#but for the boops I will endure

[maramagpie]

How many boops can a magpie boop, when a magpie is at work?

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Coach ||

Pairing: Dark!Pedri Gonzalez | You.

Description: What happens when the boy you used to ignore in middle school becomes an international footballer while you are so broke that you cannot even afford to learn football; a mutual passion, but the boy -still very much enamored by you- reconnects with you and even offers to give you private lessons? 

Warning(s): Noncon/Dubcon, Pedri is a manipulative asshole, humiliation, thigh riding, pinching, dumbification, infantilization, boob play, inspection kink, slight choking, allusions to stalking, helplessness on your part, unprotected p-in-v, spanking, overstimulation, creampie, hair pulling, biting.

Disclaimer: This story does not represent Pedro Gonzalez in any way. It contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Note: For everyone who was waiting, thank you for being patient. Ps, this is what happens when I write while I am in subspace. 

.

Today was one of those days. 

You had been at this for long enough to know it. 

Whenever Pedri walked into the ground with that one glint in his eye and with his jaw set in a certain position, you knew it. 

It had been shocking for you at first.

Hard. 

But you were used to it now.

Numb.

So you weren't even surprised when he got down to his bullshit. 

“You know, bebé” you loathed the pet name. It made you feel dumb, helpless and clueless. But that was exactly what you were. And had been. “I say we exercise more today than play” same old excuse. “This one–”

“Will increase the agility and endurance of my thighs” you completed for him, jaw stiff. 

He had already manspread on the only bench in the football ground he had rented out just for you to train and play in. Pedri's eyes were crinkled as he peeked up at you through the sun by tilting his head back and in the shade of the tree behind him to shield himself from the orange light. His arms lazily rested against the backrest. 

“Such a fast little learner, aren't you, bebé?” You wanted to smack the smirk off his face. 

You had told him not to call you the hideous name many times. But he insisted that since you were a baby to the pitch, it was the only appropriate name for you on there. 

Once when you got too agitated he proposed that if you managed to score against him, he'd stop… And obviously you were not someone who could score against FC Barcelona's Pedri. 

“Only because I have a good teacher” you resigned yourself to your fate and abandoned the ball before you walked over to where he was, lifting the too high for comfort skort that you wore before you climbed onto his sculpted thigh. This piece was one of the many he had gotten you for the free football training that he gave you. 

And you would have been grateful if it weren't for them making you look like a sports themed porn video model than someone actually learning football.

“Aw baby” you backed up a little when he booped your nose appreciatively. His sweet and ‘easy going' demeanor was the worst part. It was meant to make you feel like he was a generous friend doing you a favor for free when he could be doing many other more rewarding things with his precious time. That you being hostile in return made you look like you were the bad one. “Aren't you the sweetest little student one could have?” 

He was the absolute worst. 

“Only for you, coach” you replied as you adjusted yourself against the muscles of his thighs by rocking your hips until your covered pussy was spread. You had no choice but to be sweet and compliant. 

Or he refused to teach you. 

And football -even though it was too late for you to make a career out of it, not that you had the money or skill for even the prerequisites- was all you had in your shitty little life. 

It muted the world out for the time you were on the pitch. 

So much so that you could even endure the lewd ‘grazes’ and infuriating ‘tackles’ Pedri guised as guidance. 

“Go on, then” his strength and unexpected touch always gave you a sensory shock. So you flinched when he patted the side of your thigh. “We don't want your body to get cold now, come on. Get to it while it's still warm” you nodded as you took in a deep breath and prepared yourself.

You bit your bottom lip to withstand the shame and burst of shivers that your pussy's grazing against his strong thigh caused. Placing your hands on your laps, you looked down at him and he lazily stared back at you with a smile, the mop of his thick, dark hair sticking to his forehead in some spots due to the sweat beads that had gathered there. 

“Feels good, doesn't it, bebé?” He had taught you obedience in a truly cynical way. Good things come to good girls. 

Though Pedri was evil, he was not particularly deceitful. “Y- Yes, coach” if you just granted him his depraved wishes he was actually very benevolent. 

“Good girl, keep working those pretty legs” his rough hands now stroked and fondled your thighs that flexed everytime you dragged yourself so far up, your tender bud pressed into his hard skin before you moved your intimates down to your entrance that was already starting to tingle. “Look at how caring and nice your coach is, huh, bebé?” You nodded as you tried to keep your voice, that had betrayed you on one too many occasions, tightly locked in your throat. 

He didn't prefer to overtly pressurize or force you. At least, you didn't think so. No, Pedri liked you submitting to him despite not wanting to do so better. It got his sick shit going. 

“Tsk, tsk. Use those words now, hm?” You could feel your pussy lips squishing as each rub burnt more and more heat into your cunt. “I want to hear that pretty voice” because it will break or you will moan and he will win. 

Pedri loved to rub your nose into the helplessness of your condition. 

Just like back in middle school.

When he would follow you around and you, the beauty and brains amongst the students of the whole institution would not give him so much as a considering glance. Which would cause some of your friends to even make fun of him. 

Of course, your coach would never outwardly admit it because of both his savior complex and the petty I am the bigger person agenda that he had been pushing since day one, you just knew it.

You could literally hear the ‘not so high and mighty now, are you?’, in his voice sometimes. 

You had sped up a considerable bit into a swift and steady pace. Your lips had slackened and your mouth had fallen open. “Y- Yes, Pedri-iii–!” The upper half of your body toppled against his since you hadn't been holding anything for support. 

You hated how that was not enough for you to cease your animalistic panting as you continued to hump his thigh, your forehead now resting against Pedri's as your sports cap pushed upwards. 

“It's okay, bebé” his eyes were darker than they had been before. One of his hands caressed your ass comfortingly. “You can hold onto coach. After all, support and guidance are what teachers are for, no?” You pathetically tried to hold a semblance of your ground as you rubbed your pussy closer and closer to the kind of edge only Pedri could push you from, not that you liked to acknowledge it. 

But you only collapsed against him again after you had lifted yourself up halfway without leaning against him. Your spine trembled from the sensitivity and he chuckled, the reverberations causing for short stabbing waves of pleasure to travel up your cunt which was sopping by now. 

Taking a deep breath of defeat, you placed your smaller hands on his strong shoulders and managed to push yourself back up with ease this time. 

“See, bebé? That wasn't so hard now, was it?” Your seeping pussy hole clenched when you felt his manly fingers creep in and up the material of your skorts. “All you had to do was listen to coach like a good little girl” then his relaxed jaw tightened and a muscle ticked as he collected a pinchful of your buttcheek between his index finger and thumb before pressing them together in a punishing manner. 

That was the way he preferred; the silent way. Where he would not use words that could be remembered vividly and misinterpreted in all the ways. No. Because you see, he was not the bad guy here. So he would both express his disappointment and push his desires forth like a cruel and slithering snake. 

Silently and devastatingly.

“Y- Yes, coach!” You cried out from the pain and the pleasure it caused by flipping your stomach into a puddle of fiery wantonness that travelled right down to your pussy before spreading over your folds. 

“Such a good girl” you were getting close, which meant you were about to get a whole lot more stupid than you already were. “Come here and show your coach some appreciation” his free hand -the one that wasn't groping your ass- wrapped around your neck before he pulled you down and hoisted himself up with ease to press his lips against yours. 

“Thank you so much, coach. You're so patient and kind with me” you parroted out the words you had been taught through cruel blackmailing. Your voice was humiliating in how it broke and you gasped and moaned through your words, the effort you put into suppressing it all only making you sound like you were on the verge of tears with need. 

“Don't sell yourself short, bebé, you're not exactly a bad student either” he let go of your throat to retreat his hand by dragging it down your chest and letting it linger and move over your covered boobs. “We haven't done an inspection in some time, have we, bebé?” He had been rather busy lately, so no. 

Your heart fell but your pussy fired up even more. “N- No, coach” you kept using the honourific because you knew he liked it when you did. 

Pedri had an inspection segment in your training. Where he would check and measure the quality of your health and wellbeing every few sessions. 

That required you stripping down to nothing and tying your hair on the top of your head and out of his way. Then he would make you stand with your body spread out in a star position before he would examine, touch and grope every bump, surface and crevice of your body to make sure nothing was wrong. He would squeeze you in places and asked you how much it hurt on a scale of one to ten to check for muscle damage. Next you would have to touch your toes while spreading your legs wide. Pedri would part your ass cheeks and ask you to cough. If you tried questioning it, you were told that athelete hygiene and wellbeing was complex and he was the professional, which was basically a shut the fuck up call. The threatening edge of his tone also quietened you before you could build up more courage. Then you would have to prop your back against the bench and hold your legs apart and out of his way in that your buckled knees had to touch your shoulders. All you had to do was to focus on his dark hair as he peeled open your pussy lips and examined you there. After that you were to ‘air’ yourself out because he said it was good for your skin after all the sweating. That was to be done while increasing the durability of your muscles. So you would be placed in the middle of the field -the point where the wind was the strongest- with your head earth cast and limbs spread out while you held yourself up on all fours. On warm days Pedri would even generously pour water all over your kneeling form to make you feel fresh. 

Because he was a caring coach. 

Whether you had ever been teased for leaking while he went about that business, if you ever came from being pulled apart so intimately, and if the aforementioned things had happened, the number of times they happened, you were not willing to disclose to anyone. 

Perhaps not even your own self. 

“Let's just air out today” he decided as he glanced at the pinking sun. Evenings were what you two could mutually manage so that's when you did this. And it would be dark soon so you didn't have a lot of time left. You felt like screaming at him. It wouldn't be him if he ever spoke straight.

Always with the twisting and manipulating. 

“Yes, coach~” you moaned out as you whimpered from how Pedri was moving you up and down his thigh with the help of his firm grip on your ass. You took one of your hands off his shoulder to fiddle with your skimpy sports bra before you gave up somehow getting rid of it and instead pulled it down to bring your tits spilling out towards the male's face. The tightness of the bra’s neckline only made them push upwards more, the movement of your cunt fucking against his lap making them jiggle. 

“May I inspect them, bebé?” It was a bloody insult to injury. He always asked shit like this like you had a choice. 

And yet the rage added to the tightness in your hips. 

You were on the brink.

“O- Of course, coa– coach!” You hadn't noticed just how sensitive they had become until he reached for one of your hardened nipples and your back arched from the sting it caused. 

“Not to be unprofessional, bebé, but you are truly the prettiest girl I've ever seen” you reckoned this compliment coming from an international football star, especially a male one, would send any girl over the moon. You were no exception. If only said football star hadn't been the middle school loser you used to ignore and now had to submit to like this only because he made accessible for you the one thing that helped you to keep going.  

All it took for your pathetic self to cum the daylights out of itself was for him to circle the shape of your hard nipples and squeeze your other breast before he pressed a wet kiss to each of your nubs. 

Your ears went numb and the all too familiar feeling of sweet and hot spilling of your loins exploded between your hips. You threw your head back and moaned his name out loud while you rode out your high. 

Since your heart was in your ears and you became physically incapable of fathoming anything other than the pleasure burning your body up and threatening to well out of all your openings -and out of one of them it actually did- you didn't notice him chuckling at you until after your high had subsided. 

You tilted your head to the side before you furrowed your eyebrows to express your confusion. 

“Such a naughty little girl you are, bebé” if it weren't for your post-orgam sensitivity, your jaw would have ticked. But you were panting too much to do anything than to sit on his lap soiled by your own cum and staring at him dumbly. “All I had meant to do was to work up your pretty little legs but you being you just had to be the messy little baby that you are” you felt a glaze of tears well up in your eyes. 

In-fucking-sufferable. 

“Okay, we don't have long now, come on” he switched back into his professional voice and patted your covered up messy pussy with the back of his fingers. “Show me some of the dribbling I taught you in the last session and we will call it a day” you wanted to cry out loud.

This was a downwards spiral of the most depraved sort. 

“Yes, coach” he tried his best to hide his devilish grin but you knew what was about to happen; where this command was gonna take you. 

You gingerly climbed off of Pedri and adjusted your skirt like he didn't know every centimeter of your body already, blinking your eyes to keep your vision from spinning and trying to tough the shaking of your legs out. 

That was how his making you cum always left you. 

“Leave those like that” he referred to your tits when you tried to adjust your bra while bringing the ball closer to him. “We haven't done inspection in a while so we will compensate how we can” yeah right. 

“Yes, coach” you obediently responded before you took a stabilizing breath and focused on the ball before you got to it. 

And exactly as you had expected, your weakened legs buckled and your body tumbled before your ass hit the ground with a thump. Your heart rate picked up again as you nervously scrambled yourself up. You could feel the intensity of his dark stare and it was making you admittedly nervous. Oh, no. Yet your pussy curled at the thought of him getting pissed because of you. Fuck. You gulped and set the ball before you started again but it slipped from under your foot and you nearly hit the ground face first. Pedri didn't say anything, he only spoke out of necessity. Your bottom lip wobbled as you adjusted the brim of your cap and recentered the ball. Under usual circumstances, Pedri would have given you some guidance or reassurance by now. He actually did teach you good football on days when he wasn't possessed by Incubus himself. You started again and thought it would be different this time, that you had got it, and that it would be soon over now like he had promised. 

But you never seemed to learn that hope was a foolish thing. 

Your thighs trembled and the muscles inside them twitched. Before you could even register what was going on, you had landed in front of Pedri's feet on your hands and knees. A stifled sob left you. 

He sighed. “I wonder why your endurance hasn't increased even a little from when we did this the last time” which was 2 months ago. “The exercise I recommended for it was sure to work…” Your head further lowered in shame like you were in the wrong. 

“That's ‘cause I haven't been doing it, coach” your cheeks and eyes burnt alike in humiliation. Thick drops of hot tears thumped on the grass in front of you. 

“Oh, really? Why not?” He feigned innocence like he didn't know that you hadn't been doing it.

You remained at his feet because you knew that's how he liked you to be, deep down. And you didn't feel like disappointing him even more than you probably already had. 

“J- Just…” You did not even dare to let your mind wander to how he even knew that you hadn't been doing. “Just…” You chose ignorance. It was bliss. Life was hard enough and you could not afford this right now. 

Pedri sighed as if he was actually unhappy about what was about to happen. “You know what has to happen now, don't you?” You nodded, utterly defeated as you slowly rose to your wobbly feet and began to trudge yourself to the middle of the field, relieving yourself of your clothing as you went by, taking off and dropping each article behind you while you walked. 

You collapsed on your knees in the middle of the field and propped yourself ass up on your hands and knees, widening your legs for him to see and access your cunt better. 

“You know I hate to do this but you just have to forget things like the silly little baby that you are, don't you?” You feel his knees touch against yours as he kneels behind you. One of his rough hands grab you by the hip to keep you in place whilst the other holds his rock hard cock over the smooth surface of your ass. 

“Y- Yes, coach. I am sorry–” your voice disappears when he suddenly taps his leaking tip against your pucker and you nearly have a panic attack. Though you don't hear it you feel his body vibrate behind you and you know he's laughing at you, your panic, your helplessness, your humiliation. “... C- Coach” you finish breathlessly when he prods your wrinkled up pucker with his tip but then drags it down the dent and between the hot cavern past your pussy lips. 

“Well, you know what I say,” the fat apex of his thick cock glides a little before it finds an opening and pushes itself between your folds to kiss your pussy hole that blinks in response. “A good girl's one who owns her mistakes.”

“Yes, coach– hnnng!” Your back arches when he enters you with a jerk, the mess you made in your panties couples with the precum coating his tip aiding the penetration. 

The task that had landed you in this situation was that every night before bed you were to get in this same position that you were in right now and stay like that for some 15 minutes before you were to rub -and strictly only rub- your pussy -because Pedri insisted that it was just as much a muscle as any other in your body- until you were so close you felt the initial heat of your orgasm before stopping. Then you were to continue being in the same position with your head lowered to watch how your legs were doing for another 15. 

This was to build the endurance levels of all your muscles as well as develop in you a restraint and discipline all football players were required to have. 

Usually he made the edging worth your while soon after but as mentioned before, he had been busy and so you were left with nothing but the frustration. 

So you had stopped. 

As to why you couldn't just let yourself go and cum by yourself, it was because you were incapable of doing so. 

Unless he was actually there with you, your body would either refuse itself orgasms or ruin them for you. 

Only Pedri could make them make sense.

“Tell me, bebé,” his mask only slipped when you were like this. He would say things and touch you in ways that betrayed his little charade. “Did you purposefully disobey coach like a bad little baby because you like him breaking in your beautiful muscles?” Yes, that is what he had termed this.  

Breaking in of your muscles.

And you.

Your sensitive pussy was being overworked as the burn of overstimulation overwhelmed you with each resounding thrust. Pedri had found a pace and the upper half of your body had collapsed against your folded arms. Your cheek rubbed against it with each thrust as you involuntarily moaned out loud, watching the stretch of the field aimlessly. 

Pedri snorts as he breathes heavily, snapping his hips harder and harder as he continues to fuck deeper and deeper into you. “I always forget that your brain is also a muscle so it breaks each time I've to help you out like this” you can only croak in response as you feel another orgasm building. He tries to get your attention attention again but you can only let out wanton moans and grunts. “Hey!” And so it comes; his hand cutting through the air before it loudly cracks against your ass. 

“Huh!” You snap out of the haze of your euphoria only to jump again because another one lands on your other cheek. You were barely even following him so you squeak out, “Yes, coach! You're right, coach!” He chuckles. 

“The sweetest little thing, aren't you, bebé?” Just then his cock hits you where you are sensitive while he lands a spank on your pucker at the same time and you cry out, toppling over the edge as your vision declines and hearing follows its suit. 

Your body shakes with spasms as you clutch the grass to withstand the pounding he's giving to your g-spot. It is too much for you when his hot cum begins to fill you up and the air fills with the lewd sound of his cock slopping in and out of you while specks go flying all about. 

“Come here” he growls as he pulls you back up against his chest by your hair so you bounce upwards with each thrust he gives you while he fucks his high up your sensitive womb. Pedri wraps his arm around your neck so you're in a headlock and his lips and teeth attack the side of your face that is in his reach. He kisses, he licks, he sucks and he bites to withstand the pleasure that his cock feels in the hot enclosure of your tight little cunt. 

Pedri even slips his fingers between your legs to rub your folds only to make you cry out just a bit louder.

It takes you both a bit to fully calm down but when he pulls you off his cock with a loud and humiliating squelch before putting your nude form against the ground to fix himself before sitting down beside you and gently pulling you into his lap to calm you down, he sweetly rubs your muscles as you weakly rest your head in the crook of his neck.

“Here” he picks up something from beside him before handing you it and you cannot help but tear up. 

You had lost one of your air pods a week ago and hadn't been able to afford a fix or substitute. How he knew this, as you hadn't seen him in a while, was beyond you. But as you saw the brand new boxed up set, hot tears spilled down your cheeks and you only shook your head in a you didn't have to fashion since you were too messed up for words. 

You threw your arms around him in the way he liked and kissed his cheek as you let your breasts press into his chest. He just chuckled and patted your head like a father would his child's. You bit back your sob as you let yourself surrender. 

It wasn't because you were touched that you were crying, no. 

It was because you knew. 

This was the peak of his craft. 

He had begun reeling you in already so he could destroy you again whenever he pleased later. 

Building you up to break you pretty for himself. 

And then reassemble you in the fashion of his preference only for the same cycle to continue. 

Maybe he was right. You were pathetic and you liked this more than you would ever admit.

After all, you came everytime and anytime he wanted you to… didn't you?

[safination]

Partners in Death...and Life

Part 9: The Vow That Binds Me [Finale]

|Part 8:The Calm Before the Fall| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping . . . *checks notes* . . . the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. Pairings: Alastor x wife!Reader Tags: fem!Reader, AFAB, Established Relationship, Asexual! Alastor, Alastor is in hell for a reason, Reader is in hell for a reason, dishes, being a simp for your partner, Asexual! Alastor, husband! Alastor. demon!Alastor Well, well, well. Three weeks later and here we are. The ending. Sorry it took so long gahaha. Here it is the ending. I hope you I delivered. Thank you everyone for reaching the ending with me. Uhhh… I’ll probably re-write some of the scenes here. There are some that I’m not exactly happy with and I know I can do better and you guys deserve my best. But for now I will sleep.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

One breath in.

One breath out.

One breath in.

One breath out . . .

It’s all you can do to stay sane. The mantra echoes across your head like a broken record. Crushing weight presses down on your chest. It forces shallow breaths out of your lungs—in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out.

Darkness surrounds you.

It’s almost mocking. Alastor’s darkness reaches out to you with only the softest of touches. His shadow loves to hover and place three small taps on the skin of your legs. Even when you drive Alastor to the edges of his patience an into the fiercest of fury, the darkest parts of him will play with the tips of your fingers.

One breath in.

One breath out.

How long must you endure this torture?

Well, that’s a ridiculous question! Alastor would certainly tell you so. His eyes would roll, and the base of his ears would flicker down with annoyance. Alastor would boop your nose or pinch your cheek. And that smile . . .ha. . .that smile.

A laugh escapes you. What a ridiculous question, indeed. You must endure for however long it must take.

The audacity of that man. How dare he turn you into a woman capable of such care . . . such affection. How dare Alastor make your living regret be that he never heard the words that’s inscribed in your soul. Now, it could also be your dying regret as well.

No . . . endure.

There are words Alastor needs to hear.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The tips of your fingers were right there. It was right in front of him. Close. Oh, so very close.

What happened? Where are you?

What happened? Where are you?

What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you? What happened? Where are you?

Alastor says your name, and it comes out like a whisper.

The echoes of his own voice answer him and your name reverberates around the once still air.

It’s the only thing Alastor can think to say. The words . . . they aren’t . . . .Why aren’t they working? His brain reverts back to the basics of instincts, and Alastor always seems to find you there. His most default instincts always seem to choose you. Because who else was there to choose?

It’s why Alastor married you twice—he dropped to his knees twice and asked for your hand twice. He would marry you across different lifetimes and realities.

Alastor says your name once more, letting it leave his lips like a prayer.

The crack of snapping bones answers him. Every physical sensation of snapping gives itself to you like an offering. They break to accommodate his growing body. Are his antlers growing? They are. They grow like mighty and proud tree branches for you.

The bones of his neck snap in three different places. His claws sharpen uncontrollably until they pierce the skin of his palm. Blood drips down and pools on the floor.

Where . . . are . . . you? Where is his wife?

The shadows grow around him, dimming the space further. His own shadow hisses around, and spreads the darkness further up the wall. It has a frown and an image of a single tear on its face. Alastor presses a hand on the ground for stability, and concrete crumbles underneath the force of his growing fury.

He crawls down the hole, lowering himself to wherever you landed. Dust settles around him and the air rings with a stillness, broken only by the fain static that emanates from him.

Alastor tries to say your name again in a desperate attempt to reach out. Radio screeches escape him instead. Control slips from his fingers like fine grains of sand. It’s unusual. Alastor isn’t bothered by this. If anyone were to bring him into this type of insanity, it would be you. The power you hold over him—it cannot be measured.

Tendril whips around him, and topples everything on sight. The space glows a harsh green. It’s the only light that illuminates against his darkness. Power thrums through his veins and flow out of him in waves.

It’s a slow but steady build, but dread eventually settles its icy grip on his throat. Something beats into his ears, and Alastor thinks it's his own heartbeat. That’s impossible. His heart is currently missing and buried under concrete.

Where are you? Please, where are you? Where is his wife?

Inky voodoo dolls crawl out his shadow. They stick their hand out the pools of darkness and pull themselves free. The dolls begin to work without a verbal order. These dolls respond to his soul, and his soul yearns for you. One grabs a rock while another slithers between the cracks of broken walls and crumpled floors. Each stone they turn, nothing pans out. Each nothing cracks him further.

Alastor’s fingers bleed as he continues to dig you out. It’s as if his life depended on it . . . and it does. You are his life.

Little domino effects cause you to storm your way into his story, and Alastor accepted it with open arms. You weaved yourself into the very essence of his being. How cruel of you to torture him like this now.

One of his shadow chirps. Its inky arms lift a rock and present an arm with a proud smile.

Alastor’s heart thumps as he stalks closer. Stray debris crushes under his weight. He finally found you. You’re here. He’ll take you and get you safe, properly this tim—

The shadows blaze higher.

That is not your arm. Alastor knows it’s not you. The arm being presented to him is shorter and sports the wrong shade. The proper arm—your arm— has a scar that’s faded and barely there. It’s one thin white line that no one would notice, but Alastor does. This arm doesn’t have your scar.

Radio static screeched out his lips.

Alastor crushes the shadow like a bug, reveling in the way its ink splats across the space, and drips down the walls. The other dolls shrink at his fury. One glance and their mission continues.

There’s a game Alastor used to play when he first died and arrived in a world without you. It’s a game he played when he left several years ago.

The rules were simple: List down everything he would sacrifice to see you.

A finger? Alastor would chop it off himself.

Money? Take every penny he owned and will ever own.

As the days without you kept growing, so did his list. His pride. His status as an Overlord. His image. His power. these all turn meaningless when compared to you. Not even their combined might can compare to a single stray feather on your head.

Everything that makes him the Radio Demon pales in comparison to even the smallest smile on your lips.

Why be the Radio Demon when he could simply be your husband?

How dare you, honestly.

How dare you turn him into a man who would set aside his pride…his power.

If Alastor needs to beg, then he would. It’s that simple. He would drop to his knees until they bruised, and offer everything for you. Who would he cook for? Whose ramblings would he listen to? Who would hold your heart with the gentlest of hands that are only reserved for you? Whose ring would match his?

Another shadow chirps. It’s holding a rock above its head, and the friend next to it points to a cluster of feathers.

It’s you. You’re here.

Alastor moves the wall, listening for any sounds that indicate discomfort. You look so small like this—chest pinned underneath some debris. The tips of his claw caress the skin of your cheek. He’s careful not to pierce you.

Alastor scoops you into his palms.

The form of your body perfectly fits into his hold. It’s as if his hands were sculpted to fit it. You shift to your back, glancing at him with a hazed look on your face. Alastor holds your gaze just as much as you hold his. One of your hands moves up and down and up and down as if to lazily pet his palm.

Every rise and fall of your chest prompt his form to get smaller and smaller.

Alastor wraps his arm around your knees, carrying you in his hold. The wound on his chest flares when he presses your head deeper into his chest. It doesn’t matter if it hurts. He has no plans of letting you go.

“Hi . . .,” You smile up at him even as your eyes droop and dried blood cakes your face. “I . . .I knew . . . I knew—”

“I know,” he tells you. “Save your strength. I’ll take care of everything. So, rest now, my love.”

One hand reaches out. It’s shaking.  He meets you halfway, placing his cheek into your hold. Your thumb swipes the skin of his cheek. “Alastor.”

“I’m right here,” he says, nuzzling further. “Go on. I found you.”

You lean into his chest, letting yourself close your eyes.

Alastor presses his cheek on the top of your feathers until his bones properly snap back into place. He listens to your small breaths and the beating of your heart. Relief pours into him like one of your calming holds. It scares him.

He never should have allowed Charlie to talk to you. How selfish of him to involve you in this war to keep you next to him. Alastor has done a myriad of acts that serve his own self gain. Somehow, this is the worst sin he’s ever committed.

The shadows pull on his leg, and teleport him and you outside the hotel.

Lucifer battles with Adam across the sky with Charlie in his arms. Angels fly all around them. Chaos burns all around him in a way that would make him laugh. Alastor couldn’t find himself to even force out a small chuckle, not when blood stains your feathers and pain scrunches your face.

Lys and Heme spot you in his arms. They rush towards him.

The taller one . . . Lys? She reaches out a hand to try and take you from him.

She’s trying to take you from him. She’s trying to take you from him. She’s trying to take you from him. She’s trying to take you from him. She’s trying to take you from him. She’s trying to take you from him. She’s trying to take you from him. She’s trying to take you from him.

It’s instinct.

A tendril shoots out his back. It wraps itself firmly around the skin of her neck and squeezes with the might of his ire. How dare she reach out her sully hands on you.

Alastor pulls you closer to him and radio static grips itself in the air until the second intern takes a step back.

Heme leans on a stray table, watching with an apathetic gaze as they cross their arms. “If you kill us, I hope you’re prepared to accept that you killed your own wife,” they say. “Aren’t you supposed to be her husband?”

The only thing tethering him to this reality are the small breaths you’re taking. Your face presses against his chest. The weight of your head pushes against his wound but Alastor endures the pain for you.

Alastor turns to them with a hash glare. Kill you? He should kill them for such audacity.

Heme presses closer to the table. “You kill us and then what?” they say, plain and simple. “There’s a hospital on the other side of the city…but angels are currently flying around. You don’t know what could happen during that time, or how long you’ll have to wait until someone takes a look at her.”

Lys claws on the tendril around her neck. “We can assess her right now… right here,” she says, coughing up her words. “Get out of our way or let her die—your choice.”

The tendril gives one last squeeze and Lys’ eyes roll back for a moment. He removes the tentacles’ grip on her.

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you,” he says and adjusts his hold on you. Feathers slide to your face. “Quite the pleasure! I would shake your hand, but my arms are rather occupied.”

Lys crumples to the ground, wheezing in some air. There are faint marks around her neck. “Just…Just place her on the cot.”

Alastor places you down, safeguarding your head. He brushes the feathers away from your face and thumbs the dirty spots on your face. The interns quickly move around you, and he watches them closely with a look only a wife wouldn’t be scared off. One wrong step and their blood would splatter across the city and their screams would be broadcasted to even the furthest rings of hell.

They work quickly and carefully. Alastor doesn’t understand everything they’re doing, but eventually they leave.

Alastor involved you in the Hazbin Hotel’s business. He brought you here. It was him who found a loophole around his deal. It was him who placed that loophole in his deal that made sure he could keep you next to him.

“It was the only way….,” Alastor whispers into your ear. Feathers brush his lips with each word he speaks. “It was the only way to keep myself next to you.”

It’s why he agreed to do the commercial the first time Charlie asked, and the second time with Vaggie as well. Alastor took a video camera and carefully edited the clips to add his voice.

That public display with the snake the first day he arrived, and the second time he humiliated the snake as well. It was all for you. He displayed his power and flaunted it with such overkill that there would be no doubt it was him and not some cheap copy-cat.

The taunts with Vox gave him the opportunity to be loud. It was an even bigger microphone that announced his presence to the whole city. That there would be zero doubt from anyone’s mind that the Radio Demon has returned, but maybe, to you…it would be an assurance that your husband was reaching out to you.

Alastor could only hope you were listening. He could only hope that you would care enough about him to seek him out once more, even after he was forced to leave you without a word.

And you did.

You stood in front of him, smiling as you fumed. The smile on your face was meant to conceal your frown. What a ridiculous thing to do. Did you not think that Alastor wouldn’t know what a true smile from you looked like? As if he hasn’t been spending decades hanging them on your lips.

A piece of him returned the very moment his eyes landed on you. It was as if time ticked once more and air could finally return in his lungs.

“Did you think about me?” Alastor brushes some feathers off your face. Dust and blood mix together to paint your skin. “Did you think I would rather be in this hotel instead of the home I built with you? It's a ridiculous notion…and also something you would do.”

One of your interns left a cloth and a bowl of clean water next to him. Alastor takes it, and dips the edges in the water. He gently swipes it across your face to clear any dirt that covers the face of his wife.

“How unfair of me to do this to you,” he says. “How unfair of you to do this to me as well.”

Alastor involved you in this war, brought you to the hotel under the pretext of business. It’s a careful loophole he exploited for the one who wears the ring that matches his.

Bringing you as a staff of the hotel meant Alastor could be by your side once more. It meant there would be someone to cook for again. It meant there would be someone to annoy once more. It meant there would be someone in the bed next to him, filling the room with soft breaths.

Were these past several years just as torturous for you? They were to him.

It broke him more than he cared to admit. Alastor knew where you’d be in every hour of the day, and it almost killed him not to go see you. It was the worst several years of his life. Worse than the time he first appeared in hell without you because at least then he didn’t know where you would be.

The deal he made chained him.

Alastor will make sure that bind him will never be stronger than the vows that bind him to you. He doesn’t like what that thought means for him. You are the remnants of his humanity that he cannot cut off.

He slips the second ring off his fingers, and places it back around you. Alastor’s done this twice already—married you twice because there was no one else he could marry.

Alastor has always been a selfish man, and it has finally ruined you.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The sky greets you. Sulfur clouds lazily flow across its red canvas.

The blanket around your shoulder pools down your lap as you sit up.

Air flows through your lungs with air as fresh as two-week eggs. Bustling catches your ears as Sinners move about. Only the honks of traffic or the steady swoosh of the wind reverberate in your ears instead of high-pitched ringing.

Lys notices you first.

Her eyes quirk as she smiles, walking towards you. “You’re awake!” she says. “The extermination ended hours ago, so you’re safe to stay here until you feel like moving.”

Heme takes a seat on the edge of the cot.

“Most got sent home,” they say, crossing their legs. “It’s just you here now.”

Light glints off the ring around your finger and oh…there’s a ring around your finger but no Alastor. Later. Think about that later. “How long was a few hours ago?”

Lys hums, a hand on her chin. “Just a little four hours.”

You point towards the building up the hill. The Hazbin Hotel stands proud but different. There’s a giant dragon statue by the entrance. “That’s a fully built building.”

“It looks great, right? I’m just glad they didn’t ask for our help to build the thing,” Lys tells you, glancing at the hotel. “Lucifer used magic to speed up the process. It was interesting to see, but I’m not really the physical labor type.”

Heme leans back on the cot, propping an arm to steady themselves. “He also used magic to heal everyone else,” they say. “Just a snap of his fingers and bam healed. Some even re-grew the appendages we carefully sliced off.”

“Magic?” Your nose scrunches. “That’s convenient.”

“Too convenient.”

Lys blows a raspberry. “Boo.”

The pads of your thumb swipes the cool metal of your ring until your questions could no longer be held back. “My husband?”

“Yeah… he was the one who brought you here.” Lys makes a face, scratching her neck. “He filtered off somewhere when he spotted Lucifer walking down the hill.”

That’s disappointing. More than a little disappointing.

You spring from the bed, far easier than it should take. “Woah…,” you say, stretching your limbs. “That’s really great magic—I don’t feel a single thing.”

Heme snorts at you. “That’s good, considering you split your head wide open,” Heme says, snorting at you. “Who knew the Radio Demon easily panicked at the sight of blood.”

Panic?  What a silly, silly, thought. Alastor doesn’t panic at blood.

Lys scowls. “Ugh, I never want to hear his name ever again”

The new doors of the hotel easily open.

There’s a tower on the side of the hotel that looks like it has Alastor’s name written on the walls. The decorations are still tacky, and it lacks the homier and used atmosphere. That’s a shame.

It’s cleaner as well. You pick up any feathers that drop to the floor as you search for some way to get to Alastor’s tower.

Thankfully, there are signs that direct you to your destination. You go up the elevator and find yourself in Alastor’s tower. The fact that he has a tower here means he’ll probably still be staying here. You would need to leave soon unless you decided to stay.

Only a door separates you and your husband now.

The shadow’s harsh grip on the room lightens when you place a single foot inside. The more steps you take, the more shadows retreat.

Alastor’s back faces you. It stands proud as he stares out the window with folded hands. His eyes barely slide towards you, but they look and they linger for more than a moment. Harsh lines outline his body. Everything's sharper. It’s quite the menacing sight, indeed.

A question strikes you.

Who stands before you—Alastor or the Radio Demon?

“Tell me if anything hurts,” Alastor says and you choose to believe it’s him, even as a thick radio filter glazes his voice. “I want the truth.”

“Not a single feather out of place.” There’s a small smile on your lips even as he barely looks at you. It doesn’t reach your eyes.

Alastor’s back relaxes at your words. It only lasts a second before they tense up once more. “Good.”

“Thank you for asking, my lov—”

“Go home.” Alastor turns to the window, his back facing you once more. “The job Charlie gave you ended the moment the extermination did, and you are neither one of our staff or a guest.”

“Indeed, I am not,” you say, closing the door behind you. “I am only your wife, afterall.”

“Leave if you have nothing else to say,” he tells you, the lines between Alastor and the Radio Demon blurring. “…Be careful on your way home.”

“I’m in the mood for a walk,” you say. “Come with me? We can go home together. I lost quite a number of items, and I want to replace them sooner rather than later.”

Alastor tightens the grip he has on his hands. “I’m still needed here.”

“I’m thinking of staying,” you say just because. “The trees seem to have grown on me. And you know how difficult it is for me to suddenly change my sleeping arrangements. We can…We can finally do that picnic…”

Alastor turns—No.

The Radio Demon turns towards you, a wide smile on his face. “You can’t stay here.”

Your face falls into a blank as you stare at him. The audacity of this man to look at you like you are some wayward Sinner who would cower in fear. “I’m confused,” you say, slowly. “Explain it to me.”

His smile widens until it reaches his ears. “There’s nothing to explain. I don’t want you here.”

You steel your heart from his words. Comfort comes in the shape of his shadow. It plays with your own, a happy little smile on its face. “And?”

“Listen to me very closely,” the Radio Demon snarls at you, taking a single step forward. His figure towers over you menacingly. “I don’t appreciate having to repeat myself—Go home. You’re not wanted here, not by me.”

“You are my home,” you say. It’s a desperate attempt, an olive branch to allow him to retract any statements.

The Radio Demon stays silent, but wisps of Alastor appear in his cracks.

It’s the silence that forces you to turn your back towards him, facing the door to compose yourself. Deep breaths—in and out and in and out. It’s all you can do to hold your own cracking pieces together.

The smile you show the Radio Demon is a controlled and gentle smile that only a fool would mistake for kindness. “No, I won’t do it.”

A wave of power shoots out of him. The lights flicker and dim in response.

The Radio Demon glares at you, his pupils morphing into radio dials. Symbols carve themselves into the air. They flicker around you. The shadows that dissipated the moment you stepped into the room grew once more. It spreads underneath him, painting the room darker.

Radio feedback mixes itself within his words. “G̷̛̼͓̮͍̮ǫ̵̦̝̜͚̿͛ ̵̜͇̞̼̽̊̑̇̂h̸̗͌͘ö̵̼̠͔̰̭́̍̒͛̔m̴̜͐͝ë̵̻̗̲͇́ͅ.”

A knock sounds on the door. Only you notice the hesitant but firm knock.

Your back turns towards the Radio Demon, even as waves of power flow out his skin. Amidst of all shadows and static, his hand reaches out when you grip the doorknob and step out the room.

Radio screeches escape his mouth, and underneath the layers of static, you think Alastor says your name.

The door closes with a click.

Husk stands before you, an irritated look on his face.

“Hello,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “What brings you by—lost in rock, paper, scissors?”

“Volunteered, actually,” Husk says, snorting. “Wasn’t actually going to knock like I said I would, but these lights just got installed…and Vaggie mentioned spotting you on your way here.”

Another wave of power flows out the door. It’s stronger this time. Shadows pool out the cracks until the whole hallway dims, illuminated only by the faint green glow of the Radio Demon’s magic.

“Come on,” Husk says, ears flickering for a moment. “I’ll pour us a drink.”

“I don’t think the lightbulbs will survive if I do,” you say and sigh when they begin to flicker sporadically. “And there seems to be quite a number of them.”

Husk shrugs a bit. “He can afford a new set.”

“It’s alright,” you say, shaking your head.

“Before you go back inside,” Husk says, placing his hands inside his pocket. “The old bar…the one that was downstairs.”

Your head tilts. “What about it?”

“The bones, yeah? The one that decorated the bar…It’s him who placed those there,” he says. “Late at night, I’d catch him cleaning it sometimes, a drink in his hand. He gets pissy whenever it gets damaged.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips. The heads of his enemies were a gift to you, and the bones were your gift back. “Thank you for telling me this.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Eventually,” you say, a soft smile on your lips as you glance at the door. “You know how marriage can be—it has its ups and its downs.”

The door opens easily, and the shadows spill out and consume all the light around.

Static builds in a way that stings your ears. Still, you lock the door behind you, trapping yourself with the Radio Demon.

There’s a shocked look on his face as he stares at you. He’s grown in size since you stepped out the door. Some of the shadows retreat back into himself.

Radio dials still stare into you. The symbols flare and dim in a never-ending cycle. Lights flicker around you once more. His ears are pressed down, almost flat.

“Alastor,” you call out for your husband, staring him down. “You forget yourself.”

One blink and one of his eyes revert. It takes a couple more blinks for the dials to disappear.

All darkness recedes back into him as he controls himself. The Radio Demon still stands before you, composed but menacing. It’s a far cry from your Alastor. It doesn’t really matter who stands before you, actually. The Radio Demon or Alastor. He’s still your husband, no matter what shade.

It’s him who still wears the ring that matches yours, and it’s that exact fact that had you lock the door behind.

“I won’t do what you aren’t asking me to do.” The words come out weaker than you expect. “I won’t leave, Alastor. Not you—not ever.”

“Go home…please,” he says, diffing his claws into the skin of his palm. “The job that allowed you to stay with me ended. There’s no reason for you to stay anymore. You are—“

“Who I am is your wife, and you are my husband,” you say, a bit colder than intended as you reach the end of your patience. “Alastor, whatever it is, we can work through it. Was it…Was it something I said?”

“Go home.”

“Stop.” You ran a hand over your feathers, smoothening the ones that stick out. “You are my home, and there’s nowhere else for me to go but to you.”

One hand reaches out, beckoning him closer.

His shoulders relax, uncoiling the tension. The smile on his face turns softer. Every step the Radio Demon takes turns him back to Alastor, and Alastor plays with the tips of your fingers before taking them on his own.

Alastor places your hand on his cheek, nuzzling himself into your palm.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be left behind.” Your thumb goes up and down his cheek. “It’s you who always leaves.”

Alastor takes another step towards you, leaning even closer. “Then this is your chance to leave me.”

“You cannot make me.”

“I don’t want to see you,” he growls. It’s funny how his words tell you to leave, but Alastor pulls you closer to him, pressing his head on your shoulders. “Why bother to stay when I don’t want you here with me.”

Why?

That’s the question, isn’t it? Such a simple question can be answered with such a simple response. It’s the most natural thing you’ve ever had to say to him. It’s not difficult at all, not when it’s inscribed on your very soul. The only problem was finding the courage to do so.

You take his face, forcing him to look into your eyes. “I love you.”

Alastor takes a step back, a step away from you. The grip you have on his coat tightens, keeping him close.

“Don’t run away from this,” you tell him, trying to show him a smile. “Please, Alastor… I beg you. It almost broke me when you died. My mornings and nights bled into a dullness when you did not return to me. I don’t think I’ll be able to repair it if you force me to leave.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, trailing the back of his fingers down. “You will find a way.”

You stare into him, the smile on your face falling. If your eyes could turn into radio dials, they would.

“I love you,” you repeat, clutching the lapels of his coat. “Damn you, Alastor. I love you in ways you cannot understand. I love you in ways I don’t know how to express because of how much it overflows.”

Alastor stares into your eyes. Thoughts run through his mind, but you cannot decipher a single one. It’s his silence that stings the most.

“You are a piece of my heart.” The words come out quickly… desperately. “No number of stitches will be able to repair me.  I will scar because of you.”

“Then leave.”

You crash your head into his chest, pulling yourself into his hold. Alastor snakes his arms around your waist, dropping into you.

There it is again. The words he says differ from the actions he takes.

“You have said a myriad of insults. I’ve heard you say that you don’t want me…that you don’t care for me … but not once have I heard you asked me to leave,” you say, clutching the fabric of his coat. “I will leave if you truly wish we gone, but first you have to ask me to do so.”

Once more, silence is the reply he cares to give you.

“Damn you, Alastor. Say something—Ask me to leave you!” you exclaim. There’s a part of you that wants to scream at him. Make him hurt until he gives you another expression besides that permanent smile of his. “Tell me to leave, and I will do so. I will vacate the home we built and return the ring you gave me.”

There’s a box inside your pocket. It’s not exactly your most precious item, but it’s what’s inside that matters to you the most. You take it, and slam it against his chest.

Alastor takes the box, opening it to take a look inside. His eyes widened as he stared at the item. The box only holds one item—the paper ring he used to propose to you. It’s a very, very, old piece of paper. The most precious piece of paper in your world.

“I will forge the vows you made and forgive the vows you are breaking,” you tell him. It’s been a long day, a too long day. You press your head on his chest, leaning into him. “Rip yourself from my very being, then and only then will I leave you.”

“This is yours.” Alastor closes the box around your fingers, gripping it tightly around his own. “Whether you want it or not—it’s yours.”

Your nails dig into the wood of the box. “Are you asking me to leave?”

“I don’t want you here,” he says, weakly. “How much cleared do I need to be to get it in your thick skull?”

Anger burns through your body. “Are you asking me to leave?”

Silence. That’s all he gives you. Alastor’s lips twist, even as a smile paints his face. The hand around your waist tightens.

“Answer the question, my love,” you say, almost mockingly. “Come on. This is it. Ask me to leave and I wil—”

Alastor grabs your shoulders, and another pulse of power flows out of him. “I cannot cut you out!”

“And you think I can?” you exclaim, gripping his coat. “Do you think that I could hurt you like that? That I would be willing to leave you?”

Alastor pulls himself away from your hold to walk across the room. Once more, his back faces towards you as he runs a hand across his hair. His hand trails down to his mouth, covering it as he takes one single deep breath.

You will him to find his voice.

(You hope he never does.)

Alastor reaches out for you.

A single step back. That’s all you take, but his ears droop lower. It forces you to look at everything except him. What expression is Alastor making now? Part of you never wants to know. “What do you want to ask me?”

A soft click of a dial and music fills the air.

Alastor tilts your chin, forcing you to look at him. There’s a smile on his face when he swipes his thumb across. “May I have this dance?”

Once more, he holds a hand out, and you find yourself accepting him.

Alastor plays with the tips of your fingers before taking it in his hold. A hand snakes around your waist, pulling you flush against him. The music builds, and his grip on you tightens even more.

Alastor takes the lead on this dance. Foot forwards. Back. When was the last time you’ve done this? Every beat of the music has you dancing across the room. The pace of his movement picks up with the music. Alastor tightens his grip on your hand, swinging you backwards, dipping low, then soaring into the air. He doesn’t stop twirling you until you’re laughing in his arms, a wide smile painted on your lips.

Music flows into your body, replacing any hurt or anger. It doesn’t seem to matter. Not when Alastor presses you oh so close into him, dipping you forward and looking into your eyes. He’s here. You’re here. That’s all that matters.

Alastor grips your waist, lifting you into the air and lands you on one of the tables.

The firm grip around your waist lingers when he takes his spot between your legs. Alastor presses his head on your shoulders, leaning into you. Just a moment here. That’s all you need, and maybe that’s all he needs as well.

He takes both your hands, intertwining them with his own. The rings around your fingers press against each other. Alastor squeezes your hand. “Will you stay?”

You squeeze back. “Of course.”

He presses a kiss on the edge of your lips. “Even if I cannot give you what you deserve?”

“I don’t need you to give me anything,” you tell him, connecting your foreheads together. “I’m living the life I wish to live. Throughout the Earth…no, not just Earth, but in Heaven and Hell as well, there is nothing more perfect in this universe than when I am with you.”

You press a hand on his chest, steading yourself to place a kiss on his cheek.

Huh…that’s weird. It’s wet.

There’s a wet spot on his chest, and it seeps into your palm. You retract your hand even as Alastor tenses for a moment. Oh…there’s blood on your hand.

Blood?

Realization hits you with its cold, cold, grip.

You push him away, halting the moment. Alastor shakes his head, reaching out for you once more. Instead, you grab his coat and pull on it like a madwoman. The grip on him tightens when you sloppily claw his coat off his body.

The frenzy stops when it slips off his shoulders and away from his arms. It gets thrown away somewhere irrelevant to this very moment. You grip his dress-shirt, practically ripping off the buttons to expose his bare chest.

Jagged stitches run across a fresh and bleeding wound. Green threads sow his skin together. It’s sloppily stitched together.

One hand reaches out to touch him, but Alastor catches your wrist.

“Alastor…,” you say, and his name leaves your lips in a whisper. “What did you do to yourself?”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

There’s sadness painted across your face. It’s in the way your lips wobble, and it’s in the way your eyebrows furrowed together. 

There are times when Alastor believes himself to be heartless, incapable of emotions that don’t serve his own self-interest. Yet…here you are, proving him wrong once again.

A part of him screams and begs to turn away, because every wobble of your smile plunges a knife into a heart he obviously owns.

Alastor isn’t allowed to look away, not when it’s him who took a bloodied brush and painted a frown over your lips. It’s because of him that your shoulders are dropping with a sad, sad, expression on your face.

He smiles at you. “It’s only a few hours old.”

A small laugh spills out. Experience tells him it’s not because you find his joke humorous. “Don’t…” You shake your head, staring at him with a hollowness in your eyes. “Don’t talk to me right now.”

There really isn’t anything else to do but nod.

There’s a couch in this room. It’s one of the many new pieces of furniture in his radio tower. You grab his hand, pulling him towards the couch. Alastor follows each and every of your silent commands, and takes a seat when you push him down the cushions.

“I need scissors,” you tell him, plain and simple. The sadness locks away, replaced by a frozen gaze. “Scissors, Alastor.”

A snap of his fingers, and any tools you could ever need appear by your lap.

It’s simple work, really–almost automatic. You grab the suture scissors, and snap the first thread he forced deep into his skin. The wound flares open and Alastor bites down on the bottom of his lip. The sharpness of his teeth threaten to draw blood.  

Another snap of the sutures and Alastor digs his claws into his palm. The fire that surges from his chest mocks him with its pain, a reminder that embers of his humanity cannot be snuffed out.

There’s a finger that pokes his arm, grounding him away from the pain. It trails down his skin until it reaches where his claws dig into his palm. Three taps – one, two, three – and his fingers retract from his palm.

You insert your hand into his hold, intertwining your fingers between his own.

If snipping his sutures with one hand inconveniences the process, you make no complaint. But it’s always been like this, hasn’t it? A task done together, hands intertwined with only one usable hand. 

One suture after the other, you snip the threads Alastor forced into his skin. As each snip flares in pain, Alastor squeezes down on your hand. 

As each snip exposes his wound once more, you squeeze his hand back.

You grab the forceps next, and pick out the remaining sutures inserted between his skin. Still, your hand never tries to leave his grip. Part of Alastor wants to exist in this moment even after eternity ends. Even when the pain forces his teeth to grind, Alastor would rather stay here, and hold on to you without ever letting go.

You hover your palms above his chest.

Alastor pulls away from your hand, even if it pains him more than your snipping to do so, and snatches your wrist away from his injury. “Don’t…I know what you’re trying to do,” he tells you, and the base of his ears flatten on his head. “Don’t do it – not for me.”

“Let me do this one thing,” you say, voice low and barely a whisper. “Please…just let me do this one thing for you. That’s all I’m requesting as your wife, and I will do whatever it is you want me to do.”

“I will beg if that’s what you want me to do,” Alastor says, his grip still secure around your wrist.

“I love you, always,” you tell him, and the flutters in his heart blooms. It’s been blooming since you first said the words. “Even when you hide things from me, even when you died, even when you left for seven years, and even if you will leave for another seven years.”

Alastor doesn’t have the resolve to deny your request.

Decades of marriage. Decades of time together. Decades of living in a world where magic and sorcery are possible. It’s only natural you would know how to use the power that comes with your soul. And right now, Alastor regrets helping you cultivate this power, even if it’s serving his own benefit. Especially, when the cost comes in the form of you.

Flickers of your soul flow straight into his body, mending the jagged points of slashed tissues and muscles into one long scar. 

The joints of your knees buckle as you try to stand.

It’s instinct for Alastor’s hand to shoot out, catching your shoulders in his hold and steadying you until you’re seated next to him on the couch. There’s a soulless expression between your eyes, even as he runs his thumbs over your cheek.

Was it too much?  Did transfering even the smallest flickers of your soul take too much from you?  Or did Alsator do what he always does – he takes and he takes and he takes until there’s nothing left?

There it is again–his selfishness has damaged you.

Finally, you glance at him, and the flicker of your eyes pulls his heart above the water’s surface. 

One hand reaches out. It pulls his head on the soft plush of your lap. Your fingers thread through his hair, letting red strands flow through your fingers. The tips of your nails scratch the base of his ear, bringing Alastor into a slow lull. It’s a gentle touch that he doesn’t deserve.

It’s been a long day, and Alastor’s tired of trying to get you to leave. Can he stay here for the rest of eternity? The way your fingers thread through his hair prompts his eyes to dro–

The first tear lands on his cheek.

It doesn’t stop at one. Tears slip out the slits of your eyes, trailing down until they splatter on his face. There’s still that soulless look on your face, even as the tears flow.

Alastor springs from your lap, reaching out to wipe the tear away with the pads of his thumb. Oh…oh. He did this. Alastor made you cry. “Don’t cry for me.”

Another tear slips out. “Then stop making me cry.”

“I don’t deserve your tears,” Alastor tells you, catching the next tear that slips out.

Your eyes flutter to a close, accepting the fact that tears flow down your cheeks. “You’re the only person who deserves these.”

Alastor grabs your hand, squeezing them in his hold. It’s something you’ve never said out loud, but Alastor knows you hate showing him your tears. It’s such a ridiculous thing. He would never judge your tears. To anyone else, tears would be a sign of weakness. Not for you—tears mean you cared.

“What did you do to yourself?” you say, clutching his hand tightly. “Alastor, why would you do that to yourself? I would have helped you… Do I… Do I mean so little to you?”

Alastor grabs your face, swiping the tears. “No, not at all,” he says, quickly. “You are—”

“What. Tell me what.” Your lips twist. “What am I to you Alastor? The bane of your existence? Ridiculous?”

“Yes.” These are the first words that slip out his mouth.

You stare at him, gritting your teeth. “Yes?”

“No!”

“No?” you parrot back, pulling your hand off his hold. He tries to reach for it again, but you only pull it back further. “Alastor, which is it?”

“No,,” he says, weakly… desperately. “You are my very existence, and I cannot cut you off without cutting myself as well. It’s almost as if my lips were made to say your name.”

More tears slip out your eyes, and you use your wrist to wipe them away.

“I am a selfish man, and all I can ever want is you. I would give up everything for you,” Alastor tells you, taking your hand to press himself against it. He presses a kiss on the metal of your ring. “My status… My pride. They are meaningless in the face of you. I cannot drag you down any further than I already have all because there isn’t a corner in all of hell where I can hide from you.”

Alastor’s smile falters at your silence.

For once in his life, he can’t keep the smile on his face. He doesn’t deserve to smile. What would you think when you see him smiling at your pain. The pain he causes you.

It begins to droop, and you catch it with the tips of your fingers, pushing the edges of his lip up into a smile. “A frown doesn’t suit you, my love,” you say, even as tears drop down your cheeks. “Smile for me.”

Alastor laughs instead of smiling. 

This dance you’ve both been doing. Ridiculous and silly. That’s what it is.

He pulls you on top of him until the both of you are spread out of the couch. Alastor kisses every tear, pulling you tighter against him. “You are my everything,” he tells you. “And I never should have done anything to make you believe otherwise. Everything I do… I do it with you in my mind and in my heart.”

You curl into him, bringing your legs closer and Alastor places his chin on top of your head. “Then why did you leave me?”

“Do you really think I would have left you willingly?” he asks you, pressing a kiss on the crown of your feathers. “I need you to know that I am doing everything I can to stay by your side.”

“I don’t know what to think.” You trace circles on his skin.

“Listen to what I’m going to say next.”

“Why?” you say. “All so I can hear you call me ridiculous?”

“No, not at all… I love you,” Alastor says, and it comes out quickly. What do you see in those eyes of yours? “I love you.”

A small smile quirks into your lips as you stare into him with eyes that crinkle. That’s better.

“It’s not a lie,” he says, desperately. “You have to believe me when I say I love you. It’s nothing but the truth because it is—I love you.”

You place a hand on his face, the pads of your thumb going up and down. “Why would I think you were lying?”

Alastor pulls you into a kiss. Usually, they’re slow as he likes to take his time to write you poems that explain how happiness flows out of him in waves. It’s you who places this seed in him and it’s you who takes care of it with gentle hands.

Alastor writes you poems with his lips. Each kiss tells you about how the sun nor the moon nor the stars can compare to the light that shines in your eyes nor can it compare to the light you ignite in his. Each movement tells you how not even water or air can be as important as existing with you in every moment across space and time.

It’s him who pulls away first. Greedy. He becomes too greedy when it comes to you.

Your eyes are still shut. He runs his thumb over your eyes, nudging you with his nose until your eyes flutter open. Oh, how they shine brighter than the moon.

There’s a box in your pocket that he pulls out. The ring was so old. The paper stains yellow and obvious fold marks crease the edges. You took care of it, all these years together and you took care of the first ring he ever gave you.

“How do you still have this?”

“Because I loved you enough to be buried with it,” you say, and your eyes crinkle at you smile. “And I loved you even more to disturb my own grave.”

“You are the most ridiculous person to ever exist with… Say it again,” he tells you, practically begging you to do so again. “I want to hear it again.”

You steal a kiss from him and it takes every inch of his self-control not to pull you right back to it. “Only if you say it as well.”

“I love you,” Alastor says and only the truth spills out his mouth. “And I will tell you I love you for the rest of eternity and beyond that as well.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Every step Alastor takes, you take.

Every corner he rounds, you round.

It’s easy to follow him when he does nothing to conceal his presence. The Radio Demon struts around town, a hand on his back and a microphone slotted around his arm, without a care in this world. His back is broader in this body, and his waist slimmer. Still, his legs take long and fast strides.

A small giggle escapes your lips as you follow him down the street.

Alastor turns right, disappearing into an alley. You hop over some trash and step over some blood, and follow the Radio Demon into an alley.

The moment you step deeper into the shadows, tendrils snake up your leg, and around your waist and wrist. They hoist you into the air, tightening around you as they squeeze painfully. You try to pull away, but its grip on you tightens.

Alastor steps out of the shadows, a permanent smile on his lips.

You smile back at him, letting out a blissful sight. “Hi.”

“Hello,” he says and steps further into the light. Tuffs shoot out of his head, and part of your wonders if those were his ears. Dear god, there are itty-bitty antlers on his head. (They’re too cute.)

“Hello?” you parrot back, making a face. “Like a knife straight into the heart! You wound me, sweetheart.”

Alastor’s smile shifts until you see the yellow in his teeth. It’s a snarl. A barely noticeable one, but it’s there. It’s in the way his cheeks strain and in the way his chest puffs out further. The stitches on the side of his mouth flare as he smiles at you.

The tendrils tighten and you grit your teeth. “This is new,” you say, trying to keep your smile. “You should be careful with those. My husband gets oh so terribly jealous.”

Alastor leans on his microphone. “You’ve been following me all day.”

His bowtie is crooked. Even in hell, Alastor still wears a bowtie. You point towards it, even if the tendrils around your wrist limits movement. His eyes slide down to it, and he fixes it himself.

“Oh darling…I’ve been following you for the last three months,” you tell him, still trying to pull free from the bondages around you. “That’s alright. I always was better at following you. I even followed you all the way here. Ha!”

“Are you a fan?”

Your face scrunches and you recoil as if you’ve been shot. “A fan?” you exclaim, trying not to gag. “That’s twice you’ve managed to insult me.”

Something flickers through Alastor’s mind.  It’s a quick flash. Whatever he thought of has him laughing out loud. It’s breathy and light, and one of the best things you’ve ever heard. Oh, how you’ve longed for the sound of his laughter.

Alastor’s fingers tighten around his microphone as he forces himself to stop laughing. There’s a steely look on his face, as he digs his nail into his skin. It’s almost as if he’s surprised.

“How delightful!” he says and you doubt he actually believes that. “It seems I have been entertained. Shall we strike a deal? Tell me what you want and it shall be yours…for a price, of course.”

“I hope you don’t go around flirting like that with every lady you see—I get rather jealous as well.”

He glares at you.

You show him your most innocent smile.

There it is again. Something flickers in his mind. Alastor studies you for a moment, and the restraints loosen around you. His eyes widened. It’s barely noticeable—a quick lift of his eyelids in surprise.

After the initial shock, the tendrils tighten on your body, and you yelp, pushing away as it squeezes on you.

“Alastor, stop!” your cry out, leaning away to try and get even a semblance of space. It hurts…but… uh… in an exciting way. Part of you wonders if he still wears sleeve garters—you hope he does. (You need to keep it together.) “I’ll let you know that this hurts. You’re hurting me.”

“Good.”

“Ooooh, I do love it when you flirt with me.”

“If you value your life, I suggest you stop your game,” he hisses out. His smile wobbles for a second before they widen into a snarl as his eyes darken. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you. I’m losing interest by the second and I’m in need of a new voice for my radio.”

You cough a bit, trying to clear your throat. It’s quite warm today. “I think you would be interested in my name.”

Alastor snorts like you’ve said something funny, but his ears flicker a bit. There’s interest written all over his face, and only you can see it. Hmmm, maybe a little bit of hope as well? He taps his fingers on his microphone. “Why should I care for your name?”

“Because you made a vow.”

His teeth clench, and a muscle on his cheek tightens. The tendrils around your body lower you gently, only slithering away when your feet safely touch the ground. Still, they hover closely as you regain your balance. It’s as if they stay close just in case you fall over, ready to hoist you.

Red marks imprint your wrist from where the tendrils squeezed.

“Go on,” he says, and his eyes flicker to the marks on your skin. “You have one chance to keep my interest.”

You tell him your name.

Your first name, and the last name he shared with you. “…Pleasure to be meeting you!” One hand rests on your chest, and the other shoots to the air. It’s the bow you would do in high-school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow. “Quite a pleasure!”

Alastor stares at you for a moment. Those red eyes of his flicker to you, taking in… well, you. It takes a moment for him to respond. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Your smile remains constant, even as a small laugh escapes you. “And why would that be?”

You extend a hand out to Alastor, beckoning him closer.

 He takes a single step closer, and you mirror his movements. The more steps he takes, the more steps you take. It’s like a dance that only stops until you’re a breath away. Alastor inches even closer, studying the grooves of your new face.

He presses a hand on your face, and you lean into his touch. There it is again. Even in this new body, his thumb goes up and down the skin of your cheeks. And even in this new body, it still feels the same. It still feels like Alastor.

Your eyes close, letting yourself feel his touch.

Alastor says your name as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yes?” you say.

Alastor’s hands trails down until it wraps around your wrist. You wince a little when you feel his fingers. “I shouldn’t have done this to you,” he says. He holds them gently, cradling them as he brings his lips on the inside of your wrist. “My dear.”

“Yes?” You pull your wrist from his hold, and press a small kiss on his cheeks. It’s a silent act.

“My love.”

Another kiss on the other side of his cheek. “I’m right here.”

“Dearest.”

A kiss on the edge of his mouth. You allow your lips to linger on him, brushing him with a soft reply. “Yes?”

“My, most, dear.” Alastor pulls you closer. His nose nudges you, poking you a little. “My, only, dear.”

“Yes?”

Alastor says your name again and again, and you respond again and again. He brushes some feathers away from your face, taking a long and good look at you.

His breath mixes with your as inches of space separates your lips. Just a moment…that’s all you need. Just a single moment to feel his presence before you could lose yourself into him.

Once, someone told you the moment before the kiss was more magical than the kiss itself. It’s in the fluttering eyes, the soft intakes of breath, and the feeling of hands tightening around your waist. Intoxicating. That’s the only word that could even come close to the way Alastor tortures you.

They would be correct, if they weren’t so wrong.

He takes half a step closer, and the distance disappears. It forces your eyes to shut, the feeling of his lips too overwhelming to keep it open. A new set of lips places kiss after kiss, but the movements are all the same. It still feels like your husband.

His thumb brushes your cheek. The other hand pulls you closer to press you into him, and you slot perfectly, as if you were made to fit him.

Alastor takes his time, kissing you softly as he writes you a poem with only the taste of his mouth.

He pulls away first, and for once in your life there isn’t an urge to pull him right back in. That’s alright. There will be an eternity of moments like this. Maybe your lifetime with him wasn’t with the living, but with the dead.

Alastor’s thumb brushes over your eyelids, a silent request to open them. There’s no other option but to flutter your eyes open because there’s no option to deny him, not when he holds your heart.

Red eyes stare into you. They’re no longer brown, but they still shine brighter than starlight.

“Hi,” you say once more.

Alastor smiles at you. “Hi.”

You pull him into a hug, and Alastor curls into your hold, resting his head on your chest. He’s taller in this body, so his back has to bend to fit your hold. His hands curl around the fabric of your blouse as he pulls himself closer.

The joints of your knees begin to buckle. Alastor tightens his already tight grip on you, keeping you steady. Home. He still feels like home.

Every breath he takes raises his chest up and down, and it grounds you to this world like a lifeline. Alastor… oh your precious Alastor. He’s here. You’re here. You and him. Him and you.

“You were wrong by the way,” you say, sinking into him.

Alastor looks up at you, catching your gaze because it was only ever his to catch. “What?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

So, we have reached the ending. Gosh I did not think we would ever reach here. This is like my first ever full fic and I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you to everyone who clicked on this story and gave me a change to share a story with all of you. So, we have reached the ending. Gosh I did not think we would ever reach here. This is like my first ever full fic and I hope you guys enjoyed it. Thank you to everyone who clicked on this story and gave me a change to share a story with all of you. Taglist: @mybrainsautocorrect @ray-rook @valentique @qardasngan @teavibesaf @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @alastorssimp @aestheticgals-blog @reikamasama @slaggylemon @lyralibra @holymusicalmothman @amoraneuro @littledolly2345 @b-o-n-e-daddy @infinitefox @ayyyyyy-vase @kny-kween @thehiddenvase @stclen-sweethearts @obessivlyonline @inthemiddle0feverywhere

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc Masterlist

Written Fics

Achilles Come Down

A Crime Against Fashion

All Locked Up

Bet on It

Black Magic

Blackmail Material

Blow Out the Candles

Boop!

Borrowed Time

Brake Balance

Break In, Breakdown

Breaking Point

Changing Lanes

Danger Noodles

Daydream

Eurovisionaries

Fairytale

Family Feud

Fit for a Queen

Gilded Cage

Going Once, Going Twice

Head Over Heels

Hydrate or Diedrate

Inked

La Regina

Lessons in Anatomy

Live Like We Want To

Lover

Made with Love

Make Them Proud

Man’s World

Mesaytara

My Brother’s Father

Never Have I Ever

Newsflash

Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc

Ours to Protect

Prince of Monaco

Prove Them Wrong

Puppy Love

Roll the Dice

Ruin You

Sink or Swim

Sleepyhead

So Good to Her

So Good to Me

Something Sweet

That’s That Me, Espresso

The Center Cannot Hold

Theories of Relativity

Ties That Bind

Time to Kill

Under the Influence

Use Your Words

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Your Friend Steve

Social Media AUs

In My Blood (series with Senna!Reader)

architect!Reader

author!Reader

black!Reader

Brazilian!Reader

celebrity crush!Reader

CEO!Reader

college student!Reader

crazy rich!Reader

endurance driver!Reader

fashion designer!Reader

fan!Reader

Ferrari driver!Reader

Ferrari engineer!Reader

Ferrari team principal!Reader

footballer!Reader

girlfriend!Reader

Horner!Reader

Måneskin!Reader

model!Reader

nepo baby!Reader

Newey!Reader

newlywed!Reader Part I

newlywed!Reader Part II

New Year’s Edition

pop star!Reader

pop star!Reader II

PowerPointless Part II

Princess of Monaco!Reader

pr manager!Reader

protective!Reader

revenge era!Reader

royal!Reader

Sainz!Reader

scandalous!Reader

shameless!Reader

single mother!Reader

socialite!Reader

Vettel!Reader

widow!Reader

wife!Reader

Wolff!Reader

Wolff!Reader II

Wolff!Reader x Max Verstappen

[missmeinyourbones]

I think Suna's twins are girls 🥹

Could you imagine how soft all those boys would go seeing the two tiny pink bundles.

part 3 of this series

“They’re like…two little people.”

The two little people in question are your newborn twin daughters. Two tiny blushing bundles of baby swaddled in two sets of thick and clammy arms—arms of who they don't yet know to be their uncles. Uncles who just so happened to lie about their familial status to the receptionist to get in your private room. 

“Two little ladies,” Atsumu knowingly corrects his twin. “Address them as such.” 

“It’s like, how did they even come out of you?”

Though there’s no ill intent in the question, your exhausted body can't help but be slightly offended. As if the past 36 hours of excruciating labor (times two) that you endured didn’t exist in real-time, to those who weren't there. 

You huff a short and dry laugh, “Slowly and painfully.”

Suna rubs a slender hand through your hair, gently using this thumb to massage away at your tender temples. Your eyes close instinctually at the comforting touch. “You did great, mama,” he coos. 

Atsumu lets the two of you enjoy the intimate moment for about five seconds before deciding he’s been considerate enough.

“What about me?” his eyes refuse to leave the little lady he cradles, “This is my first time holding a day-old baby. Isn’t uncle doing great, too?”

“They’re two days old,” Suna deadpans, “and I’m docking you ten uncle points for that stupid comment.”

Atsumu’s jaw drops slightly in shock at the newfound punishment. He immediately backtracks, “I’m kidding, jeez.” 

The baby in his hold doesn't open her eyes, but she manages to crinkle her nose in her half-slumber. Her scrunchy little body takes an extra strong inhale, resulting in what Atsumu thinks is the softest babble he’s ever heard. It softens something inside of him—something he didn't even know he had.

“Obviously your ma did great, look at you two,” his pupils grow like saucers as he swoons between the baby in his arms and her twin in his twin’s. “Sucks that stinky Sunarin is your old man, though.”

Osamu would swat his brother if it weren’t for the two precious bundles of cargo they both hold. He settles for kissing his teeth in distaste. “Fuckin’ language, ‘Tsumu.”

“Huh? I said suck, you just said fuckin—”

Suna scoffs from beside you. “Enough, you’re already contaminating them with your stupid.” 

Impossible, you think. They could never be contaminated, nor stupid. They’re two little unexpected blessings who could do no wrong—though you’re sure Mama Miya said the same thing about her set of twins. You can’t find it in yourself to care. No matter the tough pregnancy, painful labor, or rowdy uncles, they’re the best surprise you could’ve asked for.

Atsumu’s pointer finger slightly shakes as he lifts it before your daughter’s face, using it softly to boop her nose. 

“Her nose looks like a tiny button,” he declares with a giddy grin. 

Like he just won the lottery, his brother instantly perks up with an identically contagious excitement. 

“I was just thinkin’ the same thing! Her’s does, too!”

“Weird,” Suna hums earnestly, before the sarcasm laces its way between his syllables, “maybe it’s ‘cause they’re twins.”

If there weren't two sets of tiny ears in the room, the brothers would be groaning in disgust and hurling insults your husband's way. Instead, they choose to quietly scoff and hiss, reminding themselves to be cautious of the sisters they carry. 

“Don’t even talk to us about twins, ya scrub.”

“Right! We practically invented twins.”

After a whole ten minutes of gawking at the teeny twins, Osamu slightly turns to his brother. 

“Switch with me, ‘Tsumu.” 

The blonde immediately agrees with excitement, as if the baby in Osamu’s arms will look, act, or in any way exist differently from the one in his. The two uncles clumsily fiddle with the bundles in hand, figuring out the best way to trade babies without dropping one. 

You subconsciously wince as your body tenses up with newfound anxiety. You suppose this is what a mother’s instinct feels like.

You can’t stop yourself from speaking up, “Careful of their necks, support their heads.”

“We got it,” Atsumu idly reassures you—even though he voluntarily offered that this was his first time holding a baby just a few minutes prior. 

They successfully trade babies. Osamu brings a calloused finger to your daughter’s face, allowing his roughened thumb to barely skim her creamy cheek. 

“This is so cool,” he flashes a toothy grin, “you guys have daughters.”

“Thank god,” you tiredly tease. “Too much testosterone around here with you three, I needed some girls.”

Atsumu nods in agreement, not even batting an eye at your lighthearted banter. 

“I’m still bitter that they aren’t named after us, but…” his words trail off as his finger is engulfed in the entire palm of your daughter, “I guess this is cool, too.” 

You swear the Miyas are sniffling and misty-eyed, practically seconds away from bawling like the newborn babies they hold. It's a good look on them—new, but precious nonetheless. 

 “At least you guys look like your mom. Because yikes, if you looked like your dad, that’d be—”

“Fifty uncle points. Now hand them over.”

Osamu’s face drops in pure shock when Rin responds to his teasing remark. You feel a sudden sense of deja-vu. Something about the whiplash that comes with this family you’ve created—from crying out of joy one moment to hurling insults the next, you wouldn't have it any other way. 

The twins think your husband is bluffing until he stands up and comes to collect his daughters. 

Atsumu greedily curls the baby in towards his chest, “He was just kidding—” 

Suna cuts him off with his usual deadpan tone. 

“Seventy-five, and now they hate you,” the babies gurgle and coo as he lifts them both and nuzzles them beneath each arm, “See? They just told me so.” 

The older twins whine, already missing the delicate weight of the sleepy frames in their hold. 

Though they’d rather die than admit it, maybe they are a bit jealous of this new chapter the two of you have entered. It has Osamu dreamily considering working up the nerve to ask his wife if she’s ready to start trying soon. Has Atsumu thinking about redownloading that lousy dating app to start his own journey. 

The thought of it brings a sour look to his face, so naturally, he sends it Suna’s way. “You’re no fun, Suna. Fatherhoods already changin’ you.”

Suna places the babies in their matching hospital cradles, side by side on their backs as they squirm in their sleep. He drowns out the sound of the twins in the back—muffled voices of ‘They already like me better’ and ‘I’m gonna be a better babysitter than yer dumb ass,’ ricocheting in the background. 

In his own little world, Suna finds himself taking a moment to admire his babies. His daughters. 

“Don't listen to them, I’m fun,” Suna whispers into the cradles, just loud enough for the three of them to hear. He’s more so convincing himself, but they don’t need to know that just yet. 

He is fun, and he’s going to be fine. Because he has you, and now, he has them. 

“But I am grateful that my girls look like their pretty mama.”

[cielcreations]

Spectrum's Doll (VSAU Story)

Based off/Inspiration from the amazing @rhapsoddity and their Vigilante Sheriff AU as well as their Head Empty Sheriff AU! Their art and story is just *chef's kiss* Definitely check them and their stuff out, it's amazing and lovely and I just can't get over it.

Also, implied hermit/empireshipping in this story. Nothing too drastic, just characters mentioning how they were exes or how they like each other, but still, it's there.

Also, also, TRIGGER WARNING: Hypnosis/Mind Control. That's kinda the whole point of this story. Cool? Cool.

When Stratos asked Sheriff for help in finding Sausage, he didn't think he would have to make a trade, intentionally or not.

Sheriff tied the llama hybrid up, the man struggling the whole time.

"Are your informants really reliable? It just seems like no one is here." Stratos asked, "Well, besides Spectrum's minions."

"Yes, I'm sure my information is correct, my informants wouldn't give me false info or lie." Sheriff said. They may be pigeons, but they see everything. He thought. He put the llama hybrid against the wall, who continued to struggle.

"You won't get away with this." The man hissed.

"Hey, that's my line!" Sheriff teased, taking out a deputy's badge sticker and sticking it on his head, "Boop!"

Stratos rolled his eyes before he and Sheriff moved to the next room of the warehouse. It was dark, making the two already on edge. Suddenly, a single light flipped on, revealing Sausage.

"Sausage!" Stratos ran over.

"Wait, Stratos, be careful, I don't like this! It could be a trick!" Sheriff exclaimed, taking out another lasso.

"Oh, don't be uptight, it's Sausage, he wouldn't hurt-" Stratos stopped in his tracks as the brunette lifted his hand, a large vine nearly stabbing him but only brushing past his cheek, "-me..."

"What the-?!" Sheriff watched as Sausage began to fight Stratos, the hero dodging and yelling at the other to stop. He took out his grabbling hook, spinning it in his hand, "That's Sanctuary's power! How could Spectrum use it? Unless Sausage is- oh god, that would make sense, but then why-"

"Too many questions~" Someone whispered in his ear, hugging his arm and wrapping their arm around his shoulder, "Don't worry that pretty little head of yours~ Just sink deeper and listen to me~"

Sheriff blinked as the colors in the room began to blur. He groaned and pulled away from the person quickly. His vision was slightly clouded by a mix of colors, but he fought against it, seeing the colorful villain. He had teal hair with heterochromia eyes, one teal and one orange. He wore a simple black bodysuit with a chest window, black jeans, and a colorful jacket, his black mask covering his face.

"Woah man, take me to dinner first!" Sheriff laughed, trying to ground himself.

"Gladly!" The villain, Spectrum, smiled, "But I don't think this location is very fitting!"

The colors moved and Sheriff saw tables and chairs appear around them. He groaned, holding his head and focusing on Spectrum. If he did that, he could see the warehouse, he could hear Stratos's yelling and Sausage using his power. He needed to focus.

"I-I'm flattered, but one shouldn't mix work with play-!" He groaned.

Spectrum stepped forward, "Awwww, come on handsome, a little break wouldn't-" He gasped, stepping back to dodge one of Sheriff's punches, the dirty blonde dropping his lasso and grappling hook, "Oh, so you like it rough, huh?"

"Gotta keep you on your toes, don't I?" Sheriff chuckled, trying to punch him again.

Spectrum dodged. Sheriff couldn't tell if he was moving slower or if Spectrum was just that fast, but he kept trying to hit him. He focused on fighting Spectrum, the villain seeming to get more bored by the minute.

"You know, I'm surprised and impressed you managed to endure this for so long!" Spectrum cooed, stepping out of the way.

Sheriff panted, smirking, kind of proud of himself, "Yeah, well, I know villains like you prefer a show and I don't mind an audience!"

Spectrum again dodged, managing to get behind Sheriff, "That's cute, but we should really wrap this up." He kicked the dirty blonde in the back, Sheriff stumbling and falling to his knees, "I don't do this for everyone, but you're quite a special case!"

Spectrum moved in front of Sheriff, cupping his cheeks, "Now, do me a favor and scream."

Sheriff gasped as he was blinded by colors, a voice in his head telling him to give in, to let go, to relax, to let Spectrum in. He tried to resist it, he tried to think of things to ground himself. Norman, Flick, he two cats. Grian, his awesome brother when he's not being annoying. Sausage, Sausage still needs help! And Stratos needs him and-

"Stop thinking. You don't need to. Let me do all the work." Spectrum's voice rang in his head.

Tears formed in Sheriff's eyes as they fluttered. He tried to fight back, but the voices telling him to give in overtook him. He closed his eyes as tears ran down his cheeks.

Spectrum groaned, holding his head as he looked down at the dirty blonde, Damn, why did I have to use so much power on him?! He thought. He stared down at the other and smiled, cooing as he wiped the tears away. Sheriff's blue eyes were glowing purple, a blank look on his face.

"Nothing but a cute little doll." He giggled before looking at Sausage and Stratos.

Spectrum smirked, picking Sheriff up bridal style before slipping out of the room. He blinked and laughed, seeing the llama hybrid still struggling in the ropes.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up! Your arm candy is stronger than he looks!" The brunette hissed.

"Oh, I know, trust me, Owen." Scott walked over, using a knife to cut him loose, "Come on, I got what I want. The hypnosis on Sausage will wear off the farther I get away."

Owen looked at Sheriff in his arms, "Oh my god, you must've used a lot of power. There are no thoughts behind those eyes!"

"That's the point!" Spectrum chuckled, "He was really good at resisting, even tried to put up a fight. But when I finally got him to stop thinking, he finally was mine!"

The two continued chatting, slipping into the night, disappearing with Sheriff.

***

"Home sweet home, my doll!" Spectrum giggled as he placed the dirty blonde on his bed, Owen rolling his eyes.

"I'm stealing your bathroom for an hour." He grabbed his civilian clothes, walking to the door.

"That's fine! I'll be here!" Spectrum giggled as the brunette closed the door. He smiled, removing his mask and jacket, placing them on a chair.

"Yo, Scott, I heard Owen." His bedroom door open as his sibling came in, "How did- oh, you got him."

"Xornoth, this is Sheriff!" Scott exclaimed, making Sheriff turn to face his sibling, "Sheriff, say hi!"

Sheriff lifted his hand and waved a bit.

Xornoth rolled their eyes, "Whatever. Just keep an eye on him."

"I will! He's going to just be either arm candy or a doll!"

"Yeah, I get that, but you also let your toys wander, sometimes. Just keep him away from my stuff."

"I will, geeeeez!"

"You okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, I-"

"Scott." Xornoth looked at him, raising an eyebrow, "Are you okay? Injured? Broken?"

Scott chuckled, "I'm fine, Xornoth. Head hurts a bit from using too much of my power, but I'm fine."

"Kay. Just making sure." Xornoth waved, "Alright, I'm going back to terrorizing 10 year olds."

"Have fun!" Scott called as they shut the door and left.

Scott then changed into some pajamas before facing Sheriff, who was still staring at where Xornoth once was. He chuckled, tilting his head to face him. He removed the dirty blonde's hat, vest, and scarf, placing them on a chair before opening his closet.

"What to put you in...?" He hummed, "Hmmm... I mean, I could leave you in boxers, what do you think?" He chuckled, laughing at his own joke.

"Mmmn-"

Scott turned and saw Sheriff's face was twisted.

"H-H-Huuuh-"

"Shhhhhhh~" Scott cooed, quickly closing the distance between them, holding the other's cheeks, "No thinking for you~ Just sit there looking pretty~"

Sheriff slipped easily, his face relaxing as he once again fell under Scott's control. Damn, even now, he's still trying to fight. I have to watch what I say and order of him if me asking what he thinks can bring him back. Scott turned back to the closet, deciding a clean white shirt was all Sheriff needed.

He unbuttoned the dirty blonde's shirt and widened his eyes. Winged... surgery scars...? He looked at Sheriff's back, eyes getting bigger, Small canary wings...?! Scott was in shock before he gently removed Sheriff's mask.

"Holy- Is that-?!" Scott cupped the dirty blonde's cheeks before smiling brightly, "Oh, my god! Jimmy Solidarity Gaming is Sheriff, aye?! That's so cool! No wonder I like you so much!" He then put the new white shirt on the dirty blonde, unbuttoning and removing his jeans, "We sure live in a small world, huh? That's crazy! I can't believe you became a vigilante! And a confident flirter too! I guess that's my doing, you're welcome everyone! I mean, I am sorry I have to take this handsome hunk off the streets, but he's miiiiiiine~!" Scott giggled. 

Owen walked out, sighing, "Alright, I'm done.

"Thank you so much for your hard work, Own! You're dismissed, minion!" Scott teased, playfully clapping his hands together, "That will be all!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm going!" Owen laughed, waving as he left, "See ya tomorrow!"

"See ya!" Scott chuckled.

He smiled, looking at Solidarity's face, still blank. He gently laid the other down laying beside him.

"Cuddle me."

The dirty blonde did.

Scott smiled, "So handsome, doll. And all mine. Go ahead and sleep."

Solidarity's eyes fluttered closed and Scott smiled. He turned off the lights and fell asleep himself.

***

Stratos paced, biting his bottom lip, occasionally biting his nail anxiously, his whole body stiff.

"Stratos, please calm down..." Sanctuary tried.

"I-I just can't, I'm sorry!" Stratos groaned, "I-I mean, Sheriff helped me find you and now Spectrum has him! He's been missing for three weeks and-"

"Excuse me!" The two turned as two heroes came towards them, the avian placing down the brunette, "Stratos, Sanctuary, pleasure to see ya!"

"Hey, Hotguy, Cuteguy." Stratos smiled.

Sanctuary waved a bit, "Thanks again for the help, Hotguy!"

"Of course. Actually, speaking of help, um... Cuteguy?"

The dirty blonde seemed hesitant, nervous even, anxious? "...Um, well... I was wondering, do you guys happen to know someone in your civilian forms? His name is Jimmy or he sometimes goes by Solidarity?"

"Yeah, we do! Why?"

"He's missing."

"WHAT?!" The two yelled.

"Wait, wait, wait, how do you know this?!"

"Well, Solidarity is m-"

"What he means to say-" Hotguy interrupted, "-is that Cuteguy and Solidarity are really close in civilian form!"

"Uh, yeah, right!" Cuteguy exclaimed, "Anyways, I went to check on him two weeks ago cause he wasn't answering me and we had plans, but he wasn't there. I tried calling, texting, calling his and my friends, no one knew. I looked everywhere and his cats..." He sighed, "His cats kept meowing and whining at me. I fed and gave them water and they acted like they hadn't been fed in days. Which is just not Solidarity! He would never just disappear on me! And he loves those cats more than anything, he would put them over everything else in an instant! There's no way he would just abandon them!"

Sanctuary nodded, standing up, "Listen, we'll help you find Solidarity, but can you guys help us find Sheriff?"

"Sheriff? The vigilante?" Hotguy asked, "Isn't he, like, your archenemy, Stratos?"

Stratos looked away, "I owe him. He awas the one who helped me find Sanctuary, but... Spectrum took him while I got Sanctuary back. He's been missing for three weeks."

Cuteguy flapped his wings, beginning to fly, "Okay, so Solidarity and Sheriff, right? I'll do a sweep of the city again, just to make sure neither of them are hiding in plain sight and we just overlooked them."

"I'll come with." Stratos flew to stand (float?) beside him.

"Hotguy and I will ask if anyone has seen them and for details. We'll meet up in a couple hours."

The four split up and began searching.

As the sun began to set and the moon rose, the sky darkened. Stars shined in the night sky as the four met up once more, sharing what little information they had. No one has seen either of the men, and no one had any idea where they could possible be.

"Uggggh!" Cuteguy groaned, "Dammit!"

"Woah, calm down Cute-"

"Don't tell me to calm down, Hotguy!" The dirty blonde hissed, "Ti- Jimmy is missing and no one has seen him, he just poofed out of existence and I can't do anything about it."

"Actually, I know where he is."

The four turned and immediately became on edge.

"Hephaestus!" Stratos glared, "What're you doing here?!"

"Not here to fight!" The redhead exclaimed, "Temporary truce?"

"Yeah right-"

"I know where Sheriff and possible Solidarity is being held."

The four widened their eyes and looked at each other, before back at the redhead.

"And why should we trust you?!" Sanctuary exclaimed.

"Spectrum kidnapped you as part of his big plan, knowing Stratos would come for you. And Sheriff being Sheriff helped Stratos saved you, but Spectrum now has him. Right?"

"How do you know all this-"

"Doesn't matter, he took Sheriff and he also has Solidarity, but I don't exactly know where he's keeping him since I've only seen Spectrum lugging Sheriff around."

"If you know this, why ask us to help you?" Hotguy questioned.

Hephaestus looked away, "Well... truth is, me and Sheriff have some... history. We know each other in our civilian forms but our relationship is... complicated." He looked at them again, "But that doesn't matter. Spectrum has him deep under hypnosis and I won't be able to bring him back alone. Even if I could, I doubt he'd listen to me. I need your help to bring him back. And I can help you find Solidarity."

Cuteguy bit his bottom lip. He summoned an axe and pointed it at the other, "If you're lying, I will actually kill you."

"Noted. Now, come on, this way."

Hephaestus led the way, the four heroes following him, albeit from a bit of a distance. They arrived at a warehouse, the five standing on the roof and looking through the roof windows. The lights showed Spectrum, his orange clad sidekick, and a dirty blonde sitting on a box.

"Who-"

Hephaestus broke the window with his giant robot hands and fell through, glaring, "Spectrum, give Sheriff back."

"Hephaestus..." Spectrum glared, "I should have know you would find me eventually, you've always been obsessed with Sheriff."

"I'M OBSESSED?!" The redhead growled, pointing at the other, his giant robot hand doing the same, "You made a whole plan to kidnap a hero, just in case Sheriff would show up as support, and then kidnapped him instead so you can have some fake boyfriend!"

"Oh, he's not fake, he's my real boytoy!" He then looked at Sheriff, smirking, "Right, dollface?"

Sheriff merely nodded, blank face.

"Son of a-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Stratos yelled as the heroes stoof beside Hephaestus, "That's Sheriff?!"

The dirty blonde's hair was brushed back, a little diamond clip holding back his bangs. He wore a simple sleeveless black bodysuit with black arm bands, black jeans, purple boots, and a purple belt.

Hotguy drew his bow, Cuteguy summoning a weapin beside him, "You and your sidekick surrender now, Spectrum. It's five against two, you're outnumbered."

"You're right, we are outnumbered, but you're mistaken. It's five against three." Spectrum smirked, "Handsome, take care of Hephaestus and Stratos for me."

Sheriff stood and unlatched a black lasso from his belt, spinning it.

"Sheriff, listen to me, you don't-"

The dirty blonde interrupted Sanctuary by wrapping the lasso around Stratos and throwing him into Hephaestus.

"Sheriff, stop-!" Cuteguy called before he noticed the colors start to move. He groaned, closing his eyes as he flew up, "Hotguy, be careful!"

Hotguy seemed unaffected by the colors, smirking, letting his vex wings out, "Sorry, colorful man, doesn't affect me."

"That's fine, I got three of you distracted." Spectrum smirked, "Orange, take care of Sanctuary."

"You got it!" The llama hybrid snickered.

Spectrum took out a knife, Hotguy trying to shoot at him, trying to disorientate him. Spectrum easily dodged it and got close, trying to slash at the other. Cuteguy kicked Spectrum back, the colorful villain looking at the avian and trying to manipulate him. Cuteguy groaned and held his head, closing his eyes once more. It was a dance of Hotguy and Spectrum fighting with one another, Cuteguy trying to step in only to close his eyes to not get effected by the hypnosis. Orange and Sanctuary got in a heated fist fight, Orange also using a knife to cut the vines Sanctuary summoned.

Meanwhile, Sheriff was using his own weapons, trying to stop Stratos and Hephaestus, mainly trying to lasso one of them and then throwing them into the other. Hephaestus stayed back, knowing how dangerous his weapons could be and mainly acting as support as Stratos tried to grab Sheriff or dodged the dirty blonde's attacks. Stratos flew forward and pinned him down on the ground, the brunette staring into Sheriff's eyes.

"Sheriff, come on! Don't let Spectrum take over you! You're stronger than this! Come on, get out of your head!" Stratos yelled at him. 

Sheriff blinked, the glow in his eyes flicking.

"Sheriff?!" Hephaestus called, kneeling beside Stratos, "Come on, Sheriff! You're an idiot, but you're not weak! Come on!"

Sheriff groaned, eyes twitching as the glowing dimmed more, "N-Nnnngh-!"

Spectrum looked over and growled. He kicked Hotguy in the stomach, the hero groaning. He then threw him towards Cuteguy, both yelping as Spectrum ran over to the other two. He manipulated the colors, Stratos and Hephaestus groaning. Spectrum pulled Sheriff away from the two, the dirty blonde groaning.

"Nnngh, w-wha-"

"Shhhhhh~" Spectrum cooed, "Shhhh, shhhh, no thinking for you, dollface~ Calm down, slip deep again~"

Sheriff panted as he tried to fight a bit, but he easily gave in, face blank once more as he once again turned numb.

"You-!" Hephaestus growled, his eyes narrowing.

"He wants to stay with me, Hephaestus. Right, Sheriff?" Spectrum stood up, holding Sheriff's hand and standing him up.

Sheriff nodded.

"See? He wants me, not you."

"That's it!" Hephaestus held one of his arms up, pressing a couple buttons, "Stratos, cover your ears."

"Huh-"

Hephaestus pressed a button and, suddenly, a loud alarm began to blare. Everyone but Hephaestus and Sheriff covered their ears. Sanctuary, however, lifted some vines up and threw Orange against the wall. Spectrum yelled, glaring at the hero. He glared and looked at Sheriff. He pulled the dirty blonde towards him whispering in his ear. Sheriff's eyes glowed a bright purple as he fell to his knees, Spectrum running towards the brunette.

Hotguy groaned and drew his bow, ready to pin Spectrum to the wall. However, before he could let go, Sheriff used his lasso to take his bow.

Hephaestus stopped the blaring, "Sheriff-"

Spectrum helped his friend up, smirking, "Good boy, Sheriff! I'll be back for you later! Do whatever you need to do, kill them if you need to."

Sheriff stood up, protecting Spectrum and Orange. He panted, eyes glowing a bright purple, twitching as he gripped his lasso tightly.

"Sorry Sheriff, not dealing with this!" Sanctuary wrapped a vine around his leg and threw him against a wall. 

The man cried out in pain, eyes closing as he fell unconscious. Stratos flew over and picked the dirty blonde up.

"Great, we got Sheriff-" Cuteguy looked at Hephaestus, "-now where's T- Jimmy?"

Hephaestus went to say something but they heard police sirens. He cursed, "Fuck, I'll go after Spectrum and Orange and get him, but I gotta go!"

"WHAT?!" Cuteguy's wings flared up as the other climbed out the roof windows, "YOU'RE LEAVING?!"

"Listen, we may have a temporary truce, but police and villains don't mix. I'll get Solidarity, you help Sheriff!" He then left.

"YOU LITTLE-" Cuteguy went to fly after him.

"Cuteguy!" Hotguy grabbed him, "He's right! He helped us find Sheriff, but the police won't care. Besides, all four of us will get in trouble if it's found out we were working with a villain."

Cuteguy's wings slowed down as he landed, "....Right. I'll stay back, explain what happened to the police, you all help Sheriff."

"I'll help you." Sanctuary stood beside Cuteguy.

Stratos picked Hotguy up, "Alright, we're heading to headquarters. See ya both later."

Stratos flew to headquarters, the two going inside and heading to the medbay. They laid Sheriff down on the bed, a staff member healing his back. Hotguy knelt beside him, holding his head in his hands. His eyes began to glow a light blue, his vex wings extending as he tried to use his magic to break Sheriff out of it. He groaned, focusing as much as he could. Suddenly, he pulled back, groaning as he held his hands.

"Hotguy?"

"I-I can't break him out of it, it's not that easy. Every time I try, I just feel Spectrum's power trying to overtake mine."

Suddenly, Sheriff's eyes shot open. He screamed and went to punch Hotguy, Stratos catching him and pinning him down. Sheriff struggled, glaring, kicking and screaming.

"C-Calm down, calm down! F-Fuck, what is going on?!"

Hotguy widened his eyes, "Spectrum's last order was to kill us..."

Stratos widened his eyes, cursing, "Sorry Sheriff." He headbutted the other, Sheriff falling unconscious again.

Hotguy picked Sheriff up, "This is going to take a lot more focus, I need to go to another room."

"What?! But, Hotguy, what if-"

"I'll be fine, I just need peace and quiet and no distractions." Hotguy reassured, going into a different room he knew had no cameras.

He locked the door behind him before he laid Sheriff on the couch, kneeling beside him. He took a deep breath, taking off his glasses. He held the other's face, closing his eyes. Light blueish-grey marks appeared around his hands and eyes, his vex wings extending slightly. His eyes glowed a bright blue as he completely focused on the dirty blonde's mind. I should be able to reach in, weave some memories together and bring him back up. Hotguy thought.

He was inside Sheriff's mind, tugging and pulling memories of the vigilante messing with Stratos, the vigilante saving the day and catching the bad guys, the vigilante... talking to some pigeons? Oh, and there he was, helping Stratos find Sausage and then there he was, talking with Spectrum and fighting his control. Finding those seemed to break Spectrum's hold a bit, as he heard the dirty blonde groan. He ignored it, focusing more. He reached deeper into Sheriff's mind, pulling more memories up, these ones more specific.

Sheriff seeing a little girl crying. The girl was lost, she couldn't find her mom or dad. So, Sheriff picked her up, calmed her down, even bought her some ice cream, before helping her retrace her steps. The girl's mom and dad were extremely grateful, thanking the man profusely. He just smiled and reassured them it was no trouble.

Sheriff almost getting caught by Stratos after helping catch a bank robber. The brunette had grabbed Sheriff's wrist, attempting to get the dirty blonde to put them behind his back. Sheriff merely spun them around, telling Stratos he loved to dance and to just ask next time. That flustered the hero and he let go, allowing Sheriff to run and playfully wink.

Sheriff arriving home. In a... familiar home. Sheriff taking off his mask, hat, and scarf, setting them down on a familiar table... Sheriff walking down a familiar hallways, two familiar cats running over and greeting him. He picked the cats up, went into a familiar bedroom, and took out his phone. He sat on the familiar bed, turned on the camera, made it face him and-

JIMMY?! Hotguy gasped as he stared at the memory playing out, O-Oh my god, no wonder Sheriff and Solidarity went missing around the same time, they're the same person! Wait, fuck, Hephaestus says he knows who Sheriff is, meaning he knows that- Oh god, no wonder he ran! He wasn't going to reveal who Sheriff was! Oh god, what am I suppose to tell Cuteguy?! 'Hey, your missing brother? Turns out, he's a vigilante! In fact, he's Sheriff! So we found both, hurray!' Oh god, if Grian ever found out, he would kill Jim for doing something so dangerous! Hotguy groaned, shaking his head, Focus. Focus, it's okay. Just... focus.

***

Sheriff's eyes fluttered open, his head pounding, body aching. He groaned, looking around the room. He saw he was in some sort of office and-

Dollface~

He gasped, sitting up straight, looking around. 

"Hey, you're-" 

Sheriff stood and out his fists up, glaring.

"H-HEY! I come in peace!"

"Wh-What the?! Hotguy?! Where am I?! Where's Sp-" Sheriff stopped himself and shook his head, "Where's the villain?!"

Hotguy smiled kindly, sitting down and patting the seat beside him, "He's not here. It's just you and me. Sit."

"...Am I being arrested?"

"No, not at all. Just sit."

Sheriff hesitated, but did so.

"Listen, so..." Hotguy sighed, "Spectrum's grip on you was really, really, really strong."

"Yeah, I know." Sheriff hugged himself a bit, "I... I would try to fight it, but he would just... I don't know. I don't remember anything. I just remember his voice..."

Hotguy nodded, "Yeah, I know, I could tell. See, because Spectrum's grip on you was so tight, it wasn't as simple as me just challenging the power. I tried that, but his last order was to kill us, so when it didn't work, you woke up and tried to kill us."

"'Us?'"

"Cuteguy, Stratos, Sanctuary, Hephaestus, and I all found you, but Stratos and I took you back here." He explained, "Anyways, when I realized that didn't work, I had to go deeper into your head, root around, and pull you out. And, upon doing that, I... I saw your memories. Memories of you... without the mask."

Sheriff widened his eyes and stood up, stepping back, "Y-You-?!"

"Listen, it was the only other thing I could do and I don't feel good knowing, especially under these circumstances!" Hotguy stood up as well, "I don't want to expose your identity to more people, Solidarity, it's why I took you to a private room."

"Wait, you know me?" Sheriff asked, "Like, by name?"

"Yeah, um, soooooooo-" Hotguy removed his glasses, "I may or may not live with your brother...?"

The dirty blonde widened his eyes, "...HOLY SHIT!" He sat back down with the hero, "Scar? How could I not tell?!"

"Well, to be fair, we have tech in our masks and glasses that the hero industry made. It helps conceal our identities more. So, when I put my glasses on-" He put them back on, "-the tech makes it so your brain can't accurately pinpoint features. It confuses your brain, therein making it hard for people to recognize us!"

"Yeah, that makes sense, you look completely different with those on. Weird." He leaned back into the couch before widening his eyes, "Oh my god, how long was I gone?"

"Three weeks."

"OH MY GOD-" He quickly quieted down, looking at the brunette, "Please tell me Norman and Flick are okay?!"

"Grian and I took them in when looking for you." Scar reassured, "Cuteguy and I went looking for you, er, you as in Jimmy, and Stratos and Sanctuary were looking for Sheriff."

"Oh thank goodness." The dirty blonde sighed in relief before he seemed to realize something else, "Oh god, Grian and Pearl..."

"Yeeeeeeeah, they're freaking out... Don't worry, I didn't tell them!"

"Great! Now I gotta make up how I escaped Spectrum and make it look believable..." He sighed, "So, Cuteguy and Hotguy found Sheriff, but Grian and Scar are still looking for Solidarity, right?"

"Yeah. Listen, I could sneak you out and-"

"Nah, I got this. At least Pearl is safe from all this!"

Scar smiled awkwardly, "Hehe, yeah..."

***

The colorful villain growled, tapping his foot angrily.

"Sorry man, I was care-"

"Don't apologize, Owen, Sanctuary was playing dirty."

"Thanks for saving me, Scott. Even if it meant loosing your doll."

"You're my best friend, Owen. I can capture Sheriff again. I can't replace you."

The brunette smiled up at the other, "Softie."

"Alright, next time I'll leave you." The other teased.

Owen laughed, humming, "...You know his secret identity, right? Are you going to use that to your advantage?"

Spectrum chuckled darkly, "Oh Owen..." He smirked, eyes glowing as he manipulated the colors in front of them, "Scott is going to reconnect with an old friend and see how he's doing. Whatever happens after, I can't say."

Owen just laughed.

[animentality]

I didnt make 10k but I got to 1k and now I have my little kitten paws.

Thanks to everyone who endured my boop spam.

But also you know.

You made your choice.

[fernacular]

Could you tell us more about your version of batman? Maybe the batfam too? Boop!

I can try! To be honest I don't have a ton to say, im not the most knowledgeable when it comes to the Lore(tm) and I'm mostly making stuff up with each drawing I do, whatever makes the initial concept or joke work.

So what I have is this:

He's not physically powerful but he has a lot of speed, flexibility and endurance and mostly focuses on avoiding fights and being a good detective, and when a fight is unavoidable he leans a lot on technology and being a pragmatic fighter so he can take people down quick with minimal risk. I don't know much about martial arts but his fighting style is probably similar to Akido?

The Joker is less of a huge villain, I have nothing against the character I just feel like he gets leaned on too much in batman stories, like an overexposure thing. He was a gangster with a gimmick who become a problem every once in a while but he was never Batman's arch nemesis. (That would be two-face, they got the most personal history). After the Jason Todd of it all Bruce stuck him down a stinky hole and no one liked him enough to help him get out.

There's not actually a huge age gap between Bruce and Dick, only about ten years, and the father/son relationship is getting slightly more awkward as time goes on. Like it's one thing for a 22 year old telling a twelve year old what to do, pretty different when it's a 35 year old trying to lecture a 25 year old. Dick respects Bruce immensely but he's getting frustrated with Bruce not seeing them as peers yet, and it's part of why Dick has physically distanced himself. (Some familial relationships improve so much when you live in different cities)

He's in an on-and-off again relationship with Selina, who has her own apartment but splits her time between it and the Wayne manor when they're on, and sometimes even off (Alfred usually let's her in regardless, when she feels like using the front door). They're just two very independent people who do love each other but every so often need their space and don't know how to communicate that constructively.

What else what else... Babs is Oracle but her spine was injured in a different way, probably while kicking ass and saving lives.

Bruce is better friends with Diana than he is Clark because Clark has a little bit of a country chip on his shoulder when it comes to wealthy property owners and Bruce isn't jazzed about the press. Its getting better with time though!

Bruce is very good at masking (I mean, clearly, he has to fool everyone with Brucie after all) but his relaxed affect is very blunt and not outwardly emotional. This does not mean he's always brooding or overly serious, he just has resting bitch face and his sense of humor is very dry. His family can read him pretty well but most other people just assume he's perpetually pissed.

Uuuuh thats all I can think of off the top of my head, hope you like it!

Also boop

[hana-no-seiiki]

˗ˏˋ HEAVEN’S GATE ´ˎ˗

❝ Open your mind to what I shall disclose, and hold it fast within you; he who hears, but does not hold what he has heard, learns nothing. ❞

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Your god has descended.

Greetings. I am Yun. I’m a deity and a part-time fanfic writ'r and artist. I’ve did enjoy yand're w'rks and has't at each moment did want to delve into tumblr since i bethink t fits mine own m're impulsive - nev'r - finishes - an - entire - booketh type of writing style

[ TRANS: Greetings. I am Yun. I’m a deity and a part-time fanfic writer and artist. I enjoy Yandere works and have always wanted to delve into Tumblr since I think it fits my more impulsive - never - finishes - an - entire - book type of writing style. ]

❝ Here to us, thou art the noon and scope of love revealed; and among mortal men, the living fountain of eternal hope. ❞

CONFESSION BOOTH IS : OPEN

Please pay attention to my rules and boundaries when joining this cult. In any case, I welcome you to my loving embrace. May your stay here be filled with only joy.

Pronouns are he/it/they/she by order of preference.

LVL 19 - AROACE SPEC - AFAB/GENDERFLUID

WARNING: This shall be a YANDERE/DDNE focused blog. Although most of my posts are soft some of it will enter dead dove do not eat territory. If you are at all sensitive to violence, blood, sexual and physical assault, stalking, suicide, all sorts of abuse, bullying and harassment, or general nsfw content, please turn back.

MINORS ARE STRICTLY FORBIDDEN FROM ENTERING THIS HOLY GROUND. PLEASE LEAVE IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18.

❝ As I draw nearer to the end of all desire, I brought my longing’s ardor to a final height. Just as I ought. My vision, becoming pure. ❞

Here’s a masterlist of my works and ocs: [ GRAND CELESTIAL ARCHIVE ]

Here’s the rules to requests/asks and what type of content I’m willing to write: [ DEIFIC COMMANDMENTS ]

My discord in case you wanna send me dms : xxalmightyyunxx

Remember to be respectful. Harassment and insults will not be tolerated in this cult.

And last but not least, yanderes irl suck please don’t replicate or seek anything i write mkay? lub u all.

❝ Beyond all boundaries, at memory’s undoing — As when the dreamer sees and after the dream the passion endures, imprinted on his being. ❞

Princess : @obsessivevoidkitten

Mr. Devil: @heartfullofleeches

Jiejie: @mellowwillowy

(Matching w/) My Mother: @cammslush

Boop Pardner (Boopner) : @harmonysanreads

Wives: @sophiethewitch1 + @cheriecelestial

Spouse: @carnivorousyandeere @doejohnsonva

Am in the harem of: @ozzgin

My lovely moots/fellow writers! Check out their blogs! : @godnectar @yandere-kittee @darling--core @compact-turtle @ghostie-luvs @darling-zain @yandere-romanticaa @pastelclovds @sagesskies @carnivorousyandeere / @doejohnsonva @on-leatheredwings @obsessedwithromance @dr0ggyfr0ggyz

Askers: @teabagggssss @my-names-angel-but-im-not-one @silversmoke-20

Anons: Smoked Salmon, Cheese anon,🍦 anon, 🖌️ anon, 🐴 anon (who is toaster), 🍆 anon. Lavender. 🤍 anon. 👻 anon. 💗anon. 💫 anon.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Your god has ascended back into the heavens.

— quotes from Dante’s Divine Comedy (Paradiso)

— pfp art by constparameter

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Monsters among us pt2

Daryl Dixon x Reader | pt.1

You and Daryl slowly come to terms with being parents of a healthy pup.

🐺 🐺 🐺

Hunter seemed to be healthy and doing well according to Hershel’s veterinarian skills and Daryl’s comments on Hunter’s behavior when he came to see you every day.

On your second day in the prison you were introduced to baby Judith, she was only a little older than Hunter and the women in the group felt it was good for you to bond over the newborns.

You also learned fairy quick that none of the people were afraid of Daryl, even with knowing what he was.

“You have no idea how useful it is to have a werewolf in your group. They’re excellent hunters and the extra strength and endurance they have is just amazing.” Carol spoke fondly of the archer, no matter what the topic of conversation was at the time. And Maggie had her fair share of kind words as well.

A week in you sat Daryl down to have that serious talk. You had been regaining bits and parts of the times your mind had been keeping from you in the form of twisted nightmares and you really needed to know how much of the truth they were showing. Daryl admitted to connecting with his other half to get some answers since couldn’t remember anything about that night. Only knowing he woke up covered in blood and the horrible aftertaste of human still lingering in his mouth. But the smell of female arousal stuck to him as well, letting him now his other half had indulged in more than just feasting on his prey.

“We know wha’ happened. Why d’ya wanna talk about it?” He rocked his son in his arms, letting him play with the torn edges on his sleeves.

“I know what happened, yeah. It’s pretty obvious.” You gesture at the werewolf pup currently biting at his sleeve. You let out a soft laugh at the sight in front of you. A genuine one, not one you gave Beth earlier when she made what she thought was a joke.

Something inside of him suddenly clicked and he realized the why of that night he’d been looking for. It was like a whole new area of being a werewolf opened up for him. He had been restless ever since you got to the prison, like his animal side was clawing at the inside of his skin trying to break out but he never stopped to connect with it to figure out why.

But now it all came crashing onto him.

He found his mate.

He didn’t really understood how that all worked at all. He never had anyone to teach him the works of lycantrophy since the beast that bit him was hunted down and killed only one night later.

“So, whaddaya remember then?”

You were woken up by the walker defense you set up. The cans and metal bits clanking together loudly but to no avail. The creature that triggered the wire had torn it to shreds and was already halfway done tearing into one of your group members before you even got out of your sleeping bag. …. .. ….

You ran for your life but the large monster caught you easily. Its claws digging into your sides as it sank its teeth into your shoulder to pin you down. A large paw tore off any and all fabric on you and at the edge of your vision you saw its large member standing at full attention before—

You shivered at the recollection of your memories and having to share them out loud like this, but it had to be done so best to get it over with fast.

“I never realized why I did that to ya, not ‘til just now when ya laughed at him.” His hand went to boop his son’s nose, to which he wiggled it in confusion. “I guess mah other half knew somethin’ already without sharin’ it with me when he saw ya that night. Tore tha whole camp up to get ya for ourself in the only way an animal knows.”

You hugged your arms close around you, looking anywhere but at him. “I can’t even say out loud what you did to me..” It’s the point where your memory still cuts off no matter how deep you dig for it.

“Look, bun. I don’ know how alla’ this works, an’ I feel like I shouldn’t even be near ya..” You felt his uneasiness and somehow it made yours fade and be replaced with something that made you want to get up and pull him to sit beside you.

So with all the courage you mustered together you stood up and faced him. With a determined hand you took his shoulder and squeezed before pulling him closer to you and to your surprise he followed like a lost puppy. Sitting him down on the bed with his back against the wall you took Hunter from him to hold him against your chest as you climbed on the bed to join Daryl.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, facing Daryl and pacing Hunter in your lap as you undid the buttons of your top to prepare for feeding. When Daryl caught on he quickly averted his gaze. “Wait, what’r ya doin’?” He looked anywhere but at you while you rid yourself of any fabrics in the way of feeding Hunter, who was making grabby hands at you, ready for lunch.

“Daryl, it’s okay to look. Really.” He ever so slowly turned his gaze towards you and taking in the beauty of you, the human girl he assaulted in the woods, breastfeeding the son who must be a living, breathing reminder of that traumatic experience. His breath caught in his throat and in a compete lack of control he let out a low growl. You looked up at the noise and looked straight into the eyes of the beast. With his mouth hanging open in awe his fangs were on display for you to state at like someone would stare at a spider, silently begging it not to move.

The terrified look in your eyes broke his heart. Unsure of what to do he closed his eyes and turned away and muttered a 'sorry' under his breath, afraid of his voice twisting if he spoke too loud.

You had looked back down to focus on feeding Hunter again, your thumbs softly caressing his fur and searching for words in this eery silence.

"I'm slowly starting to love Hunter as my son." You started, feeling it was best to just speak your mind. “And with that comes accepting you for who and what you are, and loving you as his father.”

Daryl accepted your kind words and wondered if he should share the ones on his mind or if he should wait for you to be good with him some more.

Meanwhile his head kept howling at him to tell you. To claim you as his own. To mark you.

His head was so instinct driven that there wasn’t a single spec of logic in sight.

“M’glad ya want me in yer lives.” He had managed to calm down just enough to get his shift under control and dared to look back up at you again. “Ya think yer good to hear our reasoning for tha night? Cuz I think I know now.” His tone was careful and the anxiety in his voice seemed to have returned but still you nodded, wanting to hear his words.

“Ma head keeps repeatin’ this one word. Says yer ma mate.” He spoke the last part agains the side of his thumb, chewing on the skin after the last words. “I aint sure how tha all works but m’sure it why he went after ya then.”

Mates. You heard that before. In your head it translated to partners for life.

“Mates, huh?” You tried to wrap your head around it with you not being like him, but your knowledge was so minimal you couldn’t do anything but accept his words as the truth. “Thanks for telling me. I’m trying to wrap my head around it so I hope you’ll give me some time to let it sink in.” It was clear to you that Daryl had feelings for you that rooted deep into his animal side. You could see it in the way he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“Are ya okay with me callin’ ya ma mate? Feels wrong not ta do it, but I aint wanna make ya uncomfortable.”

Instead of answering you mustered together what energy you had left and channeled into courage. Courage to get close to him, move on the bed so you were sitting against him and rested your head on his shoulder. This gave him an even better look of your breasts that had entirely slipped out of your top with the movement. Hesitantly he raised an arm to gently place it over your shoulders to hold you against him. Hunter had long stopped feeding but you kept him close to your bare chest, remembering one of the women mention skin to skin contact as a way of bonding.

“Yer really good with him.” Daryl’s observation formed around your mind like a shield to keep all the insecurities out. Hearing him say you were doing well with his son, a baby that you had without ever even learning how to care for one, plus him being a creature you knew even less about. Daryl was head over heels in love with you, and even if he hadn’t said the words out loud you could read it off his face.

You let out a soft giggle at the mental image your head produced when you looked over at him. “I swear, if you had a tail right now you’d be wagging it.” Daryl snorted out a laugh at the comment and could’t even deny it. “Yer absolutely right. But ya won’t be seein’ any a’tha until yer absolutely ready to face tha side o’me again.” The cute statement turned a tad grim in only one short moment, but he did tell the truth. You were in no way or shape ready to see him in any other way than human, and even when you’d be ready it would be traumatic the first few times until you’d be used to all of him and he respected that fact.

“Hey, Daryl?” You held up Hunter to him so he could take over for a moment. You adjusted your clothes again and covered up now that he had fallen asleep. “Do you think you want to stay here tonight?” He gave it a thought and agreed to your request. He was interested in your daily routines and the domesticity of sharing a cell made his head so happy. He’d be able to fall asleep surrounded by the scents of you and your son.

Progress between the two of you might not even go as slow as he’d originally thought.

With a squeeze of your arm and a soft kiss to your head he assured you. “I’ll be with ya for as long as ya want me.”

~~☆☆☆~~

A/N: the requested part two with some more background of what happened and some more bonding time! ♡

[ateezscupid]

Hey, can I please request?

Dom!Hongjoong X sub!fem reader

1) booping your nose

2) you don't have to do this!

3) I can never seem to get enough of you

Thank you 🙏

yeahhh… i got a little lazy with this one 😅. but i also wrote this at 3:20 am, so please endure this terrible fic 💝

﹟𝗪𝗘𝗧? ⋆ 𝗄.𝗁𝗃 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗔𝗧𝗘𝗘𝗭 𝗠𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 / 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧

plot - you offer to blow hongjoong off during a business meeting.

warn - dom!hongjoong, sub!reader, oral (m rec), dirty talk, pet names

w/c - n/a

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗦﹕ @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13

hongjoong boops your nose as you suck him off, being able to contain himself at the beginning of the meeting then slowly losing his composure as time went on.

your mouth was so warm, so wet; he felt like he was melting inside of you every time you sucked him off and he loved it.

and of course, this was your idea.

“mr. kim, are you okay?” a man on the screen asks him. joong’s ears perk up and he places a hand on your head trying to imply that you needed to stop, but you kept bobbing your head. he hissed and nodded.

“y-yes, just very under the weather. if you will excuse me for a moment, im going to find some medicine.” he stuttered for a bit then turned his camera and microphone off, making sure he was muted before leaning back and letting out a drawn out moan.

“fuck, princess,” he grips the pen in his hand tightly, hips occasionally thrusting up and causing his cock to hit the back of your throat.

“your mouth always feels good.” he hums. “i might have you do this every meeting.”

you giggle, sending vibrations through his body as you continue to bob your head. you bring two hands up and curl your fingers around his cock, beginning to pump him up and down at an already fast pace.

“fuck!” he moans loudly. “yes baby, just like that… i can never seem to get enough of you.”

you smile at his praise while pushing him to the back of your throat. he jerked forward and placed a hand on your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging it as you used both your mouth and hands on him. god, he loved it.

“god, i’m so close already…” he groaned, tugging harder on your hair. “f-fuck, keep going baby. don’t fucking stop.”

you listen to his commands, continuing your movements as he was writhing in pleasure underneath you, his thighs quaking and his eyes shut tightly. he sounded so hot when he moaned, and it made you feel better knowing you were making him feel good.

“yesss, suck me off baby. god, look at your mess you’re making…” he says, referring to the spot dribbling down your lip. you were always sloppy sucking him off.

“f-fuck, i’m… i-i’m cumming!” hongjoong gasps quietly and arched his back, groaning loudly as he came down your throat; warm, white strings of cum going down your throat. you swallowed as much as you could, giggling and kicking your feet a bit. you take your mouth off him and smile.

“i wanna do that every meeting.” you say, eager to make him feel good as you sucked on your fingers.

“aw, baby, you don’t have to do this.” he caressed your cheek. “i don’t need you to, bay. just being here makes me feel so much better.”

“mmm, fine joongie, but i still wanna do it.”

[razorblade180-heated]

Desk Gremlins

NSFW

[home office]

Weiss:*writing*

Jaune:*walks in* How’s filling in for your brother?

Weiss:I don’t know why I ever wanted to inherit the company. The moment he gets back from vacation I am taking one.

Jaune:It’s been two weeks.

Weiss:That’s too long!

Jaune:*hands her a plate* Does this help.

Weiss:Thank you. I’ll eat it in a moment. I have an online meeting in 5 minutes.

Jaune:A good one?

Weiss:It’s a company meeting. Good versions of those don’t exist. Only old people in suits talking for at least an hour while I write what I think is important.

Jaune:So nothing?

Weiss:I’ll write their names. That way I can tell Whitley which ones annoyed me the most. They just need a Schnee to oversee the meeting since they can’t be trusted to not try something under our noses.

Jaune:…And they aren’t fired because…?

Weiss:Name of the game. These particular people haven’t tried anything. It just happened so many times over the years we now have to keep an eye out. *leans back* I can’t wait for this to be over.

Weiss lets out a long sigh. A boop on the nose manages to get a small laugh out of her. Weiss looks at Jaune as he starts leaning down. She slowly sat forward, ready for her goodbye kiss. However, it never comes. Weiss watches continue to lean down until she audibly gasps as he gets underneath the desk and pulls her chair in. A gentle kiss on her right knee and fingers trailing up her legs jumpstarts Weiss’s brain into speaking.

Weiss:Sir!? Excuse me!?

Jaune:Lift your hips…

Weiss:I am working!

Jaune:You’re stressed and just observing aren’t you? Keep focus up there and I’ll focus down here.

Weiss:That is not the p- eep!

He got bold and put her right leg over her shoulder, pulling her waist a little closer and burying his face between her legs. Blush reached Weiss’s ears as Jaune’s breath made her spine tingle. Instead of repeating his request, her dummy of a husband decided to moved her panties to the side and give Weiss a slow, deliberate lick along her clit that made her legs clench.

She was about to try protesting again when her laptop blinked and the call started. Weiss’s face went stone cold and she put her hands in front of her on the desk.

Investors:Greetings Mrs. Schnee. Ready to begin?

Weiss:Absolutely. Start whenever you’re ready.

In life, fortune favors the bold, and Weiss couldn’t believe she didn’t what was happening. Such risky behavior should make her upset, but that was a rather difficult when it was for her own pleasure. Jaune at least had enough sense to keep the pace slow, yet there was no way to stop her heart from skipping a beat when she felt is tongue slide in. Weiss began writing so she had an excuse to look away from the screen when possible. This was cruel! In Jaune’s efforts to be discreet, Weiss had to endure entrance being traced repeatedly and his nose rubbing against her.

Ironically enough, Jaune tried not to needlessly distract her by looking up or making noise. That second part was a little difficult the wetter she got. He got into the zone a little as her sweet scent dulled his senses. It would’ve stayed that way if he hadn’t received a flick on the forehead. He looked up to see her still focused on the laptop. Perhaps he was going overboard? Jaune tried moving back to give her a moment, but found himself caught off guard when the leg on his shoulder kept him firmly in place. The hand that had flicked him now combed through his hair, gripping it gently as Weiss pressed him harder into her. Oh…his eyes flickered. Weiss wanted more. Jaune couldn’t help but smile before pressing his tongue deep into Weiss’s core, earning a tighter grip on his hair.

The young woman quickly glanced down to see seductive eyes devouring her. She did her best to give a “how dare you” gaze, but even that wasn’t convincing when her body so easily betrayed her expression. Weiss gave a tiny huff to steady her breathing and refocus on the laptop. This was gonna be a long meeting.

xxxxx

Whitley:*sipping tea* I wonder if Weiss is okay?

Ruby:She’ll be alright. I gave Jaune a list of ways to help if she gets annoyed; like how I help you.

Whitley:*squints*

Ruby:Ya know…cooking and kisses!

Whitley:Oh, yeah that makes sense.

Ruby:(Hehehehe….)

[farthertothemoon]

My friend booped me on the nose earlier today, right in the spot that gets me sneezy and the mental and physical battle I endured to not sneeze was monumental

[actuallysaiyan]

Kinktober Day 1: Sex toys(Feed My Frankenstein)

warnings/kinks: scientific experimentation, sex toys, use of drugs, drugging, semen collection, fake pussy, creampie word count: 1.6k pairings: Android 17 x Fem!Reader tag list: @beneathstarryskies, @ricflairdrip20, @witchofcustom. @xailem, @loki-love. If you want to be part of the tag list, please just message me or send an ask in my inbox.

Bright lights flash on his face. He feels a little panicked, but when he smells your perfume, he feels a little more calm. You smile when you realize he’s awake. Android 17 fights against the restraints that keep him firmly placed on the examination table. He trusts you, mostly. You are still Dr. Gero’s assistant after all. But with the way you treat him, 17 knows that you can be trusted. This is just frightening for him, though. He is worried that maybe you have some sort of sinister test waiting for him.

“Good to see you awake,” you say as you come closer to him. “Dr. Gero was beginning to worry.”

Flashbacks of a struggle and then being injected with something flash through 17’s mind. He knows that it’s because of his reluctance to these tests that he has to endure such treatment. Whenever 17 has to take a test, he always prefers it would be you administering it. Often it is Dr. Gero, who is so much more rough with him than you are. 17 shudders when you push back some of his hair.

“Are you ready for the male hormone test now? It’s really simple, and I think you’ll enjoy it.” You question him, and he sighs.

“Like I have a choice,” 17 spits out. He is completely restrained to the table. It’s a comfortable table at least.

You walk over to the desk in the corner and you begin typing something into the computer. A series of beeps and boops fill the air before a cylindrical device begins descending from the ceiling. 17 is confused by this device. You know what it’s for. Dr. Gero had you build this machine specifically with the thought of testing 17 in mind. This will be able to show you if the Androids are even able to have children. 

“This won’t hurt a bit. I’ll need to remove all your clothing.” You begin with his pants, undoing them as best as you can through the restraints. Then the shirt, which you cut off his body.

“Isn’t that just a waste?” 17 remarks sarcastically. You smile sweetly as you remove his underwear.

You gasp as you see the size of him. The length is slightly above average, but it’s the girth. He is quite thick around. You know you did the right thing getting the large size for the rings. You pull on some nitrile gloves and pick up your clipboard. 17 can’t even look you in the eyes right now. All his cockiness has been pushed aside for timidity.

“Such a large specimen,” you mutter to yourself. Gently, you grasp his cock in your hand and he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Hey! Be careful,” 17 moans loudly, unaware of how needy he really is.

You write down a few things on your clipboard before setting it aside. On the desk in the corner of the room, you procure a syringe and a bottle of some sort of pink fluid. 17 knows that you’re about to inject him with something.

“This is a virility drug. It’s mixed with sildenafil.” You explain to him. He swallows hard. He knows what this test is going to be for.

You inject him with the proper dosage and then you give him time to react to the drug. It doesn’t take long for him to get even harder than he was before. His cheeks are pink as the arousal takes a hold of him.

“How are you feeling now?” You ask him, scribbling more notes on your clipboard.

“How do you think I feel? You just injected me with probably the world’s strongest viagra. I’m horny as hell!” 17 seethes as he wriggles on the table.

“Yes, don’t worry about that. I’m here to test the potency of your sperm. So rest assured, you will get off.” He hates that he loves how smart you are. You never sugarcoat anything, and he loves the technical jargon you always use.

You set the clipboard aside once more before returning to him. With gloved hands, you grasp his cock. It’s leaking so much precum at this point, and you just touching him has him moaning softly. You love that you get to administer this test. You’ve been pining after him for so long.

“You’re very erect. It must feel pretty good to have my hands on it, yes?” 17 doesn’t even want to answer this. It feels heavenly.

You cup his balls and you realize how heavy they are. It’s a shame you’ll have to put a ring on both his cock and his balls for the first part of the test. It’s meant to test how long it’ll take for him to cum. But seeing as you need as much cum as possible, you need to make sure he lasts as long as he can.

“This might be a little cool to the touch,” you tell him as you grab both metal rings. You had opted for something better, but metal was all you were given.

17 whines as you begin fitting him with the rings. First, the one on his balls is put on. It squeezes a little bit, making them feel even more sensitive. Then you slip the one for his cock, smirking at how it is the perfect fit. He feels so lost in a thick fog of lust. He wants nothing more than a sweet release.

“I’m going to start the extracting machine now,” you begin as you walk over to the computer once more. “Unless you prefer I do this manually.” 

Though you are only joking. There���s no way you should get involved more than scientifically. Even if just the thought of jerking him off makes your panties so damp. Already you’re fighting off every urge to straddle him, push back your panties and ride him all day long.

A few more clicks of your mouse, and the extractor machine comes down fully. It opens up to 17 and shows him a fake pussy. He laughs when he realizes what this is. It’s a sex toy attached to a mechanical arm. It’s going to fuck him, and it’s going to make him cum. Just so that you can test his sperm, whatever that means.

17 doesn’t anticipate just how excited he is for this. Before he became an android, he was a loner. He barely got laid as it is, but this was going to be even better than he imagined. Now if only you could take off that damn lab coat, things might get a little kinkier in here. He thrusts his hips up slightly as the drug begins making him even more aroused. You rush over when you realize you’ve forgotten a step.

“I’m sorry 17, I haven’t even given you the proper lubrication.” 

His head is buzzing as he realizes what you mean. You pick up a bottle of generic water-based lube and you squirt some on your gloved hands. Then you grasp his cock again and you begin stroking him to make sure every drop is on his cock.

17 whines as you keep up a steady pace. This is mostly for your own benefit. You wanted to give him a little pleasure as well. His balls feel so tight already and he isn’t sure if it’s you or the drugs or the ring. It doesn’t matter. Everything feels so good right now. He feels like he could cum right away.

“There we are. Now, time to get you off.” You giggle softly, and his cock twitches at the sound.

17 moans loudly as the toy begins to swallow his cock. He can barely watch as he reaches so deep inside of it. It’s a slow pace to start, and he is quite grateful. He didn’t think something like this would feel so good. And to his luck, you remove your lab coat, revealing a tight sweater that accentuates your gorgeous tits.

“I knew you looked great under that coat,” 17 struggles to say. The machine begins jerking him off a little faster, and another moan falls from his lips.

You smirk at the display in front of you. When Dr. Gero first announced this test, you knew you had to jump on this chance. There was no way that 17 was going to let the doctor administer such an intimate test.

“Tell me how you feel,” you ask him. He rolls his eyes before whimpering softly.

The machine begins at a faster and deeper pace. 17 feels his heart beginning to race in his chest. This is too much. It’s way too good. It’s like this machine knows exactly how to make him feel so good. You probably studied his habits and programmed it to know how he likes to be ridden. This is all your fault.

“I feel fucking good, okay? Obviously I do.” He’s so shy right now. But it feels sensational. He can’t quiet the whines and the whimpers.

You reach over to cup his heavy balls, and that’s all it takes for him to fall off the edge. 17 cries out loudly, his orgasm taking hold of him completely. He mutters the sweetest little moans and pleading. It turns you on more than you could ever believe. You’ve never seen anything so sexual in your life. 

“Fuck yes! Fuck!” He’s moaning as the toy continues to milk him. Eventually, it slows to a gentle pace and it has 17 whimpering and shaking on the table.

You jot down a few more notes then you go back to the computer. The machine stops, leaving 17 on the table alone. His cock is still quite hard, you notice. Well, you did inject him with something strong after all. You walk over to him and strip off your gloves. You hover over him for a moment before smirking.

“Guess I’ll have to finish the job manually.” You say as you grasp his cock. 17 moans as you begin jerking him off.

‘Guess these tests aren’t so bad after all…’

[anonymityisfunwriter]

The Grumpy x Sunshine Alphabet

It occurred to me that in the (very, very long) time I've been writing the Grumpy Sunshine Series, I've never done the alphabet prompt. So... let's do the alphabet with Grumpy!Bucky Barnes and Sunshine!Reader!

☀️Part of The Grumpy x Sunshine Series☀️

A = FFECTION [How affectionate are they? How do they show affection? Do they enjoy PDA?] Before you, Bucky could not stand being touched, especially when it caught him off guard. Doing that was a great way to break a finger or two. He's since turned a new leaf and now only marginally hates when other people touch him.

He's warming up to PDA, but still prefers to show his affection behind closed doors. He can't quite admit it yet, but he finds himself actually enjoying holding hands with you, pressing kisses to your temple, protectively wrapping an arm around your waist. He could do without Sam's constant, dramatic, fake gags and bitter murmurings, "Gross".

And as for you, even as friends, you were very affectionate with Bucky. He wasn't used to it, to someone feeling so safe, so comfortable around him. People didn't usually try to approach him, much less actually touch him. Bucky's pretty sure he short circuited a little bit the first time you booped his nose.

And don't get him started on the first time you held his hand.

Now that he thinks about it, he can't be too sure that you didn't just Pavlov him into liking affection.

B = EAUTY [What is their favorite part of their partner. Body part, trait, anything?] As cliche as it sounds, Bucky's favorite part of you is your smile. Something in brain stops working when he see your brilliant smile. He'd never in a million years admit it to anyone, but he's always looking for new ways to describe that damned smile. It's the kind of smile that could light up a room, the kind of smile that you just have to stop and look at, it's lyrical and melodic, it's a perfect smile. But mostly, he likes how genuine that smile is. There is no faking a smile like that. Whenever you smile, he knows it's real.

You, on the other hand, talk constantly about what you like about Bucky. The little wrinkles in the corner his eyes that only ever show when he smiles, the light freckles that dust his cheeks, you like the sound of his voice, the scruff on his jawline. But your favorite part of him is most definitely his eyes. You told him that the first time you met him. You felt like he just had to know how brilliant and breathtaking those blue eyes were. You look at those eyes and you know you're home.

C = OMFORT [How do they comfort their partner? Ex. after a panic attack or bad dream?] Bucky likes to be held after a panic attack or a nightmare. He likes to listen to your heart rate, to your even breaths, to feel the gentle touch of your hand trailing up and down his spine, lulling him back to a calm state.

You like to be grounded. Whether that be in Bucky's secure embrace or listening to his voice guiding you back to yourself, you like to be reminded that you're safe, that you'll never go back to that dark place from before.

D = EVOTED [How devoted are they in a relationship?] I think it's safe to say very devoted. For a very long while, Bucky thought that he would never be able to invite someone into his life in the way he invited you in. It was never a choice he made, not really. From the moment he met you, that was it. Love songs made sense. Love stories seemed plausible. Something clicked into place the day he met you. You had him mind, body, and soul.

It's definitely safe to say very devoted.

E = NDING [If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?] After everything you two endured together, it would have to be something massive cause a break up. Like you Blipped and Bucky didn't - that sort of massive.

Infidelity is practically a cardinal sin to Bucky, and your attachment and abandonment issues make it pretty hard to be vulnerable and intimate the way you are with Bucky with just anyone. Growing apart or falling out of love seem so unlikely. Considering you've seen each other at your very best and very worst, you've truly become each other's partners in everything.

If you were to break up with him, he would bear it if it would make you happy, but he doesn't truly think he could take it.

And if he truly had to break up with you for the sake of this sick hypothetical, it would be the most difficult thing he had to do like he would only really do it if your life was hanging in the balance. But if he really had to, it would be very gentle, 'it's not you, it's me' sort of thing. He also would most definitely have to brace for the beat down of his life from Sam.

F = UTURE [What is their ideal future with an s/o? Marriage? How would they be domesticly?] A quiet, peaceful life. The picture of domesticity. A white picket fence, a beautiful house, the kind with a big backyard and a tree swing in the front yard. Possibly overlooking a lake.

Bucky's from the 1940's, he most definitely envisions himself married, probably some kids, your dog and cat cozied up with you two on the front porch. He pictures growing old with you.

G = ENTLE [How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?] Bucky is the depiction of the Grumpy One is only soft for the Sunshine One. He is not a very patient nor warm person, but there's something about coming home to his Sunshine that melts that cold exterior of his. Physically, he can be very reserved with his touch. Even though he's seen you fight off some of the world's most heinous villains, he still is so terrified of accidentally hurting you. It's taken some time, okay, maybe a lot of time, but he's slowly learning to ease up and relax a little bit more.

You're very gentle emotionally. You like to make Bucky to smile, to make sure he feels safe and wanted. Physically, you're not necessarily not gentle, but you're definitely not reserved with your touch. You're not rough with him, but you know without your powers, you stand very little chance of physically hurting him. While you're most certainly not aggressive with him, you're definitely not the most gentle. For example, you have no qualms about bounding into his arms, draping yourself on him as he's sitting on the couch after a long, hard day, things like that. Bucky doesn't mind it, not one bit.

H = UGS [Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?] You hug everyone. All the time. You're a great hugger. Everyone tells you that.

The first time you gave Bucky a hug, something broke inside of him. He's like 99% sure of that. He couldn't remember the last time someone just held him. Part of him felt like sobbing. Another part wanted to burrow his face into your hair. The other, other part was incredibly freaked out. What actually ended up happening was he just stood there like an idiot until he had the good sense to pick his arms up and return the hug.

I = NTUNE [How intune are they with their s/o's emotions? Can they read their s/o well?] Bucky can read you very, very well. It helps that you're very open and probably the most honest person he knows. He also knows for all that honesty, you don't like to say when you're having a hard time.

And for how well Bucky can read you, you can read him just as well. You know when to push, when to leave him alone, when he just needs support.

You both balance each other out. It's why you work so well.

J = EALOUSY [How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?]

You are far more jealous than Bucky. Everyone finds that shocking. It's not really out of fear that Bucky would ever be unfaithful to you, but more of your own abandonment issues.

Bucky can be slightly jealous, but he knows deep down he doesn't have anything to worry about. One of the things Bucky likes best about you is that you see the best in people, which means you can be a little oblivious to when people are flirting with you. You have a habit of thinking that everyone is just being extra nice.

K = ISSES [Good kisser? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?]

This was a big insecurity of yours. Bucky was your first, well, your first everything. Including your first kiss.

Your lack of experience wasn't always an insecurity, Bucky never gave you any indication that he had a problem with it. It wasn't until you started hearing stories about 1940's Bucky Barnes, all his charisma, his charm, and his revolving door of suitors that your mind started to wander. Sure, some of it was embellished, but you couldn't shake the feeling that this might one day be a problem for him, that one day he'd get bored, or you'd do something wrong.

When you voiced these concerns, he assured you over and over that there was absolutely nothing wrong with you.

And he might've told you that you were free to practice on him whenever you wanted.

L = LOVE LANGUAGE [What is their love language? Gift giving? Quality time?]

Bucky's love language is acts of service and touch. He was deprived of kindness and warmth for so long that there's a part of him that really craves those things. He is selective about who he lets touch him, but there's something about your touch that is so much more fulfilling than anyone else's. He also thinks there's no better way to express his love than through acts of service. Like the saying goes, actions speak louder than words, You haven't been able to sleep? Bucky will make sure that your bedding is freshly washed and extra cozy. Little things like that. You haven't eaten all day? Bucky will pick something up for you - only because you've not lifted his ban from the kitchen.

Your love language is words of affirmation and quality time. You are acutely aware of how fleeting moments truly are. You make it a point to tell Bucky that he makes you happy, how thankful you are for him, down to just liking the shirt he's wearing that day. You like the smile it always brings to his face. And with a hectic life, you sometimes just need an hour or to with Bucky, even just sitting on the couch together. You just want to be together.

M = MEMORIES [What are their favorite memories with their s/o or family?]

Some of Bucky's favorite memories of you usually fall into two categories: when you were 'just friends', all the longing gazes, the timid touches, all those firsts. The other category is the moments of quiet domesticity, when he comes home to find you curled up on the couch reading a book, when he cuddles underneath a quilt meant for a person half his size, tending to your plants as he watches you with unbridled fascination gleaming in his eyes.

Your favorite memories are those few and far moments when Bucky's usual stoic and serious expression falls away, when he's carefree and unburdened. Sometimes, you'll catch him napping on the couch with Alpine and just smile to yourself at how at peace he looks. Those are your favorite memories.

N = ICKNAMES [What do they call their partner?] You're his Doll. He particularly likes the way you blush when he calls you 'Doll' in public.

You call Bucky all sorts of pet names: sweetie, honey, baby, sweetheart. You always take note of the ones that make Bucky's cheeks flush a little bit more.

O = PEN [When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?] You tell everyone everything. You're very open and honest. You only hesitated to tell Bucky some of the darker parts of your past because you didn't want him to know that side of you, but still, you told him fairly early on.

Bucky's the exact opposite of that. He's not very open, he doesn't tell anyone anything. He doesn't even give his full name unless someone asks him. He knows too much of his past is out there, so he keeps what little is still not widely known fairly private. Until you came along.

You once told him you made a point not to go out and search for any information on him. You told him that you wanted to hear it from him. He found that he really liked telling you those things about himself, even those darker points in his life, getting to tell you in his own time, in his own way, in the way he actually lived it. It felt like a weight off his chest. It felt like he was getting that part of his life back.

P = ATIENCE [How easily angered are they?] Bucky is not a patient person. No if, and's, or but's about it.

Q = UALITY TIME [How would they spend time with a partner? What are dates like?] Quality time in your normal routine usually consists of resting together, napping, cuddling up on the couch, mostly decompressing from the strain of your work life.

On the rare occasion, Bucky does enjoy to plan an actual date night. Some times, it's a bit more elaborate. Still, he knows you can never go wrong on a wine and dine sort of night.

R = ANDOM HEADCANON Bucky refused to learn to text until you offhandedly mentioned that you wanted to learn. He'll never admit it, but he only learned because you wanted to. So he made Sam teach him. And as much as he hated it, he learned so he could talk to you.

You use a lot of emojis. Like a lot.

S = ECURITY [How protective are they?] As your relationship progressed, Bucky became simultaneously more and less protective of you. Logically, he knows you can take care of yourself. And as time went on, he saw it firsthand, time and time again. Also as time went on, he knows how much you avoid conflict, just how willing you are to pull punches because you believe in the good of people. It's heartwarming, sure. It also makes him want to protect you so much more.

You're very protective of Bucky. Always have been. Always will be. You figure that he's had to fight enough in the years before you knew him, it's time for someone else do the fighting for him.

T = TINY ONES [How do they feel about kids? How would they act with kids?] You both love the idea of having kids someday. It's definitely apart of your plans for the future.

You're the team's go to babysitter. Morgan loves watching Disney movies with you. Sam's sister, Sarah, jokes that AJ and Cass like you more than they like Sam.

U = UPSET [How do they act after a fight? Would they be the first to apologize?] You don't fight very often, but it does happen, contrary to popular belief.

One of the biggest perks of living with Sam all that time ago is that you've learned how to set very clear boundaries on things like fights.

For example, after your very first big fight, Bucky walked out the door to cool off. He didn't even leave the building, just went to stew in the training room. He came back to find you shaking in the exact spot he left you. That was a very clear boundary you set. Neither of you could leave without saying where you were going and how long you would be gone, especially after a fight.

He doesn't like yelling, it's an awful trigger for him. Another boundary set. It was a lot of learning as you go, but it makes resolving issues easier.

V = ALUE [How important is the relationship to them? What is it’s worth in comparison to other things in their life?] You prioritize the people in your life. More than anything else. Your team. Your friends. Your relationship. The people in your life are what bring you happiness. It makes things a whole lot easier to prioritize considering there's an almost 100% overlap between all three groups. While you make sure to give enough time to your friends, you definitely prioritize your relationship.

Bucky is similar, though quite a bit more selective about who he considers important to him. He's got a few close friends. Two best friends. And you. He's more than happy to give you all the time and energy you want from him.

W = HOLE [Would they feel incomplete without you? What is their worst fear, what causes a hole in their heart?] Yes, you would both feel incomplete without each other. There's a reason that you just clicked with each other. There's a part of you that is Bucky. Just like there's a part of Bucky that is only you.

You both have a lot of trauma and issues of your own. You both struggle with PTSD, but it manifests in vastly different ways.

For you, you fear abandonment, being alone, being locked away again. You get very jittery waking up alone or if he leaves without telling you where he's going or when he'll be back.

For Bucky, he worries that one day his past will become too much for you. That one day, you'll tire of not being able to walk down the street with him without a random stranger glaring at him. He worries that one day, you won't see Bucky, you'll see the Winter Soldier.

X = XENOS [What is something about them that is strange? Something that most wouldn't like] If you're being honest with yourselves, there's a lot that's strange about you and Bucky, both as individuals and as a couple. Enhanced individuals. Incredibly dangerous line of work. Traumatic backgrounds. Take your pick.

For as many supporters that you have, there's also plenty of people that think that you and Bucky are just entirely incompatible. He's always walking around with a stoic expression. You're with a bright smile. Even hand in hand, people think Bucky is cold to you. You don't mind it, and you're not going to ask him to change to please other people.

Y = ANK [What do they do that makes their partner mad? That makes one wanna yank they ass?] You get really, really mad when Bucky comes home hurt. Especially when it was because he did something reckless.

You'll tend to his wounds, that's not your problem.

You're not even really mad at him. You're just upset. Unless, of course, he did something reckless and unnecessarily put himself in harm's way, then, yes, you will be mad at him. You understand that there was some inherent risk in your line of work, but still, there's nothing that gets under your skin like seeing a gash on his cheekbone or a laceration above his brilliant blue eyes. It makes you mad.

Z = ZZZ [What are their sleeping habits? Do they snore? Is the schedule fucked up?] What do you get when you put not one but two deeply traumatized insomniacs, both with irregular work schedules, and very little spare time? Well, the answer is a very messed up sleep schedule. Over time, you've both gotten better about going to bed and at least trying to sleep and slowly you've worked towards something that resembles a good night's sleep, but it definitely wasn't easy for either of you.

And yes, you snore. You also talk in your sleep. You vehemently deny both.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Masterlist

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[librarianandguardian]

My Moonshine - Geto x GN!Reader

Pairing : S2!Geto Suguru x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word count : 2 938 (= 7 Google Doc pages)

Warnings : Canon Divergence (of some sort), Mentions of dark thoughts, looming dread of death (just looming), angst/comfort

/!\ Spoilers for the end of the 1st part of JJK Season 2. Proceed at your own risk /!\

A.N : Okay... I know I post every new blood moon... But hey new fic ! Bear with me, I needed to comfort myself after seeing the Hidden Inventory/Premature Death Arc animated. I was dreading to see it animated because... Heartbreaking. Just as scared for Shibuya. Anyway definitely Canon divergence I'M HERE FOR IT OKAY.

Being a good exorcist was easy. Being a talented exorcist could come from two paths : birthright or hard work. You considered yourself a hard working one. The cursed technique bestowed upon you yielded terrifying consequences. But offered wonderful opportunities. Water. The element of life, creating and keeping alive. The spirits of Nature were and are to this day, the kindest beings of this world. So their wrath can be as burning as their love for their disciples.

And you started to wonder if you hadn’t offended someone. Hand on your right flank, your body, folded in a corner, was waiting for the curses to pass by you. Though, there seemed to be little chances of survival with the scent of your blood everywhere on the floor. This mission was supposed to be in, kill, out. One curse, one hour maximum to find it. Yet your life was flashing before your eyes, a gentle sob needing to spill out. Time couldn’t rob you like that. Not now.

The celestial body was dead, Haibara-kun too and Nanami quit to be “normal”. All your friends fell through repetitive depressive episodes; Shoko started drinking atop of her smoking habit, Gojo though more mature was now endangering students, fighting more and more with Geto, whom blamed himself for the death of Riko and Haibara. Geto… Your moonshine. With his man bun. His stupid wit. His ease. When everything was going to hell, you would both bitch about Gojo together, pass out on the common room’s couch in eased silence, dance on new tracks with Shoko by your side. He always had bad days, but they were becoming more and more violent. And all these rituals were less and less vibrant. He never fell asleep; he hummed, no more wits; stared with an empty look at that wall while listening to new tracks. Honestly ? You were so used to grieving that cheering people up became a reflex.

Cry at night, smile to people to shine. Be their light.

You knew it was bad for you. But your heart couldn’t bare to see others endure what you had.

Be the balm you didn’t have back then.

Another hard truth ? Your mind was cracking. Only two years had gone by. Your pain drowning you slowly, week by week. No one was cheering up. You were feeling useless. Just like this instant. Curled up in a ball, life draining slowly. Exhausted from your first insomnias these past few days. Surprised on a dangerous mission. Why did the higher-ups send you alone on this ? Did they see how useless you were becoming as you aged ? No… Why would they…

Low growls neared your corner. Rusted furniture was protecting you for now. Maybe their ironish smell would fool them. Or did they fool you ? No wish of yours had ever been so strong than the one clouding your mind right now.

Heat Wave. A fan. A white ceiling with bamboo planks. Shorts and tank tops. An opened couch and pillows. Suguru softly breathing next to you, his phone battery dead, one earbud in, the other out, a bit of saliva running out of his mouth. The window bay opened, the one facing the fresh forest, the gentle stream passing through the pond tinking. Stars in a clear sky, accompanied by the moon.

Why did you get the exact opposite ? And the sounds you wished to hear again…

“Thank you, Droplet. My heart is indebted to your generous one.” His index boops your nose, you giggle. “ Please, call on me if you need anything. I…” He pauses, serious, before gently tugging the handle of your lollipop to mess with you. “You and Shoko are the only ones keeping me sane these days.” Your hand grabs his to try to free the handle, as you both giggle. “Stay bright, little light.”

Well, if you didn’t turn into a vengeful spirit after all of these thoughts… Anything else your brain wants you to regret before you die ? A summer festival memory ! Sounds like a good way to wrap it up.

A Rainbow of traditional clothing. You loved yours. Geto had brought you to his favourite secret store of traditional clothing, where you found THE outfit for the festival. Smiles everywhere. Smells of food. Fireworks. Hugs. Songs. The fresh air of midnight. Your moonshine seeing you shivering. After a quick inquiry, his arms draped over your shoulders, covering you with his large black sleeves, as his chin rests at the top your head. That giant bastard did warm you up, but so did your cheeks and heart. You wondered how you could get him to do that more often.

You had found out a few weeks later, while discussing with Utahime on the phone. Mortified described your state extremely well. None of you were ready to be in any kind of relationship. Your souls were vividly scarred by all the recent events. Broken can’t fix the broken. A couple is the union of two people, who know their personal value and want to add the other’s to theirs because they love it. It is an addition, not a completion to the hole in their heart. Geto had been a friend for so long now, that these sayings didn’t stop your thoughts about the possibility. He knew how to be an entire person without anyone, even if it hurt him at times; he could choose his addition without a worry. But what about you, still fighting against your people pleasing habits, oblivious to yourself worth ?

The snarls of the curse were right next to you. It had stopped, sensing your presence, searching. Its head turned left, towards your spot then right. It sniffed carefully around the abandoned building. The air was mossy, rancid, dusty. Your blood could blend with the rust. Your breaths were short, eyes tightly closed. The curse was constituted partly of water. You could trace its movement, anticipating your probable death. Speaking of which, you decide to make peace with it all. Step by step. In your mind, three different versions of you appeared : a child, a teenager, a young adult.

You cherished our alone time and hobbies all while being a busy exorcist. We are soo badass !

I kept that part of myself. Thank you, little light.

You weren’t a scared teenager anymore. You fought, saved people, protected the one you love. Our mind and our heart cooperate without bitterness now. That’s one hell of an accomplishment.

I’m proud of myself. Thank you, we’re saved.

We both know what we want now, don’t we ? You have been blind on purpose because you were scared.

Of what ?

Appearing cold when mourning. Too cheery on a daily basis, while everyone was sad. To equal your seniors. To admit you finally fell in love.

…

It’s not because they didn’t cheer up every day that you failed. The important thing is that you stay true. He wants you by his side, so do you. We jump towards our death in every mission. Allow yourself some moonshine in this dreary life. A droplet can change everything. Survive.

You opened your eyes. The curse had turned its head back near the rusted furniture protecting you. Okay, it was big. But full of water. You control water. It could work, right ? Your wound wasn’t too bad for now. Your hand covered in blood would argue, but it couldn’t speak, so fuck it. Drawing a deep breath in, your legs sprung you out of your hiding spot. The curse screamed, extending its hands to you. Its mouth wide open, you saw some saliva. Perfect.

Thank you, Droplet.

You screamed in return, letting some tears fall out of your eyes. You infused them with cursed energy, alongside your sweat. You would have preferred to use external water like a puddle but oh well. Even the moss would not have been enough. Tears and sweat are highly linked to emotions, making them potent catalytic fluids. You would tire quicker, but it was the best way to get out of here. Creating a string with a hook, you launched it inside the mouth. Got the connection.

First step : letting it swallow some more. Screaming some tears out, your cursed energy allowed you some strength. The string got longer, the curse swallowed.

Second step : deeper. The sheer need to resist the pull made you sweat some more. The thread became longer, the curse falling deeper into your trap. The map of its in and out was clear now.

Third step : Hook and tear apart. That could be trickier. Your strength had its limits, especially with a wound. Draining your own water… Everyone says it’s a dumb idea. But you know why you use it; last resort.

Your feet firmly planted on the ground, you pull. Shivers and tremors ran through you. One of your knees touched the ground. Your throat got drier by the second. But you screamed. Your heart wanted to make it out of here to spill it all out to your moonshine. Deep down, you knew that because you and Shoko were behind him, Geto stayed somewhat sane. That he didn’t jump off of an edge you could not have saved him from.

If you die, he might let go.

Hell no. Not on your watch. That moonshine would not disappear. Your tired arms pulled. Your cursed energy went up some more. It didn’t seem like enough. Wrapping the thread around your wrist, your now free second hand straightened in the direction of the curse. It was going to act like a magnet to the hook, to pierce through the curse. You loosened the thread a little. This was your riskiest manoeuvre : a few seconds of inattention and you’d be dead.

The curse wailed ; the hook was slowly coming out. But it started shaking left and right. Now you were fucked. Still, as hopeful as ever, you kept going. Your thoughts were on a loop, like a broken record.

I want more time. I want more time. I want more time. I want more time.

Something ran down your nose. On your right flank too. Blood, probably.

I need more time. I need more time. I need more time. I need more time.

A swift breeze blew behind your back. Opening your eyes, a giant white dragon flew through the opening your hook had created, tearing the last curse of your mission apart. Your thread and hook dematerialised. The tension of your body evaporated. Your muscles became jelly. The dragon came to you, sniffing you. A smile crossed your features. Someone called out your name, far, getting closer, next to your face. You couldn’t leave the dragon’s gaze, the happiness it brought you. A few words leave your mouth, before you blacked out head first on the fuzzy head in front of you.

“ I’m ok. ”

Shoko contemplated the night sky. She had never been into it. Until one fateful pyjama party involving you and your random knowledge. It soothed her now. A puff of smoke ascended towards it. The state you came back in was not too bad, you were mainly exhausted. Your wound healed up without a problem. She could recognize the signs of insomnias on your body; paler skin, darker under-eyes, shallow breaths. Your undying resolve to cheer was fading.

Did you think of Death, good friend ?

Another puff of smoke flew up. Maybe Shoko should stop smoking. Go on your little mental health walks with you. Cry with you. Grieve together. A cold breeze blew her hair away. For tonight though, she’d leave you to your peace. She giggled tenderly. What a surprise you’d have waking up. Smashing the butt of her cigarette into a pot, her arms snuggled her white blouse closer around her turtleneck. She often wished to have a Geto of her own.

“I won’t let you freeze, Droplet.”

Those are the last words you thought you would hear waking up. Your nose ran a little, your feet feeling the cold air of the room; as well as a pair of legs. Slowly emerging, your forehead noted the warm chest it rested against. A big hand was rubbing the back of your head. Your back shivered at the contrast between the air and the arm circling it, the hand politely resting on your side. Lips kissed the top of your hair.

“Please never do that again. That was so reckless of you. Did you really think we wouldn’t back you up ? Even if we were forbidden to do so ? ”

One of your hands, bunched up against your own chest, grabbed onto the black t-shirt in front of you. You had woken up a few times, mere seconds each, but every time you felt like shit. Your brain was letting your heart loose. You wanted to cry so bad. But exhaustion put you back to sleep just before you could. However now, you were fully awake and ready to burst. Your nostrils recognized the perfume next to you. He saved you, probably watched you bleed out without knowing if it was fatal or not, and stayed by your side for hours on end. A sob above you invaded your ear.

“We need… I want you by my side for all of this. I want to smile with you. Be a brat with you. I-”

Another sob. Tears dropped on your cheeks.

“Nap like we’re in a coma in summer. Hold you on a cold night of a festival. Hug when we’re sad for whatever reason.”

If he hadn’t noticed you yet, that would do it. A shaky breath escaped your mouth a little too loudly. You sniffed. The hand on your side twitched a bit, indicating Geto had in fact heard you, freezing in place.

“Are you ?...”

You buried your head in his neck, rounding his torso with your arms, crying. He probably had to fight Shoko to be able to lay in your infirmary bed like that. Instinctively, his arms held you tighter, leaving you some time; taking some time for him to cry too. Your hands grabbed the back of his shirt with urge, afraid to lose it.

“I want you too. I jumped out to save myself because I wanted to live please… don’t…”

Even though Geto was shaky, he loosened his grip to let you look at his face. Dark circles, wrinkles from the sheets and a small cut on his left cheek. His voice only shushed you gently, the hand on your side cupping the side of your face to rub his thumb on your temple. Your eyes met. He nodded to you, exhaling all the air in his lungs. You followed, warmed up by his attempt to help breath smoothly again. You synchronised, like every time you eased the other out of sadness. These breathing exercises had been transmitted by one of the spirits of the water you met long ago. A gentle puddle pushed by the wind. You were crying your eyes out in the forest, having seen another one of your friends die in a trial. The puddle worked with the wind to move in slow motions, allowing you to sync your breath with them.

One out for one, two, three, four ripples. One in for one, two, three, four ripples… Halt ! One ripple. Two ripples.

“Three ripples. Four ripples. Let loose, Droplet.”

The hand on your face moved back to your hair, caressing them.

“Are you feeling better ?”

With one last breath out, a small smile appeared on your features. Your body was warm from head to toe, happy to be alive, to have him so close.

“Thanks to you, Suguru.”

His eyes widened again, a slight blush covering his cheeks. The moments he could help you back were so rare. You thanked him every time. However you had just confessed to him. Fireworks went off in his brain, barely believing it. He was getting delirious after worrying so much at night, right ? Or was he dreaming ? A mental slap later, his heart screamed to be in the moment. So as sly as ever, he grinned after scoffing.

“Don’t mention it.”

You shook your head, amused. Hugging him again, you wondered if what you both said earlier was going to be talked about tonight. A light breeze made his arms hold you a little closer. He kissed one of your temples. Maybe you should have that conversation. Pushing it back wouldn’t be any good. The night was still young.

“So, heard you say you wanted me, little light ? Is that true ?”

You huffed a laugh at his casual tone, knowing full well that his heart was hammering against one of your ears.

“Yes. I believe it was an appropriate response to your lengthy love declaration. That you professed while you thought I SLEPT. That is so mean. Never hide your feelings like that with me, please ? ”

It was his turn to laugh. But no mockery laced his voice. Just a little bit of admiration. You had been on Death’s door. Yet here you were, scolding him with your entire heart.

“I promise, Droplet. Would you do the same ?”

Your head lifted to watch him. His face seemed so relaxed. Did all of this mean you could get infinite free hugs and that beautiful smile all day long ?

“I promise, Moonshine.”

Maybe the next few years aren’t going to be too bad.