guys,” she murmured, touched by their concern. “But I can handle this, really—”

“No way,” Max cut her off, shaking his head. “Carlos would kill us if we let you stay out there in this heat.”

As they led her to the lounge, Carlos appeared, having just gotten word of what happened. His expression was a mix of relief and anger as he approached the group. “Qué demonios? Y/N, why didn’t you call me?”

Y/N shrugged, looking sheepish. “I didn’t want to bother you…”

Carlos looked ready to explode, turning to the FIA official who had followed them, probably to try and salvage the situation. “You made her work out there, in this heat, while she’s pregnant? Are you insane?”

The official held up his hands defensively. “We were just following standard protocol—”

“To hell with your protocol!” Carlos shouted, his face flushed with anger. “She’s carrying our child, and you’re risking her health for some interviews?”

“Mr. Sainz, please calm down—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Carlos snapped, switching to rapid Spanish that the official clearly didn’t understand, though the tone left no doubts about what he was saying. “This is unacceptable. Inaceptable!”

“Carlos, you’re going to get fined,” Lewis warned quietly, though he was smirking a little, clearly pleased to see someone giving the FIA a piece of their mind.

“Fine me, I don’t care,” Carlos shot back. “It’ll be worth every cent if it means they treat her properly.”

The official quickly left, muttering something about reporting this to higher-ups, but the drivers didn’t care. They were all clustered around Y/N, making sure she was comfortable as they brought her a cold towel and water.

As soon as she was settled in, Max crouched beside her, giving her a warm but firm look. “From now on, you call us if they try to make you do anything stupid again, alright?”

Y/N chuckled, touched by their fierce protectiveness. “I promise.”

Carlos sat beside her, still fuming, but his hand gently rested on her stomach, protective and calming. “If they pull anything like this again, they’ll have to deal with all of us,” he said, his tone softer but no less serious.

That night, news of Carlos’s outburst—and his subsequent fine—spread like wildfire across social media. Fans took to Twitter, trending hashtags like #ProtectY/N and #JusticeForY/N. Clips of the drivers banding together to protect her from the heat circulated, and the internet quickly turned it into a rallying cry against the FIA’s treatment of Y/N.

@F1Fanatic: "Carlos got fined for standing up for his pregnant wife, and I’m here for it. #ProtectY/N 💪🔥"

@PaddockPrincess: "Seeing all the drivers look out for Y/N is the purest thing ever. She deserves all the love 🥹❤️ #FamilyGoals #ProtectY/N"

@F1Daily: "We all knew Carlos was protective, but the way he went off on the FIA? ICONIC. #JusticeForY/N"

Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she scrolled through the support from fans, all of whom felt like an extended family. With Carlos by her side, and a whole paddock of brothers watching over her, she knew she and her baby would be safe, no matter what.

[relentless7171]

I enjoy resting on both his lap and shoulder

hoodies

netflix

denim jackets

there's too many things to choose from I just love boys

I don't drink tea

I don't really drink coffee either but I'd have a coffee with a lot of milk

auburn

I can't drive yet but I do want to get my licence

I have a massive crush on my boyfriend @geggorys

I don't really watch any sports but I think stuff like the women's world cup deserves more respect

I think I'm more of a neutral colour guy idm neon and pastel it's just rare for me to wear clothes of those colours

i don't wear make up but I would like to learn how to use make up and having my bf do my make up sounds fun and I'm sure he'd enjoy it

idm what height boys are I myself am 5'11 and my bf is a little shorter than me and I love him but he's grown a little recently and I like the added height too

I like both but I usually do nose kisses

my bfs scent is my favourite I'd bottle it up and spray it in me if I could

I'd go on any type of date tbh we've gone on a bunch and I just enjoy spending time with him regardless of the activity and environment

a cabin getaway

I haven't seen maybe butni find bros to be quite silly and I keep meaning to watch broke back mountain

I do believe in love at first sight

I am in love with my bf and was for years before we started dating I just didn't realise 💀

I like both I enjoy having him in my lap and wrapping around him but I also love being in his lap and feeling cosy (I usually end up asleep)

I'd love both types of bracelets and have some loom bands ones on rn but I think metal is more ideal bc I'd end up breaking cloth ones 😭

him saving I love you for the first time is one of my favourite memories and him asking me put but really I cherish ever memory I have of him

I think i tilt my head to the right

I'd love to take his last name and we've already agreed on it

I don't really want kids and neither does he but if he ever said to me he wanted a kid I'd be open to the idea

we do interlock fingers sometimes but tend not to unless we are sitting down and it can get a bit hard to with us both wearing multiple rings

idk, any compliment I get from him makes me happy he could say anything and I'd be giggling and kicking my feet

I yearn to fall asleep with him next to me.and to wake up next to him would be amazing

I don't really have any turn offs tbh

he makes me blush it could be any little thing and I can feel myself blushing

coffee shop date we've had a few and It makes me happy seeing him enjoy his drinks

I tend to be big spoon bc I am bigger than him and I love to having him in my arms but when I am little spoon I enjoy it a lot too

just all of him caught my eye I can't really lick one thing out I just love all of him

I'd love flowers but it's not really a viable gift rn but if I ever got flowers I'd do ebrrything to take care of them and make sure he knew how much I enjoyed them

matching outfits sounds cute tbh and he's got a lot of my.cpotjes so we end up unintentionally matching anyway

he asked me out but around that time I was also trying to piece together a way to tell him about my feelings for him he just beat me to it

I love when he's shy bc I can baby him but I also love when he's confident

Harvey by her's is one I listened to a lot whilst thinking about him

mlm asks!

I never see these so I decided to make one lol~

Do you like resting your head in a boys lap, or on his shoulder?

Sweaters or hoodies?

Netflix or clubbing on a Friday night?

Denim or leather jackets?

What’s your favorite thing about boys?

How do you like your tea?

How do you like your coffee?

Favorite fall color?

Can you drive?

Do you have a crush?

What’s your favorite sport?

Are you a pastel, neon, or neutral color mlm?

Do you wear makeup?

Do you like boys taller or shorter than you?

Do you prefer hand kisses, or nose kisses?

What’s your favorite cologne smell?

Ideal date?

What’s more romantic: cabin getaway, or tropical vacation?

What’s your favorite mlm movie?

Do you believe in love at first sight?

Have you ever been in love?

Do you like sitting in a boys lap, or do you prefer when a boy sits in yours?

Metal or cloth bracelets?

What’s one of your favorite memories of being in love?

Do you tilt your head to the left or right when you kiss?

Would you like to take his last name when you marry?

Do you want kids?

Do you interlock fingers when you hold hands?

What’s a compliment you’d love to receive from a boy?

What’s better, waking up to him in the morning, or falling asleep next to him at night?

Any turn offs?

What makes you blush?

Coffee shop or dog park date?

Big spoon or little spoon?

What first catches your eye?

Would you enjoy it if he bought you flowers?

Do you think matching couple outfits are cute or cheesy?

Have you ever asked a boy out?

Which is cuter, him being confident, or shy?

What’s one of your fave love songs?

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

Can you write abt after care and acts of service jaemin ? I need a cute fluff rn (also i love ur writing so much )

thank you babes!!! hope you enjoy <333

(cw: implications of sex but not explicitly detailed)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Jaemin's arm was looped around your shoulders as you both laid back and tried to catch your breath while staring at the white ceiling of your shared bedroom. The cotton sheets felt fresh against your sweaty back, sheets that had just been freshly washed.

It shouldn't have been as attractive as it was to walk into the bedroom to catch Jaemin fluffing the pillows. It shouldn't have been so attractive to see all the pillows in the exact arrangement you liked them. Jaemin doing the bare minimum, changing the bed sheets, should not have been that attractive. Before you knew it, the sheets were tangled around the both of you in a heated intimate exchange, ruining his work.

Jaemin pressed a kiss to the side of your head, exhaling contently, "you through a wrench in my productive plans for the day. I was about to finish our vacation itinerary. Then I was going to start on dinner for tonight. Now, I just don't feel like leaving your side."

"But tonight is my turn to make dinner," you add while turning on your side to look up at him.

"Well, you did laundry all day and I had this great idea for those potatoes we've had sitting on the counter," he counters while running a slow, gentle hand down your bare spine.

"Jaemin," you drawl out, "I had to do the laundry anyway. Tell me what you have planned and I'll make it. Ok?"

Jaemin groans dramatically while kicking off the sheets and standing from the bed, "let me do something for you! Just this once!"

He grumbles all the way to the bathroom and has an angry pout on his face as he reenters the room with a warm towel to clean you up while you pull his discarded t-shirt over your head. Your head pops through the hole, hair a mess which he lovingly fixes. You keep your eyes locked on him, "you do stuff for me all the time. You changed the sheets, you refill the gas tank in my car, you put my phone to charge, you take over making dinner like 90% of the time. Let me do stuff for you too. I feel like I'm the lazy one in this relationship."

Jaemin's jaw drops in shock, "I do these things because I want to. I like helping you out in any small way I can because I love you. I'm going to love you until I'm wrinkly, old, and gray. You can't get rid of me-- ever. And you're not lazy, you do lots of stuff for me."

You raise your brows at him, asking him to continue, "well, you kiss me whenever I want, you play with my hair when I want you to, you cuddle me to sleep, you get me my favorite snacks when you go to the store even when I don't ask you to. I just like doing things for you because it makes me happy, and more importantly, it makes you happy. You're not lazy because we each have different strengths in this relationship."

"Geez, for a second there I was almost certain my love language was just acts of service but words of affirmation just climbed its way up. You are like the perfect man."

He shrugs with a laugh, "I'm your perfect man. Let me go get started on dinner."

[lovemomhatepolice]

jude bellingham nswf alphabet (part 2) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) Oh, Jude is just an innocent kid. He will never ever consent to anal. Whether it's toward you or him - nothing turns him down more. I'm not going to lie - when he hears about it he has to restrain himself so he doesn't have a gag reflex. He himself doesn't know why it affects him so much, but he can't bring himself to think about it - doing it isn't even an option

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He never said it directly, but the sight of you getting down on your knees and taking care of him, oh god. The boy could have come right on the spot if he had even a little less stamina. Fortunately, he doesn't and you can relish it a little longer. Well, I beg you, the sight of such a boy in front of you - and still yours? It couldn't have been better.

And as for giving from yourself - as I mentioned earlier, Jude with you was just learning to know another person's body, but damn how he did it quickly. He paid attention to everything you like and each time it got better and better

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) It depends, to be honest. He rarely exceeds the pace that is right for you - well, unless he is after an unsuccessful match and you yourself give him tips to speed up and be rougher. (But I just have to admit that he loves it when you wriggle under him when he's a little harsher).

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) He likes quick rounds-especially before a game, once you're both settled and about to leave the house (He says it brings him luck). Or when you come to visit him at the Bernabeu stadium and he can take you to his bathroom. With the rest of the quickies, they're pretty fun, aren't they? Sometimes something might fall next to you and hit someone in the head…. oh, poor Jude

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Rather, he is trying not to skip security, after all, both of you have only recently turned 20. In the future, of course, he dreams of having a family with you, but not yet. But when it comes to risking the place, oh yes. Sex in the locker room at the Santiago Bernabeau, on your “private beach” in a tent. Wherever you want - he will be there anyway

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) Jude is young, oh he has in him strength and desire a lot. In fact, you only finish when you want to or when you have to. He could never interrupt and still be inside you. After all, this is his favorite place

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Oh, he once got such an inflatable doll from friends, but he does not use it. He was a little frightened by the thought of satisfying himself with an inflatable woman, so he “left” it accidentally in the toilet after that party

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Jude doesn't like teasing you. With you, it's the other way around - you can't help but play with him a little. Especially when it comes to blowjob - you love to slowly lick him, suck him, until he himself doesn't lift his hips up and slap you on the back of the throat, signaling that he's already had enough of your teasing

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Jude Bellingham is a man of groans. When you give him a blowjob, when you lean dangerously close in a short dress, when he's deep inside you. He just doesn't hold back, and knowing that it turns you on, he still allows himself to make louder sounds

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He loves to make love to you while you are wearing his match shirt. Whether it was his Dortmund jersey, his national team jersey or his current Madrid jersey, when Jude sees you in any of his jerseys, he even cries out for vengeance to heaven. He loves the sight of you with his name on the back and only waits for it to be your name too

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He is huge. Oh let's not lie to ourselves, everyone has seen these pictures from the field and knows that Jude has a lot to boast about. I don't know what more can be said, but you have to trust that he barely fits in you

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) He doesn't need much, sometimes he's like an excited teenager, although of course he approaches it with great respect for you. If you don't feel like it, he doesn't insist one bit. But it really doesn't take much for him, you just need to look at him “differently” and he's ready

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) Because of what emotions your sex triggers in him, I don't think he falls asleep quickly. Of course, he is exhausted and his eyes close, but he tries to lie down and talk with you as long as possible. He falls asleep best when you play with his hair or run your hands over his chest. Then it's not hard for him to fall asleep, but he definitely tries to make sure that you fall asleep too, and he doesn't have to have in the back of his mind that he did something wrong by falling asleep

A/N: part one if anyone missed it!! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open, and I am very close to 600 followers! if you just like my work - take a look at the masterlist, give a heart, pass, and maybe even follow! it really means a lot to me and helps me grow by reaching more people :) please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[bisonaari]

I don't know if it has been done here before because I don't look around, but I have thoughts about the album and I need to share them with someone or I'm gonna go INSANE

Put your tinfoil hats on for my analysis of everything around People's Champion under the cut (probably people have talked about it and I'm just gonna repeat stuff, be warned)

So I've been a bit insane about People's Champion and I've started to think super hard about the order of the songs. I think, in my opinion, that the songs are arranged to tell the story of his life and career from right after UMK 2023 until now.

Ready To Go: This is where we start. Just post UMK, people didn't fully believe in him yet. I remember people saying "oh yeah sweden is sending someone who already won esc, but we're sending… Jere from Vantaa????". Hence the chorus, where people want to see him fail. But he's ready, he knows that he can do it. He's gonna go through and give his EVERYTHING. The mood of the song is really hopeful, with big intense guitar.

Cha Cha Cha: Do I need to explain this one here? I'm still not over this hahaha, I don't think I'll ever be. But this is where events take a turn for him, hence why it's so early in the album, even though it's his biggest song. Because he has so much to say after Cha Cha Cha happened.

Takavoltti: This is where things start to fuck up. He doesn't want to stay on his butt now that he has achieved celebrity and starts to take on so many, many gigs. A lot of us were worried for his health when we saw how much he was performing during summer 2023. But in the song, he says that he only saw opportunities and he just had to continue to take them. It takes a toll on his body. It starts to hurt, but he goes through it. That mad man. Also a couple of times in the song, people ask him to do stuff. Like a little circus monkey. And he just ends up hurting himself.

Ruoska: The bad comments start to really get to him. In the video, Erika and Käärijä are both dressed and perform as aliens. They've completely been striped of their humanity. They're just gimmicks that you can insult anonymously on the internet. Who cares anyway, they chose this life for themselves. It's their own fault. While the previous song was still a bit on the funny side, this one digs straight into the hardships that they feel. There is no more humour, only pain.

Kot Kot: He's still doing too much. While everyone has gone home, he's still drunk on the dancefloor, trying to reach out for friends who were wiser and left. He's being dragged out of there against his will, because he's so stubborn. Pushing through isn't working anymore, and people around him aren't letting him hurt himself anymore.

Skit: An appointment with a therapist. Käärijä is being cut off CONSTANTLY by the therapist, who can't see Jere as a patient. He sees Käärijä, the star. Even when he's trying to seek help, he isn't listened to. Because he's not human anymore for people at that point.

Autiomaa: Käärijä is breaking down. In the video, the therapist from the skit is taking a picture of him during the appointment. The feeling of loneliness and emptiness is around him all the time, omnipresent, eating him alive. He just wants someone to see him as a person, to listen to him, to help him with the void.

Sex=Money: At that point, you know, might as well. You're not human anymore, who cares. Why not try to get some money selling your ass. Who's gonna care anyway, sex sells and that's what people want to see, right? He made so much money on onlyfans, the press is acting shocked that he would even do that. The song is back to a bit light-hearted. My interpretation would be that he just finds the situation ridiculous, and that's why we're getting humour back in the lyrics!

Bananas: I'm not sure how this one fits in my theory, but we're SO back for humour. Kääriä is getting better. I think that in this one he found resolve to just continue going on. He's annoyed because people still only see him as an object, but he has to go through and live his life. Show must go on.

Huhhuhhei: Quite interesting to put a love song in this timeline in the story. But I think it's because he wants to live in the present, and not in anxieties from the past and the fear of the future. He doesn't know if the person sharing his bed is still gonna be there in the morning, but whatever, it's not important. Tonight, they're his and that's what matters. Thinking of tomorrow isn't gonna bring anything good.

It's Crazy It's Party: He's still stuck in the parties, they're around him all the time. He's still doing a million gigs in Finland and in europe. And just as the song is quite close to Cha Cha Cha, he's back at the beginning, the situation hasn't changed much. But this time, by the end, he goes to the party again, by his own will. And this time, he has people around to party with him.

People's Champion: We're back babes. This song is a love letter to people who love him. This is a great wrap around for this album. He's just remembering how everything went, from the start, until this point. Going through every point and emotion we've been through with him during the album. But in the end, he IS people's champion. He did it. He made it. And even with all the hardships, he's with us, when our hearts all sing together. The last line of this album that isn't a chorus is "Thank you everybody, I love you".

What a journey

So something that you have noticed that I've talked a lot is how people don't recognize Käärijä's humanity. He has been made into a kind of creature of gimmicks. You can ask him everything, you can say everything to his face. Whatever, he's a celebrity, not a person.

And this is where that cover is a GENIUS move.

On the cover, there are NO gimmicks. No bolero, no bowl cut, no bare chest with a tattoo. Just his face. You HAVE to watch his face, there is nothing else to see. You have to watch his emotion being raw, he's crying. This is not a pleasant cover to see. And I know, I've had spotify open on his face all day friday while I was working, it felt awful. But it makes you do something.

You have to acknowledge his humanity. And there's no way around it.

I love Käärijä

[rosepetalkitty]

oh boy tw for family trauma 🫠

yeah no that's. damn.

my dad only ever hit me once, and he probably doesn't remember it, but i do. i never told anyone because i didn't want him to get in trouble — he was always the parent who was less of a threat.

that's the only physical thing that ever happened (thank god) but there was a lot of other shit and moving away to uni really helped me realize that.

my mom would sit on my bed behind me while i worked on homework and shout at me if it seemed like i was falling asleep. she would keep me up until 1am some nights, and when she was tired and angry in the morning she would tell everyone it was my fault no matter how much i tried to say that i wanted her to just go to bed, that i didn't want to keep her up, that i was tired too... that started at the beginning 9th grade (during quarantine) and lasted until the beginning of 11th.

before that, in middle school (i was 12) when i first got a phone, she told me one of the expectations was that i would give her the password and let her go through it. i did give her the password, but even at that age i didn't really trust her, so i used another app to put a second password on my home screen. if you put it in wrong it took a photo of you and emailed it to me.

a few weeks later she told me she wanted to go through it, and i told her that was fine, but because it was past my bedtime she wouldn't let me stay up and sit with her while she did. i asked if we could do it in the morning so that we could go through it together, and she said that was fine. guess who woke up to an enraged mother and an email with a picture of her face in the morning...

i brought that one up in therapy four years later in response to her telling the therapist she didn't know why i didn't trust her, and she interrupted me to say, and i quote, "that was so long ago that it doesn't matter anymore." she then turned to the therapist to tell her about how when i was in middle school i wouldn't let her go through my phone "to make sure i was safe", and that that was evidence that the trust issues were my fault. the therapist just looked at me like 😬 and quickly moved on to the next topic. my mom now refuses to acknowledge that she ever said that.

in high school my parents always kinda treated me like a toddler. i wasn't allowed to leave the house unless it was with them because they didn't trust public transportation and our neighborhood wasn't safe to walk out of (giant road all around the perimeter). i didn't get to take a bus until i was 16, and that was only to the mall a few minutes from my house. it took until i was 17 to be able to actually go and hang out with my friends without her supervision or that of another parent who she would expect updates from.

now that im in uni living on my own, she takes every opportunity she can to berate me about my ability to take care of myself. ive been living alone for three months now and have been perfectly fine, doing what i can to get decent nutrition on a college campus that makes it somewhat difficult, and she argued with me about whether it was "responsible" to get a hamburger when she brought me to shake shack while was home to visit for a weekend. "you probably only eat stuff like this, anyways, order something healthy!"

and honestly, speaking of that trip, y'know what really showed me how much less stress i've been under in uni? having a nice brunch at a fancy-ish restaurant that we used to go to with my grandparents when i was little and being low-key appalled when my parents parents started having a not-so-quiet back and forth in which my mom was saying "oh you just think everything i say is wrong, just tell everyone that, be honest, this is ridiculous" over the fact that my dad had asked "hey just to make sure we did mean to get two orders of potatoes, right? just want to check before the server comes back in case that's too much."

those arguments were normal to me a few months ago. and they wonder why i don't tell them things...

(also for context, it's one of those places where two or three small plates is enough for one person and you share stuff, so he was counting up what we were planning to order to make sure we got the right amount — the answer was yes, everyone in the family loves those potatoes, and the second my brother said that my dad was like "oh cool okay, anyways-" before being cut off again by my mom going nuclear over being interrupted by my brother)

and also, final footnote before i post this, there is so much more. this is like. not the worst of my childhood. plus im not including anything from before i was like 12 because i don't remember any of it besides a couple snippets, so there's that...

[kaisaerinlover]

nagi seishiro

tw: dubcon manipulation kinda grooming kinda incel themes

one thing about seishiro nagi is that he does not care about anything. he doesn’t want to do anything, especially not get a girlfriend. the guy was looking seriously rough until he met your brother reo. reo fixed him up a bit, and nagi definitely got more in shape after meeting reo, you could say he’s pretty hot now. but he still didn’t care for girls much. honestly he’s, in the past especially, probably what most people could have defined as an incel. but he was fine with that ‘cause he never cared about girls anyway. girls are a hassle. all he wants to do is play video games. girls don’t bother him and he doesn’t bother them. so imagine his surprise when reo’s imouto suddenly takes a random interest in him.

reo and nagi always stay at reo’s place, ‘cause it’s easier anyway, now they actually have fans and people that care, and nagi’s place isn’t really the most protected. reo is off doing something else and nagi’s playing video games in his own allocated room. he likes it, it’s good, no one to bother him, talking with people is a hassle. until you come into the picture. you’re so sweet, so cute, and he doesn’t want to be mean, you’re the younger sister of his best friend, after all. you take an interest in his game, and he indulges you, explaining to you lazily the premise of the game and granting you with the oh so lucky opportunity to sit and watch him play. and you do, you sit next to his chair on the floor and watch him play for hours. nagi grows to like you, you’re not much of a hassle at all, and you’re not too sore on the eye either. you’re actually really cute.

reo notices too, and rolls his eyes and smiles at you whenever you pester nagi. he can tell nagi doesn’t care, and he’s glad about that. but he’s curious, why is nagi even indulging you in the first place? seriously, he thinks eating is a hassle, he can’t even take care of himself most of the time, so why is he willing to entertain the youngest mikage? to put it lightly, nagi is a bit of a weirdo, reo thinks, and he takes interest in the most random of things, so maybe it’s just that. and reo doesn’t think too much of it, he should have though, not that it would matter anyway.

you’re just so cute, nagi thinks. he can’t help but actually want to have you around. and you’re so pliant, so interested in what he’s doing, poor thing. nagi coaxes you to come sit on his lap whilst he’s playing, and god does it feel good. he prays you don’t notice his hard on, but you’re so engrossed in watching him play he guesses you didn’t. but it’s still a hassle, you know. these feelings of want towards you, he’s not going to put in that much effort, seriously, that’s a lot of work, and he doesn’t have such a drive. but reo does. reo will do anything for nagi ‘cause that’s what friends are for. nagi is his treasure too, you know? not just you, imouto.

and that’s how it starts, reo essentially gifts his little sister to nagi seishiro. and the funniest part, to those two at least, is that you’re none the wiser. you don’t even notice that reo purposefully leaves you 2 alone way more often now, you don’t notice how nagi feels you up as you sit on his lap until it’s too late. you’re his now, and nii chan isn’t coming to help you ‘cause he’s the reason you’re in this mess! finding out your brother did this is a stab in the heart, it’s only after you realise what nagi is doing and you protest that he hushes you and tells you. “sh, stop squirming ‘kay? don’t be a hassle” why would you stop being a ‘hassle’? is that all this is to him? he’s touching you in places you didn’t ever let a guy touch you before, and a hassle is all it is? “n-nii chan’s gonna- b real mad at you- sei-seishiro-“ you manage to stutter out between sniffles. nagi almost laughs. almost. laughing is a hassle. “y’r nii chan is the one letting me do this” he nips at your earlobe. “you’re mine now, ‘mouto” you sob again. how could nii chan do this? and how come he’s calling you that, you’re not his imouto you’re reo’s!!!

nagi can feel his arousal, and you can feel it too, pressing against your cute little backside. “ah, look what you did” he mumbles something else about it being a hassle to take care of. but it’s fine, not anymore, cause you’re here! that’s how you find yourself sitting on the bed of your big brother’s best friend and jerking him off between sobs. honestly, nagi is getting kinda peeved at you, seriously just cut it out. he won’t treat you bad or anything? are women always this annoying, he wouldn’t know since he never had one prior to this encounter. seriously, just shut up already. he doesn’t show his annoyance though, just leans back and let’s you give him a handjob. seishiro nii is the worst for this reason, he only cares about himself!

you gasp a little in shock when he finally cums on your hand. he’s panting and a little tired, but begrudgingly gives you a pat on the head “good job, next time less crying though, angel” he likes the sight of his cum on your hand, it’s cute really, what he’s done to reo’s innocent little sister. and you just can’t believe your brother would do this to you. seriously, nii chan is mean. you thought maybe nagi was bluffing, maybe reo didn’t do this after all, so you sneak out of nagi’s room whilst he’s asleep to go and ask. all reo does is chastise you and send you back. “no ‘mouto, you gotta be a good girl for nagi, ‘kay? now go back to nagi, or do i have to take you there myself?” he’s scolding you the way a brother would his sister over a broken toy, a little tantrum, not wanting to watch the same tv show, not this?

you reluctantly trudge back to nagi’s room, where he’s laid in bed playing games on his phone. just your luck that he woke up. when you walk in the room he doesn’t even look away from the phone, just hums as if to acknowledge your presence. “don’t leave again, don’t wanna have to find you. too much hassle” he pats the bed commanding you to come and sit back down without turning away from the game. and he knows you’ll comply, because what else can you do? reo won’t help you, and you know nagi can easily overpower you if he wants to. you’re pretty stuck, aren’t you?

he’s back asleep again in no time and you’re laid awake stuck under his muscular arm. this is the first guy you talked with, reo is usually protective, it’s so intimate what you’re doing with nagi, so wrong. you’re looking up at the ceiling with blurred vision from those tears stinging at your big innocent eyes. man this sucks. but it’s okay, you’ll learn to like it, ‘cause your nii chans are gonna turn you into the perfect girl for seishiro nii! good job on getting a little sister, nagi.

sorry it’s a little short / not the best , i’m going to expand on this or come back to it definitely soon ‘cause i like this idea ty 4 readin’ if u did :3

[istharoth]

In love with a 2-D Character?! Hotarubi Edition!

Blurb: In which you are a character in a popular game the Tokyo debunker boys are coincidentally in love with.

↪ Subaru Kagami

Another one on the list "does not play games".

But he does! This game in particular catches his eye because everyone has been playing it.

He does not have the idea of choosing a character at the beginning, it's too stressful and what if he likes some other characters?

He's going into this knowing it's an otome game (it's not but characters have the power to ignore it. *cough Haku cough*) and poor guy is just worried if he'll lose a route if he chooses a character.

If he's starting the story + if it has routes, he needs to see all the routes.

Chooses you because you're so...he can't put it into words. You're suspicious but you're also very comforting in a way.

Is financially responsible. Does not feel the need to gamble.

"Oh no, I didn't get the character." *2 seconds later* "It's okay, I'll get them on their rerun."

F2P throughout!!!

Apologizes when his character apologizes too, he feels so bad for them but then him and his favourite character are seen together so little, it's kind of sad :(

He wants to see more of you! But the game said no so he turns to the next best thing.

Fanfiction. Writes only for your character alone, has done numerous character studies, directed your personality, even going as far as to find tidbits your voice actors may have left for you

He's a chill player, does not worry much but does very a lot in the story if he's about to die.

No, he's not used to almost dying in every chapter.

↪ Haku Kusanagi

Where do I begin...?

THIS MAN FLIRTS WITH YOU

you're a character on his screen, he's a human who flirts with you after you say your automated line.

Is a bit nsfw but he means well

Commissions? Art commissions?

He's the king of yume.

Has his own fanpage dedicated to you but no one knows it's him because yeah, how will they know?

You know those "Timely Character" accounts? Yeah, he has that.

+ another one to defend you from any haters.

SPEAKING OF SELF-SHIPPING/YUME, he has likely commissioned every artist he knows + likes the art of to draw him (not his OC) and you together.

Will also get into drawing because 1) he wants to make fanart for Subaru's fics. 2) he wants to draw you.

Merch? Babe he's the creator of merch.

You know that one Hatsume Miku deodorant being sold at a Comicon? Yeah, he's going to do that but with you instead.

Jewellery inspired after you? oh absolutely. Body pillow of you? No. Plushie he made after you? Oh hell yes.

He's a keeper, but he pulls on every character. Has insane luck + cracked builds.

Claims he doesn't know how to build anyone except you (but he does)

↪ Zenji Kotodama

Can he hold a phone...? Does it go through him or isahukvas anyways!

First and foremost, he writes bloody good flowery fanfiction.

He chooses not you, but his brother's favourite character! Eventually meets you in Chapter 5?

BAWLS HIS EYES OUT AFTER KNOWING YOUR FATE

you were so young :( how could the clash cut your life short?

Is your biggest fan ever, only pulls on your banners and if he doesn't get you, he's discreetly using Darkwick's money to pull on your banner.

Don't ask me how he got the card details, he's a ghost, he can get places.

You're on his home screen and because he doesn't need sleep, he's constantly hearing your voice lines in game

Eventually, the biwa in Hotarubi was accompanied by the voice of a character.

LIKE, KEYCHAINS!!! Biggest fan of Keychains, will hold them around everywhere displaying them to the world. He's your biggest fan!!

and if someone else claims that title, he's fine with it! More people love you right!! That's all he cares for.

Prev [Sinostra]

[piftamere]

nine - keg stand (wc : 791 ; cw : vomit, drinking)

he abandoned her, even though she doesn’t know anyone, what a fucking jerk. she walks through the house, looking for him, or for a friendly face who’s not completely drunk.

nearing the kitchen to pour herself a drink, she hears yelling and cheers in the distance. she recognizes a name, one of her boyfriend’s teammates, who’s apparently doing a keg stand. she met them briefly earlier. they seemed more interested in the party and alcohol than in getting to know her, and the feeling was mutual.

she hears a loud crash and turns her head to look in it’s direction. the guy fell over, but he’s now back up, holding up his hands like he won a gold medal. as she’s focused on the blond guy’s stupid proud expression, someone bumps into her, spilling their cold, sticky drink all over her clothes. she curses and they shortly apologize before vanishing into the crowd. she smells like a fucking jager bomb now.

she looks around for a bathroom, giving up on her drink. she just wants to wash her dress and go home. she waits for half an hour in the bathroom line.

fucking frat party.

cleaning her dress takes her longer than she thought it would, impatient drunk college students bang on the door, urging her to hurry up. she takes a moment to look in the mirror, ignoring the line outside.

maybe she doesn’t have to leave, maybe she can still enjoy her night, with or without her boyfriend. her dress is wet and sticky but who cares. (she cares)

she takes a few deep breathes, ready to have a better end to her night. weaving through the crowd, she heads back to the kitchen where the music is significantly less loud. the windows are open and the cool air is a welcome addition. she overhears voices who appear to be coming from outside. her boyfriend’s teammates… they’re everywhere, some kind of curse she thinks.

she doesn’t pay much attention to their conversation, until she hears her name. though they’re slurring their words, she understands most of what they’re saying.

someone she can’t see says sheepishly, “yn seems kinda nice i don’ know…”

“tsumu”, who appears to be the guy doing a keg stand earlier, is talking loud, voice proud and arrogant.

“who cares, she's just a bitch he'll fuck for a few weeks then ditch like he always does.” he laughs as he says it, like it’s the greatest fucking joke ever.

“tsumu…” the other guy groans.

“what? it’s true! she’s hot, sure, but that’s all she is. i bet he’s already looking for the next one.” he continues laughing, and she stops listening.

her hands grip the counter, knuckles whitening. it would be so easy to put him in his place. he’s just a pathetic, drunk low-life. a few well-chosen words and he'd think twice about running his mouth again. but they get stuck on the knot in her throat.

fuck fuck fuck. why is it getting to her? she doesn’t know him, she never cared about assholes like him. so why can’t she get a fucking word out?

she’s frozen in place for a while, not sure how long. she feels stupid, embarrassed. no one else inside heard but all she wants to do is run away.

done with the night, she heads towards the front door, head hung low, without saying goodbye to her boyfriend or any of his “friends”. as she walks out, she sees someone leaning against the railing, actually he’s more slumped over it, as he most likely can’t stand on his own. she recognizes him and curses under her breath.

has he not ruined her night enough?

“leavin’ already?” he slurs over his words and lets out a hiccup, a drunken smile plastered over his face.

she ignores him.

“hey… did somethin’ happen?” a hint of concern can be heard in his tone, and it infuriates her. who does this egotistical dick think he is, pitying her?

she turns to face him, ready to take her anger and frustration out on him. he deserves it. hell, she deserves it. he won’t remember it tomorrow morning anyway. as she’s about to tear him a new one, she stops, seeing the weird expression on his face. her brows furrow as she tries to figure out what it means, but she understands a little too late. he leans forward, placing his hand on her shoulder to steady himself... before puking at her feet, covering her shoes in the process.

she abruptly pushes him off her. he hits the railing hard, mumbling what appears to be barely audible apologies.

she throws her shoes in the nearest trash can, and walks home barefoot.

fucking jocks.

fun facts

this is a flashback to when atsumu and yn met (their meet ugly)

this night is what hinata meant when he said atsumu owes him : he brought him back to their place, helped him clean up the vomit and didn’t tell anyone that he threw up all over himself

atsumu has almost no memories of the night, he knows he puked over someone or something, but that's basically it.

the guy speaking with atsumu about yn was bokuto, he forgot most of the night as well

yn can hold a grudge forever

author's note

i would be mad forever too just for the puking thing

i had this part sitting in the drafts for so long i'm so happy to finally post it

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @kr1nqu @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @thechaosoflonging @littlemiyastars @seikamuzu @nymphsdomain @r4veeen

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[petite-madame]

I just found again your account. I first saw your art when I was a teenager. And its been a while. Your art has felt like coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows.

It feels like coming back home to fandoms i used to adore. And look at it fondly, in a nostalgic lense. You've worked very hard and honed your skill. I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people. Heck even just sparked a glint in their eye whilst being on the internet.

Tu est merveilleuse. Tu as tellement contribué pour les fandoms. Merci énormément ♡

Hi anon ^^

First, I apologize it took me so long to answer. Messages kept piling up and it took me time to reach yours. 😳

This is one of the kindest messages I ever received. Not that other messages are not kind or sincere, or that I don't enjoy receiving or reading them but...you see what I mean ? 😳 Comparing my art and the feeling it brings you to "coming back to a brewed coffee and some pastries. Winter wind blowing against the coffee shop windows." is so...so poetic ? And strong ? And it talks to me, you see ? The nostalgia, the feels. 😭

It's really funny because I received a message from another anon who told me they hadn't "seen (my) art for years but it randomly came across (their) dash and (they) recognized the style right away" and I compared the experience to finding out that an old restaurant you used to go to as a kid was still open. That's me, I'm the restaurant, this little coffee shop that still tries to bring you good pastries. 🥳Sometimes, the menu changes a bit but it's still the same recipe and the same owner, who starts to get a bit old, but who is still enthusiastic about the new cakes available in his tiny shop.

I'm proud of how long you've been drawing and how you provided such joy and excitement in so many people.

I've always drawn, I think I will carry on as much as I can. And even if I draw for me (almost like a compulsion, a need), it's messages like yours that makes me carry on sharing my art on the internet because even if I have a "successful coffee shop", sometimes, I can't help thinking about some drawings I do "Nah, nobody's going to care about this one". 🤓 I forget about it but then, sometimes a few weeks later, I post the art and I receive messages from people telling me I made their day, that they were having a bad time but that my art cheered them up. It's incredible, right ? Someone is having a bad day in Milwaukee or Jakarta and me, and my stupid little "bakeries" helped them smile (*) for a couple of minutes. I think it's fantastic. So even if as an artist I love to share what I do, sometimes when I think that "nobody cares", I think about some random people and the possible positive outcome that my art can produce.

(*) Sometimes, I make people cry too because of death art and pretty angsty illustrations but that's another story. You're welcome, by the way 🤓

Of course, my artworks are not masterpieces, I'm not starting a pictural revolution, it's just TV show and movie characters doing "random stuff" but if these artworks that will be forgotten in 10 minutes will make someone smile just a couple of seconds at some point in time then, it was worth it. I guess. I hope so. (And sometimes, it's more than a couple of seconds because some people put my art as their desktop wallpaper or phone background. How awesome is that ? 🤩🥳)

Anyway, I'm rambling. 🙃🙃🙃 Thank you so much for this amazing message and for enjoying my art all these years. (Because I write, I write but I didn't even thank you!!)

I wish you a great weekend and I hope that you'll stop by my coffee shop again. 💗

[danieldrivesfast]

Oh. I get it. I understand why this bothers me so much. It all goes back to him, my pro-athlete friend.

I remember how it felt sitting across the table from him at lunch while he told me about how all the shit "fans" and the press was talking about him was affecting his personal life. How he didn't want to meet fans because he knew so many of them were saying terrible things. How he had to answer questions to his family/in-laws about the things they were saying and he was being accused of doing. How upset he was that he knew nothing he could ever say or do would change or stop what people said or how they attack him.

I remember how I told him to speak up anyway. Use his team. Use his agent. Put his truth out there... But the team wouldn't let him. His agent didn't think it was worth it. The people who did do the bad things wouldn't speak up and take their rightful heat. So on it went.

I remember being backstage with him before an event and seeing how visibly upset he was that people were wishing harm on him and his loved ones, and it was all for something he had no part in but was built upon the existing bullshit. I remember how he said I was right, he should've said what he wanted to say, because nobody had his back anyway. He asked me, more than once, if I believed him or the noise. If I thought he was a bad person, if he deserved it, if he should've done more. Then I watched him smile and go raise funds for charity in front of the cameras like everything was fine, knowing what was going on in his head.

And I think of Lando now. Obviously, I don't know Lando. But I know who I know. I know the hate and harassment he received was a tenth, a hundredth of what Lando is receiving. I know how it tore him up and affected his family and pushed him away from what he loved. I know how he always made himself be the bigger person and be kind to the same people who were being so hateful.

It's personal to me, I guess. I can't just look at these people as unaffected millionaires or whatever bullshit. Just like my friend, Lando Norris is a person. A whole person, by all accounts a good person, with thoughts and emotions and regrets like all of us, that doesn't change because he has money or a cool job. That doesn't give people the right to treat him like they are. Because he could be somewhere, looking at someone he cares about, asking "Do I deserve this?" while believing that maybe he does.

And when I think of that, I'm angry, standing in front of my friend saying, "No, you don't."

[minkdelovely]

I am jet-lagged and emotionally wrought, but nevertheless so fucking thrilled to have finally gotten the time to sit down and read this absolutely IMMACULATE chapter.

Hazel… I feel like I say this all the time, but how you manage to keep weaving this magnificent web of yours week after week is truly awe-inspiring. We’re getting close to the end, but you still make sure to impart as much emotional impact as possible. I believe this is the first time we ever got a solid block of Alastor’s POV, and if I’m being honest, idk if I would survive more 😭😂♥️

The mood of this chapter was so needed — they’ve been going through so much, and something was bound to snap. So to see them get closer on the other side is just so rewarding. I just want them to be happy god damn it! 🥲

I know you don’t typically foray into angst, but I’m not surprised you knocked it out of the park Hazel! I hope you’re just feeling more and more proud of yourself with each chapter! ♥️

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

ruminating on Alastor’s mom is gonna get me every fucking time tbh 😩 and the second part with Alastor’s deceiving looks… that pretty face and charm will take him everywhere!

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations.

BABYYY OMG THIS WENT STRAIGHT THROUGH MY HEART 😩

Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

no one will care about him the way we care about him — it’s simply not possible

The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in.

imagining him angry is honestly so scary; my anxiety just ticked up 😩

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

HONESTLY MY WORST NIGHTMARE

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well.

WHY DID THIS MAKE MY HEART CLENCH?? 😩♥️

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

MIMZYYYY!! tbh this is such a perfect introduction for her ❤️‍🔥

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

BRUV WE ARE IN PUBLIC!!

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

not only for kisses 👀 hehehe

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort.

the way I immediately feel the frustration and disappointment. he’s not even just drunk, but SLOPPILY so 😩

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

LET THE BABYSITTING COMMENCE 🫠

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

my cortisol has spiked, but there’s something about this line that just makes me smile 😂🙈

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

so much here… the hurt from his words, but also just how clearly we can see that he’s barely keeping it together. wonderfully executed, my love 🥹♥️

Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

UGHHHH IT HURTS SO GOOD!! he really is coming off as so callous right now — it’s brutal 😩

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

SHIVERS

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

HAZEL OH MY GODDDD 😭🫠

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

as heartbreaking as this is, I admire that Autumn is walking away before it gets worse and not like~ digging in from the pain. i don’t know that i’d be that strong 😭

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

BITCH!! 😭

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

tbh nothing I hate more than a tense car ride… ALASTOR GOD DAMN IT!! 😩

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

THE TURNING BACK IS ALWAYS SUCH A KNIFE IN THE GUT

It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

THE KEYS!!! IT WAS SUCH A SLAP IN THE FACE!! 😩

You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

this is truly such a horrific feeling… i hate that we’ve all seemed to feel the sting of it 🥺

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

this is such a specific form of fear of rejection… I can relate only too well 😩

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back.

I’M WRITHING OH MY GODDD THE HURT AND THE SHAMEEE WHYY??

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

I am honestly never not thinking about the whole thing with the shoes…

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

this is genuinely one of the most emotional mature things I’ve ever read in my entire life — and something I’m gonna try to keep in mind the next time I’ve lost my temper

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

and I’m full circle to wanting nothing more than to cuddle this man… Hazel I swear to fucking god 🫠♥️

The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

NO WORDS JUST MY HEART WEEPING

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

GETTING BIG FEELINGS AGAIN FOR OUR LONELY, MURDEROUS BOY 🥺♥️

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

Alastor, darling, for the love of god please I’m begging for clarification 😭

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

BEEN THERE AND IT SUCKS

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying.

this was such a glorious way to humanize our otherwise ethereal husband 🙏🏻✨

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

AUTUMN I TRULY ADMIRE YOUR STRENGTH

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

LIKE GENUINELY SO FUCKING STRONG — I WOULD HAVE FOLDED LIKE A WET NEWSPAPER JESUS CHRIST 😭

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

AHHHHH THIS IS PRECISELY WHAT I WANT: TO PET THIS SAD LITTLE MAN

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

YOU BAD BITCH OMGGGG Kenneth must be feeling a chill down his spine as we speak!! 😂

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

I ACTUALLY CAN’T FUCKING HANDLE THIS. THE FACT THAT I CAN’T COMFORT HIM MYSELF IS A FUCKING CRIME!!

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

HAZEL SHAKESPEARE IS GETTING US GOOD Y’ALL HOW I’M STILL CONSCIOUS DEFIES SCIENCE

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

this whole paragraph is a baseball bat to my psyche

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

SLAP MY ASS AND CALL ME MEGARA

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

I’VE LOST ANY AND ALL ARTICULATION

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

HAZEL PLEASE I’M SO WEAK IT’S TOO BEAUTIFUL OH MY GOD

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

AAAHHHHH I CAN’T BELIEVE I GET A SECOND DOSE OF THIS THROUGH ALASTOR’S POV — I am floundering and grateful all at once 😩♥️

- — - — - — - — -

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

ALASTORRR I’m not strong enough for this!! 😭♥️

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

he’s in such disbelief omggg 🥺 this paints such a visual!!

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

baby got the rug pulled out from under his feet 😭

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

William, for good measure, my darling buck

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

I love how he’s so immediately ready to pay whatever price while he’s literally floating away from himself… THE WAY YOU MAKE ME LOVE THIS MAN 🥲

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

JOHNNY!! 😭😭😭

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

he’s in such shock; I know we’re going through it with Kenneth but damn this is pulling at my heartstrings 🥺

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

blacking out on the drive and now just so fucking angry… he really knows how to get me scared (for him) 😭

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

WHY ARE THEY SO SIMILAR AND SO NERVOUS ABOUT COMMUNICATING?? 🥲

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

THE PARALLEL WITH BEING A MESS IN THE BATHROOM AHHHH!!!

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro.

picturing him going through the motions is honestly so painful 🥺

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

but I am absolutely not surprised the kitchen staff adores him 🥹

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

THIS IS SO FUCKING LOADED — HOW MANY TIMES HAS HE COME TO MIMZY TO TALK ABOUT READER AAAAHHHH!!!

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

this feels very me for some reason lmao

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

I LOVE THEIR FRIENDSHIP SO MUCH — the way she sees him is just… I can’t put it into words!

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Mimzy you rascal!!

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

as much as I belittle Kenneth, I am no match for the way Alastor wants to belittle Kenneth

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

MUAHAHAHAHA I LOVE ME SOME PARANOID KENNETH! Go get him honey 😂❤️‍🔥😈

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

I just love the irony of Kenneth “Clutching Pearls” Brady being painted A VILLAIN (and it’s not untrue)

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

I can’t lie, his masculine pride is really doing something for me lmao

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

ALASTORRRR I CAN’T WITH YOU SAYING THIS SO CASUALLY!!

You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

why is this so endearing to me? 😭♥️

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

and the miscommunication begins 😭🙈

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time.

HEHEHE Alastor I was thinking the same thing earlier 👀

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

I know it’s drunk brain, but I’m so sad that he’s so quick to believe we would buy into some BS from KENNETH FUCKING BRADY 😭

Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him.

An ‘et tu’ will always get me good but this is also just so adorable to me how offended he is by losing his balance 😂♥️

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

omggg he really didn’t realize what else came out of his mouth!! 😭

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

Reminder that pity parties are not cute — our guy fucked 👏🏻 up 👏🏻

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

case in point 🫠

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

oh darling your drunk brain got you so focused on the wrong thing 😭

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

SOBBING

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

HE CAN’T BE ALONE AND I’LL NEVER BE OKAY ABOUT IT

His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

we all float here Alastor 😂🎈

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

I thought I’d be okay in the second round but IT HURTS EVEN MORE??

The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

this being one of his coping mechanisms when he feels embarrassed/ashamed of himself just… really cuts through me for some reason. There’s an innocence to it that just makes my heart swell 😭♥️

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

WE GET LATIN AND SCHRÖDINGER’S CAT ALL IN ONE CHAPTER?? IT MUST BE CHRISTMAS

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

OH GOD OF COURSE HE WOULD NOTICE THE BAG

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

I AM A WRITHING FUCKING MESS ON THE FLOOR!! HAZEL!! 😩😭

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

Hazel I actually really fucking can’t with you right now… ♥️

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

OH MY GODDDDD

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

AAAAAHHHH!!!! AAAHHHHH!!!!!! I AM A MESS!!! AAAHHH!!!

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

ahhhh you’ve gone with the baseball bat again, I see. Excellent choice, my love 🫠

‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf.

HAZEL!!! I CAN’T!!!

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

A MUTTERED CONFESSION!!! YOU KNOW WHAT HAZEL YOU WIN THE WAR OKAY?? MY CASTLE HAS BEEN SUFFICIENTLY PLUNDERED AND YOU CAN RULE OVER MY SOUL AND DOMAIN AS YOU PLEASE — I WAS A FOOL TO EVER KEEP UP THE FIGHT!

He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

I really don’t know how I’ve made it this far… I’m being pummeled into DUST

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

transforming from dust into vapor…

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine too precious to even take out of the box. 

AND THEN YOU END THIS FUCKING MASTERPIECE WITH TWO PARAGRAPHS THAT MAKE ME WANT TO FLING MYSELF INTO THE OCEAN (AFFECTIONATE)

A Doe in Fall (Part 13)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie Part 13 - The Release 📍

Late? Yes. Buuuuut

If ya missed it:

Oct 19th Kinktober Day 19 - Proffer smut💦 Oct 13th Kinktober Day 13 - Handled smut💦

Where we left off: Autumn got released from the station to learn Alastor is at an unknown place called the Golden Dish.

Part 13 The Release

Two idiots meet on a sidewalk, one is drunk and one is stressed. Angst ensues. First Half is reader’s POV, second is Alastor’s POV.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, two parts in one, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, surprise Latin, Alastor drunkenly remembers his accent, angst, first fights, muffled confessions, bare feet, too much alcohol, Mimzy is her own tag, I promise she’ll be back」

MDNI 🥃 😵‍💫

The Release (Autumn)

Your relief Alastor wasn’t there was clouded by the slight hurt Alastor wasn’t there.

Any ability to mask your true feelings left you with the exhaustion of being arrested at work, in front of customers and companions alike. This was made obvious by Johnny’s slight pat to your shoulder, “Want me to walk you there?”

You shook your head. Everyone already knew too much. 

“It’s not too far, I think… I’ll be fine.” You could imagine Alastor’s panicked face. Had you ever actually seen it though? 

With a wave, you left Johnny and began the walk to, presumably, the Golden Dish. It was cold, already the night bringing a chill. Eyes to your feet, you realized you were still in her shoes. 

Where had she walked in New Orleans? Where did she meet Alastor’s father? You had to wonder what he had looked like. Surely he was handsome. Was he kind to her, like Alastor was to you? Or had it been a one night stand?

A small smile, she didn’t look like the type but looks could be deceiving. Alastor didn’t look like the kind of man who kissed bloodied cheeks and tossed heads into holes.

Flipping the card over again, you lifted it to the light. 

Tentatively you brought it to your nose and gave it a sniff. No perfume. 

The list of possibilities ran wild. 

You knew he wasn’t a virgin, and he’d mentioned before he’d been happily coupled with others before his preferences became their frustrations. But you’d never stopped to really imagine it past a fleeting image. Alastor kissing someone else. Alastor going down on someone else. Did he enjoy it as much as he enjoyed you?

It wasn’t necessarily jealousy, but your stomach did a little flip. Did they properly express their gratitude? Doubtful. How many times did he acquiesce to his partner’s wants and then be treated like it was the expectation and not an exception of his affections?

It wasn’t as late as you had thought and the streets were busy. It made you feel a little safer. Not having a purse helped that.

You weren’t entirely sure where Rosseau was, and after stopping a very lovely looking couple, you got hastily pointed toward the water. Anxiously, you kicked up your pace. The closer you got, the more nervous you were to see him. Not knowing how he felt, be it angry or worried or a mix of the two, was doing you in. Turning left, you practically jogged down the street in search of The Golden Dish.

On the first pass, you didn’t find it. You crossed the street and tried again, getting more of the buildings into sight. Nothing.

Crossing back, you found the door with a shiny golden number three.

The restaurant looked nice, but it wasn’t the Golden Dish. The name above the door was Grano D'oro.

You leaned into the alley, hoping maybe there was a man waiting with a secret door. It was pristine; no men, no trash, no mystery liquids.

Taking a moment to smooth your hair and adjust your dress, you walked in.

The entrance was lavish, the floor a black and white marble and fixtures that shined like gold. A man stood behind a host stand, looking at you expectantly. When you were within a few feet, he asked if you had a reservation.

“Uh, no. I’m looking for Alastor.”

“Does Alastor have a reservation?” He looked down, presumably at a paper of names, and then back up at you.

You looked past the parted red curtains into the dining room. “I don’t think so…ah! I have a card.” You handed it over and he gave it a look, flipping it over before nodding. “Just a moment, miss. Please wait here. You’re welcome to use the ladies room to clean up.”

From insulted to panicked, you realized you’d forgotten about your face. Pushing the heavy wooden door open to the bathroom, your reflection caught you off guard. Your eyes were encircled in black, scleras red, blush smeared into your hairline, and your lips were soft around the edges from misplaced lipstick. You looked like a wreck in human form.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you grabbed a tissue from the nearest stall and wetted it under the faucet, removing every bit of make up you could. The skin under your eyelashes still had a darkness to them and nothing could be done for the bloodshot eyes, but you let that go. You did away with the lipstick entirely, and most of the blush was out of your hair and off your cheeks. Now you just looked tired. 

Mortified, you remembered the couple you’d stopped and asked for directions from. They must have thought you’d had a fight or were some loon. Hell, maybe that was why no one stopped to bother you.

With one more glance at your disheveled appearance you sheepishly returned to the entrance and peeked into the dining room again. Everyone was dressed so nicely. You could imagine Alastor fitting in quite well. The host returned, not saying a word and sans Alastor. Before you could find the courage to ask him anything, a hand smacked your arm from behind.

“I thought you’d be more fatale and less femme. Anyways, your deadweight’s in the alley.” 

A small woman with bleach blonde hair had snuck up behind you, seemingly from the outside, “He’s got his card back. He’s your problem now!”

She brushed past you and disappeared into the restaurant.

“Have a nice evening.” The host dismissed you. A confused pause, the series of events had been so fast you were left quite literally spun around. 

When you tentatively turned back to leave, you saw Alastor stumbling onto the sidewalk. 

“Hey! Alastor.” You half shouted, Alastor seemingly unaware of his surroundings. Apparent in how he nearly collided into a group passing the restaurant.

He turned, smiled, and rushed towards you. Taking your head in his hands he kissed you on the lips, and when you pulled back he leaned in, tongue pressing into your mouth.

You screamed into his mouth, pushing him off. Looking back briefly before dragging him away, you saw the host staring at you through the clear windowed door. He was not impressed. As much as you enjoyed his kisses, it was out of character and out of class to make out on the sidewalk. 

Parks were different. Parks were made for such things. 

“What has gotten into you? You taste like a fucking distillery.” You reached the corner of the street and stopped, “Where’s your car?”

He was drunk. Completely smashed. Normally you wouldn’t care, drunk Alastor could be quite cute. But you’d been prepared for and in need of someone to talk to. Someone to ease the mess of feelings in your gut. Instead you were handed a job as caretaker and impromptu driver. You’d have to wait until the morning for any kind of sympathetic comfort. 

He hadn’t even mentioned the arrest yet or asked you how you were. Yes, he looked elated to see you. Eyes wide and adoring when he took you by the face. But you needed more than adoration now. And instead you had a mess of a man struggling to maintain his balance.

On the safety of his porch, or perhaps together at a bar, it’d be just fine. 

But this was neither safe nor fine. 

Alastor pulled his arm from your hold, “At that little park. Audubon.” He pointed west, saying it with a perfect accent. “Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” He crossed the street without looking. 

You had to run to catch up to him, his long legs carrying him further and faster than you. It took a second to understand who he was talking about, clearly he’d been having a silent conversation until now. “Alastor. You’re drunk. No.” You managed to get in front of him, eyes surely begging.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.”

“Alastor!” He stumbled past you and toward the park. “Hey. You can’t-,” 

He wheeled around on his heels, hand pointing a sharp finger at you. 

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” a pause as he lost his balance and leaned too far to the right, catching himself with a sneer to his own legs. He turned back and continued on his way, “what I can and cannot do.” You stopped. The sound of his mother’s shoes no longer snapping behind him made Alastor pause his clumsy march and look back at you. “Are ya really not comin’?” His sharp tone had shifted down to a whiny, almost pleading one.

“Who am I, Alastor?” In the past you’d try to hide when you were wounded, as prey animals often do. But you were different from who you were before. Already, you were changed. Hiding yourself from him felt like betrayal, so you’d abandoned it some time ago. Your chin quivered, hands gripping the sides of your dress in stress. Your eyes were pleading with him to not do this. To not throw you away so easily. Diminish you with one slurred sentence. It felt like a dare to your pride. A choice, your self respect or his attention. It was a rhetorical question, as the answer would be a revelation to an entirely different quandary. 

He laughed, “Now who’s drunk?” Your arms crossed your chest and your eyes narrowed further into slits. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

“Well!” He gawked, “This is different. He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-,” he practically yelled it into the night.

“Shhh!” You hissed, a couple crossing the street to put distance between you both and themselves, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

Alastor stared you down, his height finally mattering in a way you didn’t like. 

Your eyes narrowed further, Alastor. Unspoken and yet screamed across the sidewalk. You weren’t scared of him, of his height or his sharp eyes or the fact you knew he so often carried a knife beneath his vest. No. Because he was a smart man and a smart man would never be so stupid as to physically harm you. Not unless he planned to kill you. And Alastor wouldn’t do that unless you were honestly bad.

The only way he could ever truly hurt you was with that cutting muscle behind his teeth. 

He tried to straighten his back to gather some kind of dignity and perhaps a show of dominance but stumbled backwards. He caught himself again with the brick wall beside him. 

Mind racing, you had to think of alternatives. Fight him for the keys? Cut into his tires? Just leave him to his own selfish devices? 

He could afford to fix the rubber tires, you thought. You couldn’t afford him running off the road. 

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” You put your hand out, an indication there was only one answer you expected. When his eyes flitted from your palm to your face and stared blankly, you closed it. “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Turning around, you walked the way you’d both just come because truth be told you had no idea how to get home from where you were. You just needed to get away from him before you said something you didn’t mean. Before he said something you couldn’t forget. 

You’d barely gotten five steps when you heard a clank to the ground. Turning just enough to see behind you, you noticed the car door key on the sidewalk. Alastor’s grin wide and childlike.

Never had you felt true anger for him before. The water rising in your chest raged against your ribs and you were sure you’d drown in your own fury before long. Another second of imagined possibilities — kick them into the storm drain, throw them into a bush, take them and leave entirely.

Before you could pick one he stumbled over while bent in half the entire time, scooping the keys and holding them out for you to take.

A list of names flew over your tongue but stayed behind your clenched teeth, snatching the keys from his hand and leaving him to struggle behind you. 

The walk was silent, Alastor several paces behind you with his hands in his pockets.

He slumped against the passenger side window the entire car ride home. You struggled with the shifting stick, and he didn’t offer any help. A petulant brat pouting into the glass.

As soon as you’d gotten into the house Alastor made a sloppy beeline to the sofa and fell face first.

“You’re mad at me.” You said from the doorway, dropping his keys into the bowl beside the door. It felt odd, you were the one who had every right to be pissed. But he was showing it in a much more egregious way. His anger made the least sense to you. 

“No. I’m mad.” He grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his head. “Full stop.”

Obviously, but why? Not an ounce of compassion could be managed for you? When you were the one who’d been humiliated and dragged from your place of work in handcuffs? 

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Sleeping alone in his bed didn’t seem right.

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He closed his eyes, apparently in a fake sleep.

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” His mother’s old room. You absolutely didn’t want to sleep there. 

“No.” He didn’t look at you. 

You stared for a moment, disbelief painted on your face as your own frustration swelled again.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” You turned to go upstairs before coming back, something your mother always did in arguments that you hated, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

He didn’t even stir.

After placing his mother’s shoes at the end of the bed, you got undressed and properly washed your face. It wasn’t until you were under the covers, alone, did you begin to cry. It was mostly anger, if you were honest. But a good dose of self pity mixed in. Practically running to find him, after thinking about just him for hours before, and to be met with a drunken child was disappointing beyond measure. And the disrespect of tossing his keys…

The bed felt so big and so foreign now. Just sitting in it made you feel like shit. A stranger, unwanted in someone else’s home. You could remember the uneasy feeling you had when your mother would leave you with friends when she had work. How every inch moved felt like you were brushing into poison ivy, it wasn’t your space, you didn’t know the rules or the norms. Now you felt you no longer knew your place in Alastor’s home. 

If you weren’t scared you’d never see him again you’d have just walked the several hours home. Knees to your chin, you didn’t bother with wiping away your tears. It added to the wallowing you were experiencing.

What did he mean? Why would he say it like that? Had it been a lie the whole time, that he’d stop killing if you asked him to? Alastor had never hissed quite like he had then. 

It felt like a lie, and now you questioned everything. Maybe while you worked he was out killing people. You never pushed him much about what he did while you were away.

A secondary thought simultaneously played with that one. No, you’d have noticed him at night taking care of the body. Your face slipped past your knees and pressed into the tops of your thighs, as quickly as the fear receded your melancholy swept back in.

Fine, but if he lied about stopping then you didn’t mean as much as he claimed.

Which was fine, you lied to yourself. You just needed to know the parameters so you could stay within them. Not take things too seriously. Not expect too much from him.

Not give too much of yourself. 

A second wave of tears, chin trembling.

Idiot. 

Maybe Brady had been right. Were you just some dumb dame? You’d done so much for him and now with some liquor you were just another person to him.

Then a sickening feeling made your throat tighten. Had getting arrested made you no longer attractive? Perhaps he blamed you. Being publicly dragged into a police station was the closest he had ever been to being found out and it was your fault. Fuck, even his name. That had been you who said it so casually. 

You didn’t want to be somewhere you weren’t welcomed.

Slipping out of bed, you pulled your bag from the closet and sat it on the dresser.

You couldn’t believe you had wanted to tell him you loved him. How long had you choked back those words for your own personal safety, just to be in a man’s home far from your own with no real way back. You pulled your dresses from the closet, and paused.

Alastor had been lovingly removing your stockings just a week or so ago. 

After tossing innards into the water. He’d showed you where he buried the only evidence of his expansive crimes. He trusted you with things he’d never shown anyone, something you felt sure of given his freedom. 

Glancing up through tear-heavy lashes, you saw your reflection in the mirror and remembered how he kissed your shoulder and undressed you. His promise to keep you warm.

A shiny and sunlit movie played of him slipping off your shoes and putting yours on his feet. 

Your mother had always said you were too quick to give up when things didn’t come easy. You resented that, but now it was ringing painfully true. 

You put the dresses back, tossing your bag to the floor and kicking it halfheartedly under the dresser.

Lying down again, you tried to take deep breaths. He’d said he wasn’t mad at you. Was he not allowed to make mistakes? Could he not be angry around you without you taking it personally even when he said it wasn't for you? That was unfair of you. You were expecting a drunk man to speak clearly and with well thought out perception of how he’d be heard. The reasons for his drunkenness were unknown, and when you stopped to consider things more, you’d never just out right told him how you felt. Until you were upset and going up the stairs. Admittedly, to your defense, he was very drunk. 

He owed you an apology, that was absolutely expected given the way he’d spoken and tossed his keys, but he’d done enough to earn the right to explain himself before you just up and left in the middle of the night.

The idea of him waking up to an empty home and a migraine almost brought you back to tears. Alastor’s distaste for being alone had become clear, in the way he used to go out often just to have dance company, how he so quickly pulled you into his home and lap. You’d feel his heart break from across the river if you up and left while he slept. 

Johnny had said he was a mess before, clearly he did care to some degree. You’d trusted him this long. You’d killed a man for him. You could give him a night to be an ass and hear him out in the morning.

But if he didn’t apologize, if he didn’t seem to understand how selfish and unkind he had been to you… You rolled onto your side and tried to straighten your legs but felt vulnerable like that. Pulling them up again you curled into a ball and focused on deep calming breaths. It would be fine. The best way to find out if someone was worth trusting was to trust them. Alastor had been worth so much more than you’d expected a person could be. This was just a hiccup. 

Thinking back on past relationships, you realized most first fights were also your last fights. If you and someone had friction, it was easiest to walk away and try again. There was no expectation of a picture perfect romance, not at all. But once someone disappointed you, it was hard to see them again in a positive light. Throwing things away had always been simpler than putting in the work to fix them. Once you’ve done that, you’ve shown someone your hand. You’ve shown them they mattered and they could use that against you. 

People who knew they were important to you could hold that over your head and push just how much they could get away with. 

Alastor, what more could he do? What on earth could he possibly get away with? He had no interest in stepping out, and he couldn’t easily date when his hobbies and home were crime scenes.

The person with the most to lose was him, you realized. Maybe not lose you, you didn’t pretend you were that important to him. But his life away from iron bars and cuffs was now dependent on you. If he had always been a few too many drinks away from fucking that all up, he’d have been caught a long time ago. 

He would make it better. He would say whatever really happened in the morning and fix it. You could trust that and let your eyes finally close. Alastor hadn’t failed you yet, and you believed he wouldn’t start now. 

When you woke up, it was early. Unnaturally early for you. But stress did that. Whatever the opposite of Christmas morning, that was the mechanism pulling you out of bed as the sun was just beginning to rise. 

He was still asleep on the couch when you crept down the stairs. He looked like shit. Which made you feel a little good. If he looked perfect it’d be immensely dissatisfying. You tried to open the back door quietly but the old hinges whined and the swollen wooden door snapped against the frame when you let it go. 

Sitting on the top of the porch steps that led to the backyard, if you could call such an expanse that, you tried to take in the wet cool air. It was officially fall. Soon you’d have to pull out your coat. Your toes wiggled against the flaking paint of the steps, you still needed to go home and get your shoes. 

A groan and you doubled over, you were assuming so confidently that you’d still be staying with Alastor. That was a good thing, right? Or…. you weren’t sure. You had no healthy relationships to look to for guidance. Rolling your back up, you looked up at the dark cobalt sky fading into baby blue, a color that matched the ceiling of the porch above you. 

You heard the creak of the screen door and felt the old wood bend behind you as he finally stumbled out. He plopped down beside you, before lowering himself to his right side and resting his head on your lap. He stared out at the greenhouse like you did. Your hands twitched to touch him, but you kept them to your sides. 

“You are my darling.” He said with a raspy voice hoarse from an intoxicated dehydration. You finally looked at him, but he didn’t meet the gaze. “That’s who you are.”

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last night.” Your tone was cold and sharp, spoken like a stranger scolding another. Stay strong, you thought. Make him understand how he made you feel before, even if you were already cooling off. 

You saw the fabric of your white slip turn a storm grey beneath his face, tears tumbling across the bridge of his nose before seeping into the night dress.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” he sighed and you took your opportunity.

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” He whined, eyelids coming to act as a poor dam, “And drunk.”

“And disrespectful.”

He groaned now, shoulders tightening in shame, “That too.”

You understood he was angry. Did he think you weren’t? You’d been humiliated. You’d been interrogated. 

“I want to split his skull with an ax.” His fingers were playing with something beneath his closed thighs, hands pressed between them.  “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong.” You caught a glimpse of the bright yellow handkerchief being wrung between sweaty palms with nervous fingers when he finally opened his legs. “I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.”

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult evening?” You felt a flame in your chest again. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

He nodded, slick and smooth face gliding over the silk. A sob, choked and broken as he buried his head again into your lap. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” 

The heavy and hot indignation finally began to cool in you, and you let yourself run your fingers through his hair. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” He asked your thighs.

You thought for a moment. The safety in Alastor’s killings were the degrees of separation between him and his targets. The plausible deniability. The lack of obvious motive. If you could find that same safety net when killing Brady, then, sure. “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

His arms came to hold onto your legs, soft pads of his digits stroking the skin beneath your clothing.

“He went too far.” Alastor muttered, moving his head enough to look at you from the corner of his eyes. 

“And he knows your name.” You added, the arrest being of equal importance if not less. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” Alastor inched his body closer to you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” His head turned, the soft and sharp features alike of his face burying into your lap. A gentle shake of his shoulders as he lost his fight to not weep openly into you broke your heart. He let out a weak and muffled series of sounds, followed by a louder and clearer, “Do you want to leave me?”

Wincing, you remembered how close you’d been to doing just that. It was good though that he asked. Indicating Alastor knew how serious you took the way he had acted the night before. 

You pulled his head up by the back of his collar. With your first good look at him in the crisp orange morning light you could see his lips were red and raw from nervous chewing, his hair lacking its usual shine or form. The right side of his face was wet. Tears new and old began to reroute and slide down his high cheeks and pointed jaw. They met at the very bottom of his chin, for the first time in their short lives, and dropped onto you in little couplings. Falling like they were made to always do just that. Just now. Just for him. A fate you could understand so naturally it was bordering on unnerving. A love story you were sure you were playing out.

How rarely you’d seen a man cry. In the past perhaps you’d have been put off. Cringed. Considered it a pathetic show of weakness and lost respect for them. But all you could feel now was a pain so deep and all encompassing it felt as if your skin was cracking off. A dry river bed in the heat of summer. What had been there before? Disgust? Indifference? Even his tears were of a magnitude more important than anyone else’s. Every piece of him mattered more to you. 

Leave him? Of course not. No matter what he did, dead or alive, monster or man, you would never hate him enough. And that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No, that absolutely wasn’t a good thing. A dangerous something he could never fully be told. 

Oh.

Ruth’s words on the roof crawled from their grave and tugged at your ankles. 

You were in that worst kind of love; Unconditional. 

Fireworks were out of the question but you could manage something for him. You had to tell him. Things were too far gone now and you couldn’t be sure how much time was left now that Brady had a name.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” Your thumbs wiped away his tears. The handkerchief came back to view, so you gingerly took it and dabbed the sacred lacrima from his cheeks. You took his head between both hands and stared unflinching into the sweet, sun kissed brown of his eyes, “I never want to leave you. Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.” 

“What have I told you? Don’t mention those things. The spirits are listening.” He attempted a gentle smile through his tear stained cheeks and you couldn’t stop yourself from kissing him. How could someone so good with a knife be so soft?

Another torrent of tears from him and a reply so earnest and so sure your body leaned back with surprise, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” He half whispered it into the ether.

Please, you begged whoever listened when you prayed, don’t weaken my self respect. Straightening your back to summon some form of resolve, you voiced it.

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” you trailed off, begging him to not make you say it. Don’t force you to make threats you didn’t want to keep. Things you’d be ashamed of not following through with. Little self failures you were genetically predisposed of committing. 

“You can take my heart with you.” 

A wonderful reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The Release (Alastor)

When Alastor didn’t see you at the side door or back street, he dared to walk around the block to the front of the theater. He was surprised, like many others, to find the doors locked.

A trickle of fear dropped down his spine. Worst case scenario didn’t quite exist as some ladder of concerns, he just felt tremendous fear you were dead. That was the only rung. Had someone been watching you, that he didn’t notice as he was too preoccupied with watching Brady? 

“Alastor?” 

His eyes snapped from the marquee to the young man poking his head out of the doors. 

He nodded, “Johnathon, right?” Alastor moved on autopilot, hand coming to shake your manager’s.

“Johnny. Come inside.”

Alastor didn’t move. Hand still in the air between them. Johnny registered the distinct lack of light in Alastor’s eyes. He took a deep breath in, Alastor looked like a photograph of a man before him. There but, just a facsimile of human.

“She’s okay. Come on.” He gestured firmly, Alastor blinking back to life and slipping in.

Ruth hopped from her seat at the sight of the tall paramour. 

“The bastard arrested her! Prostitution.��� 

Alastor’s mouth opened and then closed. He swallowed, then smiled, and his head did a little tilt. Ruth looked from him to Johnny. Alastor’s rolodex of canned responses spun infinitely around in his mind. Nothing was catching. There wasn’t a facial expression or comment or body posture in existence he had prepared for this conversation. Because he hadn’t ever predicted such a situation.

“He did it in front of everyone. He made a real scene of it.” Johnny leaned against the bar and tapped a cigarette, “I told her I’d fill you in.”

Brady had arrested you. You’d been arrested. 

“Prostitution?” Alastor finally spoke.

Ruth shook her head, “Yeah but absolute bullshit. She doesn’t have any want or need for extra money.”

Alastor nodded. It wasn’t his worry. His eyes quickly flitted around the air to the concern of the other two, searching his memory for any sense.

The man he punched? What was his name again? No. He didn’t know where you worked. He didn’t know your name. 

But, perhaps— no. He blinked away his runaway errands list.

“Any idea of the bond? How much should I bring?” He patted his pockets, fingers fumbling when he fished out his wallet. “I could get more, but I’ll need to go—,”

He was in disarray, a tremble in his hands making him pause and stare at his own body with a loss of recognition.

“I’m not sure…” Johnny said it slowly, “Ruth could you grab her bag from the back for me.”

When she was out of ear shot Johnny set his hand on Alastor’s, who was still staring in confusion at his own limbs, and made him lower the wallet.  

“Hey, I was there that night you cornered Tommy into the booth. I saw you two. The night he hit her. Tommy was a real piece of shit. And I’m glad he’s gone.”

Alastor’s eyes met Johnny’s and he wondered what he looked like to the other man. He felt the corner of his frozen smile twitch but he managed to keep from reacting otherwise. How many missteps had he taken?

For a moment, time stood still and he imagined dragging Johnny into the alley by his neck. Then Ruth. Who else needed to go? He’d carry them all away into the dark. 

“I'm no rat! I didn’t tell anyone anything.” A beat as he tried to read the face Alastor was making. A small tight smile and wide eyes that made Johnny’s skin crawl. Was he angry? No, his brows weren’t scrunched up. Was he suspicious? Maybe. Whatever feeling a trapped fox feels when the hound is close. But Johnny didn’t register that. “Just, ya know, I’m glad someone told him off. He was shaking like a leaf after. Anyway,” a nervous clearing of his throat, “I don’t think you should go to the precinct. I’ll go, I’ll pay the bail with some cash from the safe. You two can pay it back.”

No response. Alastor’s thoughts a tangled ball of red wool yarn, every time he tried to pull out a coherent reply the knot seemed to tighten and stiffen. He leaned back a little, trying to fit more of Johnny into his view. Wanting all of the smaller man to be seen.

“I feel kinda responsible. I should have spoken up when I learned what he was doing.” Johnny offered a smile of his own, something about it made him look younger than he was. “Just tell me where you’ll be, I’ll send her that way when she’s released. Maybe in the morning.”

“Responsible for what?” Ruth smacked Alastor’s arm with your small black handbag.

“For her arrest. I should have done more.” Johnny thanked her for the bag. “Where should I say you’ll be?”

“I’ll wait in my car.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll go crazy like that, just find somewhere quiet and have a drink.” Ruth turned Alastor around and pushed him towards the doors. 

“The Golden Dish. I’ll be there. Just,” Alastor stopped to pull a card from his wallet and hand it to Johnny, “Tell her to give the host this card and ask for me.”

“Well, go have a drink, try to just… try to stay calm.” Ruth’s words barely entered his mind as he stumbled out into the night. Thoughts came so quickly and in such a multitude that Alastor found his head entirely empty, unable to latch onto any single one.

He was unlocking his car door and then he looked up — he was across the street from the station. How he got from the theater to here was unknown to him. Clearly he had driven, but with what mind he had no idea. 

Long fingers gripped the steering wheel, knuckles an uncomfortable white with the force. How much would it take to snap the wheel? Had anyone ever tried before?

A deep breath, he didn’t remember holding it until his head began spinning. In the mess of thoughts, he saw flashes of what he could do. Questions to narrow down his options. Did the rooms have windows? Could he climb in one and drag Brady out?

But he didn’t know how many people there were. How many rooms. Where Brady was. Where you were.

Deep breath, he was holding it again and the thought of you being grilled by a cop made him involuntarily gasp for air.

There was no fear you’d say anything. It simply didn’t exist. Even trying to conjure the idea of you telling anyone who he was and what he did was ridiculous to him. A dark part of him knew that notion was born out of a blinding fear and not out of true trust. Because if you did such a thing, it’d mean he’d been wrong about everything. That he couldn’t trust his own decisions anymore. What would he do if you did confess?

Well, he was quite sure he’d die. Perhaps not literally. But Alastor as he was would wither and disappear. He’d be someone —- something entirely different.

But he didn’t stop to think about that. Because it wasn’t a possibility. 

With a full body tremble, Alastor leaned back into the seat and ran his fingers through his hair. He felt torn down the center. Half of him was marching into the station and doing…. He wasn’t sure. The rest was just black.

Half of him was driving away to go hide in a glass of whisky until you were released.

What would you want him to do?

He started the car and headed toward the river’s edge, hoping to find a parking spot not too far from the illicit bar.

Alastor made a beeline for the bathrooms just past the entrance of the Grano D'oro. His hair was mussed, his pupils constricted. He drew his bottom lip in and began chewing it nervously, hands pushing his hair back into some form of style. A cough to clear out his tightening throat, he straightened his bow tie and suit jacket. Staring at his reflection, he flinched. An unsettling feeling in his bones that if he stared long enough, it would take on a life of its own.

Something wasn’t right. His nightmares were back and following him around in his waking hours. Terrors of losing his control over himself. Deep seated insecurities about his work.

Alastor approached the host and explained his card was on loan to someone who would be by later. Normally it didn’t work like that, no card meant no entry. But Alastor was a regular. The man nodded and led Alastor into the main dining hall.

Alastor offered passing pleasantries to a few people and smiled as he was escorted past them to the private dining section of Grano D'oro. Separated by another large but closed curtain, the host moved it aside and let Alastor enter. The hall had a few doors but two large doors swung out from the kitchen.

Through the kitchen, with a smile and another nod to the staff who all sang his name as he walked by, Alastor made it to the barely visible door to the side.

Finally, he descended the stairs to the very lively and very lovely bar of his dear friend, Mimzy.

She clapped her hands enthusiastically at the sight of him, taking him by the arm and dragging him to the counter.

“Little late for you isn’t it? Shouldn’t you be at home with your heart.” She dragged out the word, eyes rolling not at the idea of you but at the idea of someone being more important than a night out.

Alastor plopped onto the stool and came to rest both elbows on the bar, “Should be.”

“Fight?” She was already wiping down a glass for him, his head was in his hands which was… a new sight. Sloppily, with some splashing out and onto the bar top, she poured two fingers and slid it to him.

“Worse. Arrest.” His hands curled around the cup and he considered not drinking it at all. His mother warned him to never drink alone and never drink when upset. He fudged the first rule often. But he really did follow the second. 

“Oh fuck.” Mimzy added two more fingers to the glass. “What for?”

He stared into the whisky before taking a large mouthful and forcing it down with a burning gulp, “Prostitution.” He croaked.

“That’s not illegal.” 

Alastor’s stress was momentarily broken and he looked incredulously at who could be called his closest friend, “Yes, it is, Mimz.”

With a hand on her hip she looked up in thought, “Huh…. Well, ya learn something new every day!”

Alastor held the glass with both hands now, “You do know alcohol is illegal, right? Production and consumption?” He watched her face sour, hand moving to gesture at the windowless room they were in.

“Duh. Why else would I be in this makeshift box?” It was rhetorical, Alastor rolling his eyes and lowering his face to his glass. 

Nervously he chewed on his bottom lip, biting red lines into the soft pink flesh. Mimzy stared, unnoticed. She couldn’t remember the last time he looked sad. He did sometimes open up when drunk, perhaps smiling through a pitiful story. Or dancing when she knew he was bruised in either his ego or his heart. But, normally, for Alastor, he kept the obvious and plain emotions kept tightly buttoned up. 

“So, why are you here all long faced? Did you arrest her or something?”

Alastor’s fingers found their way into his hair again, “I might as well have. It’s my fault.”

It was, without a doubt in his mind, his fault. He pulled you in. He killed your boss without any care for what you thought. He made you a shield and a target, stupid. Alastor couldn’t argue against it. 

You’d been forced to lie for him. To sneak and hide from police for him. He was no better than the spineless men he often chased. How could he be so selfish? It stung his chest and his eyes, the thought of you so sweetly sitting beside him just to be dragged into a police station. It was his fault. 

Mimzy hummed, pretending to wipe down the counter, “Then fix it. If you fucking did it, then make it better.”

Yes, obviously, but, “I don’t know how. I-,” Another forced mouthful of whisky, “I roughed up her former guy. For mistreating her. He’s been going around causing trouble now, lying about her. He doesn’t know it was me.” A lie that roughly summed up the trouble. Enough that he could vent, perhaps get third party insight. Though, admittedly, Mimzy wasn’t his first person to turn to for advice. 

“And you can’t just,” she made a fist with her thumb stuck out and dragged it across her neck in a cutting motion, “get rid of the issue?”

Killing Brady would solve everything. And it’d feel good. It’d feel….ah, he leaned back, letting his chest open and fill with the shadow of satisfaction, it’d be the best kill yet. How would he do it, he wondered. It’d have to be special. Slow. Perhaps even over the course of days. Oh, or better yet, perhaps he could show Brady exactly how he disposed of his targets. Piece by piece, taking from him and letting him watch as he buried his parts in deep holes. Giving him all the answers to his questions before snuffing out his nagging life. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t see Mimzy walk away and come back with a different bottle. The big guns, she thought. 

“That a no? Weeell,” She poured herself a glass, “Maybe go talk to the guy. Put the fear of God in ‘em! Let him know if he tries anymore shit,” she waved her finger around, “he’s gonna eat dirt.”

A threat….scare him? 

No one would believe Brady, he considered. If someone pulled him back into the shadows of his tree lined street with a blade to his throat and gave him the warning of what was to come if he kept this up….Did he have any allies in this at work?

“But you can’t do nothing. She’s your gal, right? Arresting her is like….it’s like throwing a drink in your face. He’s embarrassing you.”

A lump rose in this throat, the two large gulps of drink metabolizing and carrying away his ability to remember not to take advice from Mimzy. 

In fact, as he took a slower sip of his somehow still full glass, he thought she was quite right. Brady was testing his pride. Hurting the closest person he had to get at him. This was villain activity. 

If he didn’t reply, he’d be saying he didn’t care at all about you. He’d be the man Brady told you he was. A coward using you until you weren’t convenient anymore. Alastor’s leg began to bounce against the stool’s foothold. Yes, yeah, he had to act. Someone was challenging him. Someone was swinging you around in front of him, taunting how weak he was that he couldn’t even protect you. 

Either Brady thought Alastor was all bark and no bite, only attacking men alone at night, or, worse, he thought Alastor was using you.

Alastor stood quickly, but paused as his head sloshed to the left and he leaned with it. Steadying himself on the bar he looked down at Mimzy.

“Ah, he’s at work.” He stated it plainly, as if Mimzy already knew this. 

“Oh, then just enjoy some drinks and jazz while you wait! When is he off?”

“I don’t know…but, she’ll come get me when she’s released. So….after that?” Alastor was already losing sight of the lie he had told her earlier. He didn’t notice her top up his glass for a third time. 

“Perfect! Now, gossip. You gotta fill me in with the trashy news. You haven’t come by in so long.” She leaned across the bar, swirling her glass clumsily, big eyes blinking.

“Don’t try to distract me. I’m in no mood for such trivial things, Mimz. My love was arrested. At work no less. I’m useless.”

The very notion of thinking about anything but you made his stomach turn. 

As the time ticked on though, that turning was quickly becoming more of a reaction to the liquor and less to do with his stress. 

The only person who knew how much he’d downed was Mimzy, who kept track on his tab with an out-of-character diligence. When the host knocked on the door, she opened it to receive Alastor’s card and knew you must have come for him. 

Getting him up the stairs was difficult, but he was too drunk to let him go through the restaurant. The fine people upstairs had no idea liquor was being served in their fancy dining hall. So Mimzy let Alastor lean on her as she pushed them through the back doors and to the storage room. Opening the trash shoot, she pushed the man out and let him trip through the small opening. 

“This way, big guy,” She tugged him by the lapel through the alley and toward the street. 

She saw you standing there, looking into the restaurant expectedly, and told him to stay put. Mimzy slipped his card into his suit pocket and bee lined to you. You looked different than she’d expected. She wasn’t really sure what she was expecting…actually, on second thought, she had just imagined a female Alastor. Alastor with a perm and an empire waist dress. A little out of fashion but classy. 

She smacked your arm with the back of her hand and left you to him. 

Alastor stumbled onto the sidewalk, the lights blinding compared to the dark and smokey illicit club down he’d just fallen out of. He’d never used the back door, and he decided, somewhere in the mess of his thoughts, he didn’t particularly care for it. 

“Hey! Alastor!”

His head swung around at the sound of your voice, it was you. You were free. Shrugging off his panic like a heavy fur coat he rushed to you, taking your face in his big hands to kiss you. Grateful. He was so grateful you were back. He couldn’t let Brady take you again. How could he show you how seriously he felt?

What did people like? Kisses. People liked kisses. And passion. And touch. 

He’d translate his determination into lavishing you. When you made a yelp and pushed him away, he was confused. Why weren’t you happy to see him? 

Icy cold fear dripped and trickled down his ribs that Brady had said something to make you believe you were just collateral. You pulled him by the wrist, not looking at him, and he felt sure he had made a mistake in not going to the station. 

In the mud that was his thinking, he was sure this was the issue. What an idiot. He never let others tell him how to act or live, and yet he let some manager keep him from seeing you? He let a pissant like Brady take you and whisper poison into your ear. 

He had to fix it. He had to make it better. 

“Where’s your car?”

Ah, his car! Yes! Alastor had the power to make this all better immediately. Why didn’t he do this an hour ago? He couldn’t remember…. Alastor took his arm back, pointing you toward the park, “At that little park. Audubon.” It was a lovely little park, he thought. 

Your breath against his body when you and him first entertained affection came to his mind so intensely he thought maybe he had been pulled back in time. He paused, remembering the last park you both sat in, covered in blood and trembling. 

He needed to make it up to you.

“Anyway, I’m gonna kill him. Maybe right now! Did I tell ya? I know where he lives.” The stalking and studying was part of the fun, it made the meal tastier. And he had been sure to study Brady. When his work ended and you were busy still, he learned everything he could about the nosy cop. 

Unfortunately, most of what he learned was that Brady rarely went home at a normal time and he was relentless in his pursuit of information about you both. Many nights he shadowed the detective and heard Brady pestering and questioning locals about missing people and illegal going-ons at your theater. It wasn’t because he wanted to clean up the streets, that was obvious. Those nightly walks were a pig sniffing around in the mud for a kernel. All he needed was a good enough accusation to rush in and shut shit down. 

“Alastor.” Your voice saying his name pulled him back to the present, he paused for a beat to figure out where he was, he had thought you’d both been in front of the restaurant just a second ago. 

“You’re drunk. No.”

You slipped in front of him, making him nearly collide into you. No? Yes! What did drunkenness have to do with anything? Perhaps you didn’t understand. He did the work! He knew exactly what to do and where to go. Ah, of course. You didn’t know. How could you? He never told you what he did while waiting for you to finish up at work.

“Alastor, yes. He’s got two kids, a wife. He stays out late, obsessin’ over us no doubt.” Raising his head, he felt a swell of pride. Don’t worry, dear. I’ve not made mistakes this time.

You hissed his name as he moved past you, if he was quick he could catch the bastard before he got into his house. His road was lined with trees, shady and quiet. It’d be so easy. Fuck, it was even better suited for his hobbies than alleys and parks. How odd. 

“Hey. You can’t-,”

The word set something off in him. Can’t? Why do people keep telling him what to do or not to do?! Why were people always fucking giving him limitations? 

Brady had done this. You’d never– He was just trying to clean up his mess. Why did people think they could dictate his life so freely? Why did what he wanted to do not matter, even though he was just trying to be a good man?

“Who are you to stop me? To tell me,” He whipped around, losing his balance as he tried to recorrect. Alastor paused to stare down at his legs. Et tu, crura? Even his own body was betraying him. Saying his desires were moot points. Fine, fuck it. He barely needed legs to drive anyway. If he could just do things the way he always did, you’d see how capable he was. Brady would see how fucking stupid he was. Tommy could rot in hell harder if that was an option. 

Ah, it was quiet. How long had he been in his head? Had you said something and he didn’t hear? Oh you had stopped walking. “Are ya really not comin’?”

You had told him to not go alone, to always have you nearby when he killed. You not coming made no sense at all. 

“Who am I, Alastor?” Your voice was high pitched, he could hear your throat constricting. The reason wasn’t known to him though. People often did that before he killed him. 

What an odd question. Had you used your stage name so long you’d forgotten your true one. He laughed, what a silly thing to ask! “Now who is drunk?”

When your arms crossed and you glared back at him, his head cocked to the side. He wondered if you were playing around. You often pretended to be cross with him to make him pull you close and make you smile. 

“I thought you’d stop if I asked. I thought I was your equal in this.”

Not a joke. Well yes, of course you were. But this wasn’t that. 

“Well!” Alastor searched the sidewalk for the words, “This is different! He isn’t like the others. Mister Detective Kenneth Brady is-.” He was getting mad. Not at you, persay, but at the entire mess before him. 

“Shhh!” You seethed, “Give me your key. You can’t drive like this.”

What? 

Oh, so now he can’t drive? Your trust in him had been so eroded with just one private meeting with Brady. And did you shush him? 

Alastor, don’t go to the station. 

Alastor, don’t clean up the mess you made for me. 

Alastor, don’t drive. 

He didn’t want to fight with you. To argue or assert dominance, but…he stood up straighter to simulate sobriety. It failed, his hand jutting out to brace against the wall for stability. A failure that added to a growing pile of failures.

He caught himself and stared back at you. No. It was his car. Alastor was putting his drunken, clumsy foot down.

“If you want me to come with you, I am driving. Make your decision now.” 

When your hand came out for the keys he looked down to it and then back to you. What was that? What were you doing? 

You closed it,  “I won’t let a man waste my time when I’m just trying to help him. You’ve got me confused with someone else.”

Your turning and walking back forward the restaurant made his eyes roll. Oh, the keys still. He pulled them from his pocket, fine, have them. I give up. Failure pile growin’ every minute.

He tossed them into the space between you both, smiling to himself. You wanted the keys, he thought, there you go.

But when you turned around, he could feel the rage rolling off of your body. Alastor couldn’t pinpoint what it was about your face that was different than usual, but just beneath your skin he could see a you he’d never met before. One he didn’t care to meet. 

Fuck. 

He’d fucked up.

A flash of embarrassment sizzled in his stomach before he lurched forward and grabbed the keys, offering them to you properly.

He followed behind, too stubborn to show you the way but unwilling to be without you. 

Leaning into the window, he stared at the city as it rolled by, until it turned to water and then to woods. The air was stiff and suffocating. He hated it. Why were you so mad at him?

Alastor couldn’t understand what had happened. He was so happy to see you but immediately you pushed him away and dragged him off like a child being taken to the headmaster. What had happened at the station, he wondered. There was no way to ask now. The mood was too heavy, and he was too insolent to be the first one to speak. You were mad at him. You didn’t trust him. You, probably, we’re fed up with the complications of his company.

The pain behind his sternum was akin to a splintering rod; stiff, solid, and biting every time he moved. No one had ever made him feel this way before. He couldn’t put his finger on the feeling though, it was sadness, and it hurt, but there was something deeper. Something underneath these shallow reactions that dredged up a vague sense of mourning.

Regret?

He slammed the car door behind him and fell into the sofa as soon as he could. Nothing went right. The day had started so wonderfully… you’d felt like a part of himself he’d finally found. And now….

“You’re mad at me.” He heard the keys hit the bowl. Thank you, he thought. 

Yes. No. Not at you. Not with you. Just, mad. Mad at Brady. Mad at Tommy. Mad at liquor as a general concept. And, the most upsetting, mad at himself. Had he ever been mad at himself before? 

“No.” He sucked in a breath, “I’m mad. Full stop.” He hugged a pillow, he just wanted to be left alone now to wallow in the expanse of these new and awful sensations bleeding into his guts.

He thought it and immediately winced. Not alone alone. Please, if anyone had been listening, please disregard it. That wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t mean that at all.

“You’re acting like a child. Go to your bed. I’ll sleep here.” Your voice was stern, talking down to him. 

“You’re talkin’ to me like a child.” He felt small and stupid. Closing his eyes, he sighed and tried to settle mind. Everything was swimming. Literally. His thoughts and the room were liquid and floating up into the atmosphere. Alastor was confident he would follow them up. 

“You really don’t see the connection between those two things?? Atleast— go to the guest bed.” 

Connection? Yes! You were treating him like a naive child, talking to him like a confused child, pulling him like a disobedient child, holding out your hand to him like he was a selfish child.

“No.” If he opened his eyes he was 90% sure he’d vomit. If he could just bear through the spinning he’d be okay.

“Suit yourself. I don’t have patience for this, Alastor. You’re acting like a brat when I’m the one who had the hard night.” 

He turned his head into the pillow to conceal the frown. 

Patience… there it was. You’d lost patience with him. And you’d been so patient for months now. Waiting in bars and cars while he killed. Waiting for him while he threw body parts into holes and snapping jaws. Waiting for weeks beside him for inspiration to strike and for him to seek your intimacy in more serious touch.

He heard you make it three steps before returning, “And I really don’t appreciate the way you’re treating me. We’ll talk in the morning.”

Alastor’s eyes welled with tears that soaked into the soft yellow pillow. He held his breath until he heard the floor creaking upstairs to let his body shiver with the sob. He’d had you all morning. And he’d kissed you goodbye at work… and then he came to get you. But you were gone. 

He was scared, and angry.

And he got angrier and angrier and now— he couldn’t piece anything together.

Rolling onto his back he held the pillow to his chest. 

Eyes fixed on the ceiling he listened to you prepare for bed. The water ran. The bed groaned. As the liquor took him away the floors creaked again and he hoped maybe you’d come join him on the sofa. Even in silence. Even angry. Just be there so he knew you weren’t done with him entirely. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

When Alastor woke he was alone, the sound of the back door shutting startling him into consciousness. The only evidence he had slept and not just shut his eyes for a couple minutes was the light through the curtains. 

For the briefest, sweetest second he felt excited to see you. It was eclipsed near immediately with the nauseating reality that you’d had a fight the night before and you’d told him…. It was hazy. Clenching his eyes shut he searched through the drunken darkness of the night before.

He had to work backwards. You said you’d lost patience. He was treating you poorly. You’d driven him home. He’d thrown his keys at you.

Alastor groaned, feet kicking the end to the sofa in anger. He had tried to make you pick up the keys off the ground, when all you had done was try to take care of him. 

He remembered you tugging him along the sidewalk, before that… you kissed. No, he kissed. He could distinctly remember trying to lick his way into your mouth. On the sidewalk. In front of a very nice restaurant. The yellow pillow was pulled to his face to muffle his scream.

Drinking was the first mistake, continuing to drink was the second. And now you were upset with him.

He was to blame. It was so obvious now. Not just for the arrest and the negative attention but for the entire evening going tits up. 

Throat tightening, a tingle began in his fingertips and worked its way up his wrists. 

Stupid.

Selfish.

Useless.

Throwing the pillow into the chair opposite the sofa he tossed his legs over and sat up. He couldn’t breath, chest heavy. As his lips began to feel like they were stung with tiny needles, he spread his knees and lowered his head between them.

Not now, he yelled at himself, you’re making this about yourself again. Just like last night.

He’d wanted to fix the problems he’d made so badly but stupidly he’d just burdened you further.

There was no future in that moment. All the little daydreams of you and him were suspended and in jeopardy. Until he spoke to you, had the talk you told him was required, he had nothing. 

For all he knew, you’d made up your mind already. How odd. He himself was the cat in the box. He could already be dead and not even know it.

Alastor couldn’t stand another second of not knowing his fate. Lost in the panic he hadn’t considered at all what Brady had said to you. Taking the steps two by two he found the bed empty. Before turning, vaguely remembering hearing the screen door earlier, something caught his eye and made the world spin again with renewed terror.

The handle of your bag peeking out from under the dresser. It had been in the closet, he had emptied it and put it there for you so he knew that to be a fact.

He closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. Was it full of your things? Were you just waiting to tell him to take you home?

He couldn’t find the courage to check. Rushing past it like it could come to life and grab him by the ankles, he went to the nightstand beside his side of the bed and opened the drawer, the bright yellow of your handkerchief calming him just a sliver. If he kept it, you’d have to come back. He could call you and remind you to come back for it. And then he could convince you to stay. His mother always said he was good with words. If you forgot it at his house when you left he’d have a way to bring you home again. Fresh tears welled, the backs of his hands smearing them into his hairline.

The handkerchief smelled faintly of you still. His bottom lip was sucked between his teeth and the skin picked and pulled. Still carrying the piece of fabric, he leaned over the stairs railing to see you as you sat on the back porch. 

Sitting on the second to last step of the house, he took a moment to collect himself. Being so frazzled, so undone, wasn’t like him. That foreignness just added to the panic. Bringing a hand to his chest, he opened his shirt to run his fingers down his sternum and to the left. A beating heart, evidence he was the survivor in every encounter he’d been in. But now, half a house between your and his back, why did he feel the most in danger? Rarely did fight or flight kick in, the last time he felt it was rolling around with that man who’d tried to choke the life out of you. 

No strange man here now. Just strange feelings. 

The pounding under his fingerprints became sonorous. It was becoming harder to ignore the obvious. 

Deep breaths, he had to prepare his responses. The only way to begin was with an apology, but after that he wasn’t sure where things would go. So he had to make a plan. 

Alastor hoped you’d forgive him, and accept the apology. At which point he would love to imagine himself doing something respectful like kissing your cheeks and thanking you for your mercy. 

If you didn’t accept it….Alastor had never begged a day in his life, but he could see himself begging you to stay. Perhaps hugging your ankles and promising things he didn’t have. There was no longer an impossibility in what he would do, which was alarming. The idea of him being so pathetic and pitiful was nauseating, however there was no one and nothing that could stop that if you got up and left. 

There was no way to run his lines for this. Like many other interactions with you he couldn’t bring the usual tools with him to battle. Either with your wit or point of view, or perhaps today your wrath, you always disarmed him. 

But that was what made you worth the risk. It began as entertainment, but soon enough the dome of your stage extended out and around him, sheltering Alastor in the warm light of your presence. And now as he looked around the railing of his stairs, he was scared to see the exit lights flicker on. 

Walking out the backdoor, he wondered if he would be allowed back in or if the door would lock behind him. 

He knew the exact moment he fucked up, and knew he had to begin there. Barefoot, still in yesterday’s clothes while you were in your night dress, he let himself drop to the space beside you before tentatively bringing his head down to your lap. He avoided eye contact, not yet ready to confront his adjudicator.

The pain in your words from last night were just now beginning to sting his eyes. 

‘Who am I?’

“You are my darling,” It wasn’t until he said it that he realized he hadn’t opened his mouth and spoken yet, his voice was harsh and throat dry. Who were you? It would be easier to list who you weren’t to him now. “That’s who you are.”

No unit of time existed small enough to measure the pause between what he said and your reply, but it felt like a gorge separating his breaths. 

“You sure didn’t make me feel like your anything last tonight.”  He couldn’t remember ever hearing you take such a tone; cutting and cold. Was there no longer warmth in your heart for him? He had been so drunkenly blinded by his own feelings he hadn’t stopped to think about how you were viewing his little tantrum. Maybe he hadn’t ever really had anyone around whose opinion mattered very much.

And he’d made you feel like nothing to him. The mountain of derelictions crumbled under the weight of perhaps his biggest failure of the evening, an avalanche of embarrassment and shame washed over him and he didn’t try to impede his tears. Men were only supposed to cry on their wedding day and at funerals, but he supposed this day could still go either way. Could still be as pivotal to his happiness.

“I know. I’m sorry. I was so,” what word could sum it up?

“Drunk.”

“Enraged.” a high whine caught in his throat, clenching his eyes now as the embarrassment took over stronger than he had thought possible. He felt stupid now saying he was just angry, “And drunk.”

He couldn’t entirely blame the alcohol, but he wouldn’t disagree with you now. 

“And disrespectful.”

Alastor folded in on himself, shoulders drawing in to try and curl up small enough that he ceased to exist in any meaningful way. Disrespectful. He had, he’d disrespected you in public and in private. The stunt with the keys came back and he thought he may just die from the mortification of what he’d done. 

“That too.” His hands nervously wrung the handkerchief beneath his closed thighs. What a terrible morning juxtaposed with the prior day’s bliss. A sigh, soft and weak. He remembered who was the catalyst for his buffoonery. “I want to split his skull with an ax.” 

Argh, it wasn’t about him. “I’m sorry. I— you were not wrong. I didn’t know what to do with myself when your manager said you’d been arrested. I almost drove my car into the station doors.” He was beginning to wish he had.

“So getting zozzled and shouting the personal details of a New Orleans detective into the night seemed… the better option? When I had already had a difficult night?” He flinched at the rising anger in your voice, the rhetoricals were scolding and biting his pride like a nun’s ruler to his knuckles. “When I needed your support? Comfort?”

Perhaps the death blow. All he could do was nod and accept his mistakes. But, it hurt. Not to admit them, but to confront them. Another tidal wave of emotion hit and he had to bury his face back into the cool silk of your nightwear. He couldn’t understand how he had fucked it up so badly. 

No, he had to find words. “I’d never felt so helpless, I just…I responded very selfishly. I’m sorry.” Two words did nothing, they tumbled from his mouth like feathers. Weightless. When the heavy guilt in his chest was threatening to drag him to hell with one misstep, ‘I’m sorry’ was just crystals of salt dropped in the gulf. Actions were all he had left and he wasn’t sure yet you’d give him the time to show you. 

When your fingers grazed his scalp and combed his hair from his ears he shook with relief. A tender touch that promised you didn’t hate him, and his cortisol levels immediately plummeted. He felt safe again, enough to ask what was pestering him still. 

“Will you ever let me kill him?” his lips ghosted over the mercy of your thighs.

As you thought, his fingers ran along the edges of your handkerchief. Feeling the stitched edges with precision as a distraction from the stress of waiting. 

 “When he’s no longer a threat to us. When no one will be shocked to hear he’s dead.” 

No longer a threat… what did that mean? When Brady moved on from you both, or was simply made incapable of doing you harm. He could expedite that, somehow. He was sure of it. 

His arms wrapped around your legs and caressed your thighs through the silk, “He went too far. Turning his head up, he got you into his peripheral. 

“And he knows your name.”

Oh. That … was expediting, wasn’t it? It was bound to happen. 

“I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter.” He pulled himself closer again. Brady was nothing compared to the threat of losing you. “I’ve never been a bigger failure in all my life than last night. In every way. To myself and to you.” What a joke he was. How high and mighty and curated he tried to be that he forgot the point of it. A shield he turned to you was just a barrier between what he desperately wanted by his side. His tears returned with renewed vigor, the complete breakdown of his manicured image was a tell tale heart he couldn’t smile away anymore, the greatest weakness he was never so happy to call his own. Muffled by your clothing and inviting lap, “I just love you so much…” he choked and then sucked in a deep breath to try and get control of himself, shifting his face to the side again to watch your face for an immediate reaction to his question, “Do you want to leave me?”

He didn’t want the answer. He knew better than to ask. But – if you did, he didn’t want to keep you there. He couldn’t let the moment pass without finding out if you were just putting up with him. If you felt trapped, like Brady promised you that you would. When you told him those things, the silly things the detective had said before, you always laughed. You said it was so ridiculous. But, now, there was nothing funny about the idea. He couldn’t promise himself he wouldn’t keep that little yellow fabric in his hands even after you parted, but he could swear to not try and guilt you back into his arms. 

When you lifted him off of your body by the collar he couldn’t understand the emotion behind it. You were inspecting his face so carefully, but there was no sign of disgust or anger or even adoration to signal how he should feel. The teardrops tickled his cheeks and chin and fell unimpeded to your legs. 

Your eyes kept moving over his features, until a small tug of your lips to the side crept into a smile. Soft and obviously natural.

“Give me a little time. I’ll show you how stupid of a question that is over our first fight,” The pads of your thumbs were soft as they slid down his cheeks and gathered the moisture there. When he pulled the handkerchief to his lap, you took it and used it to further dry his face. He exhaled a broken breath when you took his face in your hands and stared into his eyes. “I never want to leave you.” His body again trembled with relief, blinking away the nth torrent of tears, “Even if I do, even if somehow I’m convinced to go, you’ll have to rip your heart out of my cold dead hands or I’ll take it with me.”

Stop. Don’t say that. “What have I told you? Don’t mention those things.” Death. Leaving. Goodbyes. “The spirits are listening.” They were always listening, watching, hoping to grab a hold of anything you said without precision and deliver you the reality you mused. He didn’t want to lecture, but he couldn’t let it go. Shh, don’t say such things. He could feel the dried tears crack as his eyes crinkled with his smile, a smile that he nearly failed to switch up to return the kiss when you pressed your lips into his. A first fight? He’d never had one of those. Typically he never got that far. Things fell apart the second someone was unhappy or unsatisfied. 

Take his heart back? His mind finally processed the words. It was yours. The morning had proved to him he couldn’t claw it back if he truly wanted, and if he was further honest with himself, he didn’t want it. It was better off with you. He felt the air cooling the once body-warm tears, he whispered what he felt was too vulnerable to say at full volume, “But, it’s not mine anymore. Isn’t that obvious?” His eyes looked down at your feet pointed in towards his own. Was this pathetic display not making it glaringly evident he was a man turned inside out? Guts in his hands and heart in yours?

You sniffled and sat up straight, bringing his attention back to you. 

“If you ever speak to me like you did last night again, with that sharp tone and cruel words, sober or not…” Your words got slower until you stopped, an almost wild look in your eyes he could read as pleading. He shook his own head subtly, unconsciously swearing he wouldn’t. 

If he ever forgot himself and you again, like he had let his rage and weakness do the night before, he didn’t deserve your forgiveness or grace anymore. A woman too good for him.  

Because he couldn’t ever get it back now, “You can take my heart with you.” 

A sickening fact. 

His body was a tool, and he’d use every tool he had available to make you understand what you meant to him. Would you feel different now, now that he knew you loved him? Would he find your body warmer, more inviting… Could he make you scream your love for him?

Later, he would have to bookmark that idea. The confession was too fragile still, a crystal figurine to precious to even take out of the box. 

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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[themeraldee]

Mark Me Yours

[Masterlist]

18+ Only | 4.6k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Biting. Established Relationship. Mild Pain Play. Cunnilingus. Fingering (with gloves on).

Written for cozy corner kinktober prompt #16: Biting

Amongst the buzz of some vague Halloween music and constant chatter, Homelander is impatiently looking around the room. As an annual treat, Vought organizes a Halloween-themed party for their shareholders, ambassadors and any and all influential people that get easily swayed by expensive champagne and an impressive catering spread. 

The one person not impressed is Homelander himself. 

He’s had his fill of schmoozing and brown-nosing at Madelyn’s behest. By now he’s just looking for an excuse to leave. He’s not one to indulge in partying like the rest of the Seven. Looking at the state of them leaves him with a bitter feeling. There they are being more rambunctious than ever while he’s the only one who’s trustworthy enough to actually get the job of upselling and marketing done right.

While it’s dressed as a fun party, Vought doesn’t do things for fun. It’s a thinly veiled attempt at getting all the powerful people in the room to spend more money and sign onto more superhero-led campaigns in their fields. Really, to Homelander it’s a waste of fucking time. There are so many better things he could be doing. But no. He’s stuck having to sweet talk every C-suite level person in the room.

And while part of him wishes he could just relax and kick back like the rest of them he just as much scoffs at the childish Halloween costumes the rest of his team came in. Before the party even broke out, Deep thought it would be funny to come dressed in one of those terribly cheap polyester Homelander costumes all the pathetic lowlifes wear on this day of the year.

Pfft. As if they could ever understand the burden that comes with wearing the suit. Neither, really, could Deep. That’s why one look was enough to get through even his thick and algae-infested skull that if he doesn’t change out of the suit there won’t be a body to dress up for the party. 

With an exasperated shake of his head he looks for you. He comes into these parties with decent energy, soaking up the applause and the adoring words but very quickly the praise turns sour when he feels just how empty and vapid each executive he talks to comes across as. They don’t actually care for his attention. They just want to wring him dry for more cash and fame. You’re the only one who’s managed to keep his usually soured high going. Your look doesn’t turn vacant, instead there’s a real person behind those eyes. One that’s his. One that adores him and is his to adore. 

So where the hell were you anyway? Your presence is what makes him tolerate the insipid crowds these days. Besides the fact that he gets to be with you and show you off to the world, he happily uses your name as an excuse to get out of conversations that just about manage to reach levels of stupidity and numbness that even his media-trained smiles and nods can’t keep him looking interested.

Fucking Halloween. What a stupid holiday, he thinks. Homelander slides his tongue over the fake plastic vampire fangs you insisted he wears throughout the night. As if he’s a child that has to partake in the “festivities”. As if it wasn’t enough that he’s gracing everyone here with his effervescent presence. Surrounded by cameras he has no choice but to keep up his flawless smile, now tainted with the silly prop.

And really at this point he’s getting less annoyed and more worried. You promised you’d show up. And while the party is in full effect you’re still nowhere to be seen. Homelander steps a little to the side, removing himself from as much of the chatter and music as he can, instead listening carefully, honing in on the familiar pitter patter of your heart. Only outpaced by the clicking of your heels as you rush across the stone flooring.

Tsk, late as always. 

Not even a minute later you make your way through the open door, immediately looking around for him. Homelander watches you try to calm down your rush as you finally settle your eyes on him. You’re smoothing down your dress and calming your breath. He leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow and with a lifted gloved finger he motions for you to come close.

Thank god you’re finally here. Just the sight of you is enough to release the tension in his shoulders. Relieved that there’s finally someone who he doesn’t have to pretend in front of. 

And what a sight you are. Dressed to the nines, a gorgeous classy black evening dress that fits your body perfectly.

He would know, it’s one of the many he handpicked for you. 

Looking at you now he can’t deny that he’s got impeccable taste. His keen eye is good when it comes to picking clothing that dresses your figure in a flattering way. Not just any dress would do, it always has to be perfect.

Until he actually notices the little band of cat ears across your head that has him recall the very long-winded argument—or an exchange of opinions as you liked to call it—about the importance of dressing up appropriately during any festivities you come to be a part of.

“Look who finally showed up. I was beginning to think you stood me up.” He flashes you a grin, letting the fangs exaggerate the sharpness of his smile. 

You stutter through your answer, caught off guard, and instead of defending your tardiness you change the conversation. Homelander watches as your eyes widen in surprise, locking on the way he slides his tongue over the pointy ends. The shiver that runs through you doesn’t escape him either. Well… isn’t that interesting. 

“Oh my god—I didn’t think— you’re actually wearing them!” Almost comically you put your hand over your mouth in shock and he takes the time to properly look you up and down. In your initial shock you let him in on not one, not two but three secrets. 

From the gasped breath and the excited shiver running down your body he deduces that your earlier adamant begging to have him dress up was for an entirely different indulgence. 

His second surprise upon checking you up and down was the lack of any undergarments. Not that he wouldn’t be able to look through the flimsy bits of fabric as well but the lack of them certainly inspires a mood. 

And the third secret your body lets him in on is just how much you enjoy the sight of his fanged grin. Your thighs rub together but with no fabric to soak into, your slick just squelches in between your legs. A sweet little symphony for his ears only. Maybe tonight won’t be so boring after all. 

If this was the kind of trick or treating he knew he’d be getting he’d have been onboard with the holiday a lot sooner. 

His mouth tugs into a smile but he stops himself, instead tutting and shaking his head.

“Unlike someone, I’m keeping my word.” He rolls his eyes. “After all that hounding you come out in this? So much for dressing up, Mrs Halloween spirit.” He makes a mocking gesture with his hands, waving dramatically over your Halloween costume, if one could call it that.  

“And sweetheart, although you look stunning, your little cat ears definitely don’t count as a costume.” Homelander relishes in the way you swoon under his compliments and attention.

At least someone here understands how valuable it is to have his attention. 

Homelander waves over a waiter, plucking a flute glass off the tray, passing it to you. This breaks you out of your trance and you finally get your words straight.

“Sorry, that’s why I’m late. I had a costume, I swear! Then Ashley needed help with something and then on my way here someone spilled red wine all over my costume, so I had to change. I know it’s not impressive but this was last minute!” 

“Oh, it’s very impressive. Just not very festive of you.” He quotes what you said earlier that evening about his reluctance to wear the stupid Dracula costume you prepared for him.

“If you wanted to come as Catwoman you could’ve worn some swanky latex at least.” 

“Oh no thank you. You’d be peeling me out of that at the end of the night.” And you look cute when you shake your head with that displeased look on your face.

“Who said I won’t be peeling you out of this?” He places his hand on your waist, his glove sliding across the silk of the dress.

“I’m hoping that’s gonna look a little more elegant than the latex suit would.” You lean in, whispering this little secret as if it was just the two of you in the room. You do always make him feel like he’s the only one in the room. Finally, he’s getting the respect he deserves.

“One way to find out.” He graces you with a show of his sharp fangs as he whips out another wide grin. 

It almost wins you over.

But you’re not that easily swayed. And you came here to celebrate Halloween with him. Clearly, he’s not gonna be able to use you as an excuse to leave just yet.

You say just that.

“You can’t leave yet!” You cover your flustered cheeks with a laugh.

Homelander doesn’t give up without a fight, but more importantly there’s nothing he loves more than having an upper hand. “Then why aren’t you wearing any underwear?”

He’s close to leaning you against the wall and boxing you in so you don’t have a chance to get away but he does have appearances to uphold. 

“I—um, I thought I’d keep you motivated to keep your energy up throughout the night.” You’re no stranger to keeping things exciting. Flirting with him is a must and comes naturally. Unless it’s outside the comfort of your home. Then you get all flustered and embarrassed. It’s cute, really. 

“You’re motivating me to leave.” He grumbles and dips his eyes back down your body, making it terribly obvious that he’s not just admiring your dress. 

On the other hand, he’s a better flirt in a crowd. He knows the power that comes with being surrounded by people that adore him and while it’s the comfort in between the two of you that allows that, he takes advantage of being the one who’s seemingly in control. 

“I've barely just arrived!” 

“That's your problem not mine, be punctual next time.”

 “Come on, just another hour. You can manage.”

He rolls his eyes, already beyond fed up with the party. However, he still has a job to do and you take the chance to make your way around the room to make your presence known to other attendees. 

As the time goes on, Homelander catches you looking around for him like a sixth sense tickling the back of his neck and everytime he meets your wandering eyes, giving you a dazzling smile showing off those fake fangs he still puts up with just for you. And each time you look away flustered and move out of his line of sight.

While everyone else is here to kick back, he’s still on duty, actively greasing deals, soft-launching Madelyn’s messaging and repeating the corporate-glazed talking points just to plant the seeds of Vought’s future plans in unsuspecting and mildly inebriated victims. 

The promised excruciating hour later he finally makes his way around the room back to you, pulling you out of the conversation with his media smile aimed at the group. “Sorry folks, you’ll need to excuse my date.” With a hand settling on your lower back, he takes you away into a quieter corner, plucking the empty glass out of your fingers, placing it at a nearby catering table.

“You have been avoiding me.”

“I have not! I just know how busy you are.”

“Right.” He spreads his lips into a wicked smile and he watches as your eyes quickly dart from his eyes to his teeth, not quickly enough for him to miss it. Neither does he miss the way your heart skips a beat.

It’s then he puts his hands on his hips shaking his head with a laugh. “I knew it, you’re into this.” He lifts one hand to wave a gloved finger in your face as if you’ve done something naughty.

“I’m not!” You’re a terrible liar. Homelander just places his hand on your chin as he uses it to tilt your head to one side.

While ignoring your protest he continues. “Is this some sort of Twilight fantasy you’ve got? Want me to bite you here?” 

“What—no!”

He raises his eyebrows, parting his lips as he glides his gloved fingers down your neck with his other hand. As if you were in a secluded bubble he has his eyes firmly set on you, focusing on the hurried beat of your heart. 

Unlike him you fluster. Unable to tune out the sound of the party and the presence of a crowd.

“Stop, you’re embarrassing me!” You squeak out like a little mouse, though your hushed voice makes no difference to Homelander’s keen ears.

While he doesn’t let the topic go, he does let go of your chin, allowing you to straighten up. 

“While I love you very much, I’m not covering myself with glitter.” He chuckles to himself, terribly amused at having found one of your guilty pleasures. “But I can be your super strong and fast vampire if you’d like that.” It’s his turn to turn all hushed and whispered. He talks in a way that he usually indulges in between the sheets yet he can’t resist to see your reaction.

Homelander doesn’t miss the way you shudder at his proposition. He almost melts away your stubborn exterior, but you snap out of the dazed vision and blink your fantasies away. This is not the place.

“Wait, how do you know so much about it? And no, no, it’s not a Twilight fantasy. It doesn’t matter. Does it really need an explanation?” Still continuing with the hushed outrage you pull him with you, backing out of the party hall.

Homelander grins at you widely, purposefully flashing the fangs while you drag him away from the party. You probably think you’re being subtle, trying to blend your bodies in between the incoming crowds. However, his cape alone is as dead giveaway as any. If anyone cared to get his attention at the party they were now keenly aware that he’s left. 

“Nope, not really. I just want to know what’s going on in that fucked up little head of yours.” The lightheartedness that comes with you two prodding one another is not only refreshing; it’s needed. To have someone he can feel like a lovesick teenager with is more important than he expected it to be. 

You act as if you were sneaking away from your parents’ house rather than seeking the quiet comfort of your home.

You secretly make your way down hallways, guiding Homelander behind you.

Even with his hand in yours you reluctantly turn around. The Eurydice to your Orpheus where one look would make him disappear forever. 

He understands the love shared between the two of you. Sometimes it’s so overwhelming it feels like its own living thing. Ever growing. Spreading like mold. Taking over everything that you both are. Be it good or bad. 

When he shuts the door behind the two of you it’s like the rest of the world goes quiet. He can’t stop himself from smiling widely at the sound of your pretty laugh when he spins you in place, clumsily dancing with you across the hardwood floor of his penthouse. 

He didn’t get the luxury of dancing with you during the party so he enjoys the feel of you carefree and against him in the comfort of his personal enclosure.

Neither of you need music to feel the intimate rhythm of your bodies. And really, the party has only just started. Each wrong step results in a giggle and another twirl with which Homelander brings you closer.

The warmth and love Homelander can feel from your laugh is so visceral he needs to taste it. He captures your lips. Simply pressing his against yours. Feeling the vibrations of your giggles against his pursed lips.

Just as he’s parting his lips to deepen the kiss you stop him, placing a hand on his chest. You don’t put any effort into pushing him off, it would be fruitless should you try anyway. 

“Take them out, they’ll get in the way.” You refer to the fangs you’ve been downright drooling over the whole night. Finally. Homelander takes out the prop fangs and tosses them to the side.

With no barriers in the way he devours your lips like he’s been starved for the taste of you all night. He’s drunk on the ease with which you let him take what he wants from you. 

He’s pulling out his best moves tonight. He’s always eager to impress, but tonight especially so. It’s not everyday he finds out about yet another depraved fantasy you’ve been keeping away from him. That alone is a reason to celebrate and pull out all the stops. So if a little innocent vampire roleplay is what you want, a vampire roleplay is what you’ll get. 

Nipping at your lips earns him a moan. His hands gliding up your body cause a shudder. He continues teasing you little by little until your body is begging him to take it further. Your tongue licks over the naturally pointy ends of his canines. His grin stretches wide, dissolving the haze of lust and instead reminding him of what he’s here to do.

He walks you back to the sofa, all the way until your calves hit the upholstering and your knees give in. With a gleeful giggle you fall onto the cushioning. Homelander follows after you, sprawling across your body, still kissing you.

"I can hear your pulse racing..." Homelander breathes out when he pulls away. His eyebrows pinched tight together, acting as if any second away from you causes him pain. 

It doesn’t. But being away from you might as well feel like he’s drowning.

“All that blood rushing…” In a breathy tone he continues. His hands push the straps of your dress over your shoulders. His hands tremble. Wanting to grip and squeeze and push and pull. But the power he’s capable of is always kept tightly locked up. But the desire and the pool of need inside him just begs for him to be inside you, feeling your supple warmth all around him.

But he wants to fulfill your fantasy. He wants to be good for you.

With a moan he drags his tongue starting from your collarbone up the line of your neck. Hungry for the faint taste of you he licks at the tender skin, sucking marks where you won’t be able to conceal them.

He laps his tongue over the junction of your neck and shoulder with the same eagerness he usually devours your cunt with. Now he’s preparing the soft delicate skin of your neck, akin to a surgeon before a procedure. Equally diligent in prepping your skin ready for the incision. Except Homelander wants you to feel the sharpness and warmth of his canines and incisors rather than the cold steel of a surgical scalpel. Your blood rushes to the surface where he’s sucked hickies all over your skin. The temptation to break skin and feel the warmth of your blood is tempting. But alas, he wants you lightheaded with pleasure, not blood loss.

He’s too sucked into his own world. Your blood is rushing loudly in his ears. He doesn’t even manage to slip out another zinger before sinking his teeth into your neck with a needy moan.

Should someone stumble upon you two, it wouldn’t be clear who asked for this roleplay in the first place. 

Homelander’s careful with the pressure he puts into the bite. Even without his super strength he could easily break through your fragile skin. Instead he’s leaving indents and bite marks over your neck that have you whimpering right into each lap of his tongue over the wounded skin.

Attuned to your body’s responses he can feel the way you’re getting off on the contrast of the sharp bites and the dull ache of his languid tongue.

When he’s done with your neck, Homelander pulls away. Eyes hazy with lust. Hands trembling. His heartbeat is so loud it overpowers yours. He slides his tongue over his teeth as if he was licking off your blood. He looks up to meet your eyes and if the sight of you isn’t something out of a dream.

Just as hazed with the thick lust in the air. The smattering of bites is exquisite on a canvas as perfect as you. Your body rises and collapses with each shuddered breath and Homelander wants nothing more than to finish painting your body with his love.

And he does. Tearing and sliding the silk fabric off your body he leaves you bare in front of him. Your choice to omit your underwear gets you rewarded faster. He’s already sucking and biting all over your chest. Swapping for soft kisses anytime you yelp out of painful sensitivity.

Homelander bites wherever his teeth allow to sink into your flesh. Giving them the same soothing treatment with his tongue like he’s done on your neck.

The bites he descends upon your sides make you burst into giggles, temporarily breaking the bubble of the heated tension. With a smile he nuzzles his head into your belly, kissing you with affection all over the exposed skin. While the love he exudes is just as intoxicating, you push his head further down.

“Greedy.” He teases, but he happily slides off the couch, kneeling on the ground right in front of your gloriously spread legs. “Want me to bite you here too?” He easily slides back into his breathy tone as his mouth waters at the smell of your arousal.

After all this time he’s spent getting you worked up with bites and kisses you’re leaking over the couch.

He doesn’t wait for your answer, if you were coherent enough to give it anyway, and instead he licks up your inner thigh. Narrowly avoiding your sopping wet cunt. And while the hypnotizing rhythm of your throbbing clit nearly sucks him in, there’s still plenty of supple flesh he’s yet to sink his teeth into.

Homelander treats your inner thighs with the same respect he’s given your neck. Even though you wiggle underneath his tongue he holds you down. His arm easily pinning your middle down, while his shoulders keep your legs open enough for him to continue.

Here the sensation makes you both whimper from the stinging bites and giggle from the tickling motions of his tongue. Your body continues to serve as a canvas as he litters marks in between your thighs. He lets a few bruises join the mix as he grips your thighs with too much enthusiasm when he dips his head lower to bite another mark higher up the sensitive skin. 

You don’t shy away from the pain either. The contrasting shades of pain he paints across your skin just make your breath stutter, your heart race and your core ache for more.

Homelander is just as strung out. His cock is heavy and aching uncomfortably in the tight confines of his pants but he’s not about to relieve himself. Not when you’re served in front of him like a meal. 

Finally he buries his head into your lap. He licks up a line from your weeping hole to your clit, slurping up as much slick as his tongue can gather. He goes through expressions of content, where he’s eagerly sucking on your clit, and need, where he pinches his eyebrows together, whimpering into your cunt at the feeling of you quivering around his tongue.

And really, he could spend hours in between your legs. Getting handfuls of your ass he pulls you even closer, his tongue now closely and precisely rolling around your clit in a rhythm that has your toes curling and heart pounding. He’s come to know your body as intimately as it gets. The changes in pace are part of his plan. The slow teasing to a fast build-up, letting the feeling of your encroaching orgasm climb up and up your spine until he slows down, dropping the meter down again, wanting to prolong your pleasure.

With the occasional pull to the side where he nips more bites into your inner thighs he has you strung tight, and he’s playing you like a violin. When your moans turn into near sobs at the constant edge he keeps you balanced on, Homelander takes pity on you.

Gathering the slick and saliva, he pushes two thick gloved fingers into you. The drag of the leather glove is not familiar enough to you and you whine at the contact, clenching down on his fingers. Tight enough to nearly stop the glide.

With soft kisses he descends upon your clit, he lets you relax. When your cunt is no longer squeezing his fingers for dear life he drags them in and out while amping up the pressure. The obscene display of you bare to the world and him still dressed in his uniform has you both vocal and shameless.

While he’s already done a fantastic job of licking you open and needy, making you into an even bigger mess than you were before; he’s now fucking you wide open, preparing you for what’s inevitably going to be his cock in a round or two filling out all the space his fingers can’t reach. 

“C’mon, keep fucking me. Harder. Harder. Ye-yes. Yes!” You groan out, your voice all cracked and strained from moaning for so long. 

You grind yourself down on his fingers as much as the space allows. Your fingers pull at his hair while you ride both his face and his fingers to completion. It’s a hard finish, with downright growled words of praise as you chase the high he’s providing you with.

“That’s it, that’s it, that’s it. Fffuuck. Such a good boy, letting me ride your face like that.” You pant in between words, just as eager to give out praise as he is to receive it. 

With an obscene squelch, Homelander pulls his fingers out of you, sucking the leather clean, adding to the already rich taste of you on his tongue. You slide down the couch and lean down to kiss him, and he indulges you in letting you taste yourself on his lips.

Pulling away, you only allow the minimum space apart in between each other. Just like him, you act as if being apart caused you harm. 

“Take me to bed. I want to ride your cock next. Aaand maybe bite you myself.” With a giggle you wrap your hands around his neck. 

“You know you can’t bite me.” With a tilt of his head he kisses the bite marks he’s left behind. Each kiss brings back a little spark of pain making you twitch. 

“I love a challenge.”

“Well I’d certainly love to see you try.” He effortlessly lifts you up from the couch, already carrying you over to the bedroom.

After all the treating he’s done, he’s definitely excited to see some tricks.

So maybe the Halloween celebrations are not so stupid after all.

Taglist (you can add yourself to be tagged anytime I publish a new Homelander fic):

@rafecamsgirlll @hom3landr @mrsdesade @littlegaaby @jokesonyoupup

@nommingonfood @infinetlyforgotten @nervoussystemss

[jasontoddspussy]

vampire jason angst + jaydicktim, can be platonic if you want

“Open your mouth, Jay. Please.” Tim begged, but Jason ignored him.

He was currently bound, kneeling in Tim’s own little homemade batcave in his nest. Dick was there, staring with a grimace. Jason kept his eyes on the ground, forcing his jaw closed.

It’d been a while since he’d felt this helpless. He didn’t even understand why Tim and Dick gave a shit. Why they were hiding him away in Gotham, of all places.

It wasn’t supposed to have ended like this.

Ever since Bruce almost killed him (again-), Jason had been holed up in different safehouses belonging to various people who owed him favors. He couldn’t keep intruding in Roy’s life, despite the other man’s protests, and left as soon as he could move.

It was hard. It was dumb. He wasn’t really able to take care of himself, bones still broken.

(Heart still broken.)

But he left anyway.

(He wasn’t supposed to come back.)

Then one night, a small girl had reached out to him while he was, very irresponsibly, taking a smoke break. She wanted safety, refuge, and asked if it was okay for her to enter the building for a little while until she could get her bearings. Was it sketchy as shit? Yeah.

Jason didn’t care.

It didn’t surprise him when she visited one night and bit him. He didn’t resist as she put a weird, body-controlling spell on him, keeping him pliant, instructing him to tell any loved ones checking in on him to leave him be, that he’d be fine.

(He couldn’t tell her he didn’t have any. Even if his voice wasn’t controlled. It didn’t matter anyway.)

She visited him at night over the course of three days. She’d… feed? on him, then she’d leave. He felt himself getting weaker, colder, tired- and he knew, instinctively, that he was dying.

He didn’t care.

(He was looking forward to it.)

He died alone in the middle of the night, peacefully falling asleep.

And then he woke up, several days later, with Dick’s tear-struck face hanging above him.

Jason hadn’t understood what was going on - Neither had Dick, nor Tim, the two had apparently gone looking for him upon learning he’d been banished from Gotham.

Though that alone wasn’t enough for them to be worried, no, it turned out that Roy had been unleashing hell upon any bat or bat-affiliated mask whenever they even came close to the man’s territory. Which had made Dick suspicious, so he’d started to investigate what was going on. Tim, the nosy man he is, got invested.

When Dick saw Jason’s eyes were open and focused on him, not half-lid and lazy like the dead man he was, he’d screeched and fallen back onto his ass, staring at him in shock. Jason hadn’t been able to really focus on what was going on, but he knew he wasn’t breathing.

And he’d been so, so hungry.

Jason had almost pounced at Dick, he had pounced, but Tim, the genius, knocked him out. Then the two men kidnapped him, brought him to Tim’s apartment to ‘’run tests’’ and came to the conclusion that;

1. Jason’s brain activity was abnormally high.

2. His heart wasn’t beating. He wasn’t breathing. His temperature was a little below room temperature.

3. He was dead. Any injuries he’d had before he died had healed. And now he was a re-animated corpse. And, oh yeah? He’d gotten that super tuberculosis consumption also known as vampirism.

His normally tanned skin was more yellow-pale-gray. The yellow made sense, he’d likely died from organ failure, but where the fuck went his melanin?

His hair was darker. Except that white stripe. His eyes? Black as the void. Except for when he’d almost attacked Dick, apparently, then red rings had focused on his brother.

Because that was a thing that’d happened. He’d nearly attacked Dick.

And neither Dick nor Tim were even upset about it! No, they were upset Jason had died again.

“I’m just saying that it’d be much more proficient if we took blood from goons or rouges whenever we’re apprehending or tying them up, then bring it back to store it in the fridge.” Tim argued for the Nth time. Dick stood across him, scowling with his arms crossed.

“And I am saying No, Tim. We’re not going to harness blood from random people! What if it makes him sick?” Dick argued back. They’d been going in circles about this ever since Jason had woken and been informed about his current undead-predicament.

Why couldn’t he just’ve stayed dead.

“Enough!” Jason bellowed, almost growled at his brothers who turned to look at him. He felt a prick of fucking fangs who’d dropped from his gums and hit his bottom lip. He wondered how vile of a monster he looked like, now.

“How about this? The two of ya give me a gun, and I pop a couple shots in my noggin’ savin’ us all this hassle. That way you” He points at Dick, “Don’t gotta worry about robbin’ no blood bank, to which I say, what the fuck, and you,” he gestures at Tim, “don’t gotta worry about taking blood from random ass goons. There, problem solved.”

His brothers stare at him as he’d grown another head, uncomprehending.

“What!?” The two echoed. Jason winced at the volume.

“No, we- I- No, you’re not. Jason why would- No.” Dick tried to say something, but he wasn’t doing all that good. Tim didn’t say anything, but he looked no less upset.

Jason didn’t say anything else, he just sat on the medical-examination bed they’d propped him onto when they tested him for stuff. He didn’t see the issue, and it’s not like they could stop him, anyway.

His older brother scowled as he came closer.

“We’re not just gonna let you die, Jason” He told him, almost gently, reaching out to lay a hand on Jason’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” He hissed. This close he could almost hear the blood pumping through Dick’s veins and he wanted to reach out and taste-

Jason jerked back, putting a hand on top of his nose and mouth. Dick frowned sadly.

“It’s okay-” The man tried to reassure him. Jason wasn’t having it though.

“How? How is any of this fucking okay? ‘pparrently stayin’ a regular undead freak wasn’t enough for me, no. I had to go all the way and turn into a blood suckin’ undead freak. The two of ya wanna play house with a monstah? Go ahead, but it ain’t gon’ be me” He sneered at them, putting space between him and Dick and forcing himself into a corner, hiding his face away in his knees.

He didn’t care how fuckin’ pathetic it made him seem. He didn’t care that he was being unreasonable. He didn’t want any of their fake platitudes, he didn’t want their conditional fucking love, nor their hypocrisy.

Jason spills blood and everyone loses their freaking minds. Helena shoots someone? That’s fine. Superman crushes someone? Just dandy!

Jason breaks someone’s nose? Well, best break all of his bones so he learns his lesson.

Fuckng bats.

“Just leave me alone” He mutters into his knees.

(He’s so, so tired.)

That was weeks ago.

Jason had lost weight, and he’d already lost weight from being in the hospital, he certainly felt like a skeleton.

Mostly though he felt a burning, stabbing pain from hunger in his throat, his fangs constantly nicking his lips and making his jaw numb. It helped.

It was distinctively different compared to how it felt going without food for weeks as a human. He remembers it clearly, how he constantly felt like he was going to throw up because he was so hungry, how tired it made him but he couldn’t sleep less he didn’t wake up.

(It would’ve been better, kinder, had he died then.)

Tim and Dick had both tried to make him eat/drink(?) blood on several occasions. He didn’t spare them a response, kept his mouth shut even as blood bags were placed in front of him, or mugs filled with blood put to his mouth. He’d just turn his head, looking away.

When he’d tried to claw his own veins out, he’d been sedated, and he woke up arms bound and on the floor.

Which brought them to know.

Jason, kneeling on the floor of the nest, Tim begging him to eat.

“Enough of this.” Said Dick. Tim put down the blood-bag he’d been trying to make Jason drink from, frustrated.

“Then what do you suggest?” The youngest man snarked. Dick patted over to them and kneeled in front of Jason. He didn’t look at him, keeping his gaze on the floor.

“..Dick?” Tim questioned. Jason’s eyes slid to where Dick pulled out a knife, it was one of Jason’s throwing knives, where had he gotten that, and then sliced the skin between the junction of his neck and shoulder. Jason jolted, instincts screaming at him that there were fresh, warm, enticing blood- right there and he tried to pull away but he was bound to the floor, and a large warm hand, Dick’s, went into his tangled dirty hair and pushed his face to the wound and-

And Jason couldn’t keep his jaw from shaking. His senses were all invaded by the smell and warmth of his brother and his fangs hurt and-

It was all just too much.

Instincts took over, Jason’s self-control ending up in the backseat of his mind as he licked a broad stripe, lapping up the precious liquid and moaning at the taste. Something inside him screaming finally- and he opened up, fangs sinking into the meat of Dick’s shoulder.

Instantly, warm, delicious blood flooded his mouth and Jason gulped down one, two, three, four mouthfuls before his mind started to come back online. Dick was hugging him, almost crushing him to his chest. Tim had, at some point, joined them and was burying himself in Jason’s cold back.

He was shaking, ice-cold tears falling down his face and onto Dick’s skin. He could smell Tim, he could smell blood, he could feel Tim’s hands in his hair, caressing him.

They were trying to comfort him. Trying to be there for him.

He didn’t understand why.

Feeling full, he retracted his fangs and licked up the rest of the blood. Tim handed Dick a gauze-pad to put on the punctures. Jason slumped into Dick, feeling rather defeated.

“We’ll figure this out, Jay. I promise.” His older brother whispered, warm broad hand rubbing Jason’s back consolingly.

He didn’t want their fake comfort. He didn’t want to be cast aside once they’re tired of him again.

He just wanted peace.

But how could he make them leave him alone? Him being a blood-sucking monster wasn’t enough to scare them away…

He could think of one thing he could try.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t the worst of the worst kind of scum, anyway.

He tried to rub his face and jaw against Dick’s jaw, making it seem like he’d slumped into him purposefully. Rubbing his nose against his brother, who’d frozen still at Jason’s movements, he could actually tell he was rubbing his scent into his older brother.

“What’re-” Dick started, but Jason interrupted him, sealing their lips together. Dick’s lips parted in surprise, and Jason took full advantage of it, plunging his tongue into his brother’s mouth, licking his teeth and tasting him.

He tasted like cereal. Ew.

Jason fully expected Dick to push him away, recoil and punch his face.

But Dick didn’t do that. He-

He engaged in the kiss. He met his tongue head on, tilting his jaw for a better, more comfortable angle, further deepening the kiss and Jason’s mind bluescreened because it felt-

It felt good. He was kissing his older brother and it felt good, but it wasn’t supposed to feel good Dick was supposed to be disgusted and push him away and then they were supposed to give up on him.

Had they realised his plan? Well, Jason wasn’t about to give up on this game of homoerotic-incestous-chicken.

Breaking off their kiss, he scented Dick again, then turned to Tim who was staring at the two of them with wide eyes and red cheeks. He didn’t give the younger man a warning before he rubbed his scent into him, then bit him gently right where the small, thin Hush-scar lay. Tim tensed, then forced himself to relax, hands returning to Jason’s hair.

Jason really, really hated himself. He could feel himself getting fucking wet at this, being close and- and intimate with his brothers, tasting them, being touched all over, spreading his fucking scent on them like some deranged dog-

Tim tilted his head back to give Jason’ more space, presumably, and he happily leaned closer. Feeling way too full, he retracted his fangs and licked up the remaining blood spilling from the punctures. Then, to really sell it, he licked his way in one broad stripe, up to Tim’s mouth.

To his surprise, Tim opened his mouth and pulled Jason closer, almost enthusiastically chasing the taste of Tim and Dick on his tongue. He could smell sweat and bodily fluids - the smell of sex, in the air around them and he realised that not only was Jason aroused, but so was Tim and maybe even Dick, from watching his little brothers making out.

Jason broke the kiss, feeling Tim’s ribcage heaving against his torso, his eyes traced a string of spit that connected their lips.

Jason blinked and jolted away from his brothers.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why- Why would you let me do that?!” He snarled, disgusted at himself. Tim wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, face flushed and legs crossed as if that would do anything to hide his erection. Dick looked pensive, and was chewing his red-kissed lips.

“I mean… Vampires do associate food with sex, so it.. was a possibility.” Dick admitted. Jason gaped.

“And you still did it?”

“I’m not just letting you die again, Jason. You don’t- I. Fuck, Jason you almost died. Our Dad almost killed you-” Dick’s voice broke, “and then when we finally found you, you’re a corpse.”

Dick’s eyes shone with angry, unshed tears.

“I was too fucking late again- But then you somehow woke up. If my body can keep you alive in any sense of the word then I will give you my fucking body” Dick told him, voice hard and hands clenched tightly.

Jason didn’t understand.

“I don’t understand.”

And Dick looked so, so heartbroken at that admission. He wiped away the tears that were starting to fall. Tim looked away, ashamed.

“I-I know. And, fuck. I swear, I’ll make you understand.” Dick said, determined.

[wolfstargazer]

The Forbidden Forest - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 477

It was not a word that Sirius had ever cared for.

Forbidden.

He had been forbidden by his parents from eavesdropping on the parties that they held in Grimmauld Place, attended by the older and extended members of his family and other witches and wizards who shared his family's sympathies.

Still, he'd listened in anyway, not knowing exactly what everyone was talking about, but feeling like whatever it was he could most annoy his parents by not agreeing with it.

He'd been forbidden from making the wrong sorts of friends when he had gone to Hogwarts. His parents had explained, in no uncertain terms, just what was exactly expected from him and the company he kept.

But then he'd gone and got himself sorted into Gryffindor, and he'd laughed when he told them as his father threatened to write to the school and his mother had become increasingly hysterical at the thought of what their friends would say.

So when it had been explained very quickly after their arrival at the school that the forest surrounding Hogwarts was forbidden, Sirius had felt the tell-tale pull of doing exactly the opposite of what he was told and tried to find others to join him.

He was disappointed that so many of his classmates seemed to lack the spirit of adventure. A boy with glasses and unruly back hair who he'd fallen into the habit of having breakfast with every morning listened to his scheme with interest before agreeing to accompany him.

"What about Lupin?" James suggested the following afternoon, when they'd returned to the business of planning their exploration of the forest rather than concentrating on the Charms assignment before them.

"Who?" Sirius had asked. He didn't recognise the name.

James had pointed then across the library to a boy on his own at a desk in the corner, head bent low over his parchment. He straightened, stretching his arms above his head, and Sirius recognised him as the quiet, serious boy who shared their dormitory.

He couldn't say he'd made much of an impression.

"Him?" Sirius asked, unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

James replied confidently, "Trust me. I'm good at reading people. He'll want in."

Sirius nodded and, waiting for the opportune moment, got up and walked over to where the boy had turned his attention back to his parchment.

"So rumour has it that you're looking for adventure," Sirius said in a low whisper so as not to attact the attention of the other students.

The boy looked up. Hazel eyes. And yes, there was something there. Maybe James had it right? Maybe there was more to this boy Lupin than he gave out?

Sirius felt a little flush rise in his cheeks as the boy searched his face, a small smile threatening his lips but his voice deadpan as he replied, quietly, "What did you have in mind?"

[riansdiary]

My Newest Success Stories 💖

Dearest Gentle Readers 💎

Hello! I am back with more of my newest success stories!

First of all, I wanted to let you know that my manifesting style has completely changed. Let's see the difference shall we? Now, I've had a massive change in the way I do it thanks to a little bit of a tower moment in my life. What do I mean by tower moment? I'm learning tarot and this is what it means.

A “tower moment” is a moment of sudden, unexpected change and upheaval. The term comes from the Tower card in the tarot deck. Tower moments can feel incredibly chaotic, but the destruction also paves the way for positive growth and transformation.

I had this one desire that I was completely putting on a pedestal and obsessing with. I forced myself to affirm and try to feel something. Every time I would say affirmations, I would immediately search for it in the 3d. This was something I've been wanting for so long. I was putting so much energy into pretending that I had this thing that it felt unnatural and forced? I would get upset when I checked for it in the 3d and did not see what I wanted to see. I was heavily reliant on the 3d. I know I should not pay attention but I couldn't stop myself because this was one of my biggest desires ever. There was too much feeling or desire and desperation. I ended up acting as if and trying to force feelings of relief but as usual, the 3d made me upset. I was faking sh*t to get it. You know you can't change your clothes by aggressively shaking the mirror right? You have to change the clothes yourself and change self before you see it in the 3d.

I cried a lot during this week but I finally decided to drop what I'm doing and just play some games to calm myself down. I then thought of what loa bloggers always say. The basics of manifestation is that you want it? You have it. They always say that you have it now. I stopped forcing things and I thought if I have it now then I have nothing to lose. I continued to just calmly and confidently silently know that I have all my desires now regardless of everything because I'm a powerful manifestor. Anything that says otherwise is a jealous hater. I didn't force myself to affirm, I thought that I have it now anyway. I had nothing to lose if I believed and accepted that I have it and it's done. I now just calmly decree or tell myself that I have it now. I had this silent but confident inner knowing that I have it now. I just focused on having it in my mind and reminding myself of that fact that I have it now. I didn't care about the 3d because I have it anyway. It could show the opposite but I was sure that I have it now. Why? Because I have it in my mind now. I'm happy either way. I'm good. I have everything I desire now and I won't lose anything by accepting I have it now. I don't need to fake things because I know in my heart and mind and soul that I have all my desires now regardless of everything.

Before: Finding results in the 3d, feeling desperate to affirm and forcing myself to feel things when you're not supposed to do that. I kept affirming to get and get angry when I don't see results immediately.

Now: Knows she has her desires regardless of everything and she just needs to accept them in a calm manner. Who cares what the 3d shows? I'm good, I have it in my mind. It's not the end all be all. I don't care. Just calmly reminding herself any moment she thinks of her desires that she has it already, nothing more to do than accept that. She tells her subconscious mind what she wants and fully trusts it. No need to force things. Just be. You already have your desires now, there's nothing else left to do.

I also found myself going back to @babygothprincess and Taylor Tookes' Deciding methods! They're right that manifestation is not a process. You just decide you have it now and that's it. I manifested things faster when I did it this way. I guess you could say I was in a little bit of a manifestation slump because of the confusion I experienced between people who teach that it's a process + affirming a lot and people who teach that it's instant and deciding is all you need to do.

Let's start!

1. Manifested using an air cooler instead of the fan in the living room

This happened quite recently. I was not satisfied with the electric fan just going back and forth around the room. It was extremely uncomfortable for me and I'm sweating a lot more than usual which I don't like. I wanna be chill and comfortable not dripping with sweat. All I did to manifest this was say this two times -> "We're gonna use the air cooler instead... It's done."

I said it like a boss or a queen who is giving orders to her reality and subconscious mind. I said it calmly and decreed it like that in my head just twice during the day when I thought of it. I was just sure it's done and it's gonna happen. I learned a lot during that day. I was forcing myself to affirm and it didn't feel natural and like I'm forcing things to happen in the 3d. What did I do? I cried all my frustrations out and thought "Well if all they're saying is that I have it already then why do I need to worry? I don't need to force myself to do sh*t when I can just calmly accept my desires as mine and let the doubts and resistance pass by. Instead of fighting them and flipping them, why not just let them float by and reject them? I'm not gonna lose anything if I just calmly accept that I have my desires. I don't need to force any feelings at all. I have it anyway so I don't have anything to worry about. Anything that says the opposite of my desire is a hater. You're just jealous of me because I'm a powerful manifestor (been saying this to myself when I have time) and I have all my desires. I'm confident that I will have more success stories to tell you!

That's what I did and I just played games knowing I have it already I have nothing to lose as long as I silently assume and accept that I have all my desires now. So what happened was, when I was scrolling on TikTok, my sister came out of her room and took the standing electric fan because her fan seemed to have stopped working and now guess what??? Yes. We're using the perfect wonderful beautiful calming cooling air cooler now!!!

2. I manifested butter cookies! 🍪

Okay so for this success story, there were two moments when I was watching something and I craved cookies. I said it didn't matter what it was whether it was sugar cookies or butter cookies. That was when I was watching an anime! It's an isekai anime and it's called "Sweet Reincarnation"! I recommend it! I thought of it after that and that was when I was watching one of my fave YouTube channels which is People vs food. It was the new Try not to eat Gossip Girl edition. The prize food looked like chocolate chip cookies and I just thought "I would really love some cookies"

Then tonight my siblings and my dad went out to buy groceries and guess what my brother got for me all of a sudden... Yup! It was a tin of butter cookies and he got them for me for no reason! I didn't tell them anything! He knows I love cookies but he hasn't done that before!

3. I manifested getting my favorite butter coconut cookies.

This is just from today and I manifested both things I've been craving recently and all I did was tell myself and my subconscious that I wanted it. I just knew I was gonna get them after commanding my subconscious mind. I also imagined it in my head for a few seconds.

These cookies have different packages. They have a long individually wrapped one and a normal packet of them. I imagined the normal sized ones and that's exactly what I got tonight! Exactly what I said I was gonna get. They know I like them but I wasn't able to eat them recently so that's why I manifested that.

4. I manifested getting my online money topped up 💰

I wanted my money topped up after I spoiled myself with the money I got from the cryptocurrency app so I just casually said "yeah it's gonna get topped up, no worries"

Low and behold, the next week, Mom told me that my aunt decided to send me birthday money. The thing is, it's already August and my birthday is back in July. It was a super late birthday gift! Mom transferred the money to my account and voila!

5. Manifested having Roblox on my other phone even though it did not have enough space for it before

This happened today on Sep 26. I'm just listing any success stories I have and post it.

The story about this is that I wanted to install Roblox on my phone and it didn't let me. It said that it had no more space for it. I installed my fave voice recorder for recording my singing practice a week after that then I wanted to play games on my other phone while my main one charges. I just went to the play store, clicked on Roblox and confidently assumed that I'm gonna have it installed. I affirmed like it already happened, not to get it. I didn't even look at it, I just trusted that I'm getting what I want and I'm not taking no for an answer.

I didn't do anything else to my phone. I didn't delete space to get it, nothing. I just assumed it would install and it did even though I tried before I had the recording app and it didn't work.

6. I manifested my other phone being fixed overnight

I was playing games on my other phone when it suddenly powered off out of nowhere. It was just stuck on the power on reboot screen and I was panicking at first. I was affirming to get first and getting annoyed when it didn't happen so I tried to calm myself down and breathe. I just affirmed in a calming soothing way to myself that it is fixed now. It's okay it's now fixed. I accepted that as a fact and left the phone alone. I lied down and slept after that.

Then when I woke up, I looked at it knowing it was fixed and it was! It's okay and working fine again like nothing happened last night!

7. Our water coming completely back

In the morning, I came into the bathroom and our water was very little and not like it usually is. Water was not running like normal, meaning it was not strong and giving a lot of water. It was just a tiny amount of water coming through so I decided that it's back and affirmed "the water's back! it's running the usual amount again."

I affirmed a few times in my mind and decided it was back. By the time I came back to pee, it was a few minutes after, it was really back.

8. I manifested &subs (&Team Gakuen's translators) to come back after being shut down

I was a huge fan of &Team's show in Japan called "&Team Gakuen" and suddenly the team decided to drop the project and their files were gone. I was so scared at first because I didn't know where I was gonna watch it now. The technique I used was again deciding and affirming that they're back and I can watch &Team Gakuen again. No matter what I saw, I just affirmed "They're back. I'm so glad that they're back. I can watch &Team Gakuen again."

Frankly, I can't remember the exact words but it's just me thinking as if the subbing team and the files are back. I affirmed whenever I thought of it but I knew I was powerful and if I want something, I'll get it.

Fast Forward to a few weeks from that time, I was looking for a way to watch it again and low and behold, &Subs's Twitter was posting new stuff again and their new site is even better than before! Honestly, I forgot about this manifestation until I remembered it as I watched it from their new site!

9. I manifested Apple AirPods 3rd Generation out of nowhere!

The technique I used for this was just following my happiness or doing what makes me happy which is taught by Rita Kaminski. I watched a video on TikTok that she did on that. Well, not really a technique. It's more about if you're making yourself happy, you're telling your subconscious mind that you have that thing now or everything you want and that you're relaxed because you have it now. We want our desires in order to be happy right? Well, if you're making yourself happy by doing things that make you happy (whatever is available to you) then you're tricking your subconscious that you have it now.

Okay so I followed what she said in the video and asked myself, what would feel the best for me to do right now? I was lead by my intuition to watch a Barbie movie. I haven't watched them in a while and it's my favorite childhood movies so I was sure that it's gonna make me feel good!

My parents and I were cleaning up some things and organizing. We were dusting off things and Mom was looking through Dad's stuff and that was when she suddenly asked if I wanted Dad's unused AirPods! Didn't know it was AirPods at this point. I thought it was a cheap brand one. She didn't even wait for my answer and gave it to me immediately because she said that Dad isn't even using it and it's just hidden away in a box so she decided to give it to me.

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Hi! Editor Rian here! 😁

Okay I have an important update on these AirPods! I have been using them ever since I got them and I didn't know what type of AirPods or earphones it was until I decided to use my camera and take a picture of it so I can find the exact name of it. Don't judge me guys haha I've always been an Android user so I didn't know and I was shocked to my core when I found out that they're not just any cheap earphones out there! No, it's an Apple AirPods the 3rd generation!

Anyway this was my screenshot of me searching for the exact name using Google Lens on my camera! My jaw dropped when I saw that it was Apple AirPods!

That is all! This is Rian from the future reporting 🫡

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~Back to past Rian writing!

I'm using them right now and ooh they're so nice and comfy on the ears! We'll see about the sound quality!

I'm back after testing it on Tiktok and I was watching Ariana Grande's monologue in SNL! Oh my God, the sound quality is so high and so different from my Bluetooth earphones! What? It sounds amazing! Can't wait to try this with my favorite songs, subliminal or ASMR! Ahhh! 😆

The sound is high quality and I'm on 50% and it's a little too loud even? The soround sound effect is so damn good! I recommend this technique! I remember actually complaining a little (inwardly and not to anyone, more so to myself) about the Bluetooth earphones I have. They're good but when I was watching the movie Barbie of Swan Lake, I had to volume up almost fully to 90% or more just to hear it better. This is so amazing and I'll keep on testing this technique! 😍

10. I was craving cheesedog (it's basically hotdogs with bits of cheese in it) and manifested it (this is Rian from the future, yup I just ate that for dinner!)

I was craving eating cheesedog with rice of course and I manifested that just by affirming a few times and seeing it in my imagination via visualization. I just imagined it in my head, just me seeing the cheesedog on my plate and it oozing with bits of cheese in it! That's all I did, I didn't even do it for long. It was just a few seconds and today as I'm editing this right now. I just ate it for dinner and I'm so happy! Been missing it because we haven't eaten that in awhile! It was so good! The cheese just melts in your mouth! I have proof as per usual.