#doll spider did nothing wrong ever

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

good night and sweet dreams to the best, sexiest, sluttiest, smartest, realest, most based, valid, relatable, girlipop, sympathetic, cunt, fun, cool, feminist, aspirational girlboss character in dead boy detectives: doll spider <3

good night to her and no one else. i hope the rest of y’all have a bad night and terrible dreams.

[alexiroflife]

“stubborn”

fluff, sickening fluff

toji fushiguro x reader

Synopsis: you finally ask your boyfriend Toji to help you with something after months of pushing him away

to sum it up: reader is a stubborn, independent woman who despises asking for help, but you're just too short to reach your top-shelf

WC: 1,778

Warning(s): none

Toji knew he was done for when his heart flipped after you had asked him such a simple question, so stubbornly and quietly, your arms crossed over your chest and eyes casted to your feet.

“What was that, doll?” he asked you, smugness clear in his tone.

“Shut the hell up.”

You had to be one of the most stubborn people he had met right after himself. You were a small, pretty thing. Toji was twice your size and towered over you like a damn skyscraper. At first glance, he hadn’t taken you for someone with such a persistent habit of trying to handle everything on your own, but you surely had proved him wrong. 

In the two months you had spent together, the assassin had watched you turn down his help time and time again. 

He offered you money if you mentioned that you were a little low on funds? Hell no, you were finding a way to rack up the change you needed for your next meal. You couldn’t find what you were looking for in the store? You’d turn down his offer to ask a clerk and wander the isles for damn near forty-five minutes before you finally found what you were looking for. Someone was giving you the stink eye as you walked by? You didn’t need him to defend you, you’d turn around and tell the stranger off yourself.

Toji had to admit, he admired how dedicated you were to handling yourself. He found it attractive, how much of an independent woman you were. Half the time he hardly even felt like you needed him around. He was your boyfriend, sure, but you never let him do the things that ‘boyfriends’ typically did. You spent plenty of time together and stayed over at each other’s places, but getting him to kill a spider or put together a new work desk or help you move around your furniture was never something you expected, asked, or even wanted him to do. 

Toji almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Here you were, a young woman hardly taller than his pectoral muscle, pushing him away anytime you were clearly struggling when you had full access to a ginormous mountain of a man over six feet tall. While he commended you for your hardened spirit, he worried for you just the same. You were more willing to wear yourself down to nothing for the sake of your stubborn pride rather than to ask him to pick you up from work after putting in overtime. 

At times, he almost felt foolish as your partner. He was there to help you, and when you still didn’t want the help he willingly offered after weeks, he had begun to grow annoyed.

You both were pretty horrible at expressing your feelings and relying on people other than yourselves. You were both incredibly self-sufficient, and you came together because you enjoyed each other’s company rather than depended on it. Toji enjoyed being with someone who could hold their own, but did you really have to hold your own to such a drastic extent? Hell, he had found himself asking you for more things than you’d ever ask for him. Since when had he become the vulnerable person in the relationship (though his definition of vulnerability was hardly the same as an ordinary person’s)? 

He knew that he cared for you and was only falling deeper into your relationship, so he wanted you to rely on him more. He wanted you to ask him for things. He wanted to give you more than what you needed. He wanted to give you the world.

But you never appeared to ‘need’ or ‘want’ anything outside of his company and presence. 

He loved it and hated it at the same time.

So when you approached him where he lounged on your couch, lips twisting and leg bouncing, looking surprisingly bashful for such a tough woman, and fighting against yourself internally to ask him quietly:

“Can you help me with something?”

His heart burst and his mouth fell agape. 

“...Heh?” he squinted, leaning forward and craning his neck as if he hadn’t heard you.

You flushed, crossing your arms tightly and chewing on the inside of your lip. You looked so angry with yourself for coming to him, but you truly had no other choice in the matter. Besides, you and Toji had shared enough disputes about your hesitation to open up and seek his shoulder to lean on. He wanted to take care of you. You were his girl after all, and he was practically useless as a man if he wasn’t there for you when you needed assistance. 

You closed your eyes tightly and opened them again, looking off to the floor in embarrassment. “I need your help… reaching something on the top shelf…”

Then and there, Toji realized just how doomed he was. He felt fireworks burst, heard bells ring. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, for he almost had to pinch himself to ensure that he hadn’t fallen asleep in your living room and wasn’t dreaming up this entire conversation.

But no, this was real. You, his gorgeous, stubbornly independent girlfriend, who wouldn’t have dared to ask him for help with anything over the course of the two months you had been together, had finally approached him with a rather mundane task. 

And you looked like it was destroying from the inside out to do so. You would have thought that you’d just asked him to strip down completely before her and do jumping jacks by looking at your bashful face… as a matter of fact, you probably would have looked far less tightly wound if you had been asking him to do something as ridiculous as that.

Toji smiled, a warmth spreading over his chest. 

“What was that doll?”

“Shut the hell up.”

He chuckled lowly, pushing himself to his feet to stand before you. You didn’t look at him, too humiliated to meet his eye as his hand curved over the side of your neck, his frame towering over you. He tilted his head to look at you, lips quirking up in a smirk. “You askin’ for my help, baby?”

You were visibly fuming, jaw clenching and unclenching, lips puckered forward in an adorable pout. “I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Ask me again.”

“Fuck you.”

“Come on, you getting this worked up over asking for my help?” he murmured, leaning down. “Ask me again.”

“Why are you getting off on this, you freak?” you bit, snapping your fiery eyes to meet his. Toji melted. He just loved that fire in you.

“I’m not getting off on it. I’m just pleasantly surprised, is all.” His hand dragged down to your waist, holding you gently. “Why ask me now, all of a sudden? What’s at the top of the shelf?”

Your nose flared as you hesitated once more. God, you were absolutely adorable. 

“A bowl,” you answered stiffly.

He raised a brow. “A bowl?”

“Stop asking so many damn questions! Will you help me or not?” you frowned, face heating.

“Not until you tell me what you need it for,” he teased, and you growled. He was having entirely too much fun with this, but how could he not? It was your first time asking him for anything. He had to make the most of this moment and treasure it.

“Toji, stop being an asshole.”

“Just tell me what you need it for, baby, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

You rolled your eyes, grinding your molars together. “I wanted to start trying out baking…”

Toji smiled. “That’s all?”

“Yes, that’s all, and I need the big glass bowl at the top of the shelf to make you these fucking brownies with the new recipe I found.”

He laughed, thoroughly amused by the whole ordeal. “You wanna bake for me?”

“It was gonna be a surprise, but I can’t…” you swallowed your pride, practically choking on it while doing so. “I can’t reach. Haven’t been able to since after I moved here. Used to have a stepping stool, but I can’t find it.”

Toji couldn’t believe how happy he felt to have heard that stupid request come from you. His stomach was doing flips and his smirk was brightening, leading you to believe that he was making fun of you.

“Shut up, Toji!” you whined before he had even responded.

“C’mere,” he pulled you into him by your waist, your face colliding with his chest. He kissed the top of your head sweetly, rubbing your back. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“Whatever,” your voice was muffled by his shirt, arms hanging limply at your sides as you flushed furiously.

“Of course I’ll help you, doll. ‘Coulda asked me a long time ago. It’s just a bowl.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up and do it before I find a way to climb up there myself.”

Toji pulled away to look down at you, green eyes gleaming tenderly with affection. “What’s the magic word?”

You glared at him. “I’ll kill you.”

He shook his head, entirely too please with himself. “Nuh uh. Try again, or no bowl for your brownies.”

“That harms you more than it does me!"

“Say the magic word, doll.”

Your blood was boiling, heart pounding with the shame and anxiety of vulnerability. You knew he wasn’t going to let you off the hook unless you indulged him, but you knew why and he had good reason. 

He wanted you to ask him for things, and that desire of his was sweet enough for you to indulge him.

“...Please.”

You ruined him, truly. You had asked him to carry out such a small task, one that in the end would be serving him and not even yourself, but had taken everything within you to muster up the strength to even walk over to him after battling against it for so long. 

He was proud of you. Your first steps were small, but they were steps further toward him nonetheless, and he couldn’t have been more grateful. He would have grabbed a million bowls off of a million shelves for you if it meant that you finally felt comfortable enough to rely on him for something. 

He was done for, because he knew at that moment that he had fallen so deeply in love with you. You in all of your stubborn glory.

His smile crinkled his weary eyes as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. He pulled back to find that your angry pout hadn’t gone away, leading him to kiss you again. “Atta girl. Now show me that shelf you're talkin' about.”

[waywardxrhea]

deserving - Matt Murdock

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!Reader

In your distraction after a rough day you end up the victim of a band of muggers.

word count: ~1.5k

content: angst, mugging, anxiety, panic attack, language, canon typical violence, fluff.

dividers by: @firefly-graphics (i seriously only ever use the graphics from this account and I am so grateful for them! <3)

As you walked back to your apartment complex in the near darkness of Hell’s Kitchen, your mind was anywhere else than where it should have been. Where it should have been as you carried a mid-sized box in your arms which caused you to leave your purse freely dangling at your side was on your surroundings. Hell’s Kitchen, even with Daredevil running around at night, was still dangerous, and not everyone knew to fear the Devil who lurked in the shadows. 

You came to regret your stupid choices of not putting your purse on top of your personal effects in the box and to make this trip in the near darkness when all of a sudden there was an arm pulling you into a chokehold from behind. The man’s gruff voice began demanding your purse and anything of value you held in the box while another man knocked the box from your arms before beginning to yank on the strap of your purse. Rather than using any form of self defense you knew though, you just froze in place as you began to get less and less oxygen to your brain as your attacker choked you out while his buddies ransacked the box that had crashed to the ground. 

“She doesn’t have shit in here!” one of the men groaned in dismay. You heard the sound of glass breaking as he added, “Stupid picture of her and her boyfriend, a plant, a couple of calendars!”

“Oh you just got fired didn’t you, doll?” the one choking you sneered in your ear as he added just a bit more pressure while he laughed.

“Ooh this is promising, she’s got a laptop charger! Look for the computer!” said a different voice from near the box. 

Suddenly though, air finally flooded your lungs and you dropped to your knees as your attacker was pulled away from you. You couldn’t even process what was happening around you as panic began to overtake your body. As your breathing became erratic and your heart pounded in your ears, you curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest and tucking your head in to make yourself as small as possible. A sense of doom creeped up your spine and into your brain as thought after brutal thought reminded you of every single terrible thing you had ever done or said or thought. Everything was free game to the monster running rampant through your memory banks, and he gladly reminded you of how badly you messed up. All the time. It seemed to be your defining characteristic. Nothing you ever did seemed to-

“Shh, shh, sweetheart I’m right here,” came a gravelly voice close to your ear as you were suddenly aware of a presence right beside you. The figure pulled you in close to his chest as he whispered, “I’ve got you. They’re gone.”

Your breathing came in sharp between short sentences as you gasped out, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry I didn’t see them coming! I wasn’t paying attention! I’m sorry! I can’t do anything right! I’m sorry…”

“Shh, sweetheart, you don’t have anything to apologize for. You didn’t do anything wrong,” said the voice. 

Tentatively, you pulled your face out from its place in your folded up legs and looked around, noticing your ransacked box, your purse lying beside it, your intact laptop, the leaves of your spider plant, and the broken framed picture of you and Matt at Foggy and Marci’s wedding. Bringing your senses closer to your body you felt the cold ground beneath you, the sharp poke of some rocks in your bottom, comforting arms wrapped around you, and beside you the strange armor that Matt wore at night when he went out to fight crime in the streets of the Kitchen. You heard the distant sound of cars driving, Matt’s voice returning back to normal from the Devil’s, and his steady heartbeat as you pulled yourself closer into his embrace. You smelled sharp metallic blood in the air, but Matt’s cologne from his day in court overtook the smell as you burrowed into his embrace. Finally, you tasted the salt of your tears in your mouth and you finally felt like you could breathe normally as you came down from your panic attack in Matt’s arms. 

“There you are,” Matt whispered before kissing the top of your head. “There’s my sweet girl. You did great coming back from that.” You didn’t deserve his sweet words or his encouragement, but you were too weak to argue. How pathetic… Where was your ability to hold your tongue earlier? “Let’s get you home,” he said after a few more moments, getting up and locating all of your things to get packed into your box before helping you back onto shaky legs. 

Matt got you back into your shared apartment and went about the formality of leaving the complex, only to come back through his usual route via the roof access mere minutes later. When he got back, you feigned being fine and encouraged him to get out of his suit as you busied yourself with making the both of you hot chocolate. After he was out of his suit and had quickly wiped the sweat away from his body, Matt was behind you again, wrapping you in his arms and holding you close. This show of tenderness only broke you down once more and your tears began to fall again no matter how much you willed them to stop. 

“I’m right here, sweetheart, let it out,” Matt told you, turning you around to face him so he could hold your head close to his chest. “Whenever you’re ready we can talk about it,” he assured you as he slowly guided the both of you toward the bedroom so he could hold you more easily. The gesture only broke you more and you fought a battle in your head between wanting to push him away because you didn’t deserve him and pulling him closer because you knew Matt was the only thing holding your broken pieces together. Eventually the latter won out and you clung to him with everything your weak body had as you continued to cry into his chest. 

After a few minutes you managed to regain a semblance of your voice and you choked out, “I’m sorry…”

“For what, sweetheart?” Matt asked, the tenor of his voice and the rumble of his chest beneath you managing to calm you down just that much more. In response, you began to feel some of the tension in your muscles release. 

“I messed up… Big time…” you whispered, your voice breaking again as you remembered what happened at work that day. “I was having a rough morning. Got in late. Spilled my coffee. Didn’t get to eat breakfast. So when I was called to my boss’s office I snapped at him and he…he fired me on the spot. Cited insubordination. Told me to collect my things after business hours. I’m so, so sorry Matt…”

You could feel Matt’s muscles tense and could practically sense the Devil beginning to itch to be let out onto someone for hurting you. But then the tension eased as he kissed the top of your head before he said, “He’s an asshole who didn’t truly know who he had working for him. I’ll help you find somewhere else to work, one that doesn’t have sleazebags just wanting to line their pockets in charge.”

“You…you aren’t mad?” you asked timidly, your eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“B-because I lost my job… One income is hard to live on in this city, and the firm’s been taking on more pro bono work lately, and-”

“Sweetheart, I’m not mad. I promise,” Matt reassured you. “I hated that you had to work for that company and I’m actually happy that you’re out now. They didn’t deserve your hard work and dedication. You’ll find somewhere that will. Somewhere that understands that people have bad days and they don’t deserve to be fired over it. Somewhere that cares about you and what you have to say.”

“So like you in business form,” you said, a ghost of a smile making its way onto your lips. 

“Like me in business form,” Matt confirmed with a quiet chuckle. 

You were quiet for a moment before telling him, “Thank you for saving me out there by the way… I… The day got to me and I just froze. I’m-”

Before you could get the rest of your next apology out, Matt was tilting your chin up and placing a gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, he told you, “I would go to the ends of the earth to protect you. No matter how bad of a day you’re having. I will always be here for you.”

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you too,” he told you fondly which made tears start welling up in your eyes once more, but this time they were tears of happiness. How you ever got lucky enough to have Matt in your life was a mystery you would never figure out, but in moments like these you were truly grateful for his kindness and the safety he provided you - not only as Daredevil, but as the man in your arms cuddling you until your mind came back to the reality that everything would be okay eventually and that you were deserving of him and the kindness he gave you.  

a/n: so this was inspired by a dream i had a few months ago wherein i too was having a panic attack and our sweet Matty came to my rescue combined with having an absolutely terrible mental health evening last night (whoops). whatever the circumstances i am just grateful to have the ability to express myself via my writing and i hope others can find some solace in my writing!

xo, brooke <3

general taglist: @reidmarieprentiss

[holylulusworld]

The Widow (1)

Summary: You trust no one. Not since they got your husband killed.

Pairing: TFaTW!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions death of a loved-one, the reader is under protection, bitchy reader, arguments, grumpy Bucky, angst

The widow masterlist

The Widow - Prologue

You wake from another nightmare, screaming at the top of your lungs. When you sit up, you clutch the blanket to your chest and try to remember what your therapist told you.

“One,” you count. “Two,” you sniffle. “This is shit.” You grab the lamp from the nightstand and throw it at the man stepping inside your room.

“Whoa, watch where you are throwing your lamps,” Bucky grumbles. He dodged your attack just in time to watch the lamp hit the wall next to him. “I came here to check on you, not to get hit by a lamp.”

He tugs his gun away, looking around the room. “What happened? Why did you scream? A spider? A bug?”

“Get out,” you look away to not show him the unshed tears in your eyes. “That’s none of your business. I didn’t want you to come here and save me. Go back to sleep.”

Bucky watches you run your hands over your arms. He knows the signs of nightmares all too well. Sleep is not his friend. Most of the time he wakes from another nightmare. Skin sweat-slicked and with a racing heart.

“I’m outside if you need anything.”

“Sure-“ you quip. “Just like the other guys promising to protect me and Ransom if he tells them everything he knows about his former partner.” You pucker your lips. “Now he’s dead and gone all because of them.”

“He’s dead because he was a criminal.”

“Ransom wasn’t a criminal,” you throw the blanket away and slip out of the bed to walk toward the second nightstand. You grab the lamp and throw it at Bucky. This time you hit him square in the chest. “Get out! I dare you to say one more word about my husband.”

Your lips quiver and you clutch your hands to your chest. No. You won’t cry in front of this stranger. He’s no better than the others.

“You should practice your aim,” he looks at the broken lamp on the ground. “I hope you know, it’s your job to keep the house clean.”

“Fuck you!”

“No, fuck you, doll!” He grunts and storms toward the door. “If you want to stay alive, stop screaming for nothing.”

“Asshole!”

The door slams shut, leaving you angry and sad. Why does everyone believe Ransom was a bad person? He made one single mistake.

Your husband trusted the wrong person and ended up laundering money for a mafia boss, not a businessman in trouble.

“I see she’s still alive,” Sam grins when you glare his way. You only lifted your eyes from the magazine you pretended to read to watch the two men. “Anything to report, Bucky?”

“She threw two lamps at me,” Bucky grunts. “I think we should handcuff her. Maybe a gag will help too.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl at Bucky. “I didn’t ask you to babysit me. Ransom is dead. I know nothing about his business. So, let me go. I’ll figure things out from here.”

“No can do,” the super-soldier glares at you. “Why don’t you try to act like a decent person?”

“Why don’t you choke?” You flash him your best-faked smile. “I hope all of you getting my Ransom killed rot in hell.”

“Bucky, a word?” Sam jerks his head toward the kitchen. “We need to talk about a few things. Especially her husband’s death, and his business.”

“I can tell you everything about my husband’s death,” you snarl. “Your fine agents told his former business partner where to find us. He died protecting me. Ransom was more man than you could ever be!”

“Bucky, don’t,” Sam holds his friend back. “Please just drop it. She’s…hurt…and scared.”

“I���m not scared,” you huff. “I’m annoyed by his presence.”

Bucky follows Sam out of the room. He huffs and balls his metal hand into a fist. “If you don’t find someone else to babysit her, I cannot guarantee she’ll be alive at the end of the week…”

“Bucky, I know she’s driving you up the walls, but her husband died in her arms.” Sam places pictures of your dead husband on the table. “Five bullets hit him, and he still managed to protect Y/N.”

“Hmm…” Bucky glances at the pictures.

“She’s traumatized but won’t admit it.” Sam gives his friend a stern look. “She has nightmares and mood swings. This has nothing to do with you or your presence. Y/N watched her husband die and held him in her arms. She was like a feral animal, biting and scratching the agents when they tried to part her from her dead husband.”

Bucky is silent for a moment. He’s still not convinced that you and your husband aren’t bad people. “He did business with the wrong people. It’s his fault.”

Sam bites his tongue. “Bucky, just protect her. Y/N doesn’t deserve to die because of her husband’s mistakes. Remember, she’s an innocent bystander.”

“Right.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” you repeat his name twice. “I knew I heard the name before.” You chuckle darkly. “The man telling me that my husband was evil did unspeakable things himself. You killed innocent people hiding behind a different name.” You sneer. “Only because you don’t call yourself the Winter Soldier anymore doesn’t change your past.”

Bucky is frozen to the spot. His past can’t be undone, but he tried to make amends as best as he could. Now you look at him like he’s some kind of monster. You out of all the people dare to hold his past against him.

“What? Cat got your tongue. Doesn’t feel good when someone judges you only because they read shit about your past, huh? Well, shit darling. I won’t stop digging out your past, babysitter. If you want me to stop, go and leave me alone. Send someone else to watch over me!” 

“How did she find out about me and my past?” Bucky hisses at Sam. “I thought she got no access to a phone, TV, or the internet.”

“I can read, and have a very good memory,” you smirk darkly at Bucky as you walk inside the kitchen. “You didn’t live under a rock over the last years. I saw you more than once on TV. The hair is shorter now, though.”

“Y/N,” Sam tries to stop you and his friend from arguing again. “What the soldier did wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He got brainwashed and…”

You raise your hand to stop Sam from arguing with you. “Ransom didn’t become a criminal on free terms either,” you grit your teeth. “He tried to do business and make some money. My husband didn’t know he got himself into trouble by doing business with that monster.”

“He’s still a criminal,” Bucky grunts. “He did all of this for money.”

“Says the man claiming to be innocent, even though you killed hundreds of people. They threatened to kill Ransom and me if he didn’t do as they said. He was a victim, you were just…” you huff and turn to leave. “A monster hiding behind your friend Captain America.”

You know it’s not fair to call Bucky a monster. All the things you read about him tell you that he was a victim.

You just can’t bring yourself to admit that he was a victim too while he treats you like shit, and keeps on telling you your husband was a criminal…

The widow (2)

Tags in reblog.

[alastorsfuckassbob]

With Her Song- 5

AlastorXFem!Reader part 5!

A/N: okay so this is egregiously long and could totally be two chapters (a grand total of 14436 words) but I think I've made yall wait LONG ENOUGH!!!!!!!! a l s o FUN FACT I LEARNED WHILE WRITING THIS, although turpentine is often used as a paint thinner modernly, in the olden days it was used to alleviate ailments such as soreness or pain. IT IS ALSO very very flammable!! It’s one of those old timey concoctions people would just kinda throw on whatever to fix an issue, but it often caused more pain than good. YAY for metaphors teaching me new little things. Shout out to hadestown for teaching me that silly little substance- pls I live under a fucking rock that’s probs painfully obvious. 

Plot: Y/n needs therapy but instead indulges in a few too many dinky drinks with friends-it goes painfully wrong and then painfully right and then with a dash of fan service we get some drunken closure!

Minors get the frick out..thank yew :)

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-A bit of ANGST

-Alcohol and drugs..duh

-Murder death and violence..the whole nine yards

-A LOTTT OF CURSING (are you surprised)

-we do kiss but its not fun but could be fun in the future

-overuse of thesaurus! (take a shot every time i say enraptured)

✨ WITHOUT FURTHER ADO ✨ (i did not proofread this LMAO)

“I don’t know how I ever managed to love someone stupid enough to waste their soul on nothing more cheap liquor and lust rolled cigarettes.” 

The words echoed through your mind. Each syllable reverberating into the depths of your soul, sowing the seeds of your own corruption. Their tone twists deeper, sharpened and volatile. The desolate look of his eyes was a time drenched rusted knife plunging deep into your skin, it radiated with a sincerity you weren’t ready to meet. 

The memory was soaked in turpitude turpentine, match struck and ablaze with frantic fire. No matter how many times you attempted to cleanse your thoughts of the memory, the words would bubble up from the ashes and form again. It was a festering wound that wouldn’t close. The defiled crimson that poured from your wounded heart manifested as chapfallen tears and somber sniffles.

You reach into your satin lined purse searching for any form of distraction. A box of cigarettes finds space in your grasp, the lighter following soon after. Your shaking hands remove the thin stick from its box, you click the lighter to no avail. It sparks in unspoken flames,  devoid of fuel, unable to battle the recollection displayed; it creeps in deeper both vivid and haunting. In a swift movement the objects fly across the room fleeting from your frustration. Your fingers fumble through the crowded labyrinth of the bags interior in search of your phone.  Your grasp gets tangled on the crumpled receipts of your latest purchases and various tubes of lip gloss before it meets the exterior of the device. 

The urgency of each swipe heightens and you frantically scroll through the contact list. Each name surfaced on the digital roster stirs a sense of unease within you. The majority of the contacts in your collection were nothing more than business associates. In your panicked swipes you come across a small picture of Angel followed by the name “Hot spider from work”. He had chosen the name himself upon entering his number into your phone, you hadn’t bothered to change it.  You dial the number before you can convince yourself otherwise. Your eyes release a rivulet of tears dotting the surface of the screen as you await an answer. Its insistent ring pulses into your hand, mimicking the anticipation of your heartbeat. The longer it hangs in the air the more your hope for connection begins to fade. 

With a soft click angel’s voice carries warmth and familiarity into your ears.

“Hey doll, I’m going out with Cherri tonight, I can’t talk long you need somethin?” He casually chimed accompanied by his typical charm. 

You attempted to speak but the words caught against the burning in your throat. A nearly silent sob wracked against his ears, muffled by the crinkling timbre of the phone line. 

“Oh shit..y/n are you okay?" His voice adopts a concerned cadence, the essence of compassion underscoring the inquiry. You hold back a sniffle as he continues to speak. ”Did something happen?” He pondered your apparent distress, his thoughts racing to find any plausible explanation. His mind shifted to your shared situation, casting an anxious shadow onto his usually brightened facade. 

 “Did.. Val do something?” A mixture of concern and fear manifested within his hesitant tone. 

“No its okay..I just wanted to talk for a bit. I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy” Each carefully chosen word placed a mask upon the turmoil and disorder you felt underneath. He listened through each layer of brightly shined forgery, not buying into its incandescent veneer. Angel was not the “purest” soul in hell by any means, but his heart was imbued with the care he held for his friends. Even if the words you spoke supported a sense of stability, there was no way he would take that chance. 

“Are you still at the club? I’ll be right over. I just need to let Cherri kno-”

“No, no- I don’t want to ruin your plans” You cut him off before the words left his mouth. Despite his borderline celebrity status, Angel wasn’t granted many friendships. With everything Valentino demanded, he didn’t have a lot of extra time to maintain the ones he did have. Whatever unrest Alastor had pervaded you with would have to wait; it wasn’t fair to ruin his downtime.

“I can get drunk off my ass another night from the sound of it you don’t need to be alone right now.” He spoke ignoring your words.Your friendship was the last semblance of normalcy in his hellish life. He would never outwardly admit how much, but he loved you. He would give up a hundred nights of drinking if it meant he could fix whatever had troubled you.

“Can I come with you?”  You asked hesitantly. The fear of isolation haunted you too much to completely drop the issue, perhaps you could just tag along. That way you can avoid your current predicament, and he would still be granted a night of well deserved fun.

“Yeah obviously.” He mocked “Is that even a real question.” A wave of sarcasm crashed against his words, a laugh erupting along with it. 

He took a moment to catch his breath, eventually his satirical outlook shifted into a short apprehensive silence. “Are you sure you’re up for it toots?” He posed, genuine worry at its core.

“Yeah I think it’ll be fun to get my mind off things..its just been a rough day” you say nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t just shattered the majority of your dressing room in your fight with Alastor.

“Kay I’ll let Cherri know we found a third”  You could practically picture the jokingly seductive smirk smearing across his expression through the haze of the phone. 

“Angel-“ You playfully rolled your eyes. You adored his flirtatious sense of humor more than you were willing to admit. Occasionally, the comments could become a tad repetitive, but for the larger majority of time, they were hilarious.

“You know you love me babes, I’m glad you’re coming with us. It took you long enough-you’ve been denying my invitations for months. We’ll pick you up in a half hour okay?” He prattled out, his tone teeming with an enthusiastic thrill.

“Yeah it should be fun..I’ve gotta get changed, see you when you get here” You laugh out, amused by his reactions. You haphazardly click the device off and toss it on top of your bag. You rush over to the disorganized hodgepodge of clothing hung on the rack within your dressing room. You tear through countless revealing outfits in search of something well suited for a night on the town.

 The numerous options you had tried on and promptly threw off piled up behind you. Nothing felt right, if the color was correct, you didn’t like the way it fit you, if the fit was accurate, the color was an atrocity. You were beginning to contemplate not going at all, if you weren’t going to look good there was no sense in going. You anxiously inch closer to the racks end, denying each ensemble until you reach the final matching set, a short ivory corseted top and its matching mini skirt. It wasn’t ideal, but still held a bit more merit than the previous options. The dress you had  been wearing pooled at your feet as you slid the new top over your head. As you stepped into the skirt,  your phone started to buzz again. You pick up the device and read the message.

“Don’t expect us to wait all night for you~ We’re here now babes get your ass out here so we can have a good time”

You hadn’t expected the time to pass so quickly. You briskly check your hair and makeup in your phones camera and the results aren’t appalling enough to justify being late. The skirt’s zipper flies to a hurried close as you grab your things and rush outside to meet Angel. 

Upon exiting the building, you are greeted with the well welcomed sight of the spider demon. He leans against the sleek black car. His eyes are glossed in disinterest, focused on the condition of his nails. As the front door clicks to a close behind you, he glances up in your direction. His bored demeanor fading to that of excitement. You send him a small sheepish wave as you walk towards him. 

“Hiya y/n~” Angel purred, wrapping all  his four arms around your frame. He lifted you into a bit of a spin as he hugged you. “Don’t you just look spectacular, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to impress someone” He lets out a clearly fake gasp. His face shifts into an overly dramatic display of satirical shock. “Is it me? Because I think it just might be me” He pinches your cheeks playfully before ushering you towards the car.  As soon as you’re seated angel’s legs are stretched across you, and his arms rest behind his head against the window.

“Cheri! This is y/n.” Angel spoke enthusiastically, excited to have finally introduced his two favorite friends. You sent her a small hello and a little wave. However, Cheri remained rather quiet. In the few times Angel had mentioned her, she never seemed like the type to stop talking, just so long as she had something to say. It was off-putting to be the source of her silence. It didn’t seem like the two of you were going to be fast friends or even slow ones. Angels face fell as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. The tension in the air suffocated you, straightening your spine as you drifted in its asphyxiating poison. His confident posture shifted into that of hesitation. The strong smile he usually wore faltered as it cracked into a thin straight line. You noticed the subtle reflection of his inner most thoughts in each anxious twist of his hands. Cheri rolled her eye, and fixated it towards the other window; clearly unbothered by his newfound expression.

“Right..uh..Who’s ready to get fucked up” He asked brightly attempting to fix the mood. Cheri sent him a glare in response, his efforts had fallen flat. You weren’t entirely sure what to say or how to defuse this situation, so you opted for silence as well. Disappointment sank into Angel’s frame. He drew his legs back and shrunk down into his own seat.  The rest of the car ride was devoid of conversation of any sort. The only sounds within the vehicle were the trashy pop songs the car’s radio bothered to spit out, and the hum of the passing cars. 

 To be entirely honest, you weren’t sure why Cheri didn’t seem to like you. You had never met her until this point or truly even spoken a word in her direction, and yet she seemed so bothered by your existence. Angel clearly liked her for some reason, maybe she was just defensive around new people. You could work with that. The car jerks to a heavy stop in front of the neon lined club roughly yanking you from your thoughts. The building in front of you was a bit smaller than Valentino’s own club and yet it held the all the same destructive tendencies.  As the three of you stepped out of the car, it sped off at an inhumane speed, leaving you with no course of escape.

The room was unusually warm. It seemed to pulsate with the thumping base reverberating from the numerous speakers that lined the bar. The dance floor oozed in the addictive scent of expensive perfumes and cheap liquors. The neon glow from the flashing lights above haloed each demon in a glistening sacrilegious sheen. For a moment, you are caught within its immersive daze. The electric buzz of the atmosphere in each tiny connection ties you within its euphoric chains. For a moment, you are nothing more than a spinning cog in the club’s eccentric machine. Twirling. Swaying. Hypnotic within its rhythm, your body reflects that of the environment as you lose yourself in its captivating dance. 

“Y/n babes- we haven’t had a round yet, we’re here to get drunk and dance- not just dance” Angel’s playful voice snaps you back into reality. He grabs your hand and leads you to a quieter table in the back where  Cheri had already ordered the first few rounds of shots. 

Before you can truly sit down in the booth, your fingers grip around the small glass meeting it with your lips, the sharp tingling liquid burning down your throat. Within minutes the first few rounds were complete, despite your slightly stumbling form, you insisted on another. Angel, in a similar boat, gladly agrees leaving you alone in the neon glow with Cheri. As he walks towards the bar you feel the intensity of her gaze pricking into the exposed skin of your shoulders. Her voice officially calls your attention as she pulls out a small bag of miscellaneous pills.

“How about we get things really started”  A sly smile spread across her face as she spoke, dangling the bag between her fingers teasingly. “It’s nothing too harmful just a mild..stimulant” She added as she took two small circular capsules from their flimsy plastic container. She placed one on top of the cocktail napkin in front of you and one on her tongue. 

“What does that mean, what is it exactly” You ask hesitantly. You weren’t opposed to the idea of doing something of this sort, but it was best to know what you were getting into. In all honesty, Alastor wasn’t worth the onset taking something too serious would cause. Even in Hell, actions tend to have consequences.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re too good for this shit” She huffed kicking her legs onto the table, knocking a stray shot glass to the side with a soft clink. Your eyes widen in surprise by her reaction.

“No I wasn’t saying that- I just want to understand what I’m getting into..thats all” You stammered out attempting to diffuse any tension your response may have accidentally caused. She rolled her eye picking up the small white circle on the napkin.

“Don’t worry about that- it’s just to loosen you up so you can have a good time”.  She laughed nudging your arm slightly. “Its not serious..It’ll just help you forget” She sent you a soft smile placing the pill in your hand. Her eyes held a fragment of sadness, she would never mention it, but she had her own issues too. In her own odd way, she was just trying to help, and for some reason you couldn’t explain, you trusted her. 

You swallowed the pill as she pulled out a small circular tube. She pressed its edge against her lips and sent a puff of fruit mingled smoke in your direction. She wordlessly places the device in your hand, and you do the same. Its hazy pink light glows against the corners of your face as it activates. It wasn’t entirely like you to do something like this, but it seemed to help you get along with Cheri. That would make Angel happy to see his friends get along…After all, it was just to help you have a good time..No harm can come from a good time if thats all it is. The speakers of the club somehow grow louder as they sputter out a new, faster tune.

“Fuck I love this song” Cheri practically yells standing up from her seat. Before you can object, her hand takes yours, and you are dragged into the middle of the dance floor. She spins slightly as she rolls her hips yelling out the mumbled words of the song’s melody. It wasn’t long before your limbs began to echo the beat of each rhythm in tandem with her movements. Your mind glowed in a different sort of euphoria, your limbs seemed to float, slowing gliding through the tempo of the resounding pulse of your heart beat. Each person in the room seemed to blend together in watercolor warmth and decadent dancing pleasure, painting the picture of pure energy. With each spin you felt the weight of each memory sizzle off of your skin and evaporate into the air. You glance at Cheri beside you as her body swings under the  influence of the pure “ecstasy” of the moment. 

“I thought you were just gonna be another one of angel’s depressing friends-but fuck do you know how to party” Cheri laughed throwing her hands above her head as she swayed to the beat of the music. (White girl wasted asf) 

“Where did I go wrong to make you think that” You laugh with her spinning her around. 

“It doesn’t really matter, you just had that vibe” Her eyes drift to the demon behind you “More relevantly, I think ears over there is picking up a different vibe”

“What do you mean” You ask as she subtly points to the cat demon across the bar. His white fluffy tail resembled freshly fallen snow. On first glance, he held a gentle exterior. Golden chains strung from his neck dipped between his low cut lacy top and suit jacket. As your eyes wandered upwards, his seemingly innocent appearance was betrayed by his piercing red eyes. They soaked into his skin like freshly spilled blood. He glanced back at you, noticing how deeply your eyes were trained on him. He smiled revealing his razor sharp teeth and the edge of his forked tongue. His eyes raked up your figure, stopping just below your lips. His tail twitched as his sharp claws flexed against the metal countertop of the bar. He slid across a few dollars to the bar tender in exchange for two shot glasses. 

“Y/n- are you blind- do you not see how he’s looking at you?” Cheri’s teasing voice stole you from your observations. It was getting a bit harder to focus. theatre music blared against your ears breaking your concentration at every available instance. 

“I don’t know” You mutter out, unsure of what to make of the situation. It wasn’t like the demon wasn’t horrendously ugly, with his tall pointed ears and softy fuzzy exterior one might even refer to him as cute. 

“Well I do! I basically live here- so he’s not going to reject you or anything, you should go for it” Cheri said nudging your arm playfully while shooting a sly wink to the object of the conversation.  

“I’m not really here for-“ She cut you off before the uncertainty in your mind could hold the physical space of your words. 

 “Why not he’s cute right?” She quipped twirling a piece of her hair. 

“I guess.. he’s alright, I just don’t know if I’m ready for that..I know it’s not important but- ” You stuttered out. The amount you had already drank and the pressure Cheri seemed to apply made it much harder to express how you truly felt. You had come out with them to forget what had happened and more importantly your feelings for Alastor, but now that that sentiment had phased into reality, nothing about it felt right. You wanted to drown your sorrows and slip into a blissful moment of peace, not fill the hole he left in your heart with the pursuit of another demon. 

“Y/n don’t drag down the night with whatever bullshit is going on in your head. Don’t prove me wrong, I was just beginning to like you. Go dance with him, it’ll keep your mind off whatever you’re stuck on” Through the rough tone of her voice, there was almost a hint of desperation. She sent you a soft smile and nudged you further in his direction. The world seemed to slow down as each passing face lingered in your peripheral vision, each step tapering into slow motion as you walked in his direction. You had hardly given him a hello, before he shoved another shot glass into your hands.  He spoke mostly of himself as he ordered yet another round. The world started to feel less and less real as he whispered utterances of “baby” and “darling”  denying you the autonomy of a true name. He was enraptured with the beauty of your form, he couldn’t care less to anything that lived below that exterior. His hands rested against the exposed skin of your back as you pulled him to the dance floor.

You spin around giggling wildly as his fingers grip tighter into your flesh pulling you closer. His hips grind against your own, as his tail thrashes with the beat. With each sway, the world around falls into disarray. You can hardly make out Cherri’s grin and less than subtle thumbs up as she begins dancing with another demon she had come across throughout the entirety of your conversation. She grabs their hand and leads them out the door. Your dance partner senses your attention falling elsewhere, he places his thumb against your chin tilting it back in his direction. For just a moment, his deep red eyes seem to encapsulate a glimmer of  Alastor’s own. The longer you gazed into his eyes the more apparent it was that their darling shade of crimson was their only similarity. Alastor had never looked at you in such desperate hunger. His eyes always held an aura of care. 

“What do you say we get out of here baby? You’re a fantastic dancer, but I’d like to chat with you more.”

He whispers into your ear as he places a hand behind your neck. The two of you are impossibly close, teetering on the edge of a kiss. His hands trail down your back and underneath the hem of your skirt. You take a step back but his grip grows tighter, keeping you within his grasp.  Angel, who had been viewing the scene from afar, practically bolted in your direction. 

"y/n- who the hell is this?” Angel steps between the two of you sending the man a glare. 

 “Give us some space” You whisper, your eyes locked with Angel's. He rolls his eyes in response, turning his focus to the man you had been dancing with. “Yeah.. give us some space” he adds in his direction, bitterness overtaking his normally sweetened tone. 

“That’s not what I meant.” You retaliated taking a step away from Angel. "I promise. Its fine." 

 “It’s what I meant though…I’m all for blowing off steam at the end of a long day but this is going too far”  He huffs grabbing your wrist and leading you off the dance floor and towards the front of the building.

“Oh like you’re one to talk. You’ve been throwing back shots since before we got here. We were just talking” You mutter, as he opens the door to the exterior of the club.   

“No you weren't and you know it- Also Y/n.. I hate to break it to you, but you are like maybe five feet tall” He laughs, placing his arm on your shoulder. 

“Angel-“ you cross your arms, shrugging him off.

“MAYBE” He places his finger against your lips, effectively shushing you. “MAYBE with a few inches tacked on the end...Your tolerance isn’t going to be as high as mine” He sends you a playful wink. 

“Bullshit- I’m just having a good time” you retort slapping his hand away. 

“No, you aren’t. Nothing about your body language or your face or fucking anything about you even hinted that you were enjoying that” he huffs flinging his arms out dramatically. “What’s really going on with you?” he asks pointedly, the tension in his body visible as the fur on his chest puffed out a little more. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t see why you care Cherri is doing the same things I am go bother her if your savior complex needs a new victim” you snap back at him. For a moment his face falls, his heart fragmented in the reflection of his eyes.  

“Babe- you’re wasted, you don't really mean that" he said with a small laugh in the attempt to mollify the situation on both sides. 

“everyone here is” you retort. You ignored the look in his eyes, tears pricking in your own as you turn back to the entrance of the bar. "Leave me the fuck alone Angel. We work together, you don't need to pretend to be my friend because you feel bad about yourself. I don't need pity especially not yours." you seethe placing your hand on the door in front of you. You knew you were being unreasonable, but whats said and done cannot be changed. Even if the rage you directed at him was not his to carry, fire does not care what it burns and bridges are not often rebuilt. Whats done is done, if Hell had taught you one thing, there was no way around that fact. 

“Can you just cut the shit and tell me what’s going on” He yells grabbing the sides of your shoulders. Your eyes grow wide shocked at his reaction. He lets out a sigh ”Look.. I'm sorry Y/n...I’m just worried about you.” his voice is barely audible. "I know I'm not the best friend in the world or even a good one, but you're all I've got. You don't get to tell me thats not worth anything so just cut it out and tell me whats wrong..this isn't like you." His grip on your shoulders softens and eventually falls as takes a step back.

“My ex-fiancee showed up at the club, its stupid I know its not important but that asshole knows how to get to me" you finally admit. 

“Oh realllyyy" His eyebrows raise suggestively. "Was it that cat sinner who used to work there- y/n i think you have a type," he laughs "but I always thought you two would be cute together” he smiles attempting to lighten the mood. 

His smirk drops as your face remains stagnant, clearly unamused. He sends you a more genuine smile, taking a seat on the curb patting the ground beside him.

 "It must be really bad if you've lost your taste for my impeccable sense of humor" he adds as you sat next to him indulging his invitation. 

“I knew him in life..he’s kind of the reason I ended up here.” you confess wiping the ghost of a tear from your face

“Oh.. y/n I’m sorry” Angel slings his arm around you offering a bit of comfort. 

“No-no don’t be I don’t want to ruin your fun with my sh-” 

“Y/n you aren’t ruining things,” He says resolutely, grabbing your shoulders with a playful shake "Just talk to me..if you want” His eyes house a desperation you were all too familiar with. Each shimmery pink spoke of his iris held tightly against your skin, begging for a fragment of honesty. 

“It’s fine really…He just.. didn’t have many nice things to say,” you mutter out, tearing away from his gaze and settling your own against the floor. 

“Shit, that’s rough.”  He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a half-hearted smile tugging at his lips as he tried to mask his discomfort with humor. He was never great with words, but that would never stop him from being there for you.

“Tell me about it” you laughed attempting to distract from the unmistakable break in your voice.

“That’s definitely a drinking to forget kinda night..” He let out a short laugh in response, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of genuine sympathy before they darted away to the ground between the two of you. His brow furrowed as he searched for the right words to say.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset with you..You’re your own person and obviously, you can handle yourself-you just aren’t used to this scene and I didn’t want you to end up in situations you’ll regret tomorrow- like I used to do..” He sighed deeply, running a hand through the fluff of his hair.

“Angel,” You said softly, your hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

“You’re better than I am y/n…I just didn’t want anything to happen to you..” His voice wavered rendering it nearly unrecognizable. His casually confident demeanor dropped, as he reflected on the details of his past. Your eyes met his in a moment of understanding, your smiles stretching within them, it was clear you cared for each other even if you had a hard time expressing it. 

“I’m really not. If anything you’re better than me, at least you know when to quit” You chuckle lightly. You take a deep breath unsure of how to accurately express much of anything. The whole night had been a rollercoaster packed with invisible turns and twists divulging into one fucked up experience. “I’m sorry Angel. I shouldn’t have said any of that to you..You’re my best friend it’s important to me that you know that”, your voice softens as you try to convey how much he truly meant to you.

“Don’t go all soft on me Toots, it’s just what friends do.” He says, his overtly confident tone returning as he playfully nudges your shoulder “What do you say we head back to the hotel and raid the bar? It doesn’t matter how shitfaced you get in the comforts of your own home.” The act he so obsessively put on would never drop for longer than a few moments, but it was always comforting to be within his company when it did. You could be yourself and who you had to be all at once as long as you did it together. 

“Self-destructive and Safe? Oh, count me in” You giggle, pulling a few small shot bottles you had smuggled out from your pockets. He takes one, clinking it against the one in your hand. 

After a slight walk, the two of you arrived at the steep entrance to the Hazbin Hotel. It had clearly seen better days, although not the eyesore it used to be, it still projected an aura of delapidation. Not that the two of you cared, it had been a long night and you weren’t done yet, this was just another place to keep the party going. Between stumbling fits of giggles you slumped against his side, taking his hand in yours he opened the large wooden doors into the building. 

“Welcome to The Hazbin Hotel a place where sinners don’t sin for a place to stay unless you ain’t being watched then anythings free game” Angel smirked lifting his arms out like some sort of circus showman. 

Alastor stood on the balcony of the hotel, his gaze fixed on the foyer below. The dim light from Hell’s perpetual sunset illuminated the scene, casting long shadows across the marble floors. He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten back here after the fight. Each haunting memory of the argument was hazy, fractured like a broken radio transmission. One moment, he had been facing you, anger flashing between you both, and the next, he found himself back at the hotel.

“Must’ve been some form of magic,” he thought, though magic had never been something he entirely trusted, it was a necessity. Magic is synonymous with power, any and all magic was of use to him—he had long since mastered every trick of the trade—but you, you were something else entirely. How had you managed to fly under the radar for that long if your power was great enough to transport an overlord like himself against his will. 

His eyes narrowed slightly as his shadow slinked from the corner of the balcony, creeping along the edges of the stone like a living thing. It murmured softly, darkly.

“You could use this one, you know. A means to an end. You’ve already hurt her once…she could never love you again but you could still have her.." it hissed.

Alastor scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you never tire of your incessant suggestions, my dear shadow? She is more than that. Much more.”

"You could still use her to your advantage. She's weak, vulnerable, and she's already in your grasp..."

Alastor’s lip curled in irritation, a deep chuckle escaping him. “Do you ever shut up, you little wretch? She is no pawn.”

But the shadow’s words stuck with him, like a splinter in his brain. He could use you, he knew that. But something about it felt wrong, something he couldn’t quite explain.

He wasn’t naive. He could see the way the world operated—power was everything here. Yet as his eyes moved to the figure below, standing in the center of the lobby a pang of something softer tugged at his chest. It was you, severely intoxicated you, but still you. Always appearing when he least expected it. You had this uncanny way of showing up, out of nowhere, like some divine force ensuring he never quite lost sight of what he wanted.

And you were so... gorgeous. More so than anything he'd ever seen in this twisted hellhole.

The sight of you—draped in dim lighting, your features a perfect mix of both beauty and something darker, something uniquely you—left him breathless. His heart pulsed in his chest, almost painfully, as he watched you. He loved you, deeply, madly. The thought of it was strange, disorienting. For a being like him, who had long since abandoned all notions of softness, of attachment, it haunted him. Unfamiliar. But undeniable.

So there he stayed, out of sight and watching you with an intensity that could only be described as obsession. Your presence had shifted something in him, something he couldn’t quite control, and for once, that didn’t frighten him. It was almost... comforting.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the grand marble floors as you and Angel made your way toward the bar, Alastor watched you both intently from the balcony. The hotel loomed over you like a cathedral of excess, its luxurious interior drenched in shades of red velvet and deep crimson. The carpets were stained with the color of blood, and the chandeliers overhead seemed to catch the light in strange, angular ways, like broken glass. Despite the decor’s opulence, there was something unsettling about it all, a sense that everything here was just a little too perfect.

And then there were the windows. Stained glass windows lining the walls, depicting flowers—strange, foreign flowers whose forms never quite seemed to align with anything you knew. They were beautiful in their own right, yet so alien. They spoke of a beauty that was unattainable, untouchable, much like the lives you led here, in this place. They didn’t belong here... or maybe they did.

From your perspective, the hotel felt both too real and not real enough. It was alive in a way that made you uncomfortable, yet at the same time, it felt like you’d stepped into a delightful dream, one where you didn’t quite belong, but didn’t wish to leave.

Angel, sensing your quiet discomfort, nudged you with his elbow. “Relax, doll. It’s just another night in Hell. Let's grab a drink, yeah?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance, and you nodded, your gaze flicking back to the bar. Husk was sitting there, nursing a drink, his tired eyes flickering up at the two of you as you approached. He didn’t say anything but there was a knowing look in his eyes that made you wonder if he knew more about your situation than you did.

“Hey Husk, this is my dear friend Y/n who is in desperate need of a good drink” Angel practically yells grabbing a seat in front of the all too familiar bar of the Hazbin Hotel. 

“You’re just bringing everyone home these days” Husk mutters sarcastically glancing your way as he grabs three glasses from the shelf and a variety of bottles from the back of the bar. 

“Oh shut up, she’s a good one” Angel’s body slings over the bar as he speaks, he begins giggling at nothing or so it seems.  Husk’s typically bored eyes catch on the curve of Angel’s smile and the messy tousled hair that framed it.

 There is nothing more cruel in hell than the prospect of love.  His eyes filled with a pure haze of adoration, teeming in unyielding clouds of desperation. His smile grasping fervently at the raw precipice of vulnerability; entangled in the fear it could all slip away into the abyss of logic. These moments of observation became his own clandestine affair, a silent ache for an authenticity that Hell would never allow. He knew the way he felt for the spider demon was nothing short of love, yet their hearts were forbidden to intertwine openly. Angel had Valentino to deal with, and he had to deal with Alastor. It could never be anything more than lingering stares and passing glances, but oh how deeply he craved it. 

“How’d you wind up with this one? He’s not exactly a peach to be around.” Husk asks, tilting his head in your direction as he slides a glass to each of you.

“He’s the one good thing to come from working with Val” You boasted patting Angel’s head lightly. 

“Yeah yeah I’m great I know” Angel cuts in wrapping an arm around your shoulder “But how did a bombshell like you end up with a shitbag ex? I’m dying to know” Angel teases tousling your already messy hair. 

"We met when we were basically kids," you said after a long pause, your eyes never leaving the glass. "Teenagers, you know how it is." you shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "It sort of just went from there."

Angel's gaze sharpened, his smirk widening. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "It’s always the ones you know the longest that turn out the shittiest."

You rolled your eyes, chuckling  dryly "Right? We worked together later on his stupid show," you added a bit  more forcefully, as if the words themselves could push the memories away.

Angel made a low noise, almost a scoff, and took a slow sip from his glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim. "Well, you should’ve known better than to mess with someone in show business."

you glanced up at him, your brow arched in amusement. "We're in show business."

"Exactly." Angel’s smirk was quick, knowing, and laced with the kind of dark humor only he could pull off. “go onnnn” he says with a slight shimmy.

You slump back against the bar, your glass swirling in your hand as the ice cubes clink together. The amber liquid inside your glass has begun to lose its chill, but you don't care. You've had enough to drink to not give a damn. You can feel the heat spreading from your chest, and for once, you don’t mind it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt anything other than numb, and tonight—well, tonight is different.

“Well, there really isn’t much else to say,” you mumble, staring into your glass. Your fingers circle the rim absently as you speak. “I’d loved him for years… I don’t know if it was love, but that’s how it felt. I guess you can’t really call it love if it doesn’t go well. You know how it goes. Eventually, people leave…” Your voice falters for a second, and you can feel the weight of the words like a stone in your gut. You take another drink, feeling the burn slide down your throat. “I’ve never been good at that part, so I waited. A lot of good that did.” You laugh bitterly, staring at the glass in your hand like it holds all the answers. “Eventually, I had to find someone else. Worst decision of my life, but I’d make it again every single time.”

You take a deep breath, then lean your head back against the bar. Your head spins slightly, the liquor mixing with your emotions, making it all blur together. You hear Angel shifting in his seat and you feel the heaviness of Husk's eyes on your form. The weight of the silence seems to press in around you.

“On the house,” Husk grumbles from behind the counter, his voice rough as always. “Take whatever else you want. Just don’t touch my whisky. It’s late as fuck, I’m going to bed”

“Bye,” Angel mutters, not even bothering to acknowledge Husk’s sarcasm. He flips his cigarette between his fingers, eyes glinting as he focuses on you instead.

Your attention shifts back to Angel, and you lean in, squinting your eyes like you’re trying to make sense of him. “So, you and the cat demon?” you ask, a teasing edge in your voice. “I think it’s you who might have a type.”

Angel huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Shut up, Y/N.” But there's a softness in his words, like he’s not as defensive as he wants to be. You catch it, and it makes you press him further.

You tilt your head, genuinely curious now. “What’s going on with you two? I didn’t think you cared about anyone like that.”

Angel leans back on the bar, staring at his cigarette like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. He drags in a slow breath before answering, the weight of his words sitting heavily between you. “I don’t know, okay?” He mutters with a shrug. “I just think he’s cute. That’s all. It’s stupid, I know. But when I’m around him... I don’t feel like just an object. Like I’m not just some... disposable thing to be tossed around.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You weren’t expecting that—that vulnerability in Angel, the crack in his usual cocky facade. You lean forward, trying not to let your surprise show too much. “You think that’s stupid?” you press, watching his eyes flicker as he looks away. “I don’t think it is. I think you deserve to be treated like you're more than that"

Angel doesn’t meet your gaze, instead fiddling with the edges of his empty glass. He lets out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. I’m just... maybe I’m just hopeful. Maybe one day it’ll turn into something real. But who knows, right?” He lets the words trail off, his tone growing quieter, almost uncertain. “It’s dumb, I know.”

Before you can say anything more, Angel stands up and heads to the shelf, grabbing another bottle of whatever's closest to him. But as he moves, his elbow jostles the shelf, knocking something off the counter. You both watch in horror as Husk's prized bottle of whisky tumbles off the edge of the counter and crashes to the floor, the glass shattering into a dozen pieces.

“...He is going to be so pissed,” Angel says, his voice almost panicked as he stares at the mess. He turns to you, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “Do you want to hide out in my room for a bit?”

You don’t hesitate. The last thing you want is to deal with Husk’s wrath, especially not with the way the night is going. “Yes, of course,” you say, grabbing another bottle of liquor as you push yourself off the barstool. You head for the stairs, Angel following closely behind. The idea of getting away from this scene, just for a little while, feels like the right decision.

But as you reach the stairs, you realize something.

“Shit-I forgot my bag,” you murmur, turning back to Angel with a small shrug. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wait up.”

Angel nods distractedly, already heading up to his room, and you hurry back down the stairs. You push through the hallway, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you make your way to where you left your bag. Your mind is still spinning, and the alcohol isn’t helping, but you need to get it—need something familiar to hold onto.

That’s when it happens. You’re rushing, trying to get in and out quickly, and you don’t see the vase on the floor. Your foot catches it, and the next thing you know, the world explodes with a deafening crash.

The sound of breaking glass fills the hallway, and you freeze. “Shit,” you mutter, dropping to your knees as you scramble to pick up the pieces. You glance around, heart racing. The last thing you need right now is someone catching you in the act.

But then, from the shadows, you hear it—a soft, almost deliberate rustling. You tense as Alastor appears from the darkness, his sharp eyes gleaming as he watches you for a long moment.You freeze. Alastor. Of course, it’s him. In your hazy, frustrated state, confusion takes over. Your vision is still blurry, and you’re not sober enough to deal with this. Why is he here? What does he even want from you now?

“Why are you here?” Your voice comes out more hoarse than you intended, but it’s sharp enough to make the air between you crackle.

“I live here, dearest,” Alastor responds smoothly, his usual theatrical charm present, but his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place.

"I heard she sang a good song"

“Since when?” You stare at him, trying to make sense of his words. He wasn’t here before... Was he?

“Never mind that,” Alastor interrupts, a faint flicker of something darker crossing his features as he steps closer, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. “Just let me help you.”

You scoot back instinctively, pushing yourself up from the floor, the shards of the vase still scattered around your feet. 

You can't think straight—your emotions are too raw. Without thinking, you say, “I’m leaving.”

But before you can take a step, Alastor’s eyes catch something on your hands. His gaze sharpens. There’s a softness, an unexpected concern, as he moves toward you, his usually composed demeanor slipping for a second. He notices the faint scratches on your hands—small but still enough to catch his attention.Before you can react, he reaches out and softly grabs your arm, pulling you back a little to inspect the damage. The gentle touch is disorienting, but you don’t pull away.

“Please, mon cher,” Alastor says quietly, his voice softer than you’re used to hearing, but it carries the weight of sincerity. “Just let me help you... It’s the least I can do after all I’ve..caused you. Let me help you, and I’ll stay out of your life as long as you wish me to.”

"I heard she had a style"

Your brow furrows, suspicion creeping up again, but you don’t pull away from his grasp. “Is that supposed to be some sort of deal?” you ask, your voice sharp, your words coated in disbelief.

“Not at all,” Alastor responds, his tone almost too calm. “Just an agreement. It doesn’t need to fall into writing. Besides, in your current state, I doubt you could accurately hold a pen.” His lips quirk into a half-smile, the usual teasing glint returning to his eyes.

“Shut up.” The words are out before you can stop them, frustration boiling over.

Alastor’s smile falters slightly, but only for a moment. He releases your arm, though his eyes stay fixed on you.

 “There’s no need to be rude, dear. I am merely trying to help.” The words are gentle, but there’s a coolness underneath, like he’s waiting for you to take the first step.

You don’t want to engage. But still, you can’t help yourself. “And what good would that do? You’ve already told me all I need to hear.” Your voice is brittle now, the cracks in your tone betraying the hurt you’ve been carrying. 

Alastor’s expression shifts, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before he sighs, leaning back slightly. “You said some pretty nasty things too, dear, if I recall.” He huffs, a playful edge to his voice that’s trying to cover up the heaviness between you both.

“Nothing unwarranted,” you reply, a small bitterness lingering in your words.

There’s a brief silence as Alastor steps back, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the mess at your feet. He eyes the broken vase with something resembling disdain but then looks back at you. “Let’s call it a truce for now, Y/N,” he says with a smirk, his voice smooth and composed again. “It’s the least you can do after breaking such a valuable decorative asset on my property.”

"And so I came to see her, and listen for a while"

You blink, confused, your eyes narrowing as you glance back up at him. “You own this place?”

Alastor chuckles lightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling for a moment. “I think of myself as merely a benefactor. But yes, you could say that.” He looks back at you with a glint in his eyes, his smile returning, this time with a little more sincerity. “A truce for tonight, and we can go back to being at each other’s throats tomorrow morning. What do you say, dear?”

You’re about to protest, but the exhaustion finally catches up to you, and you sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. “Fine. Let’s just clean this up.”

You both move silently to gather the broken pieces, each of you moving in tandem, a strange sort of quiet cooperation filling the space. Every now and then, your hands brush against each other as you both reach for a shard, and though you try to ignore it, it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you.

Alastor catches your eye as you shiver involuntarily, the chill of the lobby creeping under your skin. Without a word, he shrugs off his coat and gently drapes it around your shoulders. The soft fabric is warm against your skin, but it’s more than that—it’s a gesture of care that you didn’t expect.

“That should do it for the mess, dearest,” Alastor murmurs after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though he’s aware of the fragile truce between you. “Now to get you cleaned up.”

"And there she was this young girl

A stranger to my eyes"

You blink, feeling more disoriented than ever, before the world around you shifts. Without a second’s warning, Alastor teleports you both—your surroundings blurring, the air suddenly thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. When you open your eyes again, you’re no longer in the sterile lobby. Instead, you’re standing in a room that seems to stretch beyond its walls into a lush, almost dreamlike forest.

The scene around you is breathtaking—towering trees draped in moss, thick vines curling around branches like old friends. The atmosphere feels alive, warm, as if the land itself is breathing, and the soft whisper of the wind through the leaves is so familiar, it aches. It reminds you of home—Louisiana, the bayou. The air smells of wet earth, pine, and the faintest scent of honeysuckle. It’s not just a room; it feels like a part of you, like the land that cradled your soul in life.

You walk carefully toward one of the trees, reaching out and brushing your fingers against the moss that coats its trunk. The sensation is calming, and you feel a small lump form in your throat. “It’s just like home,” you mutter softly, your fingers tracing the edges of the moss, which decorates the trees like lace trim on an evening dress.

"Strumming my pain with her fingers"

Alastor steps up behind you, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Indeed it is... it helps me feel... real.” There’s a rare vulnerability in his voice that catches you off guard, his usual radio demon facade beginning to crack, just for a moment. He steps aside and moves toward the other side of the room, his demeanor shifting back to its usual composed self. “I’ll fetch you some water... and a painkiller.”

"Singing my life with her words"

The silence that follows is deep, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The only sound is the soft rustle of the bayou outside. You’re not sure how long you stand there, but the stillness makes your thoughts feel sharper, like you can hear your own heartbeat in the quiet.

Finally, you break the silence. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and the rawness in your voice is so vulnerable, so unguarded. “Why couldn’t you just say that? I understand why someone like you wouldn’t want me... Did you think I was too weak to talk to about it?”

"Killing me softly with her song"

Alastor freezes. His back is turned to you, but you can feel the shift in the air as his posture tightens. He says nothing for a long moment, and then, his voice breaks through, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “No one will ever be good enough for me not if they aren’t you.”

The words hang between you like a fragile thread, and you can hear the underlying sadness beneath his calm facade. But you need more. “Then why didn’t you stay?” you ask, the question a raw echo of everything that’s been haunting you.

Alastor’s shoulders tense as he turns slowly to face you, his eyes unreadable, though the weight of his silence speaks volumes. 

"Killing me softly with her song"

The night air is thick with the sounds of crickets, their steady chirping filling the silence between you and Alastor. The aftermath of the broken vase still lingers in the hallway, but it feels insignificant compared to the weight of the moment between you two. It’s one of those rare moments when words hang heavy, the space between them charged with something deeper.

Alastor stands a little apart from you, the soft glow from the distant lights casting long shadows across his figure. The red in his eyes has dimmed slightly, but his presence is still undeniably imposing. The air feels charged with the weight of everything unspoken, and it presses in around you like a thick fog. You can feel it closing in as he finally speaks.

"Telling my whole life with her words"

“I couldn’t, Y/N… I died.”

The words land like a heavy weight, and you freeze, the chill of them settling over your skin like ice. Your chest tightens, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipping out in a slow exhale. Your mind spins, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

The crickets continue to chirp in the background, a constant reminder that the world is still moving, even though you’re stuck in this small, suspended moment of time.

“Oh... I... I didn’t know that.” Your voice is quieter than you intended, the confession stirring something raw in you that you weren’t prepared for. The realization that Alastor had died—that the man you once loved had been gone all this time—hits you harder than you care to admit.

“That’s entirely my fault.” Alastor’s voice is softer now, the edges of his usual control slipping. He seems almost… remorseful. “It was a bit of a hunting accident, as you know I’ve been involved with... some unsavory things.” His words trail off, like he’s trying to give you space to process the details. But you don’t need them. You’re already piecing it together—the life he must have led, the dangers of his world. “Quite frankly, I made a mistake. But there was not a second of this afterlife that I did not long just to see you again.”

He steps closer, and the shift in his presence is enough to make you look up, meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes—vulnerable, open, raw. It’s a side of him you haven��t seen in what feels like a lifetime.

“I am a vile and selfish man, Y/N,” Alastor continues, his voice low, tinged with regret. “Being here has only exacerbated that. But you... you make me different. I don’t know how else to describe it.” His shoulders sag slightly as if the weight of his own confession is a burden too heavy to carry alone. “I feel like I have purpose again... just knowing you’re here too.”

The words hang in the air between you both, the soft whisper of the bayou outside suddenly feeling miles away. For the first time in a long while, you feel the urge to speak, to let the thoughts and emotions that have been building in you come spilling out. It’s reckless, and yet, it feels necessary—like the truth you’ve buried under layers of hurt and bitterness is finally clawing its way to the surface.

You lean against the wall, your head spinning with the alcohol coursing through your veins, your tongue loosened by it, and the raw honesty that comes with it.

“I just figured you went and found something better,” you mumble, almost to yourself, though the words hang in the air for him to hear. Your voice is quieter now, quieter than you intended, and a small laugh escapes you—a bitter, hollow sound. “Out of the two of us, you were the one who had potential. I was just your assistant. I figured you went and found better.”

"Killing me softly with her song"

The words leave your mouth like a confession, as if it’s something you’ve held in for far too long. You can’t quite tell if you’re seeking closure or if the alcohol has just made everything too raw to keep inside. Either way, you can feel the vulnerability in your chest, heavy and uncomfortable.

Alastor’s posture stiffens, and for a long, painful moment, neither of you speaks. But you notice the shift in him. His broad shoulders sag just slightly, and for a brief moment, you can see the crack in his polished facade. Had he known that his death, his disappearance, would instill so much doubt in you—would leave you questioning everything between you both—he would have found a way back to you. There’s no other way to put it. If he could have, he would have crawled his way out from the depths of hell to find you.

His eyes soften, and you see the conflict in them. His words—those dark, twisted truths—make him feel like he's trapped in the aftermath of his own actions. The power he gained in this afterlife, his position in Hell—it had all made him feel secure, yes. But that security didn’t mean anything without you. It never had.

None of it mattered in the way it should have. Not if it meant leaving you to carry all that doubt, to wonder if you were never good enough to hold his attention. The weight of it presses in on him like a vice, but he’s too proud to show it completely. He is a demon—he doesn’t show weakness. But in this moment, there’s no mistaking it.

 “You were always and have always been so much more than that.” There’s an intensity in his words, a plea beneath the calm exterior.

You can feel the air between you both shift. The space between you shrinks with every passing second, each of you wrestling with the emotions that have lingered for too long. You want to say more, ask him more—but all you can do is stare at him, at the man who’s been gone from your life for so long. The man who came back from the dead, and yet, somehow, it feels like he’s never truly left.

You swallow hard, unsure if you’re ready to hear more—if you want to hear more. But you know that the truth, no matter how painful, is what you both need to face.

“Y/n.. for god's sake we were almost married, from the moment you tumbled into my life, you’ve flipped everything I thought I knew upside down in such a beautifully tragic way. Your voice even if it holds animosity, is pure music to my ears. It calls such a deep desperation within my heart to the surface. I wish I could capture the essence of your smile in stone, that way it would never fade or change. In your presence I feel alive in a way I never thought possible. I truly do love you, and I truly am so very sorry I said those things to you. It is the most important thing in this world to me that you know that none of it was true..I am so sorry for what you’ve been through. I wish there was something I could do or say to erase it all bu-“

You cut him off capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. For a moment, he leans into your touch. Reveling in the warmth of your form and the subtle caress of your thumb against his cheek. Your lips brush lightly against his his eyes closed tightly. As he begins to consciously process what was truly happening he pulls away pushing you further from him.

Your eyes swirl with tears as they fill with hurt, you could not comprehend why he would say such things and then reject your affections. He places his hand on top of yours, sending you a loving smile. 

“My dear, please do not misunderstand me..I want nothing more than to bask in your affection, but it isn’t right to do so currently. You aren’t within a solid frame of mind..If you still desire to do so once your mind returns I will welcome it wholeheartedly, you are all I want, just not like this.” His hand travels to your face, his thumb pushing the tear from your cheek.

“oh okay,” You whisper out. “I’m sorry” you muttered unable to pull your eyes away from his crimson ones.

“Please, don’t be, you haven’t done a thing wrong.” His apology stretched further than the situation required. Its melancholic timbre expressed decades of regret in a single instant. The words held you in the palm of their hand offering a comfort that you had not felt since his disappearance. 

“I’m going to try and find something different for you to wear alright?” He added before his expression could find the opportunity to fall. Reputation was his only strength and he would not dare disregard it, it was all he had to hold onto with you still at a distance.

“What you don’t like my outfit?” You say slightly rolling your eyes, gesturing to the lace lining the bottom of your skirt.

“No, on the contrary, I think you look lovely, I just assume it wouldn’t be the most comfortable to sleep in” He shrugs “Let’s get you cleaned up” He adds taking your hand and leading you up to a spare room.

With a snap of his fingers, a comfortable set of silky carnelian pajamas appears along with a silver-plated hairbrush and a warm cup of tea. He hands you the cup as he wordlessly runs the brush through your tangled hair. Naturally, it reminded you of the life you used to live together, he had taken the time to learn how to care for your hair and committed it to memory. It was an aspect of your nightly routine you had forgotten how deeply you missed. The porcelain teacup warms your hands as he hums a familiar tune. A few minutes passes and for once silence feels comfortable. Finally, he twists the newly detangled h/c strands of your hair into two neat braids, tying them with matching red ribbons. With another snap, he manifests a cloth and a bowl of water wiping the smudged sparked eyeshadow from your face and the red-stained gloss from your lips.

“I’ll leave these here for you to change into if you’d like dear.” He says setting pajamas into your arms before placing a key in your hand. “I’m just next door if you need anything, this will unlock it. Nothing is too large or small darling.” His smile radiates in authentic charm as he closes your hand around it and his own. “Sweet dreams Y/n” He whispers before closing the door hoping you don’t notice the soft blush painting his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. 

“Goodnight Alastor” You murmur as a smile of your own creeps onto your face. You quickly discard the (quite frankly stained) ensemble you had worn to the club in favor of the pajamas he had given you. The room feels a great deal larger without him here, however, exhaustion overpowers your newfound loneliness. You hold the key in your hands for a moment before placing it down on the bedside table and crawling into the downy sheets that had been calling your name since the moment you had seen them. 

Your body drifts within the realm of the subconscious, losing itself in each kaleidoscopic illusion of memory it pressed upon you. Your ex-husband, the dreams that had plagued you since his death, nothing more than thoughts and feelings to the conscious mind divulged into a twisted wasteland. Each flickering falsity fractured into the dissonant landscape. The shadows of your past contorted into grotesque faceless caricatures sketched with ghostly whispers and regretful choices. The figures fought against the edges of your sanity pushing you deeper within the disquieting chaos. You felt the blood soaking your dress corrode your skin until it shattered into the image of his body against the floor. His green eyes glint with the weight the irreversible act bore. His mouth parted to match the ill-fitting angle his head spun itself in. The halo of deep crimson spread from his center like the delicate spines of a cornet clashing against the fading carpet. 

The moment rewinds, twisting into another distorted tapestry before you can resist. 

“Without me, you’d be nothing. You owe me this”

The man you had regretfully married screamed into your ear, shrill and desperate. His words form tendrils around your wrist, dragging your hand to the kitchen knife clenched into your fist. His gasps polluted the air in whiskey-scented poison as you punctured his skin. His body falls in a cascade with your distorted thoughts, blurring the thin line between paranoia and relief. His eyes, once drenched in an ocean of fury now rest in a gossamer pool of milky white. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it- I didn’t mean to-“ his body made contact with your floor before you could stutter out the end of your sentence. The hypnotic image swirls within a hypoxic cacophony, suffocating you in its remorse-ridden blaze.

Before the flames could truly engulf your form, your eyes shoot open meeting the deeply concerned ones of the radio demon. His ears lay flat against his head, gently wisped in vulnerability. Your trembling arms reach up and cling to his without another thought. He sits down beside you gently guiding you into his lap. 

“It’s alright dear, I promise you are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. It was just a nightmare mon coeur.” He whispers into your hair as he holds you close. You sob helplessly into his arms, your face pressed into his shoulder. You weren’t used to the aspect of comfort after a nightmare, you clung to him as if he would suddenly dissipate if you didn’t hold the pieces together. 

“My dear..please, it was just a nightmare. You’re safe now I promise you” His tone is softly desperate, wanting nothing more than to take this away from you. Somehow, he manages to pull you closer into his arms with a tenderness you had yet to experience within your expansive time in Hell. 

"Would it be helpful to talk it through?" Alastor asks, his voice calm, gentle in a way you rarely hear from him. His eyes flicker with that strange, unsettling depth, as though he’s anticipating something, but he isn’t pushing. He’s merely offering.

You hesitate, unsure if you even want to go there. Your heart is still racing, the lingering echoes of your nightmare digging at the edges of your mind. It’s hard to focus, hard to make sense of everything swirling around in your head. You glance down at your hands, picking at the edges of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze.

"I don’t know…" You swallow hard, trying to calm the sudden tremor in your voice. "I’ve never really talked about them before." The words feel strange in your mouth, like you’re admitting something you’ve buried for years. "I don’t even know why it affects me so much. It just does."

There’s a softness in Alastor’s eyes as he steps closer, but still, he doesn’t try to touch you. It’s as if he’s giving you space, waiting for you to find the words.

"If you wish, I am here to listen." His voice is steady, like the gentle hum of a distant radio, but there’s a sincerity in it. Something rare, something you’ve never expected from him.

For a moment, you just sit in the quiet. The weight of the past is pressing down on you, and you almost feel like you’re suffocating. But there’s something in Alastor’s unspoken presence—something that draws you in. Maybe it’s the way he seems so patient, so understanding despite everything between you. You take a deep breath, your mind still racing.

"Alright..." Your voice comes out softer than you expect, barely a whisper. You wipe your hands on your pants nervously. "It’s nothing really... I don’t know why it affects me so much." You shake your head, frustration making your words come out faster. "It’s just a reminder of why I’m here. Why I ended up like this."

Alastor doesn’t interrupt, just watches you closely, his sharp eyes never leaving your face. His head tilts slightly, like he’s trying to understand something deeper—something you haven’t said yet.

"How do you mean, dearest?" His tone is curious, but it’s not prying. It’s soft, inviting you to share without forcing the issue.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze on you like a heavy blanket. Your chest tightens, the memories threatening to rush in all at once, but you push through them. For some reason, talking to him feels... different. Almost like he understands, in a way no one else ever did.

"After you left…" You pause, trying to steady your voice, trying to get through it. "I got married." You don’t know why you say it like that—it sounds so... final. But it was, wasn’t it? A chapter of your life that should have ended long ago, but you never knew how to turn the page. "Things weren’t great." You shrug, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. It feels too absurd to even mention.

Alastor doesn’t react, just stands there, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t need to say anything—he’s not pressing you, not making you feel like you have to hurry. He’s simply giving you the space to speak. And somehow, that’s the hardest part. It’s easier to keep quiet, to bury everything. But now, with him standing there, watching you with an almost disarming patience, you realize it’s time to face it.

"It was purely out of necessity." Your words come out clipped, almost too fast. It’s like you’re rushing through the confession, trying to distance yourself from the pain, but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. "I didn’t love him. I’m not even sure if I’m capable of such a thing anymore."

The air in the room feels thicker now, charged with the weight of everything you’ve just said. You realize how heavy those words were, how long you’ve carried that silence. 

"That... that doesn’t sound like a life well-lived." His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful, saturated with regret. He speaks as though he’s reflecting on your words rather than speaking from his usual position of authority.

“He was cruel in ways description can’t really do justice to.  We had a child together, my daughter, Elise.. He never laid a hand on her..not usually. I would never allow it, I figure it’s better me than her...I’m the part of the reason why she existed in the first place, Its only fair I take that on.”  The nightmare still lingers like a fog in your mind, and the silence around you feels both suffocating and comforting at once. Your gaze drifts aimlessly across the room, but you can't quite focus—everything feels distant, almost dreamlike. A knot tightens in your chest, but you force a slow breath to steady yourself. You want to look at him, to see if there's any understanding in his eyes, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you trace the edges of your nail with your finger, the small, repetitive motion grounding you, keeping you tethered to the moment.

“I don’t really know what happened, but it sort of changed one day.  She was nine or so.. He had come home drunk as he often did and things turned violent. She was only a child, naturally she couldn’t withstand as much as I could..And.. and He had killed her..and so I returned the favor.” You open your mouth to say something else, but the words get stuck. Instead, a broken, strangled sob escapes your lips—soft, almost imperceptible, but heavy with years of hurt. It's not the kind of cry you can control. It’s hollow, void of all the sharp edges of pain you'd grown used to; just a quiet, numbing release of everything you’ve kept locked inside. Your chest feels tight, your breath shallow, but the tears don’t come in a rush. It’s like your body can’t remember how to mourn properly. All you can do is sit there, head hanging low, shoulders trembling with that quiet, aching sob that feels as if it’s made of pure exhaustion. You want to scream, but you can’t. You can’t even look at him as the silence presses down on you, suffocating

Alastor's sharp gaze softens as he watches you. He’s used to control, used to being the one in command of every situation, but this—this is different. Your fragile, broken sobs cut through his practiced exterior, and the smallest flicker of something unrecognizable crosses his face.

His body is torn between wanting to comfort you and not knowing how to offer it without making everything worse. His voice, when it comes, is low and almost strained, as if he's fighting the instinct to raise it—something he’s done to keep his own emotions at bay.

"Y/N..." The name falls from his lips like a whisper, the sharp edges of his usual tone dulled, softened by something far more human. He reaches out, but hesitates, his fingers just shy of brushing your shoulder. He doesn't touch you, but his presence looms—close, suffocating in its weight. "I didn’t mean for it to be like this." His voice cracks slightly, a faint tremor you wouldn’t normally hear. "I’m… sorry. For what it’s worth."  He’s not used to offering comfort—it feels foreign to him—but the sight of you like this, unraveling in front of him, tugs at something deep inside him. 

“Please don’t be..I’m not. I regret so many things.. but I can’t force myself to truly regret those actions, and yet their memory haunts me.” You whisper as tears well in your eyes once more. The weight of your confession hung heavily above your head, threatening to crush what was left of your fragmented heart. You let out the yawn you had been holding in, revealing your tired state.

“Perhaps it’s best to try and get some rest” He softly laughs out, lifting you from his lap and placing you onto the bed. As he stands, his eyes can’t help but linger within your own. A few moments pass as you each have the first true chance to observe how vastly you both have changed. His hair still held the same wave it used to, flopping delicately around his face. The curled strands framed each expression that wandered onto his face in a deep softness unlike any you had encountered before. His smile, however, was nothing more than a diaphanous veil. His eyes drenched the rest of his face in a somber sodden mask. His eyes drifted to the ground as he turned to walk out the door. 

“Wait” Your voice is small as you grasp onto the cuff of his sleeve. “Please don’t go” His eyes bore into yours, his soul reflecting the love he held for you through the crimson-boarded windows of his eyes. His smile was soft and genuine, like those he used to give you so often in your time on earth. He ponders this proposition for a moment before he lets out a small breathy laugh.

“Of course mon coeur.. I  promise I will stay as long as you wish me to” He took your hand in his squeezing it lightly. 

“However, you may not remember this whole ordeal in the morning as well as you do now. Considering our previous argument, I think it’s best I maintain a small bit of distance to not worry your sobered self in the morning.” He whispers placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. He sat himself within the slightly tattered scarlet chair that was placed next to the bed. 

“M’kay” you murmured out sleepily. The exhaustion of the night had finally begun to enrapture your form as you tucked yourself under the covers. Before you could protest, your eyes began to droop into a more peaceful slumber. 

Alastor kept his promise, he remained perched in the armchair beside your bed throughout the night. His hand found itself placed against your back. He began to trace the lines of your history together into your skin, as his thoughts started to shift to the past. 

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

1929: The bookstore next to Rosie’s shop.

(shush they’re alive at the same time on the grounds of I SAID SO also Rosie's Dialogue is pink in this segment!)

Alastor’s legs carried him to the bookstore faster than he could commit to telling them no. The shop was their secret meeting space, it offered the close comfort of a good book and the privacy Rosie’s store could never offer. Rosie was a slender woman who despite her youthful age and progressive spirit, was a ghost of his past. They had grown up together, she had watched the disillusioned spirit of his youth rot in tandem with her own. With each passing year, their golden facades had been tarnished, corroded by the cruel hands of experience. Their connection flickered with the dimming light of nostalgia and the glow of understanding.

 If he was conflicted, there was no reality in which he wouldn’t rush to her opinions and overwhelming honesty, and boy was he conflicted. The object of this confusion was none other than you. Something about your presence seemed to reverse the rot in his heart. It made him softer in ways he didn’t truly understand. He would cancel every meeting and appointment within his schedule if it meant he could spend another few moments with you. On some level, this was normal. He had always held a drastic level of care for you, but through the years it had begun to shift to something more. 

He twirled a small golden ring in his fingers each movement dancing within the fabric of his coat pocket. It was almost as if the ring had begun to solder itself to his skin, constantly conducting the electricity of the desire and love that coursed through his veins. He would tell himself the only reason he had bothered to purchase such a thing was a drunken mistake. He had drunk a bit too much on one of your dates years ago, and had purchased it on a whim…that was all, or at least that’s all it could be. It was unrealistic to think something along those lines would work out between you two. Yet, he still kept the damned thing in his pocket, maybe you would mention marriage in passing, and maybe that would be enough to lift the ring from his hand and place it onto your own. 

He knew thoughts like that were silly and unprecedented. Marriage could never be the result of his feelings, it would make them too real. He couldn’t seem to get rid of them, no matter how deeply he knew it would benefit you. If he did marry you, there was no reality in which you would not discover the horrors of his secret life. He had always been selfish on some level, but in this situation, it would never feel right. He could never hurt you.

 His conflict had driven him to Rosie’s doorstep and promptly next door to the bookstore. If anyone would know how to deal with this, it would be her. She knew you both evenly, naturally her perspective would hold some merit. He had brought you to one of his weekly lunches with Rosie a few years prior after you mentioned an interest in meeting his other friends. The two of you were practically attached at the hip from the moment he introduced you. If anyone would know how he should proceed, it would be Rosie. She was far more trustworthy than most gave her credit for, he wouldn’t have to worry that she would tell you his thoughts like he would if he had spoken with Mimsy or one of your friends.

The bookshop was quaint, filled with antique furnishings and the scent of aging paper and well-weathered leather. Dust dances lazily in the golden beams of the sunlit window behind him. Alastor sat restlessly in the reading nook anxiously fiddling with his hands as Rosie browsed the books in the store’s eclectic collection. She kept a subtle distance as she knew he would have an easier time with honesty if he did not have to meet it face to face. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he rattled on about his dilemma.

“She’s my Terpsichore Rosie…She could command me to drown myself with her song and it wouldn’t have mattered because I would have already done it anyway…Everything about her just entrances me. That’s dangerous…I’m dangerous. I can’t involve her with something that could bring her harm..especially if I would be its catalyst… I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from her. Perhaps I need to remove myself from her company for the safety of-“ 

She cut him off turning abruptly, as she placed the book in her hands back on the shelf.

“Alastor- Darling you should do anything but. You can’t be so caught up in the past that you miss your future”. She sat next to him on the aging loveseat. Her eyes did not meet his, instead, they remained focused on the world behind them through the window.

“Rosie I don’t think you fully understand my “tendencies” He murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He nervously twisted the ring in his pocket, a silent reminder of the question that begged to burn into reality. 

“I know all about the little stunts you pull darling. I just think you’re giving them too much power over you” She replied gently, shrugging her shoulders. “Y/n is a wonderful girl, she is the kindest and most understanding person I’ve ever met this side of the city. Don’t let the right person slip away because you are determined to make it the wrong time. If you don’t want to hurt her, then don’t hurt her. It’s that simple. Even if you are “dangerous” then make the choice not to be for her, she is worth it.” She said firmly, her words embalmed with conviction. She gingerly placed her hand onto his shoulder in silent support of his uncertainty. 

“I hadn’t thought about it that way” He mumbled, mulling over her words. As he thought on this, the tension in his body began to dissipate. He took a deep breath, finally able to release the weight he had packed so heavily onto his shoulders. 

“Of course, you hadn’t-“ She giggled, getting back up to fetch her book. She flipped through its pages as she spoke.“What better place to protect her from so-called “dangerous things” than from by her side? You might consider yourself to be dangerous, but there are people in this city that could do far worse to her.” Her words were nonchalant but their meaning resonated within his mind with great urgency. 

“I need to see her” Alastor declared. The surge of desperation in his voice was almost palpable. His heart pounded harsher than it ever had before at the intensity. He flew from his seat and rushed towards the door. 

Before he could leave, Rosie called his name dragging his attention back to his current location. “Oh one more thing, Alastor?” Rosie spoke plainly with a hint of malice tucked in her tonality. 

“Hm?” He hummed, confused as to what she could possibly want at a moment like this. 

“I swear to god if you harm a hair on that sweet girl’s head you’ll end up worse off than your victims” She smiled fiercely, and he returned it. He hurriedly closed the door behind him with a soft thud, the bell on top of it reverberating within the space. He had no intention of letting any harm come your way, especially not of his own volition. Tonight would be the night he finally allowed himself to fully care for you without his own self-determined repercussions. 

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

You let out a soft hum in your sleep snuggling deeper within the sheets. He glanced back at your sleeping form, your softened breaths filling his ears as his heart tinged once more in his eternal regret. He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear, and for the first time in decades, his plastered-on smile truly felt real. In that moment he had allowed his soul to fully tie itself to your own.  Even if you would never accept his apologies, he was going to love you until his body betrayed its physical form and faded to dust, and if it were possible he would love you long after. He would revert hell to nothing more than ashes and rebuild it in your image even if you could not bear the sweetened saccharine of his words or the touch of his hand…He would suffer through any despicable action just as long as it granted you a fraction of happiness.

It didn’t matter if forgiveness was within the cards, even if it meant bargaining his soul, he would help you get your own back. 

so y e a h that happened! uh that was lowkey kinda garbo but yk what im back upon my bullshit so y u h its fine (the sad part on a personal level is that 95% percent of this was already done i just had to add like 5-10 action lines and a couple of descriptions here and there-)

[bunniesnuggie]

ethan landry as a caregiver

ethan landry x hyper fem little!reader

summary: just some headcanons of our favorite nerd as a first time caregiver 💕

*this is a non-ghostface au, he’s alive and not a stabby boy 👍🏻💗

*not proofed*

quick lil heads up - i’ve literally never seen scream 6… and have no idea who anyone is except ethan so, keep that in mind. but i still have been kinda obsessed with him lately :3

♡finds out by coming home early from class and finding you fully regressed in his dorm

he’s so cute; he didn’t even know anything was “wrong” at first. just enjoying the sight of his adorable girlfriend laying on his bed in his shirt cuddling the build a bears you made for each other, watching barbie movies. that is, until you yelped and leaped off the bed, and literally started crying. traumatized him ™️

♡ himbo DID NOT understand,

he will never EVER judge you. but did have to do research b4 fully getting it, like cutiepie was reading phyc books during his classes and reading different posts online 💕but didn’t say anything abt it to you tho. just kinda became a mama bear one day 😭 he does ask you lots of questions when your big tho

♡ once he does get it tho…. OH BOY

he had no idea he would love taking care of someone so much, this is both of your guys first relationships. everything is new, this is no different to him than learning your favorite things or how you like to be comforted. he knows this is simply coping for you, and he would do anything for you. so helping you heal you inner child is nothing out of the question

♡ soft casual dominance is kinda already his thing, so it comes naturally

so he’s used to tying you shoes for you, holding your hand out in public, he’ll order you food and talk to strangers for you. so when he does become your caregiver, the dynamic in public isn’t really that different 🫶🏻

♡ bathtime, playtime, naps!!!

he loves spending time with you while your regressed!! he colors with you and totally plays dolls or dress up. he’s very pretty and loves when you tell him so while putting clips in his hair☺️

♡ lego bf!

literally buys you sm lego sets, easier ones like duplo for when ur smaller and the more complex “adult” ones for date night :}

♡ he also gets vv invested in your shows and stuffies lives

“he did WHAT?!? why would he do that, can’t he tell that is not Ariel????? i mean her hair isn’t even RED!!!” 🤬🤬 becomes an angry boi. he totally spills the tea with ur stuffies during tea parties😗

♡ makes sure you guys go on “little” dates at least twice a month

you guys are basically attached at the hip, young love and all, so dates are frequent. but when he became ur caregiver, he wanted to make sure you knew he wanted to do this and be there for you 1000%. he also wanted to help you with regressing regularly to help you cope with stress. you once told him that you hadn’t regressed once in like 5 months and it was not fun when you finally did, he learned abt “improper” regression that night and never wanted to let it happen to you again 🥹

♡ embodies spider-man!bf energy

he LOVES the hellokitty!gf x spider-man!bf trends. he literally thinks it was made for you guys nerd. makes you bracelets that say bunny and daddy on it, his is red a blue and urs is pink and white, awe💕💕lowkey feel like he’d dress up as spider-man for halloween too

♡ speaking of nicknames, say good bye to ur real name

even before he found out you were a little, it was always sweetheart, bunny, angel, pretty girl, baby, princess etc that boy loves you so much and he shows it. after though he added in little one, babybug, tiny, dolly…anything that makes you feel especially small

♡ literally always carrying you

this man is 6’2, he makes chad look small he towers over you and absolutely loves it. so he takes advantage of it when he can, piggyback rides are a common occurrence. he loves just holding you in his lap, seeing ur tiny body take up such little space and fit perfectly on him, makes him 🫠

♡ is SO SOO protective

people take him for granted, thinking he’s just some sweet, docile nerd who loves econ. and while that is true, bby can kick butt and will for you. he doesn’t let anyone near you while regressed, heck or even see pictures of you regressed. that is your safe space. he will be damned if he lets anyone taint it. he also asked of you would be ok with him monitoring you socials while small, especially if you have agere accounts. he does not take anon hate lightly and will not tolerate any nsfw accounts trying to interact with you

♡ he just loves you so much and wants u to always be happy

like i said he will do absolutely anything for you, that boy loves you more than anything in the world. he shows it to you every day, whether that be in big space by showering you with kisses and complements, showing you off in public with an uncomfy amount of pda. or in the comfort of your room, surrounded by stuffies and coloring books while your dada reads you a story 💗

a/n: ahhhh i’m back!!!! sorry it’s literally been like….a year👀i haven’t regressed in a very very long time and just haven’t had motivation to post :( i’ve also been obsessed with new ppl so i’ve been writhing non-eddie stuff lately :3 anywho here’s a lil smth smth and hopefully i’ll be posting a bit again. i want to write abt barry from obx but idk if anyone would care or read it 😭😭might just draft that one for me lol. i’ve also got a lot of requests and wips to finish so it’s just up to me to write them 🫠😭

*i’ll be updating my character list to included the new ppl i want to write about!!!

tag list//

@bootlegmothman420 @angelbaby-fics @lil- -baby- -bat @stardancerluv @lulubooboo @albino-otaku @xxghostie-ghoulxx @stuckysgirl27 @sunshinee-bear

[worldsmessiestwriter]

Maybe.

tw - heartbreak :(

word count - 959

Peter Parker x Stark! Reader

—————————————————————————

The Stark Tower was usually buzzing with life—Tony in his lab tinkering with his latest invention, the Avengers dropping in and out between missions, and Y/N Stark doing her best to keep up with the chaos. But ever since the breakup, the Tower had felt… quieter.

At least for her.

Peter Parker had a talent for avoiding her, and he did it so well she sometimes wondered if he was using his Spider-Man stealth just to dodge her presence.

Case in point: earlier that day, she’d walked into the kitchen to grab coffee and found him already there. He had been mid-sip when their eyes met, and before she could even muster a “hey,” he mumbled something about needing to fix something for Tony and bolted.

It hurt.

It wasn’t like Y/N wanted to hash things out or relive their breakup. She just… missed him. She missed their late-night talks about everything and nothing, his dumb science jokes, the way his hand always found hers when they watched movies on the couch.

But now? He was practically a ghost.

That night, Y/N sat curled up on the couch in the common area, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she stared out the window at the city lights. Her laptop sat open next to her, but she couldn’t focus on anything.

Her mind wandered, as it so often did these days, to the “what-ifs.”

Maybe I’ll see him at Christmas, she thought, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. Maybe he’ll walk in, all awkward and fidgety, and we’ll laugh like none of this ever happened. Maybe things could go back to the way they were.

She pictured him sitting across from her at the Stark family Christmas dinner, nervously chatting with Pepper while Tony teased him about his haircut. She could almost hear the sound of his laugh, feel the warmth of his hand brushing against hers under the table.

But the image dissolved as quickly as it came, leaving a hollow ache in its place.

Maybe I’ll see him at New Year’s, she thought. Maybe he’ll show up just before midnight, and we’ll accidentally find ourselves standing under the same mistletoe. And maybe…

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes. “Get a grip, Y/N,” she muttered to herself.

Over the next few days, Y/N threw herself into anything that could distract her—helping Pepper plan an event, running errands for Tony, even taking up one of Natasha’s grueling training routines. But no matter how busy she kept herself, the fantasies found her.

Maybe one day I’ll get married, she thought one night as she flipped through an old photo album. She imagined Peter standing at the mic during her wedding toast, his voice cracking as he told a story about how stubborn she was, making everyone laugh and cry in the same breath. She imagined catching her dad wiping away tears—a rare sight.

Maybe our kids will be best friends, she mused the next day, watching Morgan Stark play with her dolls. She pictured Peter’s child—a little boy with his curly hair and curious brown eyes—sitting next to her own, their heads bent together as they built LEGO towers in the living room.

Maybe we’d live down the street from each other, she thought wistfully. Maybe we’d wave hello every morning and share coffee on lazy Sundays, like nothing had ever gone wrong.

The “maybes” wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how much she tried to push them away.

The final straw came when Y/N walked into the lab one evening and found Peter working quietly at one of the stations. He was wearing the same hoodie she used to borrow, his hair a little messy like it always got when he was focused.

He didn’t notice her at first, but when she cleared her throat, he froze.

“Oh,” he said, standing up straight. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” she replied softly.

An awkward silence filled the room, and Y/N could feel the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on her.

“I…” She hesitated, her fingers curling into the hem of her sweater. “I feel like I should say something, but I don’t know what.”

Peter’s eyes flicked to hers, and for the first time in weeks, she saw a flicker of the boy she used to know. “I know what you mean,” he said quietly.

They stood there for a moment, the distance between them feeling both too small and too vast.

“I miss you,” Y/N blurted out, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

Peter’s eyes softened, and he took a small step closer. “I miss you too.”

Her heart ached at his confession, but it wasn’t enough to bridge the gap. Not yet.

“Do you ever think about… us?” she asked hesitantly.

“All the time,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Sometimes I think about what could’ve been, and it kills me. But then I think about how I hurt you, and—”

“You didn’t hurt me,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “I mean, yeah, it hurt, but… I don’t regret us. Not for a second.”

Peter looked at her with an expression she couldn’t quite read—hopeful, regretful, and something else she didn’t dare name.

“Maybe,” he said softly, “someday we can figure it out.”

Y/N swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “Maybe.”

He gave her a small, sad smile, and then, just like always, he left.

That night, as Y/N sat alone in her room, she thought about his words. Maybe someday. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep her going.

——————————————————

[charismabee]

Whumptober Prompt List (OMORI)

Prompts/Summaries for my collection of omori fics for Whumptober.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50472622/chapters/127519975

Day 1: Sick - Sunny

Sunny finds out that living off microwave steak can have some negative side effects. Luckily Kel isn't opposed to breaking a few windows to help a friend.

Day 2: Overworked/Exhaustion - Hero

Aubrey, Kel and Basil realise how much work really goes into caring for them when Hero passes out from exhaustion. 

Day 3: Sensory Deprivation - Basil

Basil is trapped in Blackspace for three days before Omori rescues him. During that time he can not see, hear, or feel anything but the dark.

Day 4: Hiding An Injury - Aubrey

Aubrey believes strongly in keeping family business private. It's not like she can't handle a few hits. The hooligans disagree.

Day 5: Kidnapping - Hero

Hero has to do what he’s told. With broken legs and a broken spirit he’s well aware the only reason he’s still alive is because they like how warm he is. Dolls don’t need to breathe, after all.

Day 6: Mind Control - Rococo 

Rococo never did love Sweetheart as a child. Upon further reflection he realises he can't remember when he started. Maybe he never did.

Day 7: CPR - Kel 

Sunny panics when he sees a spider, and ends up pulling Kel into the water with him when he falls. Kel inhales a lot of water.

Day 8: Disassociation - Hero

Sometimes Hero can't remember his own name. He’s been struggling to remember a lot of things recently, it's just so hard when nothing quite feels real.

Day 9: Presumed Dead - Spaceboy 

Spaceboy was never located on Snowglobe in the true end.  By the time he comes down his crew are gone and there's a grave with his name on it. Maybe he can get a second chance like this.

Day 10: Collar - Spaceboy 

Spaceboy realises his relationship might be toxic only after he wakes up wearing a shock collar. By that time it's already too late for him.

Day 11: Paralysed - Mari

Mari didn’t die immediately after being pushed down the stairs. She hears everything. Suffocation is a horrible way to go.

Day 12: Sacrifice/Character Death - Basil

Basil loses everything to keep Sunny safe. Then he loses Sunny. It’s too much for him to bear. He can't keep lying anymore.

Day 13: Mouth Stitched Shut (ALT) - Hero

Medusa firmly believes that Hero is prettier when quiet. Unfortunately he just keeps whining. Marina gives her the perfect solution.

Day 14: Bleeding Through The Bandage - Aubrey 

Aubrey sees Sunny for the first time in four years and the first thing he does is stab her. The injury is much worse than first thought.

Day 15: Experimentation - Mutantheart

Mutantheart is a failed experiment, made to love and be loved. Marina wants to use her for spare parts.

Day 16: Chronic Pain - Mari

Ever since she was little, Mari has been in pain. A lot of her time was spent watching, unable to participate with a leg that tended to buckle beneath her. It hurt in more ways than one.

Day 17: "You Look A Little Pale" - Kel

Kel doesn’t get sick. He’s strong and fit and he eats well. He’s fine. He can go and do his basketball practice no problem! Hero disagrees.

Day 18: Warm Soup - Kim

Kim gets sick and all she wants is her girlfriend to cuddle with her. She guesses soup is alright too.

Day 19: "Why Wasn't I Enough?" - Kel

Kel lost everyone when he lost Mari. He doesn’t understand what he did wrong. He tried so hard. At least the stars were pretty.

Day 20: Dehumanisation - Hero, Kel, Aubrey

Jawsum wins the fight and everyone is put back to work under strict supervision. They discover the true extent of Jawsum’s questionable business practices.

Day 21: Near Death Experience - Basil

Basil stabbed himself with shears in his bathroom. He wakes up. He learns that Sunny is gone. He has to live with the consequences of everything they've done alone.

Day 22: Punishment - Mari

Mari is perfect. Anything less is not acceptable. Anything less deserves punishment and Mari is the only one who can give herself what she deserves.

Day 23: Begging - Rococo 

Rococo begs the gang not to leave him alone again (he is so lonely), not really expecting them to stay. They do. Rococo leaves the walls for the first time in four years.

Day 24: Failed Escape - Aubrey 

Aubrey makes her escape. She made a grave mistake in trying to escape with what's left of her friends. Her punishment for failing is certain to be gorey.

Day 25: Nightmares - Hero, Kel, Aubrey, Basil

A year on from Mari’s death, the kids are having nightmares. They all sneak out and end up meeting at their old hang out spot. They talk.

Day 26: Came Back Wrong - Hero, Kel, Aubrey, Basil

After the True End Headspace is destroyed, but it has always been more than a piece of Sunny’s imagination. Now stuck in a strange combination of Headspace, Blackspace, and something else entirely, the kids try to navigate their world that came back wrong.

Day 27: Locked Away/Immortal Whumpee - Unbread Twins

Biscuit and Doughie have been locked down in the kitchen for so long. Never dying. Names discarded as they become nothing but legend. 

Day 28: Hair Pulling - Kel

Kel is bullied for his long hair. When Kim shows up he's sure she'll join in. Her helping him out is a shock to the system, and they both end up learning a bit more about each other.

Day 29: Forced To Choose - Omori

Omori has to choose between his bestest friend and his god. Saving Basil or protecting the Dreamer. In the end, it wasn’t much of a choice to begin with.

Day 30: Disowned By Family (ALT) - Aubrey 

Aubrey’s mother kicks her out of the house. With no other options she turns to Kel, and she begins to learn that her family was never much of a family at all.

Day 31: Crying - Basil 

What if Basil couldn’t keep what happened a secret? What if he was just a little weaker, and when Aubrey pushed he broke? What if he cried a lot? 

[clarafell]

a  haunting  nightmare...    ❝    𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓!  𝐃𝐀!  𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓!  𝐃𝐀!    ❞     a  never-ending  chant...     ❝    𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓!  𝐃𝐀!  𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓!  𝐃𝐀!    ❞ they  dance  mirthfully  in  a  circle  of  fire,  a  handful  of  smiling  dolls  throwing  pomegranates  at  homura.     ❝   𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓  𝐈𝐒𝐓  𝐓𝐎𝐓!  𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓  𝐈𝐒𝐓  𝐓𝐎𝐓!   ❞     they  hit  her  like  rocks.  the  streams  of  red  liquid  like  blood  pouring  down  her  bruised  skin,    ❝   𝐇𝐀  𝐇𝐀  𝐇𝐀  𝐇𝐀 !!! ❞    o’  little  witch,  pray  tell...   why  won’t  you  open  your  teary  eyes   &   see...  the  chaos  you’ve  made?

@s-talking (thank you!!)

The bullets successfully soared through her soul gem over and over in a fit of dread. The sound of her shattering soul gem confirmed that her aim is still as skilled as ever. She drops the gun in an instant after she hears the fall of her useless soul gem. How many times has she shot someone else's murky gem? But her own soul gem... The awful colors looked new and so strange.

Her soul gem should look as black as her hair, but all she saw were awful colors mixed in those blank handprints— It didn't look like what most soul gems looked when they were too corrupted. It wasn't meant to have strange handprints. How is it possible for her to live within this dreamy world for such a long time when she's actually the deceiving witch?

When did she become a witch? She thought her soul gem was... alright last time that she checked it. It might have been a little bit murky, but she has seen worser days. It didn't look like it was creeping towards the dangerous edge past the point of no return. It wasn't that bad as far as she could remember. But how was it possible for her to live happily and obliviously within her own labyrinth? It seems like she tried to deceive her scheming self by pushing the blame onto the Sweets Witch, but...

Her test proved to be a little too successful to the point that the world around her began to crumble apart. She recalls how she felt happy until she, like usual, began to suspect that something is wrong. How long would have this happiness last if she did not begin to investigate the strangeness? Was it possible to stay forever in this dream world as long as she continued to play the part of an oblivious girl with wool over her eyes? Maybe she could go back to pretending— Then the childlike chanting begun to grow louder, demanding to be heard by their Mistress Good-for-Nothing to acknowledge their arrival to her discovery.

Finally, Homura begin to feel the pomegranates hit her.

It's far from the first fruit to hit her crumbled body. The rush of shock, confusion, and horror kept her numb to the pain of the other thrown pomegranates. The chanting is what stirred her back to reality— No, this labyrinth is no longer looking like reality. Any attempts at trying to play the role of a naïve victim is utterly impossible. She could try, but she would only begin to look like some kind of madwoman since this false city is unraveling more and more.

The chanting is too loud for her to ignore. The gleefully thrown pomegranates were too rough upon her body to ignore. The culprits knew how to aim with inhumane strength, almost as if they were on the same field as someone strong with a bright soul gem. Their supply of fruit is endless. Her hand had come to touch her head, almost as if the attempt could help her to try remember everything that happened. But nothing worked.

She touches her head again, acknowledging the painful ache in her head. She lowers her trembling hand to look at it more closely. Dull amethyst eyes struggle to tell if the red liquid is blood or juices from the fruit. Smoke made it hard for her to breathe, but she did not care to worry. She brought her hand closer to her pale face to smell the liquid. But all she could catch on her nose is the smell of smoke.

Flames were everywhere now, near and far, but she found herself sitting in field of red spider lilies. They were sprouting from the ground, swiftly blooming and spreading. The flames must be nurturing them and their quick growth in some kind of twisted way. When did these flowers begin the bloom? Why was there a fire? She looks upon the flowers, wracking her brain to think of what these familiar flowers meant.

She knew that, according some of her books on flowers, no one should give a bouquet of red spider lilies to another people because the flowers were associated with... death. That can't be right, can it? She curls her arms around her body, desperate for something good about the flowers. Anything in a labyrinth, even something subtle, is meant to link back to its witch in some sort of manner. But she couldn't get it out of her head— Death, death, death...

She is dead.

She has shot her soul. She spared shooting Mami Tomoe's head, where her flower-shaped soul gem rests amidst her golden locks. But when it came to her own soul? She shot at it so many times. Her bullets, to her knowledge, shattered the physical resting place of her awful soul. Her soul, however, is beyond saving.

❝  Please— Stop! Stop it!   ❞

Homura finally breaks her silence with a strangled cry. She does not even realizing that she did not tell all these feminine voices to stop flinging hard fruit at her defenseless body. She is in agreement that she should be hit until nothing but ugly bruises cover every pale inch of her body. All that she wanted was their loud chanting to stop. She struggled to understand what they were trying to say right now. It sounded like German, but her spiraling mind struggled to think.

Homura looked up, ready to force more words out of her lips. But her voice died in her throat as soon as she caught sight of their figures. She stares at the fourteen children in pain and shock. They looked like children from a distance until they got closer. Their clothes, even their hairstyles, matched the same style of her old dolls. They used to be her friends.

She thought she rid herself of the dolls long, long ago. But here they stood before her in a nearly convincing human form. They walked and talked, pretending to be like real children, but their gazes were lifeless. Smiles were plastered on their faces. She looks at them, but their chanting does not stop. They only got louder and louder, almost as if they were feeding on her reaction.

She wants to understand what they wanted to say, but her spiraling mind is struggling to hold itself together. I can't fix anything that that everything is going up in total chaos. What about all the people I have seen thus far? How did they get inside my... my labyrinth? Did I bring everyone here? Her thoughts made her useless heart plummet to her stomach.

What about the people that cannot defend themselves? No, no, no— The world must feel like it is coming to an end to them. What about Envy? How... How can I help everyone to get safely out of my own labyrinth? She feels sick and utterly lost, but her dolls did not comfort her.

❝  I'm a witch n-now...   ❞

All her dolls chose to do is gleefully punish her over and over with fruit, but she noticed their throws got more rougher when they heard her finally confess what she has become. Her body curls up, almost as if she is subconsciously shielding herself. Their chanting have gotten worse as she closed her eyes to rid herself of the field of flowers. Tears have formed in her eyes as she begun to realize that all of this is her fault. No one else should be blamed for this chaos except for her, right? Homura only realized what she had to do once the last pomegranate smashed against her head...

❝  I must get rid of myself to end this n-nightmare for everyone else...   ❞

Yes, that's it. She finally brings herself to her feet, a little shakily with her movement. She brushes the tears from her face, but does not bother with the red liquid that stains her clothes and body. She feared she would have gotten sick right there and then once she stood up. She is thankful that her stomach is empty. She isn't feeling well at all, but her mind is eerily clear now.

❝  But I first need to find that Incubator to get some answers.   ❞

She will fix everything for everyone. All of the people with normal faces got dragged into her mess. She isn't sure what was going on, but this is why she needed to find Kyubey. The white rat has stayed eerily silent throughout their entire time in this fake world. She suspected that he is hiding something since he pretended that he could not talk to any of them. She plans to have one last talk to him before she continues anything else...

Then Envy will return back to the real world.

All of the dreamers will wake up.

[reedsaloser]

Hmm (thats my fave word, i’ve found) there’s gotta be something here about it being so…. normalized? or maybe its the intro of little babs all having their own phone/ipad since they could make grabby hands? like i learned my cousin has had tiktok since was 7?? i was reading puppy place books and was really into my cooking mama game on my DS???? i didn’t join wattpad til i was like 10 and i def thought i could pull off being 18 and how ‘owo so hard to write with all my exams’ no, bestie. u were writing the weirdest bit of anthopomorphic prose i’ve ever seen. like a shitty warriors and you never even READ warriors!!!! (unrelated but i WAS the number one wattpad book tagged with #car crash for a while. thought i was so cool.)

anyway.

i feel like a lot of ppl now just think their kids should know internet safety??? and so they never teach it?

like my cousin asked me why my username for EA and tiktok and my art insta wasn’t my real name and i just. stared blankly. her parents didn’t grow up with that part of the internet like i did. it’s cool to them! nothing bad could ever be seen by their child if they have bare minimum parental controls on. WRONG!!! spider-man and elsa kids youtube haunts my dreams from that kid. so messed up man.

bring back kids fearing the internet and their parents so you make overly complicated life stories like a girl playing with her barbie dolls that watched a soap opera at her grandparent’s house once when she was four and it’s defined her personality since.

Kids on the internet now a days are literally wild.. like when I was 12 and on the internet, i was lying out my asshole I was telling people about my kids and my wife. I was talking to them about taxes and how I miss my college days.....now 12 year Olds are out here telling their AGE?!?! OR REAL NAME?!??! I was literally fucking Garry that worked at staples and had 2 children for like 4 years...

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #219

Is your computer in the bedroom? No; I moved my laptop into the spare room on a desk so I would stop using it in bed. I lived in bed and it did very bad things for me.

Do you have a TV in your room? No, because I don't watch TV.

What's piled up under your bed? Nothing.

How is the weather? It's sunny out, computer says 85*F.

What are you listening to? I'm watching an episode of Gab Smolders's Elden Ring: Shadow of the Erdtree let's play. The DLC came out very recently and I am watching SO many different people play it, haha.

What makes you madder than anything? The alt-right and their inane bullshit.

Are you a really emotional person? Boy am I!

Do you hang out a lot in malls? Not at all. You don't wanna "hang out" in the local one anyway, shootings aren't rare.

Do you cuss a lot? A whole lot, because I don't believe in traditional profanity anyway. What makes a word "bad" if it wasn't made to directly degrade someone's identity? You won't see me dropping racial slurs and as a queer person I'll only say sexuality slurs among other queer people who aren't bothered by it, but IN GENERAL, I don't say words designed to be belittle certain populations.

Do you spend a lot of time on your appearance? I spend a very minimal amount of time on it.

What are some of your pet peeves: People lying to save face/not owning up to their mistakes, ignorance to the difference between venomous and poisonous and calling venomous animals the other, going in the out door and vice-versa, people who can't accept the possibility of ever being wrong, people taking what they see online as absolute fact, people sharing AI art online thinking it's harmless, lots of other stuff. I tried to avoid the extremely obvious ones.

Do you have a "type" of person you always go after: The only two consistencies I can think of is I tend to like the geeks (esp. gamers) and metal + rock music enjoyers.

Are there songs your parents played or sang to you as a child? Which songs remind you of being a child? My mom did, definitely. She played Raffi songs a lot, along with Disney ones, and she'd sing us things like the Itsy-Bitsy Spider, stuff like that.

What type (genres) of music did you listen to when you were young? I actually most enjoyed pop, followed by country. It was in middle school when I moved into rock and metal.

Any religious songs you are particularly fond of? Well, I like some Skillet songs, and a few by Red, too. Idk about Red, but I know Skillet sucks as humans, I'm aware of their anti-trans and I'm assuming anti-LGBTQ+ stance.

Do you have any favourite love songs? "If It's Love" by Train is probably my favorite and will likely be featured in my wedding. Then there's "Drops of Jupiter" and "Hey Soul Sister" (both also by Train, they write my favorite love songs), "When It's Love" by Van Halen, "18th Floor Balcony" by Blue October (possibly first dance for me), "Lay Your World on Me" by Ozzy Osbourne, "Last Day on Earth" by Green Day, and so many more.

Who were your favourite singers, performers, groups, bands, composers, and/or orchestras when you were young? Backstreet Boys, above all. I also likedddd... Green Day, Black Eyed Peas, Pussycat Dolls, lots of big pop groups of the time.

Are there any songs you associate with a particular person, place, memory, event, or time in your life? There's A LOT that remind me of Jason for a number of reasons, like "Another Life," "Disguise," and "Eternally Yours" all by Motionless In White, "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin, "The Mortician's Daughter" by Black Veil Brides, and many others.

Can you commit to one person? Yes, I'm monogamous.

If the person you like says they like someone else, what would you say? I'd be absolutely devastated. I'd probably just cry.

Do you care if people talk badly about you? Sadly, yes. I care way too much what people say and think of me.

Are you going out of town soon? No. My mom's car is dead right now, so... not that we really went out of town when it wasn't, though.

Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? Five years? Probably.

Do you have any pictures on your Facebook? I have many. I've had the same account since I first got a Facebook when it was surpassing MySpace's popularity.

Have you ever sleepwalked? No.

Have you ever been on a laptop inside a vehicle? Uh maybe, but I don't think so. Not that I remember.

While on the road, do you play any road games? No, I haven't done that since I was a kid. I just listen to music.

Have you ever picked apples before? So I don't think at like, an orchard or something (but maybe as a kid, idk), but I have picked an apple that grew from a family friend's yard, and it was one of the best apples I ever had. Of course I had permission, my sister and the girl that lived there did the same.

Are you scared of semi-trucks? Especially when you’re driving next to one? YES YES YES YES

Do you like eating shrimp? I do, just not when they're cold, like when you use cocktail sauce. Otherwise, I fucking love shrimp.

Who was the last person to comfort you? My boyfren <3

Are you currently wearing any socks? No, I avoid wearing socks unless I'm wearing shoes that call for them. I don't like the feeling of socks.

Do you think that in the end, everything will fall into place? That is absolutely not how everyone's lives go, so no, not as a rule.

Who was the last person you disappointed? I'm sure my mom.

What’s the capital of the state you reside in? Raleigh.

Have you ever hazed someone or been hazed? HELL no, I've never done it, especially when I'm so sensitive to embarrassment. I don't think anyone's truly done this to me, either.

Have you ever skinny-dipped? No. I do have this little romantic desire to do this once with a partner though, lol.

Have you ever tried weed? No. I never want to smoke it (or anything), but I would like to try an edible, so long as I have people with me; I know some people have bad trips and I DO NOT want to be alone and that happens. Weed is illegal here in NC though, so I have no interest in trying it while it is; I don't care nearly enough about seeing what it's like when the law could get involved.

Would you ever get a significant other’s name tattooed on yourself? NOOOOOOOOOOOO

Do you play video games? I only play WoW right now, but now that my anhedonia has lifted the amount it has, I WOULD play more if I had the memory on my laptop... It's fucking insufferable. I recently looked up programs that CAME with the laptop that I could uninstall without harm to its function, and I removed quite a few, and I'm STILL getting warnings for low memory. WoW is the only game I can keep on here, and sometimes just to update it, I have to do a disk cleanup.

Thoughts on Pokemon Go? I love it. It's the only Pokemon game I've managed to get extremely into. I'll enjoy the "normal" Pokemon games for a little bit, but I eventually get very bored with them. Not GO, though.

What podcasts do you listen to, if any? I don't listen to any myself. Sometimes Castle Super Beast with Girt in his car. We both like the hosts (we each enjoyed Super Best Friends Play), so I don't mind listening to it with him.

Which period of history was your favorite to learn about in school? The Holocaust era. How insanely evil humans can be is fascinating in a very sad way, it's just hard to stomach people DID that.

What was your most recent binge-watch? Dāv Kaufman videos.

When was the last time you or someone else said/used your middle name for something? uh idk

When was the last time you rolled your eyes? At what? Something my mom said, I think. I don't remember what it was, and it certainly wasn't in front of her.

Do you like mozzarella sticks? Eh, I can eat a few. I'm not massive on them.

Do you like caramel? I love it.

According to your ex, are you a b-word? She's called me things way worse than a bitch.

When was the last time you cried? Literally last night. I had a bit of an anxiety attack.

Are you currently frustrated with a girl? No.

Who was the last person you took a picture with? Girt.

Do you currently have a hickey? No.

What're the last three things you had to drink? Raspberry lemonade-flavored water, chocolate milk, and I think cherry limeade-flavored water.

Have you ever dated the same person twice? Girt, yes. I was not ready to date a man again the first time we tried. I am very, VERY glad I asked him about trying again when I felt more ready.

Are you mutually best friends with anyone? Girt, yeah. If you wanna count him, 'cuz like I know we're dating, so maybe you won't count that. Otherwise, no. I don't have a true "best" friend besides him, or my mom.

How many people have you had sex with in the past week? Nobody.

Would you rather spend a whole day with your mom or your dad? Right NOW, my dad. Mom and I live together, while I rarely see my dad.

Is it easy for others to make you feel awkward? YES!!!!!!!!

Are you shy? I'm excruciatingly shy.

Did your ex hurt you emotionally when you broke up? My most recent one? She didn't intentionally or anything, she approached the discussion very reasonably and gently, and while I didn't WANT to break up so was bummed, I wasn't like, devastated. The amount I TRULY cared shoulda been an indicator that I was never truly in love with her.

How many times did you go see the Twilight movie? I never watched it.

What’s going on with you tomorrow night? Mom plans on cooking burgers on the grill of the 4th. I hope we'll make s'mores, I think we have the stuff somewhere. That's it.

What is the last charity you donated to? American Red Cross with my blood, I guess. I don't have money to donate.

Do you have anything planned for the summer? No. I never do.

Are there any mountains nearby where you live? No, the mountains are many hours to the west.

Did you like to collect frogspawn as a kid? God, I did, especially when Dad would take me fishing. Sometimes I would use a little fishtank equipment net thing to scoop them up, other times my hands. Because I was a child, sometimes I'd take them home to the fishtank if it was empty, but of course they died. One of my most memorable childhood (more like pre-teen I think, but) moments was finding the ditches between the crop fields SWIMMING with eggs and some tadpoles, and the ditches were doomed to dry up soon, so my little sister, neighbor, and I got a big bucket to haul loads of these guys back to my house, where we had a kiddie pool that we filled with their own water and leaf gunk, etc. I will never forget how fucking heavy that bucket was, lol, we had to fight hard to get them home. Tons made it to their final forms and left the pool, while I'm sure some animals (would raccoons eat tadpoles?) probably ate some of them from the pool. We lived in the woods so there were animals around.

Do you walk fast or slow? I still walk slower compared to most people I think, but I've DEFINITELY sped up since my legs were in awful condition.

Would you consider yourself an adrenaline junkie? Noooo.

What moisturizer do you use? CeraVe.

Would you rather be a kangaroo or a koala? Kangaroo. Their lives seem more exciting, and besides, I favor animals that live in social groups.

Would you consider yourself a leader or a follower? Definitely generally a follower, but I will not follow corrupt or just poor leadership. If I'm confident in my knowledge of a topic, I don't mind being a leader.

Do you keep your fingers on the home keys when you type? Yes.

Can you juggle with more than two items? I can't juggle, period.

Do you like jalapenos? Yes, on things like pizza and subs. I'd probably enjoy them on more things, too.

Have you ever been knocked out? Not BY somebody, but I fainted in the shower before and busted my chin on the floor, which properly knocked me unconscious.

Ever seen the movie SLC Punk? I have no idea what this is.

How about The Crow? Yes, I love that movie.

Any Tim Burton movies? Oh for sure, I love Tim Burton films. He's my favorite director/the only director I really care about.

Have a favorite actor/actress? Not really, no. I appreciate Johnny Depp's flexibility and he certainly knows how to deliver at his roles, but he's the only one that comes to mind.

Current favorite song? Right now it's probably "Beast In Black" by Beast In Black, I've been going back to that one a lot lately.

Ever used to have an imaginary friend? The only one I remember was a male wolf whose name I don't remember that I believed gave me magical animal powers. I was a WEIRD fuckin' kid, y'all.

Believe in heaven/hell? Nope.

Believe in God/Satan? Nope.

Sleep with just one pillow? No, two.

Ever woke up crying? Literally yes, from nightmares/terrors.

Ever took ballet, jazz, or tap dancing classes? Jazz and clogging out of these two; the latter is basically the same as tap, it's just a different shoe for a different sound.

What’s your opinion on Britney Spears? Queen & even though pop isn't my thing, I still like a good deal of her music.

What about Christina Aguilera? Stellar voice, but I don't know much of her work.

Avril Lavigne? Avril has always slayed.

Are you going to graduate high school on time? I did.

Gonna move out when you’re 18? I'm 28 and still living with my mom, sooooo...

Been to the zoo lately? No. :/ I want to go though, especially with all the photography skills I've developed. The Asheboro Zoo is GINORMOUS though, and it's hilly, so I'll need to be more confident in my ability to walk for extended periods before I try there. But I cannot WAIT 'til I go again, I feel like it could really help me as a freelance photographer with products to offer.

What was the last type of smoothie you drank? I believe it was strawberry & blueberry.

Do you think you have a wide vocabulary? I know I do, but it's definitely not as good as when I was a high schooler.

What’s your favourite type of cake? Double chocolate, probably.

Do you have any life-changing plans within the next 6 months? No.

[goobiegoobert]

.... dj music man NSFW hcs pls,,,, I was never here.. ty..

Solid as they come ____________________ A/n: Hrrg.. my brain needed this so much. Please come back I need these thoughts more ALSO IM SO SORRY THIS TURNED INTO A FIC. ILL DO NORMAL HCS SOON I PROMISE 18+ post minors DNI! You will be blocked <3 Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: monster fucker(?) literally writing for the animatronic himself rn, minor fear kink, mentions of spiked fizzy faz, dubcon, pain but very sexy, finger riding??? [ Gn! Reader. Afab ] ____________________

eu·pho·ri·a | noun | a feeling or state of intense excitement and happiness.

It was truly late, and yet here you stood glued to the floor of a brightly colored arcade that was in every sense such an overwhelming attraction, almost mind-numbing at this point thinking about going home. Only unable to move due to the fact earlier on you'd been mindlessly talking to the Dj running the music around this place generally interested by his large stature and mechanics. Representing something you despised but twisting it in a pleasing way to ease your mind, opposite to what you'd expect out of most things truly. Only the thumping of music kept the constant feeling of floating during your discussions leading to rather flirtatious ones that left the larger-than-life Dj rather confused at your remarks. Yes, he'd understood you but never once did people ever compliment with such suggestive remarks, it was alluring to say the least. Each pass of words left a slur drinking the sugary drinks offered here in an attempt to calm your nerves, it surely didn't go unnoticed by the Dj at your obvious disobeyed orders provided by the Pizzaplex but not much could be said at this point, in far too deep to stop your conversations.

Two sentences, that's all it took for you to get him all for yourself after everyone left, whispered carelessly with a rasping tone beneath the loud thumping of bass and screaming children about. Waiting at the door was the least of your worries, at this point, you'd finished the entire can of spiked soda, the lights dimming down signaling the time was here. Anxiety pooled within your stomach whirring about your mind akin to a tropical storm. It was bearable but god did your mind feel so overwhelmed and blurred. At this point, your mind screamed to just turn home and mind your damn business. The issue was curiosity got the better part of you, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity if you would.

Getting your insides wrung inside and out by such a significantly huge beast made a sweet feeling like honey settling warm within your stomach until dripping straight to your core, nothing in life could have given you such a hard bitch slap to prepare you in life to have successfully court an animatronic nearly 30x your size even if it was just for a night.

A cheeky grin spread ear to ear once you heard the rather easing sing-song voice call out to you, instantly swinging a leg forward to push your heel into the ground and hands moving behind your back clasping one another with a hum in acknowledgment as eyes followed the creature crawling into their stag and resting down reaching a hand out to you on the floor offering you up. Sitting down on his hand to be lifted up into the air and closer to the music man truly appeasing to any of his musings with a soft sigh from them. Truly showing adoration the fact you were brave enough to even ask for something like this.

Bringing another hand closer to you pressing gently as he could against your face and caressing it to the best of his abilities. Humans were such odd creatures.

Low whimpers being drawn out from the cool metal against your skin shifting with their open grasp awaiting any instruction from the Dj.

❝ Such a tiny thing.. A sweet little doll, huh? ❞

The silky words were drawn out and reeling you in, truly a butterfly drawn into a spider's webbings. You were the most delicate thing in the world to him, porcelain that could shatter at simply a wrong wiggle of the Dj's fingers, maybe this was why he'd agreed. Something he felt worried about destroying. Something to limit force on for once, the thrill of anything could go wrong sending their servos and circuits melting at how sweet and pliant you were, beaming down at you with a certain fondness your blurred state of mind couldn't comprehend simply whimpering, pulling off your pants simply to watch it float down to the floor below you. Drawing out a silent gasp as your brain managed to comprehend just how high up you were now. Pushing you to grasp at the Dj's finger wrapping your arms around it of what you could with a squeezing hug, legs following suit with your thighs trembling. What wasn't expected was the cool sensation sending tingling to your cunt leaving you to gasp and wriggle trying to secure yourself but all the more riled up only to see the Dj use a free set of hands to rest their head on simply in adoration for you truly. Music was still playing from what he could manage but there was much heavier bass and seemed slowed. Not as upbeat but would make your heart want to thump with the beat.

❝ Go on dolly, I won't be hurtin' you. Give it what you've got sweet thing.. ❞

Using their pinkie finger just to nudge you forward encourages you to use him for your needs. Tapping your head for a moment allowing you to have room to get comfortable. That you did, leaning forward with pressing your chest against it pressing sloppy little kisses to his thumb often tending to bite down or lightly suck anything to keep your mouth busy for a little bit embarrassed by the little squeaks emitting from your soft small body grinding against their hand, raising hairs on end at such an odd feeling allowing the warmth in your body to spread, god did it truly feel better than anything you'd thought of from beforehand.

This fever was something you couldn't rid of simply no thoughts managing to surface past any thoughts of how heavenly this feeling was, the contrast of your warmth against something unalive and yet so real. It was hard to ground yourself subsidizing to pitiful whimpers and babbles to the Dj begging him for anything to help out.

How could the lovely Dj say no to his little plaything? So doing the only logical thing was to use his hands. Boy did he use them, trying to grip your waist between his thumb and index without crushing you was a challenge even having you let out a cry from him squeezing you a little too hard at first only to giggle as your tears fell pressing loving kisses to their hand truly in bliss at this state. Once he had a good enough grip it was easy enough to help your hips move even managing to rub your puffy clit every few rocks of your hips.

God... You felt so blissed to the point as the pitfall feeling in your stomach increased your whines and please became louder begging him to let you cum, anything to be a good little doll for him.

❝ 'Course dolly, be good for me now. ❞

Who were you to deny such a nice thing? Crying as your thighs desperately tried to tighten around the Dj's finger tears streaming down your face as you came, truly making a mess of yourself and his hand. Overstimulation buzzing along your cunt and fogging your mind once the Dj's grip on your waist was pulled away allowing you to lay there and try to clear up in the aftermath.

Such a sweet man.

[mentalpolaroids]

Power

[gif creds @spacesourcx​]

JJ Maybank x female!Reader

Request: JJ comforts the reader after she gets that “i miss u” text from an old & toxic friend? and he just reassures her that she deserves better than that.

Warnings: mentions of toxic friendship, swearing

Hey I’m back in the OBX we should meet up! Xo

Those words sent to (Y/N)’s phone were the reason her laughter from JJ’s joke died down. She read the text as if all of a sudden she couldn’t understand English and checked the name of the sender countless times to make sure she wasn’t hallucinating. Anxiety started to make itself noticed and not even the water drops falling from the tips of her hair over the phone screen could break her from her panicked state. Why is she back and what the hell does she want with me now?

Sophia Ferguson, (Y/N)’s first friend throughout her entire childhood and the main cause of her present trauma. Fear of heights from when she got locked out on the balcony? Sophia’s fault. Fear of spiders from when she woke up to one on her forehead during a sleepover? Sophia’s fault. Insecurity to give her own opinion and speak her mind from being told to shut up and that she never knew what she was talking about? Sophia’s fault. Hatred for her body for constantly being compared to her friends? Sophia’s fault. Trust issues? Sophia’s fault. Everything that was supposed to mold (Y/N) into the person she is now came from Sophia’s toxic behaviors, that only when she left town to go live with her mother and (Y/N) found herself freed from her, did she realise how much she had suffered, silently, in the hands of the girl she considered her best friend. She missed out on so many good things that could’ve gone her way just to please Sophia, who treated her more like a doll who she could play with when she was bored instead of a real friend, who blindly did everything she craved just to be accepted. That, and because the Ferguson girl made sure to remind her that she was her first friend ever and she owed her that. So (Y/N) never left her, even when all she wanted to do was cry when Sophia’s brothers would make fun of her and she would just laugh along, even when she would go along with her plans knowing she would get in trouble when she got home. She stayed until the damage couldn’t be reversible and now all those memories were coming back. Sophia had the power of controlling her emotions even when she was away and (Y/N) could finally say she had had enough. 

“(Y/N/N), you ok?” John B’s worried voice brought her focus back to the Pogues, now all staring at her with concern and curiosity.  

“Yeah.” she answered in a low tone, locking her phone and putting it away. She smiled at her friends, trying to go back to appreciate the nice day they were having out on the HMS Pogue, but no one bought her attempt of reassurance, especially JJ, who put down the fishing net and went to sit down beside her, not bothering to understand the concept of personal space. He studied her profile looking out into the sun beginning to set and tried to read her emotions without getting distracted by her beauty. 

“What?” (Y/N) asked, after noticing everyone still looking at her. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asked, nudging her knee with his own.

“Nothing.”

JJ rolled his eyes and Kie asked.

“You sure?”

“Yes.” her simple and assertive answer made the Pogues understand it wasn’t the time to push her to talk. Whatever it was, she needed time to process it and, whenever she felt ready, she would talk. Not with them though, but with JJ. He was the one she would always vent to and then the boy would succinctly tell them what the issue was, without ever crossing her privacy by keeping out details and the story low key. He would never do anything that would risk losing her trust. 

(Y/N) could still feel JJ’s eyes on her and, with a slight nudge of their knees, she reassured him.

“We’ll talk later, ok? I promise.”

“Damn right.”

He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, ruffling her half dried hair and comfortingly kissed the top of her head. 

Are you still friends with Kiara? She should come hang with us too

Hello? Answer pls

(Y/N) shook her head at the notifications of the texts but chose to ignore once again, putting her phone on mute. 

“Yo, seriously, what’s going on?” JJ insisted, after he unsuccessfully tried to look at her phone screen to see what was twisting her mood. 

“I told you we’ll talk later, JJ. Can we just enjoy the rest of the day?” she gave him a pleading look, “Please?” 

He nodded, but not happy with the girl dropping the topic. 

Ever since (Y/N) had the surfing accident, where she miscalculated the strength of the wave that sent her underwater and her surfboard hit her head, leaving her unconscious in the ocean, JJ only took his eyes off of the girl when he was sleeping, and even then, he would have nightmares about the scene. The memory of his best friend floating face down in the water, looking pretty much dead, haunted him until that day, and he promised himself he would keep an eye on her and make sure she was always ok, no matter if it was a grumpy mood due to a mosquito bite or her regular insomnias, he would be there for her and make sure she was safe. Anything to prevent him being without her. That he couldn’t bear.

..

“Alright, here I am.” (Y/N) announced her presence in the backyard of the chateau, a mug of tea warming up her hands. 

“Let’s talk then.” JJ, the only one in the backyard, answered, throwing the butt of his joint to the fire.  

(Y/N) sat down on the rusty chair across from the hammock where the boy swung lightly, a foot on the ground controlling the movement. He looked at her, smiling at her figure illuminated by the yellowish light from the small flames between them. Before he could distract himself and daydream about the girl, he cleaned his throat and spoke.

“So, what’s up?” 

The girl sighted. 

“Do you remember me telling you about Sophia?”

“Your bitch childhood friend?”

(Y/N) bit her lip to avoid a laugh over his choice of adjective.

“Yeah.”

“Wait, was she the one texting you earlier?”

She nodded, taking a sip from her tea. 

“Apparently she’s back for the summer and wanted to hang out.”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing yet.”

Her eyes were entertained with the burning wood, watching the fire dance around it. Her mind was going back to all the times she went home crying after spending the day with Sophia. They drifted apart when they landed in different classes in high school, which was a relief for (Y/N). She could see Sophia making new friends, totally fine and content with her absence, but that wasn’t what bothered her. What made her dread going to school every morning was how, even apart, she could still torment her. Sophia would cross paths with her in the corridors along with her new friends and throw comments that, to her, were the usual way of showing her power, while to (Y/N) it was the biggest embarrassment as she witnessed the small group laugh at her unapologetically. One day Kiara found her in the restroom attempting to clean her top while tears ran down her face. Sophia nicely had asked the girl to grab her a grape juice from the bar, only for one of her new besties to accidentally bump into her and spill it all over herself. The juice was forgotten by the Ferguson, as if all that trouble was only for her to have a good laugh. That was the last straw and (Y/N) immediately accepted Kiara’s invite to go hang with her. She knew the Pogues, they got along well, but because of her shyness, insecurity and also Sophia’s insistence that she was her best friend, her only friend, (Y/N) never really hung out with them much despite the multiple invitations. She would love, and she knew she needed, to make new friends and the four Pogues were a great option, plus, the blonde boy was always the one putting a smile on her face every time they walked by each other, either with an excited wave or a playful greeting. 

“Hey,” JJ’s voice interrupted her trip through her memories, “come lay next to me, I’m cold and you look comfy.”

She chuckled.

“Do you want me to go grab your sweater?”

“Nope. I want you to cuddle with me.”

The girl put down her mug and moved to the hammock, chuckling at JJ’s attempt of making room for her in between the harsh movements of the hammock. 

“You’re gonna fall before I can even sit.”

“Fine.” he sat up, throwing his legs to each side of the hammock, his sock covered feet hanging out, “Hop in.”

“That sounded so wrong.” she sat down, trying not to crush his leg as she positioned herself in between his thighs.

“Oh.” he smirked, catching up with his own unintentional sexual innuendo. 

“Don’t.”

(Y/N) leaned back, sighing at the comfortable feeling of JJ’s arms around her torso. 

“So, you’re not actually thinking of hanging out with her, are you?”

“Hell no. I don’t even intend on replying to her texts.” 

“But…?” he asked, knowing she wasn’t being fully honest. She knew it was coming, so she cuddled more into his chest, seeking comfort while she dipped again into her past moments with Sophia.

“But, I know I’ll feel bad for ignoring it.”

“Why would you feel bad? (Y/N), she was an awful bitch to you.”

“I know. And, trust me, I don’t plan on having her back in my life again, but she still affects me.” she squeezed his arm, “I hate how even through a text I can still feel her power over me. I hate how I feel so weak at just the thought of her.” the crack in her voice made JJ tighten his embrace on her, “I just want her to leave me alone. In the present and in my head.”

She quickly brushed the tear that fell over her cheek, refusing to cry over her ex-best friend like she did so many times in the past. 

“Hey,” the boy called softly, making her look at him. She turned on her side to be able to look at him properly, “those tears,” he cleaned the wet skin under her eye, “are not worth falling over her.”

“I know.” she mumbled. 

“The only thing she deserves from you is you living your best life without her. And a bitch slap.”

She laughed at his last sentence and he joined, looking down at her. 

“You’re an idiot and I wouldn’t have you any other way.” she commented, holding his gaze and he started to caress her back, the warmth of his hand over the fabric of the sweater easing up her stressed mind. 

“And you’re the coolest and badassest girl ever.” he moved his hand up to pinch her cheek, letting his fingers lightly and gently run across the skin after. She laughed at the use of the made up word and moved her head to kiss JJ’s fingers, a gesture that caught both by surprise. She wasn’t sure why she did that, but it felt right, and by the way JJ was now staring at her, it seemed like he didn’t mind either. 

“Was that weird?” she asked apprehensively, her voice almost in a whisper. 

“No.” he smiled, “But if you wanted to kiss something, my lips are right here.” he pursed his lips jokingly, making her shake her head at his always unexpected mood breaker. 

“Well, then gimme those.”

“You sure? ‘Cause they are a huge deal, once you have them, you can’t get enough of them.”

“I think I’m fine with that.”

“No, but seriously...” he was starting to ramble, and she knew it was his way of coping with his nervousness, which she found cute.

“Can you just kiss me already?”

“Yo, you were supposed to interrupt me with a kiss mid sentence. Like in the movies and shit.”

“Are you done?” for more fun she was finding the situation, she was getting frustrated. Just fucking kiss me dammit.

“Yup, think so.”

She slid a hand to the back of his neck and pulled his face closer with her fingers in between his locks, “Good.” and with a soft smile, she finally got the lips. It felt euphoric and natural at the same time, the heat inside her giving away how much she longed for that kiss. JJ’s eager hands to touch her and pull her closer revealed the same, no longer feeling the need to be discreet about his desire for her. 

The need for air made them pull away a bit, they’re foreheads resting against one another. 

“I meant what I said though, about Sophia. She doesn’t deserve not even a thought from you.” tears threatened to fall again from her eyes, “I think you’re wrong. She doesn’t have power over you. She treated you like shit and you’re still this amazing person and it just shows how fucking powerful you are.” he pecked her lips and mirrored her smile, “And I’m so fucking proud of you.”

JJ’s words planted itself in her mind and (Y/N) could finally agree: Sophia didn’t have power over her. Sophia didn’t deserve her tears. Sophia could go fuck herself. Because (Y/N) was happy and she wouldn’t allow her, or anyone else, to destroy that. 

She kissed JJ again, with such passion that she thought she had imagined a moan coming from the boy. With her lips traveling down his neck and his hands starting to push her sweater up to feel her skin, she spoke. 

“How about we head inside? It’s warmer there.”

“Oh and it will get warmer, alright?” he commented, squeezing her waist.

With a laugh, she pulled her lips away from his neck and looked at him, adoration and gratefulness peeking from her stare. 

“Thank you.” 

He knew what she was referring to. Once again, he made sure nothing would harm her, that she would be safe, and he made sure to show her how much he cared after they headed inside, the heat growing in his room putting the fire outside to shame. 

..................................

@pogueslandia​ 

[ladiesandwitches]

"Your wand is in the bag?” Scully asked, immediately concerned. There was a lot of other things that were also concerning, things which she was almost certain Beck didn’t usually have. It was true she might not know everything that was magical in Beck’s life, primarily because there was so much of it, the knowledge and paraphernalia ever growing, that it was physically impossible to retain all of it, but she was absolutely certain that Beck did not normally keep sprites squatting in a purse. She was also almost convinced that she had never bought a flying carpet on their last trip to Maine. Though considering the violently possessed doll she’d once found on a case in the city back in the 90s, flying carpets weren’t exactly the stretch she wished they were. 

“And I really don’t think you should keep spiders or bullet ants in any bag, no matter how magical it is,” she added in a maternally disapproving tone as she led Beck into the house. A house which, on first glance looked perfectly normal, but after a while started to feel...unsettling different. Like everything was just a little off to the right.

Frowning as she walked through her own living room, wondering just what was wrong with it, she finally realised her photos of Beck were missing, and was about to go look in her daughter's room when she came back with a kitchen knife. Eyes widening a little in concern, she took the seat opposite and made sure to move anything out of the way that could get stained.

"We cut our hands and bleed into a towel?" She summarised, her expression deadpan. "Beck, why are your spells-- any magic, actually-- always so much more basic in their execution than is implied?" Nine times out of ten, she was told about some dramatic ritual, some impressive sounding spell, only to find it required one tool and one action. Or sometimes it was nothing other than a slightly more esoteric chemistry experiment.

"Erm...your 9th," she said. "Mulder and I took you to Disneyworld. I wanted you to have something that normal kids got to experience, something away from.." she sighed heavily, "away from everything complicated."

"Pfffft." She let out a laugh, then muttered a swear word as they went around a curve and it jostled her. "The bag is enchanted; it is an oddity within itself. It has more space inside it than it should, and that alone would be cause for concern. As far as what is in it? I couldn't even tell you. Over the years it has taken on a bit of a life of its own."

Of course she knew some of the things in the bag, otherwise what use was it? But she had a tendency to obtain objects (either through theft or bargaining or the occasional rare genuine purchase) and simply toss them into a compartment. Every time she thought she was going to organize it something came up. Jari hated renewing the enchantments on it because it was such a fucking mess.

"My wand, potions from my friend Jari, spell books from all over the place in a library that has a few sprites that have been squatting in there for years---and they bite when you just blindly poke around in there let me tell you. Uhhh there's at least one flying carpet that I got from a guy in Maine in exchange for a 'pet psychic' session I offered him where I definitely made everything up. Guess I got what was coming to me because it rides about as smooth as a longhorn with a clamp on its nuts. Broke four windows last time it got out. Some hand creams, snacks for the road, a few pill bottles with bullet ants under a stasis spell in them, and at least one jar that when you open it an endless stream of spiders comes out. But it looks like a hand cream. I've been meaning to label it, but I don't exactly know how to read." She shrugged, sitting up when they peeled into the driveway.

Her legs were a little shaky when she got out of the back of the car and followed Dana up into the house. It still didn't look like anywhere she'd been before. She wasn't even sure she'd ever seen this side of DC. There were no pictures of her inside the house (which, she had to admit, would have been more disturbing than affirming). No cat hair either where Angrboda had been lounging on a couch. This wasn't her home; she was sure of that. It wasn't her memories that were off.

"Well I don't have my wand." Beck invited herself into the kitchen, opening and shutting drawers until she found a knife that looked sufficiently sharp and a long dish towel. "But this'll have to do."

She brought the objects to the table, sat down, and motioned to the seat opposite of her. "Here's how this works. I cut the heart vein-" She paused to point with the tip of the knife. "And then I cut yours. We each grab one end of the cloth, I say the spell, and then we both think back on a very specific memory. Eventually our blood will meet on the cloth, and your memory will be implanted into my mind, and mine into yours. Do not go searching for your own answers. Even if you don't see what you expect or want. You're not going to want to see anything else in my head, trust me. Is there a certain birthday of mine you have a particularly strong memory of? It'll be the easiest place to start."

[twiceasfrustrating]

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

[yandere-wishes]

MONSTERS

👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...

👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse

👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !

👹 Wordcount: 2,480

👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.

👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Monsters were made. 

Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories. 

Monsters were made

whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner. 

If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,

He would simply answer, "Never".

Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.

Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.

He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected. 

Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.

There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak. 

Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions. 

Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home. 

Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air. 

Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him. 

You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born. 

You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed. 

Yet...

Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness. 

The void in all its glory.

that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world. 

There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.

Things that are just empty.

So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness. 

His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.

a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies. 

With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.

There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control. 

It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village. 

You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains. 

Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond. 

You were a thrown away doll,

A living dead,

A dying star,

You were the daughter of the number zero,

The monster that had no maker nor mother. 

Something not born nor created. 

Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow. 

There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well. 

Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders. 

And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.

You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips. 

You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.

You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been. 

 Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe. 

The space after the end, that's what you were.

Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.

You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth. 

That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.

You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a  pathetically, nauseating, twisted way...it just felt right.

 It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise. 

But...

For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like. 

For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.

///

Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death. 

Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure. 

But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all. 

It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest. 

The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava. 

Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste. 

"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise. 

You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights. 

 However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway? 

Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life. 

A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive. 

///

Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure? 

It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood. 

Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers. 

"S-sukun-a..." 

He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion. 

What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names. 

His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing. 

"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."

His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him. 

"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell." 

The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything. 

The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...

Monsters never die. 

How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?