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lilbabypanda-blog2 · 14 days ago

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Phainon x (fem) reader (6)

Part5 Part6

The ruins stretched endlessly before them, bathed in an eerie glow from the bioluminescent moss creeping along the stone walls. It would have been an awe-inspiring sight—if not for the fact that Y/N and Phainon were too busy laughing like idiots while Mydei trudged behind them, radiating pure done-with-this-energy.

“You should’ve seen your face earlier, Mydei!” Y/N snickered, nudging Phainon with her elbow. “When we fell through that hole, you looked like you were questioning all of your life choices!”

“I was questioning all of my life choices,” Mydei grumbled, crossing his arms. “Specifically the ones that led to me being here with you two.”

“Oh, come on,” Phainon said with a wide grin. “Admit it—you love our company!”

“Yeah, love it so much I’m considering retirement,” Mydei muttered.

Phainon and Y/N burst into laughter again, their amusement echoing through the ruins. The uneven stone path ran parallel to a flowing underground river, the water glowing faintly under the ruins’ mysterious light. It was beautiful—serene, even.

And then, disaster struck.

In her fit of laughter, Y/N took a step forward—and the moment her foot hit the slick stone, she knew she was doomed.

“Uh-oh.”

The ground betrayed her.

She slipped. Hard.

In a blind panic, she grabbed the closest thing she could—Phainon.

“Whoa—Y/N?! Wait—!”

Phainon, caught off guard, tried to steady himself, but instead, his instincts betrayed him in the stupidest way possible—he latched onto Mydei.

“Don’t you dare—!”

Too late.

Like a perfect, synchronized disaster, all three of them tumbled off the ledge, limbs flailing in every direction.

SPLASH.

The river swallowed them whole.

The first one to resurface was Y/N, coughing out water and pushing her soaked hair from her face. The water was freezing, but she barely had time to register it before—

SPLASH!

Phainon shot up next, looking far too excited for someone who had just involuntarily plunged into an underground river. “That. Was. Amazing!” He flipped his drenched white hair back like he was starring in some dramatic movie scene, completely missing the way Y/N was giving him a look that said, Seriously?

Then, much less gracefully—

SPLUTTER—COUGH—SPIT

Mydei emerged, looking like a man who had just been personally wronged by fate itself. His blonde-red hair was plastered to his forehead, his eyes narrowed into pure betrayal.

“I hate both of you,” he wheezed, wiping water from his face.

Y/N, still trying not to laugh, paddled in place. “Okay, but technically that was my fault.”

“Oh, really? Really?! I wouldn’t have noticed!” Mydei snapped, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because here I was, thinking Phainon just randomly decided to drag me into the freezing abyss for fun!”

“To be fair,” Phainon piped up, flashing an easygoing smile, “I do think this is kinda fun.”

Mydei turned slowly, glaring daggers at him. “I am this close to dunking you underwater.”

Phainon just beamed. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

Before Mydei could act on his very real threat, Y/N clapped her hands together. “Alright, alright, enough drowning each other—let’s find a way out before we turn into icicles.”

Still grumbling, Mydei swam toward the riverbank while Phainon and Y/N followed, their soaked clothes clinging uncomfortably. The second Y/N reached the shore, she shivered, rubbing her arms. “Okay. That was not my best moment.”

Phainon, ever the sunshine of the group, turned to her with his usual bright grin. “Are you kidding? That was fantastic! You even managed to take both of us down with you! I’d call that an achievement.”

Y/N let out a snort, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah, so impressive.”

Mydei, standing a few feet away, wrung out the edge of his coat with a deep scowl. “If either of you ever grab me like that again, I’m throwing you into a pit on purpose.”

Phainon leaned over to Y/N, whispering, “He totally loves us.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

Mydei groaned. “I heard that.”

Still smiling, Y/N stretched, trying to shake off the cold. “Well, let’s see where this riverbank leads. Who knows? Maybe we just accidentally discovered something important.”

Phainon nodded enthusiastically. “Exactly! See, Mydei? This wasn’t a complete disaster!”

Mydei rubbed his temples. “If I pretend you don’t exist, will you stop talking?”

“Nope!” Phainon chirped.

As they continued along the riverbank, Phainon nudged Y/N, his smile softer now. “Hey,” he said casually, though his voice held a hint of something more. “For what it’s worth… that was pretty impressive.”

Y/N tilted her head at him. “What was?”

“The way you reacted,” Phainon said, rubbing the back of his neck blushing a little. “I mean, yeah, we all fell, but you managed to keep hold of me and Mydei while thinking on your feet. That’s… pretty cool.”

Y/N gave him a lopsided smile. “Huh. Didn’t think nearly drowning was something to be proud of.”

Phainon chuckled, his face a little pink. “Well, when you do it, it somehow seems heroic.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me right now?”

Phainon’s entire brain short-circuited. “I—uh—no! I mean, yes—I mean—WAIT, NO, THAT'S NOT—”

Y/N just smirked. “Relax, Phainon, I’m messing with you.”

“Oh. Right. Haha. Yeah.” Phainon let out a nervous laugh, his face now fully red.

Mydei, watching this entire interaction with an expression of pure pain, sighed deeply. “I swear, I am never getting dry at this rate.”

And with that, the three of them continued onward, one of them very flustered, one very amused, and one desperately wishing for peace and quiet.

After trudging along the riverbank, soaked to the bone, the trio finally stumbled upon a dry clearing nestled between the ruins. The stone walls around them provided decent shelter, and the soft glow of bioluminescent moss gave the place an eerie but peaceful ambiance.

Y/N shivered slightly as she rubbed her arms. “Alright, we desperately need a fire before we all turn into ice sculptures.”

Phainon clapped his hands together. “On it!”

Mydei gave him a flat look. “Do you even know how to make a fire?”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “Excuse me? Do I look like someone who can’t start a fire?”

“Yes,” Mydei said without hesitation.

Ignoring him, Phainon crouched down and started striking flint together. Against all odds, sparks flickered to life, catching onto the dry twigs. Within moments, a warm fire crackled before them.

Y/N sighed in relief, holding her hands up to the flames. “Nice work, Phainon.”

Phainon beamed, golden-retriever energy practically radiating off of him. “You see? I am so much more capable than you guys give me credit for!”

“Still debatable,” Mydei muttered as he unstrapped a piece of his armor and set it on a nearby rock to dry. “Ugh, this thing is soaked.”

Y/N glanced over at Phainon, noting the way his elegant coat was still dripping. “Phainon, take that off before you get sick.”

“Oh, I’m fine—”

“Nope,” Y/N cut him off, standing up. “Come on, give it here. You’re already shivering.”

Phainon opened his mouth to argue, but the moment Y/N reached for him, his brain short-circuited.

Oh no.

Oh no, she's close—

Oh no, she’s touching me.

Y/N tugged his soaked coat off his shoulders, completely unaware of how Phainon had gone completely stiff. His brain was looping at high speed.

Y/N, meanwhile, casually found a place to hang the coat up to dry, giving Phainon a satisfied nod. “There. Now you won’t freeze to death.”

Phainon just stood there, blinking rapidly.

Mydei, watching this unfold, exhaled sharply. “Unbelievable.”

Y/N turned back to Phainon, only to frown when she noticed his face had turned a suspicious shade of red.

“…Phainon, are you feeling okay?”

Phainon jolted. “Wha—? Me? Yes! Totally fine! Perfectly healthy! Never better!”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “You look feverish.”

“What? Pfft. No way. Not at all—”

Y/N suddenly placed a hand on his forehead.

Phainon died instantly.

Okay, no, he didn’t actually die, but he might as well have. His entire body locked up, face burning, because—oh stars—Y/N’s hand was warm and soft and he was definitely going to combust.

Y/N frowned. “You are warm. See? I told you to take that coat off earlier!”

“It’s—It’s probably just the fire!” Phainon squeaked. “Very warm fire! Extremely toasty!”

Y/N didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure you’re not getting sick?”

Phainon nodded so fast he probably gave himself whiplash.

Y/N hummed, unconvinced. “Hmm. Alright. But if you do start feeling dizzy, tell me.”

Phainon nodded again, but in reality, he was already dizzy. Just for entirely different reasons.

Y/N sighed, finally removing her hand. “Alright, let me check on your wound while we’re at it.”

Phainon paled. “My what?”

Y/N shot him a look. “Your arm? From earlier? The wound you brushed off like it was nothing?”

“Oh! That wound. Uh—It’s fine! Totally fine! You don’t have to—”

Too late. Y/N was already gently rolling up his sleeve to inspect the cut.

Phainon immediately forgot how to breathe.

Stars help him. He was never going to survive this mission.

Y/N carefully examined the wound. It wasn’t too deep, but it was still red and irritated from the earlier fights.

“You need to be more careful,” she chided, grabbing a fresh bandage from her pack. “Seriously, just tell me when you’re hurt next time.”

Phainon barely heard her because all his brain could focus on was:

• Y/N is touching my arm.

• Y/N is really close.

• Her hands are so soft.

• I am about to explode.

Y/N worked quickly, wrapping the bandage snugly around his arm before tying it off. “There. All patched up.”

Then, without thinking, she reached up and ruffled his damp hair.

“You did so good today, Phainon.”

Critical hit.

Phainon.exe has stopped functioning.

His face went bright red as he sat there, absolutely paralyzed by the casual affection. Meanwhile, Y/N simply dusted her hands off, oblivious to the absolute devastation she just caused.

Mydei, watching all of this from the sidelines, dragged a hand down his face. “I cannot do this anymore.”

Y/N turned to him. “Do what?”

“Witness this pathetic excuse for a crush.”

Phainon made a strangled noise. “I DO NOT HAVE A CRUSH.”

Y/N blinked. “Who has a crush?”

“NO ONE!” Phainon practically yelled, face still burning.

Y/N looked confused, but before she could question anything, something moved.

swish.

At first, none of them reacted. The movement was too fast, too quiet.

Then—

swish.

Y/N sat up, suddenly alert. “Did you see that?”

Phainon, still recovering from his near-death experience, blinked in confusion. “See what?”

CLINK.

They all turned toward the rock where Mydei had placed his armor.

It was gone.

Mydei’s eye twitched. “Where. Is. My. Armor?”

Silence.

Then—

SWOOSH.

Phainon jumped up. “THERE! Something just moved!”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at the darkness. “Okay, what is that?”

A moment later—

“My food is gone,” Mydei said darkly.

Phainon clutched his remaining rations. “Oh, this is personal now.”

Then, before they could react—

Something snatched Phainon’s coat from where it was drying.

Phainon let out a gasp of pure horror. “MY COAT.”

Phainon looked personally offended. "What is it even doing with it?!”

"Probably trying to rid the world of your terrible fashion choices," Mydei muttered.

Phainon pointed dramatically. "You know what? This is war."

“Alright, alright—let’s track this thing before Phainon actually starts crying over his coat.”

Phainon sniffed dramatically. "Too late. I’m already suffering."

As they prepared to investigate, the ruins around them remained eerily silent—too silent.

Whatever was lurking nearby… was still watching them.

And it was far from done.

The ruins were eerily silent except for the faint dripping of water and the occasional whisper of wind through the cracks in the stone. The air was thick with moisture, carrying the scent of moss and damp earth. Shadows stretched unnaturally against the ancient walls, distorting the carvings that time had nearly erased.

Something was here. Watching. Waiting.

Phainon shifted uncomfortably, his usually carefree demeanor dimmed by the unsettling stillness. His white coat—gone. Mydei’s armor—vanished. And now, as they walked along the overgrown pathways, tracking whatever had taken their things, he clutched onto the one thing he had left.

His sandwich.

Y/N led the way, her sharp eyes scanning for more signs of disturbance. There were traces, subtle but present—something had moved through here recently. But it wasn’t leaving the kind of tracks a person or even an animal might. Instead, there were disturbed patches of moss, faint imprints in the damp soil, like something too light to leave proper footprints.

It was almost like chasing a ghost.

Mydei walked a few paces behind, arms crossed, his perpetual state of irritation increasing by the second. “We’re wasting time,” he muttered. “Whatever this is, it’s too fast. We should focus on finding a way back up, not chasing after—”

A rustling sound.

The three of them froze.

The leaves of a thick bush trembled, though there was no breeze.

Y/N subtly signaled for them to stay alert. Her fingers curled around her weapon, waiting, watching.

Phainon barely breathed.

Then—

SWOOSH.

A blur shot out from the bush, impossibly fast, nothing more than a streak of movement—

And then it was gone.

Silence.

The three of them remained motionless, waiting for another sign of movement.

Then, finally, Phainon exhaled. “Okay. That was weird, but—” He paused, looking down at his now empty hands.

His eyes widened in horror.

“…It stole my sandwich.”

Silence.

Y/N blinked. “Wait. Did that thing just—”

Phainon turned to her, looking absolutely betrayed.

“It stole. My sandwich.”

Mydei, to no one's surprise, was unamused. “Really? That’s what you’re concerned about right now?”

Phainon looked back at his empty hands, as if still processing the loss. “I—yes! That was my last sandwich!”

Y/N’s expression remained serious, her gaze still fixed on where the blur had vanished. “This isn’t random.”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “It feels pretty random.”

“No,” she corrected. “Think about it. It took your coat. Mydei’s armor. And now food. It’s not just stealing—it’s collecting.”

Mydei narrowed his eyes. “Collecting what?”

Y/N gestured around them. “Things it considers useful.”

Mydei frowned, crossing his arms. “So what, it’s some kind of invisible hoarder?”

Phainon suddenly gasped. “What if it’s building something?”

Y/N and Mydei turned to look at him.

“…Building what, exactly?” Mydei asked dryly.

Phainon’s eyes narrowed in deep, philosophical thought. “A… sandwich shrine?”

Mydei groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Y/N snickered at the nonsense, while still focused on their surroundings. “We need to track it. Now that we know it’s still nearby, we might be able to corner it.”

Phainon clenched his fists dramatically. “Yes. I will retrieve my stolen food—”

“It’s not about the sandwich, Phainon.”

“It’s a little about the sandwich.”

Y/N sighed, already moving forward. Mydei, rubbing his temples, followed.

The ruins suddenly felt much more ominous.

Whatever was lurking here wasn’t just playing with them—it had a purpose.

And soon, they were going to find out exactly what it was.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #x reader #honkai x reader #phainon x reader #phainon #phainon x you #phainon honkai star rail #phainon hsr #x y/n #oc x character #x you #hsr x reader #fem reader #reader insert #hsr x y/n #hsr x you

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bgwlsmahf25 · 11 months ago

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Dark Coloured Dress

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x gn! reader; Wanda Maximoff x gn! reader (platonic); Tony Stark x gn! reader (platonic)

Warnings: alcohol; y/n is drunk; painkillers; little bit of angst and upset but otherwise all fluff

Summary: What happens when you drunkenly admit your feelings to your best friend?

a/n: hehe. There's a happy ending I promise!

Everyone knew that you and Natasha were joined at the hip. You spent every second together and when Natasha went on missions, you stayed in her room, curled up under the duvet with one of her hoodies on. But you weren’t together. You were constantly correcting people: ‘oh, we’re not together, she’s my best friend’ although nobody believed it. You wished it was true, you’d had a crush on the red-headed spy ever since you first met her and your love for her had only grown the more you got to know her.

“Hey Wands, have you seen Nat?” you said, wandering into the kitchen. The witch looked up in surprise. “You haven’t seen her?” You rolled your eyes. “No-o, that’s why I’m asking. Look I know I’m supposed to know her every move but she’s a spy and a really good one at that.” Wanda laughed. “Try her room. She was in there earlier.”

You knocked on Natasha’s door but there was no answer. Opening it, you stepped into her room, looking around. She wasn’t there but you spotted her clothes flung on the bed and a dark coloured dress lying beside them. Your breath caught in your throat as you examined it. The thought of her having a date made your heart clench painfully and you inhaled sharply, turning away from it. “Nat?” you called out, the words sticking in your throat.

“In here, angel.” You headed into her bathroom, finding her soaking in the tub, mounds of bubbles hiding her from view, for which you were eternally glad. She had a book in one hand and her phone in the other, she was frowning down at it. You sat down on the toilet seat, bringing your arms around your knees and watching her with a small smile of amusement on your face.

“Whatcha reading?” You gestured at the book, and she looked up, smiling as she caught your gaze. “That sappy romantic one you suggested. It’s not that good.” You sighed. “Of course you don’t like it. Um, question?” She laughed and put the book down, dropping it onto the floor by the bath. “I never said I didn’t like it. I just think the plot could be strengthened a bit. What’s your question?”

“The dress...” you murmured, thinking of Natasha having dinner at a fancy restaurant with a handsome stranger. The thought made you want to throw up and you looked away.

“Oh, you don’t like it? No matter, I’ll get another one.”

“Um, what, no. I – I think it’s great, you’ll look stunning in it. I just – what's it for?”

“The fundraiser?” She tilted her head to one side, studying you with an intense gaze. “Tony’s charity thing.”

“That’s tonight?!” you yelped. Tony had been planning the event for months and everyone was expected to attend. There were rumours the mayor was going to show up. “Nat, why didn’t you tell me earlier!” You dashed out of her bathroom to go and get ready, her laughter following you.

***

“Y/n? Are you ready?” There was a knock on your door. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, come in.” You were putting the final touches to your hair, making sure it stayed out of your face. Behind you, the door opened and Natasha walked in. You caught sight of her in the mirror and spun around, jaw dropping as you took her in.

She had the dark coloured dress on and black heels. Her hair was swinging free, tumbling down her shoulders and chest in red waves. She laughed as she caught your astonished gaze, her lips lined with a deep red lipstick. “What’s that face for?”

“I - I just, I mean...” you closed your mouth, “you clean up well, Nat.”

“Thanks, angel. So do you, you look fantastic.” There was a smirk on her face and you turned back to the mirror, struggling with the last hair grip. “Here, let me.” She put her purse down and took your hair into her hands, pinning it back expertly. You stared at the desk, unable to meet her eyes in the reflection. “Ok, are you ready?”

The music and noise got louder as you got closer. You gripped Natasha’s hand and she squeezed yours. She knew that Tony’s parties made you anxious, ever since Ultron had gate crashed one and wreaked havoc.

“Hey you two... you look amazing,” Wanda said as you approached the bar. She had a red cocktail dress on and was sipping a drink, winking as she caught your eye. You gave her a shaky smile and she pulled you in for a hug, “You look stunning,” she whispered in your ear. “Natasha can’t keep her eyes off you.”

You laughed and protested weakly, your voice faltering when you noticed Natasha’s intense gaze on you. She ordered drinks and handed yours to you, your fingers brushing as you took hold of the glass.

“Romanoff, Maximoff, y/n.” Tony materialised beside you, looking impeccable in a suit, slightly tinted glasses resting on his nose. “Romanoff, a word?” Natasha glanced at you and you smiled. Taking that as her answer, she nodded at Tony. As she walked by, she leant in, planting a kiss on your cheek. “I won’t be long.”

“Oh my god...” Wanda breathed, and you shushed her. “She is smitten.”

“No, she’s not!” you laughed. “She’s my best friend.”

The witch nodded. “That’s how the best love stories start.” She glanced around at the party. You watched as a faint blush spread over her cheeks and turned to see who’d caught her eye. “You’re blushing. Something you want to tell me, Wands?”

“Not particularly,” she muttered. “I - need to go find someone. Talk to you later?”

“I want all the details,” you answered, sipping your drink. You continued to sit at the bar, enjoying your drink and trying to relax slightly. You spotted Wanda on the dancefloor with Yelena, Kate and Maria Hill. Further away from the dancefloor, Natasha and Tony were in deep conversation with the mayor of New York and a bunch of men and women in smart attire. You kept your gaze on Natasha, watching the way her hands moved as she talked. As though sensing your gaze, she turned her head, catching your eye. You smiled, and looked away, failing to notice her stopping her conversation and beginning to walk towards you.

“Hey. How are you doing?” Her voice was gentle but you still jumped, relaxing when you realised who it was. “I’m actually kind of enjoying myself,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“How many of those have you had?” she said concerned. You smiled at her, feeling happy and relaxed. “Y/n, are you drunk?”

“Getting there,” you murmured. “C’mon, I'm not that bad.”

“Ok. Stand up.” She bit her lip as you got to your feet and wobbled, reaching for the counter to steady yourself. “You’re drunk. Come on, I'm taking you back to your room.”

You started to complain then leant forwards against the counter, your head resting on the cool marble. “This feels nice,” you sighed. Natasha put an arm around your waist, helping you upright and then you started to make your way to the door.

***

You were half asleep by the time you reached your room. Natasha sat you down on your bed and pulled your shoes off, sighing as you fell backwards against the sheets. She pulled you into a sitting position and made you drink a glass full of water and take painkillers before helping you into pyjamas and then into bed.

You lay against your pillows, watching as she closed the curtains and headed to the door to dim the lights. You, however, thought she was leaving, and a tear slipped down your cheek, your arms reaching out towards her. “Nat. Stay. Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving, angel.” She dimmed the lights then kicked her heels off and came and sat on the edge of your bed. “You need to sleep.” She wiped the tears off your cheeks. “Why are you crying, darling?”

"I can’t talk about it,” you murmured. This made her frown, and she repeated the question in a gentle tone. “Y/n, you don’t have to hide from me. What’s wrong? Did something happen at the party?”

“No.” You thought about Natasha in her dark coloured dress, laughing and talking with the mayor’s son and more tears slipped out. You thought about how you’d thought she was going on a date, and you started to cry harder.

“Y/n. Hey, angel, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Please don’t go on a date with anyone that isn’t me,” you sobbed, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow.

There was a beat of silence then a hand stroked your shoulder. “Ok,” she replied softly.

***

You woke up the next morning with a sore head. A glass of water was sitting on your bedside table, and you gulped it down thirstily. Your eyes fell on the pair of heels by the door, and you smiled, recognising them as Natasha’s. Then you frowned. Why were they in your room?

You reached for your phone and saw several texts, mostly from friends asking about the party. There was also one from Wanda.

hope the rest of the evening went well ;)

You frowned again, wondering what she meant. Did something happen? You panicked and opened your message thread with Natasha.

What happened last night?

There was a pause then three dots appeared. She was typing.

You're awake. I'll come find you

As you headed to the shower, you missed her next message:

If you’ve seen the news, I can explain. It's not what you think

By the time Natasha found you, you were in the kitchen, drinking coffee and munching on toast. Your eyes went wide as you caught sight of a news headline, suggesting dating rumours between Natasha and the mayor’s son.

She stepped into the kitchen and you shot out of your seat, holding your phone up so she could see the headline. “What is this?”

“Y/n...”

“Tell me this isn’t true!” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “What did I miss last night?”

“It’s not true,” she said quickly. “Y/n, I swear it isn’t true. They just got a few photos last night and it makes it look like-”

“What? What does it look like?” you said, tears beginning to fall down your cheeks. “Are you dating him but can’t tell me? What’s going on, Nat?”

“Y/n,” she replied firmly. She took a step towards you, but you stepped back. “We’re not dating. I'm not dating anyone. I promise.”

Your breath halted. “Then why...?”

“Because they know I like someone, they just don’t know who it is.”

You stared at her, your heart ripping into a million pieces. She liked someone that wasn’t you. Your best friend liked someone and hadn’t told you. “I - what? And when was I going to find out?” you answered bitterly. “I thought you told me everything, Nat.”

“I do tell you everything,” she whispered desperately.

“Obviously not!” you shouted and stormed out of the kitchen, pushing past a surprised and confused Wanda.

***

There was a knock on your door. “Go away, Nat.” Silence then another knock. “Nat, I said go away!”

The door opened. “You’re still calling me Nat, so you don’t really want me to go away. Can I come in?” You sighed and turned to face your best friend. She looked hesitant. You sighed and nodded, she came in and shut the door. “I can explain.”

“I really hope so,” you replied, sounding defeated.

“How much of last night do you remember?” she said cautiously. “Of what actually happened?”

“Nothing. I remember nothing.” You sighed. “I guess I was drunk and based on that, I probably said something, didn’t I?”

“You were drunk.” She slowly sat down next to you on the bed. “We came back here to your room. You were crying, I asked what was wrong, and you said, ‘Please don’t go on a date with anyone that isn’t me.’ And then you fell asleep.”

You stared down at your hands, fingers twisting over each other, heart racing. Had you really said that to her? You remembered the dress and assumed she was going on a date and how upset you’d been.

“Y/n. Look at me.”

She probably hated you for saying that. Why had you said that? What was wrong with you? Why did you have to declare your feelings when you weren’t going to remember it?

“Y/n. Please look at me?”

You swallowed and raised your head to meet your best friend’s gaze. She was smiling – wait, she was smiling?

“I don’t want to date anyone who isn’t you,” she whispered.

“Why?” you stammered.

“Because you’re the only one I want to date.”

“What?” In answer she leant towards you, her hand resting on your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” Speechless, you nodded, and she closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a sweet, soft kiss. You eagerly kissed back, making her smile against you.

She eventually pulled away and you smiled at each other. “Y/n, can I take you on a date?”

“Yes,” you whispered, smiling broadly at her. “Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.”

“It’s you that I like,” she said. “That’s what I meant earlier. I like you, angel.”

“I like you too, Nat.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #marvel fic #natasha x reader #marvel imagine #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff #tony stark

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jolenes-doppelganger · 5 months ago

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Curiosity (Series Debut)

Juliette Nichols x Fem! Reader

Summary: The monotonous doldrum of IT tasks brings the daughter of Mayor Holland into the path of the determined Sheriff Nichols. Against the better preparations of the overprotective Bernard Holland, Juliette inadvertently tangles (Reader) right into her mess of lies, cover-ups and the biggest killer of the Silo- Curiosity.

Warnings: None.

A/N: This Juliette series was originally called "Nuts, Bolts and Awkward Silences", but I'm a self-conscious creator riddled with fantastic ideas. Hence, a new and improved beginning to my Juliette series!

Word Count: 4.7k

Comments and reblogs are appreciatied!

“We do not know why we are here. We do not know who built the Silo. We do not know why everything outside the Silo is as it is. We do not know... when it will be safe to go outside. We only know that day is not this day.” - Cleaning Address, Mayor Jahns (deceased). File Serial No. 153.76.98, Records Department.

To say the Silo smelled like a lump of old pipes was incomplete. The upper levels, the Mids and Up Top, smelled of people. Of life, of fresh bread, laundered linen and occasionally corn, if you caught a breeze from one of the farms. It was only when you got Down Deep that the smell worsened.

Rusting pipes leaked with brackish water, and depending where you walked, there would be piles of metal shavings or maybe a few loose screws from the engineers doing their own maintenance. It was a climate one had to adapt to, a sort of behavior that was as interwoven as the exposed pipes and wire clusters that peeked out behind crumbling concrete. Few could put up with the Down Deep’s inhospitable nature; it was a thing to be endured until the Down Deep became as natural to you as the smell of stale air, oil and body odor.

The Sheriff’s office felt too pristine to Juliette. Living in close quarters with engineers too busy, (or too disinclined) to bathe regularly had given her a certain standard. Walking into that office she smelled paper. Old, but dry, sterile paper. Her clothes were threadbare and filled with slightly off-colored patches where she’d darned holes shut. The residents of the Mids looked put together, crisp in their attires. At least to her eyes. Even the porters had a certain uniformity to them, quite unlike her ragamuffin band of mechanics she’d called her family.

Juliette knew she didn’t belong here. She stuck out like a stray hair; ever present and subconsciously noticeable. It made sense that her closest companion was the hardened, conflict-savvy Deputy Marnes. They made quite a pair, strutting up and down the levels. She with her freshly starched uniform that felt all too coarse, and he with his bandaged nose and gruff demeanor. They would have made a fine pair. Neither truly wanted the power they held, they wanted the truth. But that was the unwritten rule of the Silo. Look for truth, and truth finds you. Ten steps later, so did death.

Deputy Marnes death had put Juliette into a frenzy, and with that, the drive to find George Wilkin’s file grew until it felt like life or death. She missed the smell of old pipes and the occasional unwashed man. She missed the smell of her unwashed man.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Mayor Bernard Holland had little interior ties to the Silo. Work colleagues, employees and the occasional childhood playmate. If Bernard could fit all of his relationships into one single box, it would be labeled ‘working acquaintance’. But earlier in his life, before he had ascended the ladder higher into the goings on of the interior Maintenance department, he had decided to take a shot at having a family; a wife, and a cozy, little apartment central to the Mids. Every morning Bernard would get up and take his small briefcase to work in the IT department, and his wife, Amelie, walked with her lesson plans to go teach kindergarten.

Somewhere in the mess of young, ambitious travailing, Amelie had brought up the lottery. Bernard, being an older man in his early forties, put little faith in the possibility of having children. In his ever analytical, sagacious mind, Bernard computed the odds of having a child at his age, given only a one year window for Amelie to conceive one, at near zero. But life wasn’t little boxes that could be sorted, assessed and compartmentalized into near-zero possibilities.

Ten months after reproductive clearance had been granted, Amelie skipped a period. And then another. A younger, fuller haired Doctor Nichols confirmed the life-destabilizing news. Bernard and Amelie Holland were expecting a baby girl. Twenty some odd years later, that baby girl sat in the IT department day after day, typing out the same files in the same pattern Bernard had completed when he was her age. You had his brain for the computer, the ability to examine flawed programming and dissect it within a day or two. Sometimes three, if a previous worker had gone hopelessly astray.

Bernard Holland had made a mistake, having a child. Sure, you were astute, eager to please and unnaturally adept at the skills he himself had spent years toiling away to gain, but you were his. And with possession came the possibility of loss. Every day that Bernard wasn’t in that IT department was another day he felt that creeping paranoia, that low buzzing of anxiety in the back of his skull. You were a good child, an obedient, Pact-abiding adult. However, you’d inherited more than just his measured customs; you’d inherited Amelie’s curiosity. Amelie, who’d hidden her inner wonder for the first ten years of their pairing. Amelie who’d been found with a red class relic, only for it to disappear back into the Silo. Amelie, loyal wife, doting mother, and veteran teacher who’d been sent down into the mines at the hand of one rebellious human condition.

Curiosity was a killer. And that curiosity that you carried could destroy more than just your life, it could destroy what little bit of faith Bernard had in the limited autonomy of the Silo. Therefore, when Mayor Holland assured Juliette that he did not wish to be mayor long term, he hadn’t lied. Having that kind of responsibility on his shoulders meant that he no longer had the luxury of keeping his daughter safe from herself. Having that luxury meant that the little curiosity Bernard had whittled away day by day began to blossom anew. Like a child left without adequate stimulation, you began to question unrelentingly.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

The IT department was a stale, colorless room filled with the bustle of various employees working side by side on equally monitored computers. The day started when you punched your time card in, and it ended when you punched out. The act of punching a time card in and out was old. Your Dad mentioned doing it when he first started, and how his elders at that time had always done it that way too. Each yellow card was good for a month. If you lost it, you lost your wages. No one lost their timecard, no one was stupid enough to misplace such a valuable object. Except Lukas.

“Sorry, I literally haven’t seen it.” you shrugged, going in to punch your time card.

Once the machine had stamped the yellow slip, you put it in your empty card, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. You’d come in at the perfect time to get a cup of coffee before you slipped down in the records department for an agonizingly boring shift, and Lukas was wasting what precious time you had to do so.

“Nowhere? Is it on your desk perhaps? I looked behind the copiers and I can’t find it-”

Lukas was frazzled, face drawn out into a deep frown as he anxiously slicked his dark hair back.

“Listen, I know you’re worried, just grab a spare time card and punch in today. That way when it does turn up you’ll have proof of when you were in and out while it was gone.” you tiredly instructed, pouring yourself a steaming mug of bean juice.

For eight-forty-five in the morning you were on a roll, as far as advice went.

“Okay, yeah. That’s actually a good idea.”

Lukas walked back to the time card machine, writing his name and employee number down before punching the time card for the date and time. You didn’t stay to watch more than that, waving to your favorite coworker before you made the descent deeper into the office.

Well lit computer desks were replaced by rows and rows of files, the bookcases old and battered from wear. One of them had cracked, mixing up all the files. Maintenance had been quick about fixing it, but now it meant all the files that fell had to be re-organized on the new metal shelf. The lightbulb above your head buzzed in an irritatingly persistent tone, making the work just that much more tedious. All of the files were shoved off to the side in the walkway between shelves. It was a tripping hazard, and an overt demonstration of how dichotomous Maintenance’s help could be.

Taking sips of your coffee here and there, you started sorting the files in piles, ensuring each file inside the record matched the labeling outside of it. Every so often you’d glance overhead at the large clock illuminated by a flickering bulb. You swore the motor was slow, after all you’d been at this for what felt like three hours, and it was hardly past ten. Taking a deep breath in, you reached for your coffee, holding it up to take a sip. Empty. Hardly a whiff of coffee remained, just the overpowering smell of mothballs, old paper and dust. If you had any allergies like Meryl, one of your coworkers, you’d be sneezing left and right.

Time passed, and you were just about done with the third shelf of files. Clean manilla envelopes sat side by side, each correctly labeled and displayed. It was good work, and accessible in the future. The work was monotonous, but it all faded into a distant hum as you worked in silence. The clock winked down at you, twelve-thirty blinking down like a beacon of hope. Break time.

The relief you felt walking out of the records room and into the well ventilated IT office was immediate. Lukas was still at his desk, typing away rapidly. His productivity was up. Not quite as high as yours, but higher. Meryl smiled at you as she walked by.

“Ready for lunch?”

“Are you kidding?” you chuckled. “Founders, that job is the worst.”

Meryl gave a sympathetic pout, grabbing her purse and walking towards the exit with you.

“I appreciate you taking up the torch on that one, my allergies won’t let me in that room for even fifteen minutes without hacking.” she lamented.

The two of you traded gossip and office news as you walked down to the cafeteria, catching up on whatever little bits of life the two of you hadn’t shared since your last shift. It was an uneventful lunch break, just like you wanted. The walk up to IT was filled with satisfied sighs.

“Almost there.” Meryl remarked.

“Almost.” you echoed.

Your solace was a fresh cup of coffee and a brief chat with Lukas, (who had found his time card), but that was all you dared delay. Walking back into the records department, you found that your quiet, uneventful day was abruptly shattered. Towards the back of the records department you could make out a stooped figure, carelessly rifling through the shelf you had just organized.

“Hey, what are you doing?” you gasped, quickly walking over to the individual ruining three hours of meticulous work.

“Looking for a file.” the woman huffed, pulling out another file and dropping it on the floor.

There were patient people in the Silo. People who could withstand far worse inconveniences than this. But a dubious individual rifling through restricted and sometimes confidential material without regard for proper protocols or clearance boiled your blood.

“Where’s your clearance?” you demanded, setting your mug off to the side.

“Clearance?”

The woman rose to her full height, hands on her hips. You’d originally clocked her as a deputy gone rogue, but you knew your deputies. No, this had to be the new Sheriff. Nichols, Juliette Nichols. What a pain in the ass she was, that’s what Sandy had said. And somehow she was exactly what you had pictured, and then again, not quite at all. She was shorter than you would’ve guessed, only five-foot-five or so. Her hair was short, this made sense, and it was dyed by chemicals. Experimentation mechanics got away with, you supposed. Not what you would’ve pictured, especially in a tiny bun that emphasized the deep hollows of her cheekbones and brow, but it worked. But her eyes. Those made sense. Piercing, distrusting and a bit resentful. It fit everything you would’ve assumed from her character given how much Sandy complained when she came down to grab a file.

You were gawking, you realized. Clearing your throat once, you answered her question.

“Every individual looking for a record from the record’s department needs to fill out a request slip and send it in so that IT can track down the record and deliver it to the requester.” you spoke out in a long, run-on rush. “It’s a way of ensuring files don’t go missing.”

“Okay, well I did that, and they said they couldn’t find the file. I printed out a map of the records department, and it’s supposed to be on this shelf in this bookcase, see?” the Sheriff aggressively gestured to a guide of the bookcases.

You heard the clock audibly tick as you took a deep breath in. Getting upset with the Sheriff of the Silo wasn’t a proper first impression. It was a horrible first impression, actually. True, she couldn’t get you into any legal trouble without probable cause, but you could piss her off. Pissing off a Sheriff, albeit a temporary one, not such a good idea.

“Which file are you looking for?” you managed, voice artificially measured.

“George Wilkins, a report on his death.”

Another deep breath. The Sheriff was frustrated, and you were too. It was clear she’d been digging through this shelf for a while, probably during most of your lunch break. Her uniform was crumpled, sleeves pulled up her arms and a few hairs loose around her face. There had never been a mechanic who’d been nominated before, at least not before going through IT or the Sheriff’s department as a deputy. That’s where your fascination came from, truly.

Again with the gawking! You shook your head, trying to dispel your brain fog. It had been a long day of sorting files in a dim, stuffy room.

“Listen, this shelf collapsed a few days ago, and Maintenance just replaced it. I’ve spent the last three hours of my shift meticulously organizing it, so my guess is that whoever was on shift didn’t bother finding the file until the shelf was reorganized.”

Sheriff Nichols reached up, smoothing a hand over her skull. She took a deep breath in, nostrils flaring in belligerent frustration. But if she couldn’t find it in the thirty minutes she’d been digging, someone who was meticulously organizing the shelf probably would.

“Right, so if you find it you’ll let me know?”

“Yup.” you answered, folding your hands together to restrain the impulse to shove her out of the way.

“Thanks.”

Sheriff Nichols moved, too fluidly, with too much assurance in her surroundings. It must have been imbued by years spent in closed spaces, but she miscalculated. Your coffee mug went flying off of the shelf it had been balanced on, drenching you and the various files on the floor in lukewarm coffee.

“Fuck, sorry.” Sheriff Nichols swore.

She reached around, grabbing a rag left from dusting, vainly and forcefully trying to dab at the liquid all over your blouse.

“Stop, stop, it’s fine.” you gritted your teeth, dropping to your knees and doing your best to salvage the files that had been damaged.

Your face felt hot, and you looked down on instinct. You were flushed. Both from the further inconvenience of several files being damaged by this insufferably meddlesome Sheriff, but her hands… They’d been so clumsy and rough as they’d patted down your front with a dusty, dirty cloth. The tension was unbearable, and one of you had to break it.

Heavy footsteps echoed as the Sheriff made a quick escape, leaving you to deal with the mess she had caused.

“Bitch.” you cussed, doing your best to salvage the situation.

Even worse, her shuffling of files had stirred up the dust again, and this time it was bad enough that you sneezed. For the next five hours of your shift, you sat damp, sneezing and pissed, doing your best to finish sorting through the files she’d fucked up. The clock hit six and what little difference you’d made wasn’t enough to be satisfactory. You’d be working overtime tonight.

⋅˚.⋆☾⁺₊ ‧

Walking into the cafeteria at just past nine was depressing, there was nobody there. Even Lukas was absent, presumably opting to head home and help care for his Mom instead of his weird hobby spent staring at the screen. He watched the little white dots. You didn’t pay attention to it most of the time, you thought it was foolish, but exhaustion made you wonder. That was before your stomach complained.

The kitchen staff managed to scrape together a meal, an uncharacteristically generous thing to do. Probably because you looked a mess in your ruined blouse and dust covered hair. Dinner was a cinnamon roll leftover from breakfast and half of a turkey wrap, but it was something. You ate quietly, observing the display with that same wonder. They were odd looking, those white dots. Footsteps echoed out from the hallway as people came and went. You never looked up, too caught in your quiet vigil of the display screen. It took a subtle wrap on the table to get you to look up.

“Hey.” Sheriff Nichols sighed, resting her hip against the table.

She looked tired. More hair was out of her ponytail than in it and her uniform was unbuttoned. It might’ve been a conscious decision, but it made her look more haggard than she would’ve appeared otherwise.

“Hi.” you replied, biting into the cold cinnamon roll.

The icing stuck to your teeth in a grotesque film.

“Sorry about the coffee again.” she gestured to your stained blouse. “Umm… Did you find the file?”

“File?” you frowned, unsure.

“Yeah, the George Wilkins one.”

Your palm came up to your forehead in a quick, masochistic slap. You’d totally forgotten to look for that file, all that had been on your mind was finishing the job and getting out. And dinner. Food had been on your mind for a while.

“... I can go look for it tomorrow.” you sighed.

Sheriff Nichols crossed her arms, toeing at the ground for a moment.

“You’re too tired to go back?” she asked, tone neither hopeful, nor presumptuous.

It was almost ten, and you were both exhausted, but something told you that the Sheriff would keep showing up to bother you until she had her answer. Considering how adept she was at inconveniencing you, the sooner you got rid of her, the better.

“If I do this for you will you promise to never set foot into the record’s department again?” you asked, eyeing her with a stern glare.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll fill out the request thingie… Yeah.” Sheriff Nichols nodded, clearing her throat awkwardly.

Words weren’t her strong suit, especially when her stomach was churning with hunger. Taking a deep breath in, you stood, leaving the half-eaten cinnamon roll on your plate.

“... Gonna eat that?” she asked, hopeful.

“No, it’s yours, I guess.”

Sheriff Nichols snagged it, following you up to the IT department. She held the door open once you unlocked the building, which was helpful, you supposed. Upon entering the office, you noticed how the Sheriff seemed to inspect everything, scoping it out with curious interest. She’d inhaled the cinnamon roll. You didn’t remember seeing her swallow.

“Records are this way.” you gestured, not in the mood to enable her gawking.

Sheriff Nichols followed you into the dusty library of records, standing off to the side as you carefully looked for the file she wanted. You skimmed the shelf twice over, rubbing your eyes in confusion.

“Yeah, it’s not here, let me check the record’s catalog.”

Turning on your heel, you walked over the dingy concrete floor of the room, turning on an ancient looking monitor. Humming along to yourself, you quietly searched the system for the record Sheriff Nichols was after. It popped up as returned to the library by the former Sheriff. He’d logged it himself. And you assumed he had done it correctly, but somewhere in between the return of the file and the cracking of the bookcase, it was more than probable that it had been misplaced.

“I don’t have an answer for you, I’m sorry. The shelf cracked, and it’s possible maintenance damaged the file. I’ll fill out a missing records report, and if it turns up I’ll notify you.”

It was the only response you could muster. The blank look Sheriff Nichols gave you felt undeserved, especially considering she’d snagged your cinnamon roll.

“Sheriff, I’m sorry it’s not where it should be, but we know it’s missing and we can look for it now.”

She walked over and behind the desk, brushing against you as she examined the screen for herself. She’d seen you examine the files, she herself had been examining a few. You weren’t lying, and the screen didn’t lie either.

“Well. Thanks.” she mumbled, scooting out from behind the desk.

As you watched her go, you found the exhaustion and irritation of the day was slowly becoming overshadowed by a larger, far less negative cognition. Why did the Sheriff want that file? What was it about this George Wilkins that had her so worked up? And why did you care?

Three levels up into your apartment and you were still asking yourself that question. One twist of your key and you were inside. A weight left your shoulders as you slipped inside, and you shut your eyes in relief. The door was solid beneath your back, and the smell of soup drifted out. Hunched over a stack of papers sat the white haired, uniformed form of Mayor Holland, as calm and measured as he’d always been.

“Ah. You’re home.” Bernard, your father sighed, looking up from the recliner.

Blue eyes landed on you, and he huffed out a laugh as he took in your frazzled form. Coffee-stained, dusty and the image of worked to the bone, he couldn’t help comparing his younger self to you. How many late nights had he worked, surviving on watery coffee and cafeteria cuisine? There was a story behind this, and he was anxious to hear it.

“Did you spill coffee on yourself, what happened?” he smirked, taking off his glasses to see you better.

His teeth were straight and white, devoid of any crookedness or discoloration. It was the product of bi-yearly dentist visits since he was a child. His hair was combed neatly, and he carried the countenance of a man too stuck in his ways to ever bother relaxing. It was exactly what you needed to see after such a stupidly tiring day.

“Sheriff Nichols came in during lunch and rifled through the records I’d been reorganizing. The shelf collapsed in aisle H, you know?” you began, walking into the living room. “I agreed to help her find the record she was after, off the books like an idiot, and the thanks I got was coffee on myself and several pristinely maintained files.” you irritatedly reported, walking into the kitchen.

“You made soup?” you eyed the pot, stomach growling hopefully.

If you’d been watching Bernard in that moment, you would’ve seen how his eyes clouded over in concern. His jaw twitched, eyes working in small patterns over the wallpaper as he worded his next statement with as much care as possible. You were too busy ladling yourself a bowl of the most delicious looking soup to notice his change in demeanor.

“You said she was rifling through files? She didn’t have clearance, did she?” Bernard asked, keeping his tone casual.

The last thing he wanted was to drag you into this. Or more accurately, ignite your curiosity.

“Yup. Not a single request. I didn’t end up finding the file she wanted, so I’m not going to get into hot water…” you paused.

As soon as you processed what you said, it became clear just how close you had been to fucking up, admitting it to your former supervisor of all people.

“I shouldn’t have let her get away with that without reporting it. I can go back and fill out a violations slip right now, I wasn’t thinking, the files were all wet-”

Two firm hands landed on your shoulders, squeezing twice. This wasn’t something you needed to run yourself ragged over, and Bernard knew that.

“This wasn’t your fault. You were trying to be helpful because she’s the Sheriff, and causing problems with the Sheriff is arguably worse than forgetting a standard protocol of IT.” he said calmly.

He let you process his words, guiding you to sit down at the table while he ladled himself a bowl of soup as well. One look at his side profile, and you noticed how relaxed his face was..

“She was in the records department without clearance only once?”

Again he gave you time to process, his tone even and controlled.

“Twice. I grabbed food from the cafeteria right after my shift and she came up to ask if I’d found it. I hadn’t looked for the file at that point, so I went back and looked.” you reported,

Your tone matched his in evenness. Hysterics and anxiety wouldn’t buy you any points, but a simple relation of the circumstances would.

“Did she touch any files when she was in there with you?” Bernard asked, walking over and sitting quietly across from you.

“No, that time I was the only one looking at the files.”

Bernard didn’t visibly show his relief, but he felt it. The tension in his chest dissipated, and he found himself able to quietly eat.

“You did the right thing. Tomorrow morning go into the office and write the report. Detail exactly which rows you found her rummaging through and include the second, supervised visit.” Bernard quietly instructed.

The room went quiet, the pair of you eating your meal without further comment. Only when the bottom of both of your bowls was empty did he finally bring up his most significant instruction.

“A final note.” Bernard stated, tone almost emotionless. “As a rule, try to avoid Juliette Nichols as much as possible.”

The way he said it, the firm command interwoven between the sentence disturbed you. You’d heard him use this tone few times during your life, and each had been a direct command to enforce your safety. But the threat Sheriff Nichols could pose to you simply didn’t compute. Your eyes flickered, and Bernard caught that spark of damnable curiosity.

“Do I ask why?”

“No. No you do not.”

Bernard met your eyes, blue irises hard and demanding. It was a simple matter of knowing something you didn’t, something you couldn’t know. Your only course of action from here was to obey, and so you would. The chair screeched as you stood, quietly reaching for his empty bowl. The dishes were a welcome distraction from the sudden severity he had imposed upon you, thus you retreated to it. Bernard returned to his files, busying himself with the concerns of Silo management. Neither of you spoke, not until you went to leave the room.

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight.”

The soft click of the bathroom door shut you out from the force that was Bernard Holland. The conversation had rattled you, for reasons you couldn’t quite name. As much as you tried to place it, whittle down the particular mannerisms he’d used during the conversation that had spooked you so, you couldn’t. Perhaps it had been the suddenness of it, the way he’d gone from relaxed to impenetrably stern over a bowl of soup. The more you tried to dwell on it, the less you could figure it out. The semantics were abandoned, along with your coffee stained blouse.

Hot water blasted down from the shower head, soaking the tense muscles of your neck and shoulders until they went completely lax. Then, and only then, did you dare ask that treacherous question that itched provocatively over your tongue. A whisper, killed by the sound of water hitting the shower floor.

“Why can’t I talk to Juliette?”

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alastorsfuckassbob · 1 year ago

Text

Killing Me Softly- 4

AlastorxFem!Reader part 4

A/N: Ok so this is..uh LONG but its finally here!!! Val's text is in purple, yours is in blue, and Alastor's is red! As always bolded portions are the past..Yes I did revert to using another song sue me. As always: MINORS DNI

Plot: Valentino is a piece of shit You and Al are so shitty at feelings and communication..thats basically it.

⚠️Warnings:⚠️

-Sexual innuendos (they aren't graphic but they are spicy)

-Domestic abuse (this got a lot worse so please be mindful of that and use your own discretion- you are responsible for your internet consumption)

-Alcohol use AND abuse

-Violence!! ~mentions of blood~

-A LOT of cursing 🤠

You had decided to take “small nap” to rid your body of the final remnants of exhaustion from night before. That so called “small nap” somehow lasted a good ten hours, leaving you with only two before you needed to arrive at the club again. You sat on the edge of your bathroom counter, the excess silky fabric of your slip cascading over the edge. You grab a stray eyeshadow pallet and begin to apply your makeup. You had decided on an inky toned smoky eye and a lightly lined liquid lip. It was a bit different from your usual look, but it complemented your new wardrobe perfectly. You glanced over at the folded scarlet fabric, excited to wear it again.

You had decided to get ready at home today. Angel wasn’t working tonight, so there was no sense in being at the club earlier than you really needed to be. You snapped your fingers, and the shadow behind you began to style your h/c hair in his place. It wasn’t often Angel didn’t have to work on a Saturday night. Even in Hell, weekends came with higher foot traffic. Val insisted he had earned a break after yesterday’s long shoot. It was a rare occasion but not entirely out of character. Val couldn’t break his favorite toy.

After a few more pins, the shadow dawned a bright smile and jazz hands upon completing your hair. You looked absolutely gorgeous, the pitch black entity had done a fantastic job. Your hair was twisted into bouncy side swept curls adorned with tiny sparkling gems. You wanted to meticulously appreciate the effort it had so graciously put in, but your guilt riddled conscience kept you from any real form of enjoyment.

You needed to stop thinking of him. The more you let yourself fall back on memory, the more you would love him. The more you loved him ,the more it would hurt when he realized he couldn’t love you anymore. It wasn’t his fault, no one could. This was your penance. It wasn’t supposed to be easy.

Memory had sunk its claws into your wrist. It hopelessly dragged you along by its blood lined chains and scarlet stained fingertips like an old desperate beggar. The hold Valentino had on your soul was insubstantial in comparison to the grasp Alastor had on your heart. You didn’t understand why that was. Val was your whole life, and he would be until eternity itself figured out a way to die. It would make sense for him to reside in the core of your thought, but he didn’t, he never stayed there long.

Unlike Alastor, Val owned you.

Unlike Alastor, he was there

Unlike Alastor,

you could actually feel his lips on your skin.

He had a predictable consistency to him. It was always the same constant battle between his unquenchable hatred and guilty heart.

Val insisted he “loved” you in his own way. From the shackles on your wrists, he had tied you to the stake-All so that he could look for your love. He struck the match against your skin, and lit you both ablaze because he hated that he wanted it. In the end it would never matter how many times the heat touched your skin, it wasn’t going to feel like love.

You knew what that was supposed to feel like. You had shared your heart with a great many souls in your time on Earth. Love was bathed in forgiveness and brushed with magnolia petal kisses. That love didn’t see you through eyes lined with antagonism, sparkled with fury and blended out with shades of exasperation.

Valentino did.

His lips were colored in hot pink brutality. It would smear across your skin with every kiss. He would leave you haloed in messy lipstick stain bruises and be on his way.

His absence never lasted long. The color in his cheeks was permanently rouged with the lethality of your figure. Eventually, the guilt would seep through his pores, and the chemical reaction would wash his face of your blood. He would return with a silver plated tin bracelet and a few mangled words of affirmation.

“ Y/n, you know I love you. I didn’t mean a word of it Mi Amore. You are the most beautiful demon this side of hell. I just get so upset sometimes there’s nothing else I can do. I can’t control my anger Amorcito, you know that.”

It’s not that he couldn’t control his anger, he was fully capable. He just didn’t. He never thought it was important to try. Even in his time on Earth, he didn’t care to put forth the effort. He was born with distain and died with detestation. He had always been this way. The guilt he felt afterward would never amount to the freedom found in his bloodied hands. There wasn't a finite limit to the apologies he could patch the holes he punched into your heart with. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. Any remorse he felt would slip from his conscience like every instance before it. It made sense how quickly he was able to rise into over lord status.

Your focus shifts to the cherry fabric folded beside of you. You haphazardly grab the dress, lifting it over your head. Its crystal beads babbling in your ear as you slide it on. For a moment, the ghost of your human body silhouettes your demonic figure in the mirror. Distant memories began to bubble up to the surface. In the true spirit of avoidance, you hopelessly shut them out as you grabbed your satin purse and walked out the door.

As you left the building the newly warmed breeze swirled through your hair. The sunny weather practically lifting your wings for you as you flew towards the club. You reveled in the distance it granted you from your life. From the above clouds, Hell was actually rather pretty. The seemingly dull color scheme found a bit more variation the higher you flew. The different areas of the city blending into one. With each flap of your wings, the clouds whispered murmurs of freedom into your ears. For just a moment, it almost didn’t feel like hell.

The rest of the flight is relatively peaceful, excluding the occasional scream from the city below. Eventually you arrive at the club and head to your dressing room. You plop down on the velvety plush sofa seated against the wall. It was still a bit early for places, so you elected to read one of Angel’s trashy magazine to pass the time. A ginger knock at the door draws your focus from celebrity scandals and tv drama.

“Amorcito”

Valentino’s voice worms itself into your ear. He leans against the door frame looking for any indication of fear on your face. He didn’t want to scare you off before he had the chance to explain himself. You shoot him a tired glare and return to your magazine. Even if you wanted to answer it’s not like you had the ability to.

“Right, I forgot.” He muses, his smirk practically bleeding into his eyes. With a wave of his hand , the sigil on your wrist begins to spark in a hot pink glow. In a puff of smoke, your voice returns to you.

“Do you need something Val” you ask. It comes out a bit raspier than you had intended. Hopefully he didn't take it as a form of aggression. You had somehow landed yourself in his good graces, and you didn’t want to fall from them any sooner than you had to.

“I can’t have you sitting silent for your dear clients now can I y/n?”

You didn’t respond. Mentally, you rolled your eyes. The statement was laughable. He would tear your soul to pieces if he could hear the sarcasm racketing around your brain at the current moment.

“Mi amor, you know I didn’t mean it. I can’t have my favorite muñeca upset with me, can I?”

You stay silent. Your body still wept with the soreness of the night before, but he had come here with the expectation you would nurse his pride back to health.

“You know that I love you baby” His tone was permeated with an emotion you couldn't quite place. For the first time, the desperation on his face surpassed the bloodlust. It lacked his usual innuendos and crude curses. If you hadn't known better you might have believed he really did- yet something deep within you really did want to believe he could be good. Maybe he didn't love you but he did feel slightly sorry and maybe that would be enough. You stood up from the sofa and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I know you do Val. Don't worry about it" The words are sweet but the emotion behind them is entirely dead. His arm slinked around your waist, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips.

"I want to thank you, for the dress. Its really beautiful. You have great taste” You added. Your hand layered on top of his, a gentle, but very obviously fake smile curving into your lips. Val loved compliments, the antennae on his forehead usually perked up whenever he received one.

To your surprise, he started to laugh, his shoulders shaking in its ferocity. “ Y/n you can’t be serious.”

You didn’t really understand what was funny or why you were nervously laughing along with him. You didn’t have to know why, you just had to go along with it. If you had to guess, he was probably intoxicated in one way or another. Most of the other performers and employees constantly were on some level. It would make sense if he was too. “I’m almost insulted you would even pretend that I would put you in something that tacky, and not to mention conservative. I treat you better than that don’t I?”

With that, you were even more confused..Did he not gift you the dress? Where the hell else would it come from? You couldn't even begin to craft a response. You had to come up with something quickly, and improvisation(lying) was not your best skill. Your mind darted from one lame excuse to another. You didn’t have time to think critically about it you just had to say something.

“Yeah I thought it would be a funny joke, I agree it is a bit old fashioned, It definitely needs a little update..I liked the color though.” You lied straight through your teeth. It wasn't clear if he had bought into your practically incoherent rambling. As all good liars do, you dug the hole a few feet deeper with a few more details to seal the deal. “I wasn’t sure how to alter it so I thought I’d ask you for your opinion”.

Even if the excuse was lame, it covered all the bases.

“In my opinion we shred it” His quiet laugh sounded egotistical to say the least. If something or someone didn't fit his taste he saw no reason why it should exist.

Disappointment drapes your frame from the tips of your horns to the bottom of your heels. Even if the dress had apparently spawned from some freaky stalker, you really did like it.

“Are you sure I couldn’t just wear it as it is for one night? I could add a slit or something for the next time "Hope laced your bargain as you spoke. You knew he would probably say no but you couldn't help but ask.

“Y/n, Baby, as hot as I think you look in anything. This dress is going to need some serious alterations if you expect to wear it in front of our rowdy crowd. I can't let you go out there dressed like a nun, it would be awful for business” His face twists into a sly sneer. An idea bubbled on the surface of his thoughts.Before you can register what is happening, his hands are tracing the outline of your hips. Each separated claw of his fingers ran down your body until they stopped just above the outer edge of each thigh. On the surface the action didn't exhibit his typically harmful nature, but if you dared to look even a fraction of an inch closer you would see its minatory subtext.

“Don’t worry, I think we can figure out something simple out for tonight”. His fingers draw together into a unified line. He digs his nails in a little deeper into you as he drags them down your leg until they reach the floor. He had effectively sliced a high slit on both sides of the dress, with little to no effort. He had pushed a little too deeply in some areas, small pricks of blood leaked from a few irregularly shaped scratches in consequence.

“You look like perfection in red baby”, he breaths out. He stayed crouched on the floor for a moment. You couldn’t tell if he was admiring the surprisingly straight lines of his work or the dots of blood that speckled your skin. He takes your hand in his and places a wet kiss on your wrist where the sigil had been burned into your skin.

“I can’t wait to see you shine tonight Amorcito”

He kissed up your arm as he rose from the floor. The way his tongue slithered around your forearm made you dreadfully uncomfortable. The feeling was slimy and otherwise indescribable. You were almost grateful you didn’t have the words to describe your disgust so that the feeling would die with you instead of being passed around to others by language.

You were eternally grateful when he finally walked through the exit. He was finished with his fun with you, at least for now.The club had opened a little more than ten minutes ago. As its owner, he had an obligation to fulfill his duties (flirt with hot guys) ,and supervise the club floor (get blackout drunk and fuck aforementioned hot guys ). Val loved to watch as sinners got down and dirty in the corners of his dimly lit clubs. It was a bit of an ego boost to know he had helped create an environment that led to that sort of thing. He enjoyed the epigrammatic conversations and miscellaneous substance his customers brought with them. He was great at sharing when it came to things that weren’t his own. He loved to hear them praise his accomplishments, and disclose the desire they shared for him and his performers almost as he loved to get high. By the look of tonights crowd, he was in for another pleasurable evening, or so he thought.

A curt laugh track interrupted the regularly scheduled cycle of conversation. Val’s head practically spun backwards upon noticing the deer eared demon lounging at the edge of the balcony.

"What the fuck is he doing here" Val grunted under his breath. He was supposed to be dead.

Alastor, apparently, never received the memo. He sat with a glass of indifferent whiskey in the VIP segment of the balcony above. He was fitted in a well cut vermilion pin stripe suit and a pair of wing tipped oxfords. Despite his polished exterior and perpetual smile, his eyes were glossed in boredom.

The conversations of lower demons never really intrigued him, they didn't speak much about anything outside of the bounds of recreational drug use. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he had spent time in that particular circle back in his younger days. Perhaps it was the drastic change of aesthetic, or maybe the culture surrounding it had just shifted too much for his liking, but it just didn’t appeal to him anymore. Alastor found the environment dreadfully exhausting. The distinct loud bump of electronic base and synthesized beats made it hard to hear his own thoughts. He was in for a long boring night. There really wasn’t anything more for him to do than pass judgment on the tasteless decor.

He looked around at the tacky overtly sexual paintings hung against the walls. It was one of Valentino’s classier clubs, but that doesn’t mean the interior designer wasn’t entirely delusional when they picked out its color pallet. For lack of a better word, it was just ugly. The Deep pinks and vibrant reds of the walls accented the white porcelain pillars that framed them. (Vaguely reminiscent of a tampon) The dark purple of the leathery chairs somehow blended in with the black marble tile in such a hideous way the word “unity” didn’t even begin to spark his mind.

With the exception of its more intimate performance space and higher end clientele, it wasn’t that much different than the typical club experience Valentino provided. It still featured his usual sex rooms and coke lined tables, despite its overall calmer energy. Alastor didn’t understand how you ended up in a place like this. It didn’t seem like you. He had instructed the newest soul under his contract to follow you and figure out your daily routine and “basic facts of life”. He would never admit it, but he was mostly curious to learn of your relationship status. He wanted to know if you had gotten married or if you had moved on. He had been dead for years ,it would make sense if you had. He didn’t want to step back into your life unless he knew everything.He needed to know what approach would work best on you. “Evidently” you weren’t just outwardly spouting that information into the hilltops. The poor soul came back with a list of two locations and not much else. Naturally, it didn’t get to live much longer. He was not a man to have his time wasted. If he wanted something done correctly the first time he should have just done it himself. So here he was, awaiting your performance.

Valentino walked across the crowded floor, his clenched fists glued to his sides. Alastor’s bored expression made his blood boil. He carelessly dodged dancing couples and trays of champagne in his quiet anger. Val never liked that old timey prick or his rickety dated voice. It grated his ears endlessly, not to mention he was just flat out annoying. If Val wanted to listen to some random lanky old man’s diet British accent and senseless uppity rambles; he would have turned on Downton Abby or some other old pretentious shit. Each step he took towards the radio demon deepened the scowling smirk growing on his face. If Alastor was going to ever so nonchalantly seat him self and a glass of whiskey in the VIP section of HIS club, at least one of them going to have his fun with it.

“I didn't take you to be a fan of my work Alastor, lovely to see you as always” Val slid into the booth across from him. The remaining groups still seated at the surrounding tables grabbed their drinks and found a better place to be. It was a well known fact the two of them weren’t friends

“I am most decidedly not! however the streets of hell will not stop praising a certain canary singing on your steps, and I am by far intrigued" His eyed narrowed as his grin grew wider.

“Oh really? It is my little siren you are interested in? Don’t let her pretty little face fool you, she’s a real bitch to work with. She thinks shes hot shit just because the sound of her voice is enough to chain any demon.” He feigned disinterest, flicking his nails to the side to observing their color.

“Oh really~Where ever did you find her? Surely if she is this talented I would have heard of her already" Agitation seethed through Alastor's voice. He had never liked Valentino, he found his methods to be crude and unseemly. The way he spoke of you hazed Alastor's vision in permanent red. He had killed far greater demons for far less than the disrespect he had sent your way. However, he knew he couldn't act on that urge quite yet. He was on a mission. He needed to know more about why you were here first in the first place. No one here would know better than the sleazy club owner himself.

“ I don’t really think that’s your business" Valentino accused, venom dripping from his tongue. He didn't really care why the radio demon had taken such a fast interest in a lowly sinner like you. It didn't matter. It gave him something to work with. He had something he didn’t. Pride is a fickle thing, he could use this to get under his skin.

He didn't want a physical altercation by any means, not in his own territory anyway. Vox would never let him live it down if he started a fight in his own club and accidentally tore it to the ground in the process. A verbal sparring session would have to do for now. Val loved starting any sort of argument he could conceive.

"My little dove tends to shy away from the limelight. She used to do all of her performances behind a mask, but don’t you worry I was able to coax her out of it." (are you secretly the masked singer?? omg) "You'll be in for a wonderful show tonight." Pride overtook Valentino's usually mendacious features as he spoke. He had something Alastor didn't. Val wanted nothing more than to spark jealousy in his heart. Alastor, wasn't oblivious to his intentions, it just wasn't his primary focus. More-so, he felt frustrated with questions he couldn't ask. You couldn't have been in Hell for more than a few days. How many performances had you really had time for? The possibility you had existed down here for any longer than that didn't exist to him.

"Now Valentino, there's no reason to be secretive, unless you have something to hide. Surely if this woman is as fantastic as you say she is, there is no need to hide the details of her origin, I'm sure it must be quite the story" A deceitful glimmer coruscated his smile, as he took another careless swig of whiskey. His pointed fingers gripped tighter around the glass, cracking its edge.

" Actually-it’s the opposite, trust me its not even worth mentioning” Val laughed. “Why not enjoy the present and focus on her current skillset a? Surely you must have seen her around somewhere, she’s a real star on film." His tone was maliciously sweet, but the dry rasp of his voice revealed the truth. A dark glint flashed in his eyes as he thought of your previous work.

Getting information out of "barney the big purple pimp" Valentino was going to be harder than Alastor had previously anticipated. Any information he might’ve had on you was under lock and key. At this point, he considered just ripping off Valentino's stupid little egg shaped head and calling it a day. He didn't understand what you saw in him or this dingy sweat stained bar. In your time on earth, the two of you had spent many nights dancing together in the speakeasies and glitzy clubs of New Orleans. This wasn't the type of establishment you would usually go in for. He had always known you to see the best in others, even if they so evidently didn't deserve it. You sharpened your sword for those you deemed worthy even if they despised you for it. If you were here it must meant you had seen something worth redemption within him.

"You must be very proud of her accomplishments to rave on about her in this way" Alastor’s voice was fitted in the same snarky tone you often took with Valentino, but unlike you, he could tear the whole club apart with a snap of his fingers. Val didn’t want to deal with that, not here. He would have to wait and slit the radio demon's throat outside of his territory.

"Enjoy the show Alastor.” He quipped promptly showing the conversation to its end. Valentino walked away before he could get in a word otherwise.

Val didn’t know the nature of Alastor’s apparent attraction towards you, but he personally knew the pain desperately wanting something you couldn't have caused. Ironically, Alastor was the indirect cause of that familiarity. Through Valentino's partnership with Vox, obsession had sprouted. Something about the way his televised voice distorted in anger drew him in. He had been caught on his snarky personality and quick wit almost as much as the pitiful reassurances the TV demon would occasionally throw his way. He knew the feelings he had amounted for Vox were never going to be reciprocated. He would never look his way so long as the radio demon walked the streets of hell. Even if Valentino couldn’t bring about his revenge in his typical violent way, he was determined to get it. You were the key he didn’t know he had. After all, no sinner could resist the call of your sweet song or the appeal of your hips. The radio demon would be no different.

Eventually, one of Val’s assistants called you to places. You walk through the backstage area, a trail of glittery red streaming behind you. You always loved the moment before the show began. It was typically quiet, everyone attended to their own business. They rarely stopped to bother you, it offered you a moment of order before the chaos this performance would plunge you into. You grab a sugar rimmed shot glass from underneath the bar cart left for the performers. You didn’t bother to read the labels on the bottle as you poured a heavy handed shot. As soon as the liquid touched your lips you realized it had been gin. Despite the burning in your throat, and the sour taste it left in your mouth, you refilled the glass a few more times. On some level, you felt guilty for the amount of alcohol you had just consumed.On a deeper level, you knew you couldn’t make it through a set without it. It was a means to an end, nothing more.

Valentino’s compulsion for revenge had led him towards the velvety amethyst curtains of the stage you stood behind. Whatever good mood he was in earlier had vanished, his disposition was dripped in murderous rage. He storms up to you, roughly taking your chin in his hand.

“I don't fucking know why or how but the radio demon is here. You better make me look good-I’ve already throughly sung your praises and I will not be embarrassed in front of that shit head” He paced as he spoke hostility following at his heels. “For some reason, he has taken an interest in you. I need you to give an extra little show to the balcony he’s seated in the center. Hes the lanky washed out red asshole with the bitchy little antlers, you can’t miss him.” The words he had spoken jumbled in your brain. You weren’t really paying attention, the calming aura of the alcohol had begun to hit your system.

“I thought he was dead, are you sure it’s him?” you mumbled as you picked of the remaining sugar crystals from your glass.

You had briefly heard of the radio demon in your time-He hadn’t been around for years, most demons speculated that someone finally managed to kill him. He disappeared three years after your arrival in hell, but his methods left a lasting impression. The agonizing screams he had broadcasted still echoed in your dreams occasionally. However, despite your deeply rooted fear, you admired him on some level. He was clever to say the least, and his morals weren’t entirely questionable either. He thought dealing in cheaper souls was crass and frankly unnecessary. He left weaker demons alone, unless they stepped in the way of his path.He wouldn’t pick a fight with anyone he didn’t deem strong enough to fight back.

His hands shoot against your throat, the force of the action drags you into sobriety. His fingers thrust deeper into your skin as he lifts you from the floor by your neck. He had a lot riding on this, and he wasn’t going to let your indifference ruin that. Your grasp on the shot glass loosens as your vision begins to spot from the lack of oxygen. It falls from your hand and shatters with the impact.

“Your job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to get out there and make me look good” he drags your body closer and growls into your ear.

He slams your body against the floor of fragmented glass. The sole of his foot makes contact with the palm of your hand, pushing the shards deeper into your skin. Crimson flowed through the wounds in a steady pour. Hot tears took residence in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

“ If you fuck this up for me, I’ll do a lot worse than just take your voice Y/n. You don’t want to see me angry. I promise you, you won’t like it.” His foot presses harder against your skin. His dark tone sends shivers down your spine. He had released his grasp on you, but the syllables that slithered out of his mouth constricted around your throat.

Despite your decision not to cry, the tears began to spill. They weren’t entirely motivated by the pain. The situation had become too similar to those that had existed in your life, and this was your body’s reaction to that. The heat from his glare could have cauterized your wounds. He removed his foot from your hand as he crouched down next to your tear stained figure. His fingers graze the edges of your cheek. His touch is surprisingly gentle as he wipes droplets from your face.

“I can’t wait to see you tonight Amorcito, you always put on such a good show for me.” He kisses your injured hand, the cuts begin to close as his lips come into contact with your skin. He licks the remaining blood from his lips and returns to the club floor- leaving you in a pool of maroon colored regret and splintering glass.

You watch the stage manager’s eyes roll as they grab a mop to clean up the mess. Whatever they were getting payed, it wasn’t enough. Although the ordeal wasn’t out of the ordinary, it was definitely inconvenient. You stand up from the floor brushing the remaining glass off of your dress and walk through the curtains and onto the stage. Even without a physical mask, you were still wearing one. You dawned a bright sultry smile and an uppity attitude as you waved to your adoring fans. At times the outlandishly theatric persona could be fun. The ecstatic cheers of the crowd after each movement made you feel powerful in an odd way. The attention often fueled your performance into the more seductive destination Val had wanted to begin with. It was a means to an end, nothing more.

“Good evening to all of my lovely sinners in the audience” The sound of your voice echoed over the endless chatter of the club. You sat down at the edge of the rounded stage, your legs dangling over its edge. The short demon in front of you practically drooled as your body edged a little more off the platform in his direction. You noticed his reaction and wanted to take things a step further. Your wings spread, taking you closer to the table he sat at, the edge of your finger tilting his head up to meet your own.

“I’ve got a wonderful show in store for just you tonight” Seduction over took your tone as you blew the demon a kiss leaving the entire table absolutely dumbfounded. You travel back to the stage with various sexual remarks towards the other inhabitants. You sit back on the stage, slowly extending your legs to the side, crossing them as you do. You tease the slits in your dress to the side revealing a bit more skin. The patrons erupt into a sea deafening screams.

The lights suddenly cut out, you dissipated with them. The shred of an electric guitar echoed throughout the space. An array of red and purple spotlights flood the center of the stage. You reappear in a puff of smoke as they do. The music was a bit “edgier” than what you’d usually go for. The genres you listened to spanned a vast array of styles, but you usually preferred to sing the softer tunes of the earlier decades. Valentino’s typical clientele however, needed a newer, rougher pop/rock sound. The drum set clicks in tandem with the percussive click of your heels as you begin your dance.

A wickedly wide grin stretches across your face, you were ready to start the show. You began to sing.

“I heard he sang a good song

I heard he had a style”

This was your compromise. You could sing anything you wanted to so long as you updated the instrumentals. Most of the people in the club were too wasted to listen to the lyrics anyway. It didn’t really matter what you sang as long as you sounded good and looked hot doing it. Hell’s population would eat up anything you served them. Their mouths began to water as you drop to the floor, arching your back away from them. The music flowed through you, awakening a deep sensuality in your movement . Each twist of your hips accented the intense chords and high hat hits of the accompaniment. Your hair formed a halo around you as you turned onto your back. Your legs extend into the air earning an influx of vulgar cheers from the surrounding demons. Any softness your voice had once held disappeared as growled into the next phrase.

“And so I came to see him

To listen for a while”

You slowly slid up from the floor, your hands following the shape of your curves until they reached pit of your neck. Your fingers splayed against its circumference as you rolled your eyes back into your head. You glanced up to the balcony to make sure the radio demon was watching, the dim lighting prevented you from seeing anything more than his silhouette.

Alastor wasn’t entirely sure what to make of the glance you threw him, or your performance. On the one hand, he was endlessly enamored with you. Alastor would have dedicated the rest of his life to sing your praises in that moment if you had just asked him to. He loved to listen to you sing and watch you dance in any context.

On the other hand however, it made him extraordinarily jealous. He hated the lewd comments and desire filled glances of the other demons around him. It made sense they were attracted to someone like you, but that doesn’t mean he liked that they were. He would remember each face that dared utter such filthy things about you, and deal with them later. His attention shifted back to your voice as you spun your voice into a decadent riff.

“And there he was this young boy

A stranger to my eyes”

You turned upstage to the silver pole that spun in its center. Hundreds of eyes glazed over in pure lust as your spine pressed against the pole. You were practically suffocated with screams as your form flipped upside down. You dropped one arm from the pole, the tips of your wings grazing the floor as your newly freed hand followed the lines of your body.

Your exaggerated and frankly pornographic expressions as you twisted against the pole made Alastor apprehensive. The feeling of unease was not caused by disgust but concern. As much as he loved to listen to you sing, this didn’t feel right for him to watch. It felt too fake. You looked far too uncomfortable for his liking.He had seen you in a more intimate light before. Even decades later the mere thought of your gentle gasps and fluttering lashes dragged him up from hell and sent him straight to heaven. He was familiar with the grind of your hips against his own, and the feeling of your hands in his. He knew every freckle on your body and the exact degree of your spine’s curvature. He loved nothing more than to worship each fold in your figure. He adored the gentle light that always seemed to flicker in your eyes in those sensitive moments. He reveled in your loving glances and gentle touches he was not bothered with the sexuality of it all but rather its performative nature. This felt too over the top. Despite your energetic movements and sensual smile, your eyes were cold and dead. He didn’t want his memory caught on your legs wrapped around his waist or his head between your thighs if it was just a performance. It didn’t feel right to. He pushed the thoughts from his mind and focused on the sound of your voice. Even with its dolorous tamber the whisper of your gentle heart found its way to seep through.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

You notice Val seated between two tall blonde demons with their legs crossed over his. He was very clearly not impressed with them or your movements on the pole. His disinterest grew with each sip of his drink. He gives you a pressing look. In that moment you knew exactly what he wanted. He had had enough of your stalling. You looked good but you needed to look better.

"Killing me softly with his song

Telling my whole life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

With a slight roll of your eyes, you fly up to the balcony. You place yourself onto the thick marbled railing with your back to the radio demon. With a quick twist your of your hips, you straddle the banister your body rolling against it ever so slightly. You make direct eye contact with the patron in the center booth. He wore a mask crafted in wilted black rose petals and the scent of death, but underneath he held your late lover’s face. His deep red eyes meet your own e/c ones The glimmer of his previously golden swirled dark brown eyes clashed against his current ghostly red ones He brushed a strand of his straightened two toned hair to the side of his face. He carried the same nose, body, and expression as Alastor- Your Alastor. You turn upstage to compose yourself. You sway your hips to the beat of the music in order to keep up appearances. You turn your weary head behind you to his table to make sure you hadn’t imagined it. Even in its outstretched state, his smile gave him away. It really was him. After years of searching, you had finally found him, or better yet, he found you. For just a moment, you had forgotten your penance and your heart flowed with oceans of love. You floated within them in pure ecstasy. In that moment, and animosity you held for him faded away with the weight of your excitement.

"I felt all flushed with fever

Embarrassed by the crowd"

Abruptly the realization hits you, he was seated where the radio demon should have been- that must mean that Alastor; Your Alastor, was the radio demon. Your mind flipped to the initial radio broadcast he first spoke to you with, as well as the note signed “yours truly”. Alastor had used that phrase so often as a sign off from the radio show…..Perhaps you weren’t the sharpest little crayon in the demon filled box- considering the embarrassingly long time it took you to put the pieces together.

"I felt he found my letters

And read each one out loud"

Realizing this sent a wave of relief through you. Perhaps he could free you from this life, he was one of the strongest demons in hell. If anyone could break your contract with Valentino, it would be him...Would he even consider it? Your mind swirled in a storm of questions. Why the sudden change? As the relief of the initial realization began to fade and a new understanding took root. He had left you in life, why would he want to help you now?

You couldn’t help but wonder why he was really here. Considering his previous track record, nothing made sense. Why would he speak to you within his broadcast, or gift you the dress, or show up to your workplace if he hadn’t payed you any mind in such a long time?

He must have wanted something from you. That would be the only logical reason for his sudden appearance. If he truly had always been the radio demon, he held power. He had all of the necessary resources to find you and he never did. He didn’t need to.

"I prayed that he would finish

But he just kept right on"

You think back to the various gifts he would purchase you before he asked something of you, or the roses he would send to your apartment if you two had an argument in your life together. Your years of wondering why he had left boiled down to one simplistic answer…He had always just needed something. The more you thought on this, the more painfully obvious it became. He wasn’t here because he loved you. He was only here because you had become convenient again.The second he deemed you impractical, he would leave you as he had before.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words"

You fly away from the balcony, sliding down the metal pole in the center of the stage to reach the floor. You were thankful the stage lights blinded you from his pressing gaze once you were on the ground. You would ignore the balcony entirely for the remainder of the performance. It didn’t matter if Valentino would be upset, you couldn’t bear to look at Alastor anymore- Yet even with your newfound distance, he had chained you to memory. You were transported back to the downtown apartment in which you had previously spent so many hours with him in.

1930 New Orleans: Your apartment

The candlelit room was a patchwork of miscellaneous vintage furnishings and modern decorative trinkets. You had moved into your apartment not long after your father had passed. Most of the items within it were gifted to you upon his death. He preferred victorian architecture over all else, it was natural his taste in interior design would follow. You leaned against the sage patterned love seat with a cooling cup of tea in hand. The star speckled sky, and tepid air of late April seep through your opened window.

You awaited the arrival of your lover. Alastor wasn’t a man to be late. He was meticulously early and always prepared. His absence had begun to torment you in anxiety. The grandfather clock stationed in the corner of the room struck midnight, furthering your worries. He was supposed to arrive at 7:30, obviously it was long past that.

He had promised to take you out dancing to make up for the late hours he had begun to keep at the studio. He had become more withdrawn than you cared to admit. He disappeared for days at a time. On the few days you managed to get ahold of him, he dismissed you, insisting he needed to keep working on his show. It aggravated you to no end, but you would never want to be another obstacle on the way to his dreams. It was easier to let it go and enjoy the time you did have with him.

You had the bad habit of jumping to the worst scenario.You didn’t live in the safest sector of the city, it was entirely possible he had been attacked along the way. Your mind shifts to the uprising of missing person’s cases New Orleans had been plagued with. The media speculated a killer of some kind, but the police department denied those theories. They hadn’t found any of the bodies, and refused to believe they were going to.

If he wasn’t here within the next hour, you were going to search for him yourself.

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

An abrupt knock steals you from your worries, you rush to its source without a second thought. You open the door to the dark curly haired man you had been waiting for. To your surprise, his usually tidy hair was unkempt and rumpled around his newly bruised face. His disheveled blood stained clothing reflected the crimson pouring from his nose. You froze like a deer in headlights, it was one hell of a way to show up for a date.

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

“Oh my god” you whispered under your breath. Your hands appear at the sides of his face tracing each little scratch and the deep bruise forming around his eye. “Love..what happened? Are you okay?” You stuttered out.

He sent you a sheepish smile, not wanting to raise any concerns.“May I come in” he asked placing his hand on top of your own.

His “previous activities” were rather impromptu. Usually, his targets were much better thought out, and handled much more methodically. Although he enjoyed the anguished screams of his victims, he would never hurt anyone who wasn’t actively or indirectly hurting you, the same applied to this kill. The timing wasn’t ideal but it was a necessity.

He had decided to walk to the flower shop from the station so he could surprise you with a fresh bouquet before your date. He felt tremendously guilty for his recent absences, and wanted to alleviate that with a gift. Even if he missed you dreadfully, New Orleans birthed the scum of the earth. It was more important to keep you protected than to keep long expanses of your company. He would never forgive himself if something he could have prevented happened to you.

Upon his arrival into the shop, he was rather annoyed with the short brutish man that held up the line. He shamelessly flirted with the owner of the shop, who very clearly did not care for his advances. Alastor wouldn’t stand for such behavior. It was better to deal with the issue then instead of allowing you to continue to exist in a world full of degenerates. He would do anything to keep you safe.

Once the man had finally left, he followed him until they reached a quiet alley. He pulled the knife from his coat pocket, ready to strike. He stabbed the man’s back and twisted the knife in as far as it would go. However, the man was a bit stronger than he anticipated. It was the first time anyone had bothered to fight back.

His most recent kill had gotten sloppy, and here he was covered in blood on your doorstep in consequence. He never wanted any of the evidence to be tied to you, so he had learned to keep his distance. On this particular occasion however, he didn’t have much of a choice. He had dismembered the body and left it tucked in an alleyway, to be disposed of later. The only evidence remaining was the blood staining his clothes. If someone saw him walking through town in his disorderly state, that would raise questions; questions that could indirectly put you into harms way. Although this wasn’t ideal, it was the only option. -Besides, he had accidentally missed your date, you were probably worried sick over him.

“Yes of course I’m sorry, please follow me” You stammer out grasping his hand and leading him to the bathroom. You weren’t entirely sure of the nature of his bedraggled state, but you were determined to fix it. You reach under the sink and dig out the first aid kit you kept on hand.

You reach for the bandages and a dampen a small cloth. You press it against his bloodied nose and place a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Are you alright” You ask hesitantly. Your mind burned with questions, what had happened to bring him here in such a state?

“It’s nothing I can’t manage I’m sorry to drag you into this.” He replied, remorse seeping into his tone.

“No it’s alright I’m just glad you’re okay.” You responded as you began to bandage the scuffs on his hands. From his demeanor, you gathered he didn’t really want to talk about this, but you couldn’t help but ask.

“What happened Al?” You questioned. Your shoulders were slumped in his direction while you carefully washed the cuts on his face.

“It’s not important my dear.” He responded with a nonchalant smile.

"Telling my whole life with his words

Killing me softly with his song"

His indifferent attitude did anything but calm you.

“You can’t show up on my doorstep like this, and not expect me to be concerned for you. Please, just tell me what happened love” You begged.

“I had something to take care of. It’s not important” He dismissed you again as you unbuttoned the clasps of his shirt to tend to anything below the surface. Through his bloodied exterior, you couldn’t discern what stemmed from him or another person.

“Clearly-" you huffed. You examined the small contusions that littered his chest. “Please don’t run from me Al” Even though his injuries are less severe than you’d thought your lips contorted into a deep frown. “I’m worried about you.” Your e/c eyes bore into his smooth brown ones.

“I just.. got involved with the wrong person y/n, please save your worries for a worthy cause.” He murmured. He attempted to dissuade your worries with another smile, it only multiplied them.

“We should report this to the police Alastor I don’t care who you got involved with they don’t have a right to leave you like this” You urge, your fingers mindlessly trace the edges of each forming bruise.

“Y/n just drop it.” He finally snapped, his voice is intense and almost feral. His shoulders tense up almost as quickly as they release.

“Please”. He softens, pressing a tender kiss against your lips.

"He sang as if he knew me

In all my dark despair"

1930: New Orleans: Your apartment, six months later

Another pressing knock awakens you from your sleep. You didn’t even have it in you to be upset anymore. It had become habitual, he would show up on your doorstep a little before four in the morning speckled in bright red blood; just as he had done every few weeks for the last six months. It wasn’t worth asking for explanation anymore. He would ramble out the same tepid excuses and unconcerned reassurances.

You opened the door to his typical scarlet splatted clothing. The longer his little escapade expanded, the less injuries he sustained afterwards. It was a double edged sword. You were glad he never walked in branded in bruises or dripping his own blood, but it also made you apprehensive. How was he able to hurt another so easily with no more damage than the occasional scrape on his knuckles? Nothing about the entire affair made sense. You recall the vague details he had mentioned after the first incident. If he truly had been accidentally whisked into the company of the wrong individuals, why didn’t he just leave? He worked in radio, theoretically he could accomplish the same goal in a different location. There wasn’t anything to stop him. You had assured him you would drop everything and go with him if he only asked you to. New Orleans had no reason to hold onto you in his absence. You were a matching set.

With a small kiss between your drowsy eyes, he walked into your bedroom to shed his dirtied clothes. Upon his return, he flitted about your kitchen collecting the necessary materials to make you both a cup of tea. It was routine at this point. Accompanied by the smooth lull of the radio, you would drink your tea and chat. He was never at a loss for words, and you loved to listen. You didn’t really talk about anything meaningful, just whatever happened to cross his mind. You sit curled into his arms tea in hand. You couldn’t help but wonder why this was all happening. You wanted him to open up to you. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were. Maybe if he told you, you could find a way to help him out of this

“Al..why don’t we just leave here? I don’t like that you keep showing up like this. I promise I won’t be upset with whatever details it holds…I just want to know that you’re being safe.” You nestle your head into the crook of his neck, as you speak.

“My dear, we have been over this, it is nothing I can’t handle. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it” He smiles down at you and presses another kiss against your forehead. He admired your care, but he feared your judgement too harshly to admit the true details of his actions.

"And then he looked right through me

As if I wasn't there"

“This is the second time this week Alastor. I’ll support you through anything but I deserve to know the details”. You plead, lifting your head to better observe his features. He looked completely and entirely unbothered.

"And he just kept on singing

Singing clear and strong"

"y/n I'm telling you to drop it" His hand cups your cheek.

"No you don't get to tell me that anymore. I'm concerned for you Alastor.” Your voice gets louder as you pull away from his touch.

"I've told you before darling, you needn't worry" He tucks a stray loc of your hair behind your ear. "I promise I would never hide anything from you for longer than I needed to dear.I will always be truthful with you y/n” He pulls your body back into his lap as he speaks.

“ I just can’t tell you yet… It wouldn’t be right to involve you in this.” His voice is indistinct and distant, as his arms wrap around you into a tight hug.

“ I can’t risk you getting hurt, You are my perfection dear”

Your heart falls from your recollection as your body finally drops to the from the spinning pole. Alastor didn't end up keeping his promise of eventually veracity. How many other things did he simply “not tell you yet”.

"Strumming my pain with his fingers

Singing my life with his words"

You were convenient and gullible, you had loved him too much to even consider that he might have been hurting others and not a victim himself . You lived in the middle of the city, giving him a central location to act from. He hadn’t lied when he said you were perfect.

"Killing me softly with his song

Killing me softly with his song"

It was much deeper than you previously thought. You weren’t just someone he kept around for the occasional favor or entertainment. It was deeper than that. The bloodied clothes and unexplained absences finally made sense. He would’ve needed to harm a lot of people to hold such an astute amount of power upon his arrival in hell. You were the unknown tool that helped him reach that status.

"Telling my whole life with his words"

No wonder you ended up in hell. Any sinful actions you may have taken or blood on your hands was nothing in comparison to the amount he spilled with your help. You were nothing more than an accessory to his crimes. You had wasted your life on counterfeit kisses and meaningless utterances of love. You had wasted your afterlife believing they held some merit.

"Killing me softly with his song"

He didn’t come for you because he didn’t need anything from you. He never actually loved you enough to search for you beyond that.

The music crescendos into its final note. You take a slight bow as the crowd exploded into a sea of cheers.

“Thank you for being such a darling audience, I’ll be out to speak with you soon” you announce as you blow a kiss in their direction. Val would have to be mad later. You needed to get out of there

As soon you walked off stage, the lively armor of your theatrical persona was thrown aside, leaving nothing to guard your wounded heart. You stumble down the hall towards your dressing room ,a freshly opened bottle of wine in tow. You wanted nothing more than a moment of clear unfeeling peace. Valentino preferred you to mingle after a performance, but you needed to collect yourself and dampen your anger before you had to speak with your untamable fans. Alastor’s appearance had shaken you to your core in ways you weren’t prepared to confront. You didn’t have time to accurately process those emotions so you would settle for a second alone to compartmentalize. By the time you reach the dressing room’s door, the bottle in your hand is nearly empty. You turn the knob to reveal to a vase of crimson roses reflected in your mirror and the shadow of his antlers on your face.

“Why are you here.” You asked pointedly. Your voice held the typical icey air of a frigid hellish morning. You had no intention of letting him stay long enough to propose whatever twisted favor had brought him back to your door.

“It was you that contacted me dearest” He ignored the frostbite forming on his finger tips from your cold shoulder- His frankly untrue statement struck more than a few of your nerves.

“If I had, don’t you think I would have done it sooner?” You seethed with aggravation. Alastor hadn’t a clue as to why you were so cross with him. Perhaps guilt motivated your responses and he was simply caught in the overtly anguished crossfire. You had always been slightly oversensitive to your effect on him- maybe that was it?

“Now my dear you haven’t been in hell very long, you mustn’t blame yourself for needing a bit of extra time to understand your skillset. I was pleasantly surprised to hear your sweet voice interrupt my usual broadcast- Although, I must say I wasn’t aware you were so interested in continuing show business after death. Had you asked before finding your own way, I could have connected you with a classier establishment"

“A bit of extra time is the understatement of the hour” you huff under your breath.

“Most demons take weeks to learn control, you on the other hand managed to do so in a couple of days you really should be proud” He sent you a reassuring smile.

You laugh dryly, confusion overtakes his features and seeps into his smile.

“Oh sure you’re absolutely right! I should be proud it only took a day or so- give or take a few years” The sarcasm radiating from your response would have slit the throat of a lesser demon. This confused Alastor even further.

“y/n, how long have you been in hell.”Bewilderment etches across his lips, he had never considered the possibility you weren’t another new arrival before then.

“Ten years, eleven next week.” you admit. His eyes grow wide in remorse.

“Dear I am so very sorry I didn’t find you sooner. Between your anonymity and my little leave of absence, we must have just missed each other. I assure you had I known you were here I would have been chasing at your heels.” Despite his deeply genuine intentions, you perceived his words as nothing more than another manipulative tactic to persuade you into whatever twisted plan he had in store.

“Please- Al, you can cut the act already. To be entirely frank, I don’t need any more of your sweetly worded lies, I know who you’ve always really been now. I’m telling you it’s not going to work anymore- I’m not that stupid.” Your retort was accompanied by the roll of his eyes.

“You left me without a care in the world, and with a child for that matter. It stands to reason your sentiment wouldn’t change, even in hell. I don’t care for whatever old favor you’re trying to call in. I’m not helping you.” Even across the room, the edges of his raven tipped hair practically singed at the weight of your words. For the first time in his hellish existence, his everlasting smile dropped. He didn’t know he was a father. He had died before you had chance to tell him.

“ We had a child?” His voice is weak and raw, entirely devoid of its usual crackle. His eyes hold a deep sadness you had only ever seen in your own reflection. Your posture visibly softens at his sorrowful reaction. The realization hit you: He never got to meet his son. At least you were granted a moment with your baby swaddled in your arms. Alastor hadn't been so lucky.

“ Yes.. his name is Eugene. He turned 50 last year...He was such a beautiful baby. He had your brown eyes and curly hair. I swear I could almost hear you in his laughter.” The corners of your mouth begin to peak up in response to the remembrance. Despite the short time he had been a part of your life, Eugene was everything you lived for. You endured every sleazy comment and blood splattered old fashioned in the hopes you could see him again. You even went as far to marry the bar’s immoral owner. You suffered a lifetime of abuse and the plight of that man's own children on the half hearted promise you might have been able to regain custody in your newfound stability.

“Did he live a good life?” He was overtaken with dream-like sun spotted snapshots of you and his son. The hypothetical moments alleviated his guilt slightly. At least in his absence you weren’t entirely alone. Alastor's legs carried him to your side. He wanted nothing more than to wipe the melancholy from your face and offer you comfort. His hand gently outstretched to your shoulder. The silence that overtook the room was hinted in comfort instead of animosity.

“ Yes..he did" you finally respond.

Your mind wanders to the flower shop he owned downtown and its painted green exterior. The lavender cursive of the sign above it read "Eugene's Fanciful Flowers". He was a complete and total dork, just like his father. The older you got, the more you found yourself walking past it. He had sent you a bouquet of daffodils once. You kept them in the vase next to your bed long after they had begun to wilt and shrivel. You weren't sure how he knew of your existence or even where you lived. He was only 18 months old the last time you had held him in your arms. You weren't really his mother, just a circumstance of his birth. You never had the chance to watch him grow.

"I just never got to see it” You snap out of your memory inspired daze.

He never got to meet his son because he chose not to. Any remorse you felt was quickly scrapped from your system. You could have watched your son’s mind grow and learned the nuances of his little voice if Alastor had just stayed. That’s all he had to do. You didn’t care if your eventual marriage with him would have crumbled in the process. For all you cared, he could continue his distant nature and whatever wicked deeds he pleased, just as long as he stayed…He made his choice to walk that crestfallen path alone, separating you from him and your son in the process. You shrugged off his soothing hand and turned away, effectively burning a fire flecked wall between the two of you.

“I had to give him up. The radio show shut down in your absence. I couldn’t support the both of us with what little I made at the bar.” Bitterness seeps into your previously softened voice. You weren’t going to allow yourself to be manipulated by his falsified concern. The mirage of imagined moments you had collected of your son over the years flashed through your mind all at once. You were devastated by the memories you didn’t get the chance to make.

“Y/n.. I am so sorry.” He is nearly frozen in place, shocked by the sudden shift in your demeanor. If you weren’t so angry, the pathetic broken string of words would have shattered your desolate heart.

“ You can stop pretend to care Alastor. You had no issue leaving us then- What do you really want from me? Just get it over with so I can go back to forgetting you exist.” The short horns peaking out from your hair nearly doubled in size. You were growing frustrated with his half assed excuses and blatant lies. In that moment, you didn’t care if he disappeared entirely. The deserted lovesick island you had so often found yourself stuck on burned to the ground in the back of your mind.

“Why would I, an overlord, want something from a weaker demon such as yourself. I don’t know who placed that foolish notion into your head, but I assure you, I don’t want anything from you” Anguish accented the pungent inflection of each word. Alastor was growing tired with your antics he didn’t want anything from you other than your forgiveness. He had apologized for the first time in decades, and meant it. Why couldn’t you just accept that? Your resentful resolve exasperated him to no end.

“ I just wanted to see you again, I thought you might like the same, evidently I was wrong.” His typical smile pressed into an uncharacteristic sharp line.

“Will you please just stop?” Your voice raised far more than a few decibels. He couldn’t take the hint, and you were not sober enough to keep reiterating it.

“Darling it has been agony sitting around waiting for you here, only to find out you’re cavorting around with Valentino. Leaving you wasn’t my fault, you can’t blame me for something I didn’t wish to do. As much as I wish to I can’t control my circumstances. I’ve already apologized I don’t know what else you want me to do." He would gladly do anything you asked to mend the bridges you had set ablaze in your unreasonable fury. He hadn’t meant to die, it just sort of happened. Were you really blame him for his untimely demise?

“Didn’t wish to do? How stupid do you think I am?” You scoffed.

“The only thing I want you to do is leave.” Your voice wavered but the sentiment was strong. He could almost see the fighting spirit that traced your form. Alastor couldn’t help but laugh. He had done nothing but answer your call, and you had the audacity to reject his answer. If you wanted to fight, he would fight with you. If nothing else, it kept you talking to him.

“Naturally, because you are just so much happier leashed to Valentino and spinning around that pole” He taunted, his scornful sneer seeping into his cadence.

"Believe me I'd rather be anywhere else-" You snapped. He had added fuel to the fire and the weight of its introduction flooded you with spite.

“Don’t pretend that you’re any different from him Alastor. You are two sides of the same coin- except unlike you, Valentino actually owns my soul. I have to put up with this shit from him. I’m under no obligation to take it from you. I am not a toy for you to pick up and put down whenever you need something to play with- I’m not some tool for you to use whenever decide you need a favor.”

You didn’t really believe the words coming from you, you just wanted to hurt him the way he hurt you. Evidently it worked a little better than you anticipated. His eyes contorted into the shape of radio dials, the static erupting from his core in tandem. His height over you nearly tripled, as the horns on his head wept out jet black roots that stretched into the ceiling. His voice distorts into a vicious growl.

“You don’t get to stand here and pretend that I am entirely to blame. It isn’t my fault your life went so poorly. Let’s think reasonably for a moment, provided you haven’t completely lost it. You could have made any number of different choices, but you went with the easiest option, just as you always have. As for your current situation, you did the same. Although I regret not finding you sooner, you clearly had the ability to reach out if you truly needed something. You don’t get to blame me because you finally started to regret your careless mistakes. You have no right to be angry with me for your own choices. Look at how pathetic you’ve become y/n.” He grasps your chin, tilting it to meet your eyes in the mirror.

“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 radio static that had permeated the room just seconds before fizzled out leaving you alone in the silent pit. His antlers returned to their normal size as he observed the void that replaced your sparkling eyes. As soon as he saw the tears welling up within you, he realized what he had said.

In actuality, he didn’t mean a word of it. In his time in hell, he had grown too accustomed to uncovering the insecurity of his opponents. In that moment, he had forgotten you really weren’t one.

He didn’t truly blame you for anything that had happened. How could he? He knew he was mostly at fault for the more unfortunate aspects of your life. His heart incessantly throbbed with guilt just thinking of what you must have gone through. He hadn’t known what he left you with in such an unforgiving world. If he had, he would have found some way to pluck the bullet from his skull and return home to you.

As for the quality of your after-life, he knew the blame belonged entirely to Valentino. You had always been strong, but you had never been cruel. To survive in this hellish landscape, you had to be on some level. You probably would have ended up just another lifeless body bloodying up the street if you hadn’t taken the offer. Valentino had taken advantage of that, and Alastor hadn't been there to help you find another solution. Even if you didn’t want his help, he would never forgive himself if he didn’t find a way to break the deal you had made.

“Get out.” You didn’t have enough strength for anything more than a whisper.

His eyes bore into yours as a single tear slipped down your face. He hadn’t noticed the deep scratches that decorated your cheeks or the dark purple bruises that formed under your contour until that moment. They had been hastily covered in concealer and he hadn’t been close enough to notice the jagged indentations until then. The ears perched atop his head began to twitch as his mind sparked with an entirely different form of rage...As soon as he figured out what twisted soul had dared to lay a hand on you, all of hell would hear their screams.

His grasp on your chin softens as he traced the edge of each scratch with his free hand.

“Who did this to you”

“Get out.” You tear your face from his hold.

“No I’m not leaving you here” he stated, the desperation of his tone rimmed the edges his lanky frame. He took a step towards you and you took a step away.

“Get the fuck out Alastor. Now.” Your eyes began to glow a familiar pink.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean t-“

“Just go” you cut him off before he has the chance to put a word in edgewise. You had been through enough. You didn’t need his excuses to confuse you more. Your eyes squeeze shut as the objects in the room began to float. All you wanted was for him to go away.

“I won’t leave you again” He stood his ground.

“Leave me alone” You were practically screaming at this point. If he couldn’t listen to your request, you would just have to be louder to make him listen. Your voice reverberates throughout the room, effectively shattering both the light bulbs surrounding your mirror and the mirror itself. The residual glass scattered through the space and into your hair.

To your surprise, he doesn't respond. The remaining floating objects fall to the ground in a piercing clatter. Your eyes shoot open at the sudden noise.

Other than the abundant mess, there was no trace he had ever been there to begin with. Even the roses he had brought for you had dissipated. You stood alone in the glass covered room, thankful he had taken his leave. The swirling overload of emotion made you feel ill. You replayed the conversation a few times in your head, each replay inspired a deeper feeling of regret and a plethora of questions you no longer had the opportunity to ask.

A/N:

Hey yall thank you sm for the support I adore each and every one of you!!

Also a note about the content revolving around abusive relationships: This is going to be a bit long winded but I feel it's important to be said. The content in this chapter as well as chapter 2 features some pretty awful depictions of abuse. I want to check in and make sure that this isn't coming off as an overly done cliche or a cheap plot device to further the story. In no way is that my intention. I know that I am a very small writing page but it's important to me that I dont accidentally wind down the same path a lot of larger entertainment companies follow. I've drawn from the experiences of my friends who have gone through similar things as well as my own to try and prevent that. However I am also aware my writing style is a bit..dramatic? If you find that it is coming across negatively, and if you feel comfortable, don't hesitate to message me normally or anonymously. I will gladly listen to anything you have to say!!

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #valentino being a nasty fucker #Alastor really just can't communicate well and you are lowkey stupid #like ok ms girl jump to conclusions #tbh if i was her id give him a lap dance and forget everything #why am i like this #valentino #...can die #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #you best believe the shitty song fic titles are coming back next chapter #omg theyre back!#i was high off my ass writingn this so no guarantee its good.

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seven-seas-of-rhye-bread · 3 months ago

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Lucius Verus x F!OC (Cassia)- Part 2

They're baccckkkk! Still finishing the outline for the rest of "A Fate Worse Than Death", but still wanted to write something today, so here is another fic with Lucius and our fave thermae attendant, Cassia.

Warning: Smut smut smut-- pinv, oral (male receiving), fingering, angsty longing etc etc. 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE!

Disclaimer: dont @ me with historical accuracies-- its not that I don't care, it's that my brain only has the capacity for smut when I'm in this kind of feral mood.

A/N: Yes, I know there's not really an ending, but the good stuff is there. My brain just stops after my characters cum, I can't help it, it's a PROBLEM.

Once again, very lightly proof-read, sorry xx

Cassia watched the moon rise over Rome sitting on the steps of the thermae portico, another day come and gone. It had been another busy one as Roman citizens were feeling a sense of renewed hope for the future, eager to discuss the future of the city with one another within the walls of the baths. The city had been buzzing since the rightful emperor Lucius took the throne, stories spreading about the gladiator-turned-emperor.

Cassia had listened to Alba in disbelief, in their small shared room one night, as she relayed the fantastical stories she heard in the marketplace earlier that day. The gladiator champion-- yes, Hanno-- was Lucilla's lost son, rightful heir to the empire. Cassia had laughed at Alba's tale, she couldn't believe such a rumor, her friend must have misheard. But as the days and weeks passed, it was confirmed time and time again by bathers, and by the fact that Hanno had not returned to the thermae. She had slept with a Roman emperor-- no one would believe her if she told, except Alba-- who had blushed bright pink with excitement when Cassia regaled her with the story.

And now Alba waved as she crossed the courtyard towards their living quarters, her silhouette illuminated against the fading lamp light. Cassia was about to get up and follow Alba when she saw their master, Italus, walking at a furious pace towards her.

He wasn't exactly kind, but he wasn't cruel like other masters in the city, as long as she did her job well, he let her be, so the look on his face was cause for concern.

"Italus, good evening.." she said standing up to greet him, hoping that a civil start to the conversation would be heeded.

"Who do you know in the palace?" he demanded, his brow furrowed.

"What do you mean?" Cassia asked-- she had never set foot on Palatine hill, how would she know someone in the palace?

"I've received a summons for you from the palace! There is a guard here ready to escort you."

Cassia was at a loss, she never rubbed shoulders with elites, especially anyone residing in the palace. But it was then she realized it could only be Hanno-- or Lucius, now, she supposed. She kept quiet though, not wanting to divulge her history with the new emperor.

"It.. must be a mistake, how would I know someone there?"

She could tell Italus was suspicious, but she knew that he could not reject a request from the palace-- even if it was a mistake.

As he turned away hastily, he shouted back to her "Go change.. I don't need you embarrassing me in front of whoever has summoned you." Cassia did change, with help from Alba, into her nicest tunic, in a deep saffron shade. Alba quickly brushed Cassia's hair and pinched her cheeks, bringing the slightest flush to them. She hurried to the main entrance where a guard was waiting next to a carriage. He said not a word but helped her in.

Cassia's stomach and mind turned the whole way there. When Hanno-- Lucius-- left the thermae for the last time, he had kissed her gently and taken a moment to just be in her grasp. She hadn't known at the time that he was only a day or two away from changing the future of the Roman empire.

It seemed so simple, a gladiator and a bathhouse servant, it was certainly nothing new, but she saw everything in a different light now. He was no longer more or less equal to her-- he was an emperor. He surely had everything-- and everyone- at his disposal now, but he still wanted her. Cassia wished her heart didn't swell with hope at this thought-- this was a whole other beast itself. She never wanted to be a concubine, never wanted to be at the beck and call of a man-- but was this now her fate? She was, after all, answering his call.

The carriage came to a stop at the front of the palace, where she was helped out and led to the complex of grand buildings that made up the imperial palace. The servant who met her at an imposing archway led her through halls and rooms of unspeakable magnificence. Cassia had to remind herself, she was not here to admire the frescoes and mosaic floors. They arrived outside a set of doors, the servant opening one and motioned for her to enter.

Cassia could feel her heart pounding as she stepped across the threshold into a room, lit with countless lamps that reflected against the gold leaf that seemed to adorn every corner, but she didn't take note of any further details, as her eyes trained on him, standing by the entrance to a courtyard.

She stood still near the door, not sure what she should do in the presence of an emperor. A radiant smile flashed across his face, as if she had materialized from the heavens.

"You're here" he declared with satisfaction and what Cassia noted was a hint of relief.

" I don't think I had a choice." she said quietly, still standing in the same spot.

His face fell with confusion, "why do you say that?"

"Refusing a summons from the palace isn't something one does." she explained, her heart full of so many different emotions-- wariness, apprehension, happiness at seeing him again-- unsure of how to act around him, now that he was emperor.

Lucius walked towards her then. He looked like the same man she had known at the thermae, except dressed in vibrantly embroidered tunic and no longer covered in bruises and blood.

"You came here... out of obligation?" he asked, an edge of disappointment in his voice.

He was standing near, but kept his distance from Cassia. She was honest with him, "Not only out of obligation."

A hint of a smile flashed across his face, and Cassia couldn't help but smile to herself.

"What am I to call you now?" she asked, the knot in her stomach loosening in his presence.

He gave another small smile, " whatever you want to call me."

She took a step towards him, "Caesar?... Imperator?...Hanno...?"

He laughed heartily at this last one, "you can call me Lucius."

Lucius stepped closer to Cassia and grabbed her hand, "I'm glad you came.. I had wanted to call on you sooner, but I wasn't sure if I should."

She felt comfort in the fact that he was also apprehensive, aware of each of their statuses in this world now.

"And why did you call me here?" she ran her fingers through his hair, a move he leaned into with eyes closed, "I don't think you need a bath..."

He gave a laugh and pulled her in close, his eyes searching hers, before he whispered, "you know why..."

Lucius met her lips with a sigh that stirred something in Cassia. She could feel relief in his kiss, and urgency to be as close to her as he could. His tongue brushed her lower lip and she met him with her own. Cassia kissed him as if it was the last time she would ever kiss him, or anyone, for that matter-- with a hunger, a desire to feel everything with Lucius so intensely that it would be burned into her memory forever.

He pulled away reluctantly and led Cassia to the lavish bed that was centered just so that the moonlight shown on it through the open courtyard. Lucius pulled her in once more, untying the belted knot at her waist before turning Cassia around so her back was against his chest.

She could feel his cock, already fully hard and she hadn't even touched him yet. Lifting the fabric of her tunic, his hands, still calloused and rough from fighting, found her core.

He made slow circles around her clit, leaning into the rhythms that made her moan. Cassia grasped at him behind her, as he placed bites down her neck and collarbone. He slipped two fingers in her and pumped them in and out slowly.

"You're already so wet for me..." he growled in her ear and retreated from within her.

"Lucius..." Cassia breathed, her nails now digging into the side of his neck. She felt weak with pleasure, resting herself against his body.

Cassia grasped his hand as he pulled back from under her tunic, taking his fingers, still slick with her, into her own mouth. She hummed as she sucked herself off his fingers. She could hear a throaty groan from Lucius at her action and she turned back around to face him.

His mouth crashed into hers, desperate to taste what was left of her wetness. Cassia grasped at his elaborate tunic, helping him to pull the weighty fabric up and over his head.

She took a step back, pulling off her own tunic before casting a glance at his body. He might be emperor now, but he was riddled with scars-- some old, some newer, still healing. Cassia passed light fingers over his arms, feeling the taut, warm muscles, then moving her hands over his shoulders and chest.

Lucius's eyes fluttered closed, relaxing deeply at her touch. She felt along his cock with the lightest touch, feeling it twitch at the feather light feel.

He kept his eyes closed, he breathed, " don't tease me.."

She let her hand close around his shaft and replied, "I would never tease the emperor."

Cassia guided him back to sit on the bed while she got to her knees. Placing kisses and small bites up his strong thighs, she worked Lucius gently with her hand before taking his length into her mouth.

His cock was warm inside her mouth, filling her up to her throat, savoring the feeling and taste of him in her mouth.

Cassia," he moaned, "Cassia, oh gods..."

She pulled back, his cock making a pop as it left the velvety warmth of her mouth. Cassia sucked on the tip while stroking his shaft with one hand and gently massaging his weighty balls with her other.

Lucius grasped the back of her head, wrapping his hand around her hair and pulling gently. In a moment, he sat up on her elbows and looked down at her, his eyes heavy with lust, " I can't come until I have you."

She placed gentle kisses around the head of his cock, giving it one final suck before climbing on the bed. Lucius straddled her as soon as she lay back, spreading her legs open for him.

He held the tip of his cock against her cunt, rubbing it against her clit making Cassia squirm with pleasure underneath him. "Please, Lucius..." she moaned as she grasped her own breast, feeling the need to do something-- anything-- to feel pleasure.

He dragged his cock up and down her cunt once more, gathering her wetness before he leaned down over her. Both of them stilled for a moment, simply looking into each other's eyes, their breathing was in unison now.

Lucius positioned his cock at her wet entrance and pushed in, slowly filling her up. Cassia felt her walls stretch with his length and thickness, breathing through the intensity of the stretch until he was fully in her.

He started slow and deep with his thrusts, eliciting a low moan into his ear, somehow making him even harder. He picked up his pace when she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him into her as deep as he could go.

Lucius placed one leg up over his shoulder, burrowing even deeper into her. Cassia arched her back into him, her breathing becoming shallow and ragged. He could tell by the way her cunt clenched around his that she was going to come soon.

Cassia held onto his arms as he continued to fuck down into her, hearing her gasp his name as he felt her approach her orgasm. He followed soon after with his own climax, crying out as he collapsed on top of her.

"I'm crushing you, I'm sorry..." he said breathlessly, attempting to roll off of her but she stopped him.

"Don't... not yet," Lucius let himself rest back into her arms.

#fanfic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #gladiator ii #lucius verus #paul mescal

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jumpinguptothesky · 1 month ago

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I don't know why I wanted to write this fan fiction. The fact is, I was really inspired and I'm really writing it without being able to stop. The only difficulty is translating it into English as well as possible.

Just goes to show, brain rott is real. Levihan always comes back to my mind, even when I think I've forgotten it. You can find it here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62060140/chapters/158719963

I hope you'll enjoy it!

His Scent of Tea and Cedar

Summary:

Hange Zoe is a renowned writer. Her editor suggests she write about sexual services for women, but she flatly refuses. However, when she learns that her friend-with-benefits and impresario, Zeke, is about to get married, a creeping sense of loneliness begins to settle in. Craving intimacy, she decides to give the sex therapist service her editor recommended a try. To her utter shock, the man standing at her door is none other than her young and strikingly handsome janitor: Levi.

Notes:

Inspired by Yasashii Milk by Tadaka Rose

Chapter 1: Invisible Fractures

Excerpt:

"You think I’d just let you say this to me like it’s nothing?" Hange's voice trembled with raw emotion. "You couldn't tell me earlier? You had all the time in the world... at the door, when I offered you a drink, when I invited you up. Don't you dare blame me for your cowardice! I can’t believe you’re telling me this after everything... while... while we were..."

The living room was bathed in the gentle light of the morning sun. Golden rays streamed through the vast bay window, illuminating a garden where dew glistened on the leaves like countless diamonds. These almost ethereal gleams brushed the pages of an open manuscript resting in Nanaba's hands. Her short-cropped blonde hair reflected the faint golden beams, and her piercing eyes scanned the lines with intensity. Across from her, Hange sat nervously, shifting slightly in her leather armchair.

She tried desperately to maintain composure, though the subtle expressions of her editor, who had been silently reading for some time, left her feeling unmoored. Each moment felt like an eternity, as always when sharing her work.

Hange attempted to focus on the scenery outside, her hand nervously brushing her disheveled brown hair. She resisted the urge to chew her nails or adjust the frames of her glasses.

“This is incredible, Hange, truly,” Nanaba finally declared, closing the manuscript with care. “Your style is as captivating as ever. Every sentence resonates; every description transports.”

A modest smile graced Hange’s lips. “Thank you, Nanaba. You have no idea how much it means to hear that from you.”

But then Nanaba furrowed her brow, placing the manuscript gently on the coffee table. “That said…”

Hange detected a note of apprehension in her voice. “What? What’s wrong?”

Nanaba shrugged. “You’re starting to go in circles, Hange.”

“In circles?” she repeated, crossing her arms, clearly affronted.

“Don’t misunderstand,” the editor continued, raising her hands in a placating gesture. “Your last bestseller, about that group fighting for freedom against monstrous colossi, was phenomenal. But it feels like you’re clinging to the same themes. Even though each of your stories is different, your topics and perspectives always revolve around similar ideas… You need to try something new.”

Hange narrowed her eyes, skeptical. Her first saga, Wings of Freedom, had been a massive success. Since then, she had continued to write about humanity’s struggles, crafting noble, idealistic heroes. Even when she created new worlds, she returned to the fantastical, translating life’s everyday challenges, wars, and resistance movements into epic battles against oppression. She sank into the couch, rubbing her temples.

“So, what do you suggest I write? Science fiction? Mystery novels?”

Nanaba smirked playfully. “New Romance!”

A nervous laugh escaped Hange. “New… what?”

Full Chapter on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62060140/chapters/158719963

#levihan #snk #aot #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levihan fanfiction #guess i'm back or something ?#back to levihan #levihan brain rot #modern au

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e17omm · 23 days ago

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Alright lets see what Ampherus is all about and I hope that's the right name because I just remember something on A and that there's a p somewhere but I am not completely sure.

TLDR after finishing it:

Story: great. I think its well written and the mysteries are interesting.

Budget allocation; 85% cutscenes, 15% dialogue scenes. Honestly the difference in quality is STAGGERING and it is VERY noticable.

The bossfight: fucking awful because its %maxHP def-ignoring AoE damage. No I am not kidding. Let me repeat that: the boss has %maxHP def-ignoring AoE damage! Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?! Honestly good luck because unless you can out-DPS it there is actually NOTHING you can do. (except switch to easy mode. That drops the boss' level to 63. My Jingliu 3-shot it)

Its AmphOrEus. Eh I was close.

Ah if only we could have some characters sitting or leaning on a table. Presentation is a big part of the story after all, and this is a complaint Im brining with me from all of Hoyo's games lately.

What's the point of custom music on the Astral Express if every time I load it the music resets?

This cut???? Pre- and post- cut arent even close!

Was probably because Sunday was blocking the window. The lack of the window made me really confused about where we were even standing.

That forehead touching black screen is WHY YOU USE 3D MODELS SO YOU CAN ACTUALLY ANIMATE IT. Sorry, HI3 actually started using 3D models as 3D models again and now it just feels very lazy when HSR does black screens instead.

Oh my god was that "Some time later" black screen REALLY necessary?

We're right next to the train and nothing happened! Just cut that some time later screen it completely killed the momentum of the cutscene!

Okay I actually took a shower and got some time to think. So far I really like this! We kinda go to a place nobody knows anything about for fuel reasons, but as soon as we arrive mysteries start up. It made me more curious about Amphoreus.

I KNEW IT. I KNEW THE STATUES MOVED.

The budget gap between the cutscene and dialogue is STARK

There's so many missed oppertunities to really show the strength of 3D models and Hoyo has barely been doing it for years now. How does PGR with its VN style of story show their story better than Snowy not even able to toss our baseball bat back to us?

I really like the whole memory of the past thing, makes sense with Remembrance here and clears up the confusion I had earlier, being that I though it was switching from night to day. But actually its present and past. That's cool.

Also Tribbie just poofed into thin air lol.

Wow the low budget "we cant even show Stelle on the Dromas" into a high budget cutscene really caught me off-guard. I know Im repeatedly bringing it up but the difference in quality is staggering.

Wow they sped up the "turning around" animation and it didnt look horrible. Good job. I like. Improvement.

The Furiae Praetor completely ignores taunt. Uuuuuuh okay then sure I guess.

I was just gonna bring up how I like Castorice but Hoyo brought up birds again and just please dont go philosophical with it...

These water physics are fantastic holy shit is this where the budget went??

Wait the upper water physics are worse? Why? Come on! The downstairs water was great!

Ooh Stellaron is here too. I hope they bring back that we can hear the Stellaron, that was really cool when it happened in Belobog.

The intrusive thoughts win again!

I think Im also gonna stop my budget complaints here. Its allthrough around every corner except every 6th corner where theres a high quality cutscene or fantastic water physics.

Ah shit March is here and she just leaked that the universe exists. She lacks critical information!

Our own bath has the good water physics lets go!

Wait a minute, why did the thread tremble? It only trembles at a lie! What part of what I said was a lie about the Stellaron in my body?

Lol you can just leave and the credits roll

Aaaaaand it stuck my game on mute forcing an actual relaunch. What the fuck Hoyo? OH WIAT NVM I just had to manually quit to title and its back.

No, trust me, my Fire TB can tank a star. We wont be having issues with me tanking damage. I just hope that the team is just me and Phainon.

How the hell did this bridge stop anyone from entering? Sure, leaving might be a problem, but I could make that jump down and then just walk up the other end. This bridge just exists to be fancy, not to actually serve as a bridge considering if they just built the lower section slightly higher, a bridge wouldnt be needed at all.

PLeassseeeeee just give me trial charactersssssss

It would be so so so fitting for this partttt.

WE REALLY FIGHT STRIFE WITHOUT TRIAL CHARACTERS COME ON

Did they really have to clarify that Mydeimos is Mydei? They're having way too much fun with this over-the-text clarification.

Its a race against time! We have to warn them and get ready right away! Lets play the normal calm music the city normally has :) that will fit the tone! :D

Imagine a world where we could actually see the TB jump onto the scale...

I like that all our past memories were of the Stellaron Hunters. Definitely feels like we're being set up to work alongside them. And if Hoyo wants to go wild (which they havent been that much lately) they could temporarily make us leave the Astral Express in order to work with the Stellaron Hunters to achive something. That would be really cool but also very wild. It could happen, as long as the writers dont write on shit and make Stelle forget again once I click away the "new path" screen.

Also wow we just got Remembrance just like that? I mean, it was fitting, but its kinda crazy how Belobog is still the best in regards to giving us a new path. Belobog > Amphoreus > Penacony for me. The weapons have REALLY gone downhill tho. The hat was fun but now we just have a pen? Give me a blade or a gun next time, I want to see Stelle with an assault rifle in her hands.

Oh shit Remembrance is a new playable path. I have no light cones!

Well at least I have something new to spend my stamina on! Remembrance stuff!

Oh wow I just looked through TB's and Mem's skills and oh boy I need to build some other tank units because Mem sounds like an insane support for my Jingliu

Oh my god IceTB makes me want to run Jingliu Bronya Mem and Sparkle because oh my god I want to let her go on an absolute rampage

Oh it never hit me that Mem can fucking die until Luocha healed her.

Also Mem is so close to both Meme and Emm I cant what is this help-

...You get a free Victory In a Blink after the section is over. I could've saved some currency...

Okay kinda late on this, but I wish Agy would've actually been ready to kill us if it meant protecting the city. It just, feels overly safe to have her go "yeah I never actually inteded to kill them, it was just to put them under pressure :)" like, Hoyo used to give us playable characters that killed other people. It just feels overly safe, like as to alienate as few people as possible from liking her. I dont think it would change Agy's character much at all, and its not like TB and Dan ever finds out she never meant to kill us, Agy just told Tribbie that little fact. Just, remove that little scene and nothing changes about her - except that it doesnt feel like she was written as safely as they could write her.

Whohooo they gave us Story Agy! Finally! Do they not have Phanion ready yet or what? Please do this more Hoyo it used to be so immersive.

Well they just used the exact same black screen 3 times in a row...

I like the puzzle mechanics but do they really have to put a marker handholding you through how to solve it?

I know I said I wouldnt bring up the budget... but they couldnt even animate Castorice coughing. Just have a visual novel for dialogue moments at this point...

Gnaeus is one of the best characters ngl

The refight with Strife was not made with the IceTB in mind. She keeps getting oneshot during Strife's turns right away due to not having enough HP from relics. Whoopdedoo here comes FireTB again.

Kinda sad that the only way this fight is hard is because it deals % max HP damage that ignores defense while cutting out max HP by 50% constantly.

Like, what the fuck?

...... and the boss attacks before using the %maxHP def-ignoring attacking.

I think its safe to say that this is the worst designed boss in the entire game.

You're telling me that we did all that and it still attacked the big statue guy? Like yeah it couldn't keep beaming it forever, but we couldn't even stop it in time? Cmon now. You cant just make a bullshit boss and then not even let us finish it.

Yeah that was the only boss I ever turned on Easy mode for in any Hoyo game. I am not going to try to figure out a way to beat motherfucking %maxHP def-ignoring damage. If casual mode didnt lower its levels by like 20 so my Jingliu could 3-shot it, I would've just put down the game and concluded my playthrough there.

I hope to fucking god it doesnt have that move in the weekly battle, but I have a feeling it just fucking might.

Suddenly Herta feels... very random. But I cant be too mad since it seems that FINALLY something is happening while we aren't there. Now here's to hoping that they dont blow the fuse too early and Herta comes to Amphoreus, because why the fuck would she?

(deep sigh)

So how does the Astral Express travel? Because I dont know what low on fuel means for it, but I dont think trips back and forth across the cosmos would be good for the fuel situation. If those teleporting points are actually used by them, 1. How the fuck do they work? 2. That is a massive security issue if someone can just warp into anywhere.

Whatever. What is the difference of us being glanced by Aeons and Herta being glanced by Aeons? Because we're getting casually glanced at left and right, but for Herta it could incinerate anyone and anything near her.

Okay its been rubbing me the wrong way for a while now; what the hell is this prophecy? Most prophecies I usually hear in stories is like, this character is destined to be great! or something like this. But this prophecy literally dictates what they do. These chants and rituals include the mention of the prophecy in them, its like the entire world of Amphoreus is dictated by what the prophecy says. Its not like "oh this great boy who came from nothing will rise up and become a god" no, its "the prophecy chose this boy to grow up to become a god" like, what? What the hell is this prophecy?

Its really rubbing me the wrong way.

Hello Elysia Voice Actor.

Whaaaat the hell is happening to March? She's returning to her ice state!

Honestly the most interesting thing about Amphoreus is what is happening to March, but I actually hope that it isnt resolved at Amphoreus because Hoyo DESPERATELY needs some plot points to last longer than in just one section. Like I dont want March to be back on her feet and happy by the end of Amphoreus. I want this to drag out so that we can have some reason to go to the next area other than to just Trailblaze.

#honkai star rail

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animereviewsbykyranskye · 1 year ago

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My current top 15 Anime and why

Because why the fuck not. I'm doing top 15 so that I have some variety behind it. Otherwise I would just be gushing non stop XD

Apparently numbers go big now - AND THEY GO SMALLER IF YOU TRY TO TYPE IN THE SAME LINE AS THEM???

comparison:

15 -

DA HECK????

(Edit: I was going to colour all the numbers because I wanted a rainbow. WHY THE FUCK FOR THEY CHANGE TO SMALL WHEN YOU COLOUR THEM??????)

Guess the titles of the anime get a small heading. Anyways. Onto the actual list!

Technoroid OVERMIND

Ayo. Starting out with a really random one. So if anyone were to look at my Anilist then they might be a bit confused. I decided I'd keep movies out of here as well as anything I haven't specifically finished. Also takt op. Destiny needs a re evaluation.

Anyways. This premise is so sick and I feel like they managed it really well. The characters were all really fun and the music was fantastic which is honestly the most important thing about Idol shows. I really like idol shows but often struggle with the stupid drama in them that just leads to seasons upon seasons that didn't need to happen or wouldn't actually happen.

In this they're just androids. The fantasy twist works so well for the genre and I honestly don't know why it isn't done more often. This way they can bullshit the drama and it actually makes sense.

Honestly my favourite character was Kite. He was great and his voice always gave me shivers. Especially his piece in the closing. Damn.

I don't want to go into full reviews with this, rather just gushing about things I like and stuff. I really don't think this got the recognition it deserves - probably because of it's deviation from the norm - but it would be cool to get some sort of sequel.

(Edit: There's a manga releasing apparently. Imma check that out.)

UniteUp!

Continuing on with the trend of idol animes apparently. UniteUp! was so good. As I mentioned in my Reviews while I watch of the show, it felt so grounded and real that other idol shows just don't seem to capture. These were all real people with real problems dealing with real life.

I also like how we had such a large cast of characters but it never really felt overwhelming as they focused on group dynamics and specific individuals rather than trying to cram every single person into their own arcs.

Once again the music was fantastic and by god was this show pretty gay. Honestly I don't know what the sentiments of others are, but the Anela duo definitely weren't straight and neither were Akira and Daiki. That bath scene says it all.

Anyways. If you want a fun time with a really solid idol anime, please check it out. I saw earlier that we're getting a season two soon. I am so looking forward to it.

Trigun Stampede

Damn! I don't even know what to really say about this one. The visuals are absolutely stunning - there is no doubt about that. The score and the characters are excellent. And how dare they leave us on that cliff hanger.

I have absolutely no history with this story and still need to watch and read the originally but I am really looking forward to seeing how the story adapts between the three.

You can ask my partner. I've already said we're watching everything trigun related as soon as we are done with our current show.

I'm really looking forward to season two. And especially seeing how this all pans out. Apparently there will be tears according to the fandom. Concern.

Re-main

Damn this show came out of nowhere for me. I watched it quite awhile ago and have been meaning to rewatch it again.

The premise is definitely a sports anime but honestly so different. All because of one thing. The fact that he is an amnesiac is such a fascinating concept to work with - especially with how he was before (trying not to spoil - can't remember when this comes up in the anime)

And then the ending?? Damn. They seriously set up that cliff hanger and I really hope this show gets a sequel.

I really can't say too much about it without giving away some spoilers but damn does it change up the formula and do it so fucking well.

Given

Given is great. Such a pure but heartbreaking portrayal of love on one side with such conflicting but also nurturing views on the other. Having the different realtionships throughout this is really well done how they all bounce off of each other. Especially when they entertwine it with the music.

As it is said. That is how they communicate - through the music.

I'm busy catching up with the manga and really hope the anime continues with it.

Also the fucking is just fucking gorgeous. It has no write to hit you that hard.

Also - something else that shouldn't be allowed to hit you that hard. Damn Mafuyu has had a difficult past. We love how he learns to heal and grow with Uenoyama at his side.

Anyways, moving on.

Bakuten!!

Okay. Who said a sports anime could be this pretty.

I love the art style and the music throughout all of this. I love the portayal and the evolution of these character - seriously all their arcs are great. The interactions of the team is so tangible and real.

I watch a lot of sports anime and I often struggle with some of the drama used within the sports - it feels like the only thing that ever fuels the story is the matches. Whereas in Bakuten - the character seriously fuel the story. You can understand their motivations much more than just - I want to play this sport and be the best!

I also feel like they really captured everything really well in the movie. The whole concept of wanting to sore is great and really well executed.

I also love the interactions they have with the other team. It's not just a once off competition or practice match that they face each other. We actually get tangible characters for the whole team and see how much they two teams are similar to one another. It's a very healthy rivalry that isn't normally this expanded on in sports anime.

Sasaki and Miyano

Yesssssss. These two are just absolutely amazing. Their whole story arc and relationship is just tooth rottingly sweet. They bounce off of each other so well.

And I love the fact of how slow the actual story is. They meet at the start of Miyanos first year (from what I know - I still need to read the novels) and sasaki's second and they only end up confessing just before graduation happens. It really plays out well and is so healthy.

There is no problematic elements like in so many BL stories which is such a breath of fresh air. And the fact that sasaki is very specific about making sure to maintain boundaries to ensure that miyano is comfortable is also excellent.

On a slightly different note - I still need to see the Hirano and Kagiura movie. Been dying to watch it. I've been keeping up to date with both manga and both of these stories are amazing. I love the dichotomy of the two stories and how they are coming to their own realisations of their feelings in honestly very different ways.

I also recently watched the dub of the anime due to some videos on tiktok. Fucking hell it is absolutely hilarious. Kellen Goff as Sasaki has no reason for being that good. Seriously. Damn.

Link Click

On a completely different note. Damn this one makes you questions your own morals and reality as you know it.

I really don't want to get into this one much as I do believe watching it blind is the best way to go.

The art style is fantastic and that opening hits like a truck it is so good. The characters just click (pun not intended) and you just understand their motivations and don't know which side to side with most of the time. It brings about such high moral dilemmas that will seriously mess with your brain sometimes and there is one episode that will likely make you cry.

Anyways. Season 2 has just started airing and I am so ready for it.

Buddy Daddies

Why did a show about two queer platonic dudes who adopt a child while beings assassins hit so damn hard.

The show jumps between episodes with backstory and episodes with them just being good dads and it is balanced so well. This anime won't end up getting a sequel most likely with how it ended but damn I wouldn't say no to one.

Rei is my favourite character and I relate to him far too much. His interactions with the world are so fascinating and his whole arc with Miri is honestly some of the best media I've seen.

I absolutely loved watching this show weekly and it always brightened up my day when I realised a new episode would be up.

If you would like further thoughts on this one then check the Reviews while I watch on it for more chaos.

No Game No Life

So. This was the first ever anime that I ever watched. It was a random recomendation from a friend. Look at where we are today.

This show is honestly just so fun. The characters are silly and the whole plot is just absolute chaos. I really enjoy the games aspect and how it was all incorporated into the world.

I can't even really say much about it. It is just a guilty pleasure of mine and will always hold a special place in my heart.

Also. Please can it just get a second season already.

Assassination Classroom

So. Unlike everything else on the list - this one I only finished really recently. My partner and I were watching it together. And to put it out there straight away. I cried. That ending was far too emotional.

I really enjoyed the humour throughout the whole thing as well as the constant underlying dread of the whole situation.

They also really played out Koro-senseis backstory really well. The teasing to it was excellent. I must say though that one of the twists seriously came out of left field. Like damn.

I've just recently bought the boxset and am reading through the manga. Once again. It's absolutely amazing.

Also the openings of them all jumping are absolutely fucking hilarious and you can't tell me otherwise.

If you want to know what officially sold me on the show was just in the first episode. (Note we watched in dub)

Don't ask me why but I found this to be the most hilarious thing ever. The absurdity and the line delivery was magnificent. I annoy my partner by quoting it atleast once a day.

Life Lessons with Uramichi Oniisan

Speaking of comedies. This show has no right to be this good. The absudist dead pan comedy in the middle of whats meant to be a TV show is such a random premise but just works so well.

Due to the nature of the show, the characters are extremely relateable. I especially love Kumatani and Kikaku.

If your on the same side of anime tiktok that I am then you have definitely seen/heard snippets of the dub.

I think this was the first anime that I originally watched in sub and then tried it in dub and actually enjoyed it. (I often find that whatever I originally watched it in is the only one I can watch it in - it's very difficult for me to change it)

The voice acting on both sides just works perfectly for the show. And that final episode and how they did it was the best thing ever.

Please just give it a try.

Angel Beats

Okay. Time for a hard hitter. This comedy like assassintaion classroom is fucking excellent but will make you cry, like damn.

In complete and utter contrast to No game no life, this was the second anime I had ever watched. I had found a video that gave some suggestions and thought I would give this one a try. When I say it destoryed me, I mean it literally. I constantly think about the end of this and I absolutely love revisiting it.

The twist and turns along the way are fascinating and I love how each one alters the characters and the narrative. Each of the characters feel unique - even the lesser developed side characters - with fascinating and complex backstories.

The whole thing just makes you question your own place in life.

Moriarty the Patriot

Another one I just randomly tried because I saw a video on tiktok. The first episode immediately pulled me in. I thought it was just going to be some simple detective story (At the time I didn't know much about Sherlock Holmes and who Moriaty was so I didn't have any of that to guide me into this story.) But nope.

I keep saying this but in this one I really mean it. The characters are built so well. The dichotomy between William and Sherlock - as the fandom would probably agree - is just amazing. How they bounce off of each other - i don't even know how to really descirbe it.

Honestly just go watch it.

And if you enjoyed the anime - please go check out the manga too. If the anime was done well - then the manga is done to lamost perfection.

This show was what got me into reading and then eventually buying manga. I now have every single one that is out.

Yuri!!! on ICE

Did I make the title gay? Yes.

Okayyyyy. This is just going to be me going on about how much I love this show. Bare with me.

So I was in an anime watching slump just before I picked up this show. I had been seeing some videos popping up talking about it and decided to give it a try (this was in 2020)

I immediately fell in love with this show. Literally everything about it. I ended up rewatching it three times over the course of a week. It got to a point where I was so upset that there wasn't more content for it that I just cried for half a day. (Ask my partner - it was chaos)

This show is the reason I now read fanfiction - all because I found a way to technically have more content for it.

This show holds such an important place in my heart that I sincerely cannot express it properly.

If you've never watched it - go give it a try. It would mean a lot - and hopefully one day we might get a season two.

----

Thanks for reading, if you managed to get to this point. I find it interesting how my explanations managed to slowly get shorter throughout the list as I just started becoming more emotional than factual.

I hope you enjoyed it and maybe grabbed a recommendation or two. If you'd like to know more or hear me ramble on more about anything in particular then please let me know.

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gems1g · 1 month ago

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Started the Amphoreus quest last night. Mild spoilers for HSR patch 3.0.

I hope Hoyo won't replace some of the EN VAs, I'll wait as long as I have too. Hope they can give us the option to replay the main quest once the other characters are voiced, otherwise I may have to start an alt account. Really wished Dan Heng was voiced, but just really happy he seems to be really involved in this quest and making up for all the Trailblazing he missed out on some of the earlier patches. Would be awesome if Caelus was voiced too, but them not doesn't really bother me much (as someone used to playing old, silent RPGs).

I like Phainon, he's amusing and I like some of his quips. His banter with Caelus if you choose some of the wittier lines is great! Mydei too - I feel like he's the type to take everything literally, with comical results.😂 Phainon and Mydei also has really good tension with each other - I feel like they're polar opposites. So far I'm getting more of a sibling vibe between Phainon and Caelus (I think there were rumors or leaks that Phainon is like Firefly in the sense that they obviously have a thing for the Trailblazer, but I'm not getting that vibe yet), and Caelus and the other characters. Probably also because I'm just thrilled about more DanCae moments in-game and blind to other possible ships (except Phainon-Mydei).😂

Every Chrysos Heir introduced so far has been fantastic imho, I don't have any complaints about them yet. Though I feel like all of them are suspicious, what with that request Aglaea makes from the Trailblazer too. I had to stop at the part where Caelus is exploring the market with Dan Heng and just. I'm just so happy they get some bonding time.🥹

Also I'm curious about the Express coach - will they ever go back for it and salvage it? It was supposed to be DanCae's homebase too, and it will be very uncharacteristic of them if they just leave the wreckage behind, because other people may stumble upon it. Especially as the Heirs seem to not want the Trailblazers to reveal their true origins. And I don't think Pom-Pom would take kindly to just leaving a part of the Express behind in Amphoreus. Maybe the Express coach is a Chekhov's Gun, and will be used in a future plotline as evidence of Dan Heng and Caelus being from beyond the sky? 🤔 And then some epic shit will go down at that point.😂

I'm curious about where the main story is headed to. I have theories about the plot and the new world in general, as well as Kephale - we'll see if some of them pans out.

Story pacing-wise, I like Amphoreus better than Penacony. The introduction of some of the new gameplay and exploration mechanics doesn't feel forced, although I feel they could have put another section or two involving "in-plot" exploration in between going from the Abyss to Okhema. Or maybe I'm just too excited to advance the story, so I felt like everything was going a little bit too fast.😂 Really happy I finished building Sunday though, because him with Jing Yuan make short work of the new enemies. Will try to explore more with my Dan Heng IL team, but so far my Sunday-Jing Yuan team works the best.

I just had to stop playing, other wise I won't get any sleep. 🤣 My favorite part so far? The baths, and the rooftops.🥹

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr spoilers #my ramblings

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clickoly · 7 months ago

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(super late) @oknutzy-week-2024 Day 5!

Thank you for the fantastic prompts and the amazing fest. And, of course, thank you to @lumosinlove for these wonderful characters.

Here’s the fifth part of Starboys, a Cubs Formula One AU.

Prompts: Party, Surprise visit

Links to: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Ao3

•••

Down for the ride

Leo had lost count of the number of planes he’d taken in the past months, always on the run for any opportunity to fly home to his family, or just to follow the team around. But it was never on a private jet—much to the dismay of his miles-long legs—or with such good company.

According to the radar on screen, they were flying over Kuala Lumpur. A quick look out the window took Leo's breath away, stunned by the still disbelieving feeling of being on top of the world, with the sun sinking behind an endless field of cottony clouds.

It looked like the sunset in Milan had a couple of weeks earlier—warm and magical—from a terrace overlooking the skyline of an already quiet city. That night, they were supposed to attend the annual party in Monza after the Italian Grand Prix, but Logan had come up with a better plan to celebrate his victory, and perhaps to cheer Finn up a bit.

They had ended up in the fanciest bar Leo had ever set foot in, tucked away at a table out of sight, bathed in the late summer breeze that pleasantly cooled the open space. Leo had felt pampered and maybe out of place, but never within their conversations and their warm smiles. Not with Logan reassuring him that he deserved all that and more, nor with Finn making him feel freer than ever before, in a way he’d never experienced with someone he barely knew.

Finn O’Hara, whose Italian was fluent enough to order the finest wines Leo had ever tasted, and to chat casually with a group of fans they had run into—who had also congratulated Logan and Leo on the good race.

Finn, who was now relaxed in the chair opposite him, obviously lost in the pages of his book, barely moving from time to time, except to push his glasses up his freckled nose.

When Leo glanced at him furtively, their eyes met, and so did their smiles.

"Everything okay?" Finn said.

Leo tilted his head and peeked across the aisle at Logan. "Does he always sleep this much?"

Logan was wrapped in a very warm looking blanket, long since fallen into a deep sleep. Finn's laugh was teasing, but he was looking at Logan with nothing but affection.

Leo had seen that look before. Never in public, where insatiable eyes were constantly on the hunt—for an autograph, a selfie in the best case, otherwise ready to catch a breaking scoop. It had been there the night before, back in Leo's humble apartment, where they had all sheltered after an exhausting day at the Silver factory.

I'll get something good for dinner, Finn had offered. I got you.

Leo had seen Finn wearing new shades of that lopsided smile, so private, something he probably kept to himself and the few he trusted. How he got lucky enough to witness it, Leo couldn't say.

"Rarely," Finn answered his question. "We usually have very strict routines for flights like this one, so we don't get jet lagged."

"And which one of you is breaking the rules today?"

Finn pointed a finger in Logan's direction. "The baby will get all grumpy at the party if he doesn't nap."

That made Leo giggle, but then something urgent and completely unrelated came out of his mouth. "Thank you, Harzy."

Finn's face lost its playfulness, but it was nonetheless bright when he hummed questioningly.

"I don't know..." Leo laughed softly. "I'm just... happy. Yeah. Glad I met you two."

Leo didn't know what surprised him more. He had imagined Finn making a joke, telling him that he was being silly. He certainly hadn't expected to see him still, his cheeks turning a soft shade of pink as he tried to mouth words he apparently couldn't let go of.

"Oh boy," Leo's jaw dropped. He raised an eyebrow at Finn's flattered look. "Did I just leave Finn O'Hara speechless?"

Silently, Finn closed his book and sat up straighter, shaking his head dramatically. "Nutty, Nutty, Nutty..."

"That's me."

Finn leaned his elbows on the tray table between them, his brown eyes—beautifully bruising—locked with Leo's blue. "There's no way you can shut me up," he said, dead serious. "You'll never stand a chance."

"Is that a challenge?" Leo bit back.

Finn shot him a sly wink, "Please, be my guest."

Leo didn't miss a beat. He mirrored his position, dizzy head supported by his hands, impossibly close to Finn's impassive face.

Could Finn see his fast pulse pounding hard against his throat or was it just a feeling?

"Looking forward to it, O'Hara.”

A moment passed, filled only by the insistent roar of the plane's engines. And then they burst out laughing, so uncontrollably that Leo had to wipe tears from his own eyes as he leaned back in the seat. He watched as Finn muffled his loud laughter behind big, strong hands, shoulders still shaking as he tried to control himself.

"What the hell are you laughing at?" a sleepy voice grumbled, and a flying pillow hit Leo's head.

"Ouch," Leo laughed louder.

Logan groaned from where he was propped on one forearm, his dark curls a mess, glaring at them with just one half-open eye. "Weirdos."

"C'mon Sleeping Beauty." Finn reached out to grab the pillow from Leo's lap and tossed it back to Logan. "It's almost time for Nut's first night out in Singapore."

It was another one of Leo's dreams to cross off the list.

In less than an hour, he'd be wandering the busy streets of Marina Bay, the same ones that once a year were transformed into a spectacular circuit—probably Leo's favorite on the calendar.

It was captivating in so many ways. The race was held at night, on a track that wound its way through downtown Singapore with a combination of low and high speed corners, making it one of the most twisty and challenging for the drivers—and exciting for the spectators to watch.

Leo wondered if it would look like it did on TV, a spectacle of lights from the city skyline and the circuit itself, painting a stunning backdrop against the dark sky.

"Oh sweetheart," Eloise Knut cooed over the phone. "I bet it's going to be even better than you ever imagined. I'm so proud of you."

Leo's lips curled into a smile, pure and wistful. "Wish you were here."

"We miss you too, honey," she said softly. "Time’s not moving fast enough. How long till Austin? Two weeks?"

"Yeah," the excitement in her voice made Leo laugh. "I can't wait."

"Ready for tonight?" his dad nearly shouted. Leo could picture them sitting together at the kitchen counter, the phone on speaker at full volume.

"I think so." Leo gazed at himself in the mirror of his hotel room. Unruly curls aside—still drying after a much-needed shower—Leo thought he looked good. He ran a hand down the silky white button-down, tucked neatly into his tailored navy pants. The sleeves were loose on his wrists, and Leo reached down to button the cuffs, cradling the phone between his ear and shoulder to free his hands. "I'm just waiting for Logan to text me when he's ready."

"Logan, as in... Logan Tremblay," Eloise guessed.

Leo felt caught off guard. "Yes?"

There was a pause. "Huh."

"What?" Leo crouched down near the suitcase to find the bow tie.

"Oh, nothing," she said casually. "Nothing, sweetheart."

"Mama."

"Have fun tonight," Eloise subtly avoided the topic. "And send me some pictures!"

Leo's deep sigh was a bit exasperated. He had told them everything about the last few weeks, about having Finn and Logan over for dinner. He had been thrilled to even say out loud that he had friends he felt he could trust, and talk to endlessly. But something in that huh hinted that she had clearly sensed more than that.

"I love you both." He let it all slide. It wasn't the right time, and frankly, he wasn't even sure what to say. "I'll call you soon."

–

Singapore Airlines was hosting an exclusive Grand Prix opening party. Big sponsors usually meant big events, and people were already speculating about all kinds of crazy things online.

"Marketing strategies," Logan explained. They stepped out of his car, provided by the team for the week—a recently released gem from Silver Motors, artfully customized in matte green to match the colors of Logan's racing helmet. With a quick smile and a confident nod, Logan handed the keys to the valet and led Leo to the grand entrance of the venue. "It's basically a business meeting," he said. "A shit ton of handshakes, pictures for the print..."

"Yeah, with an open bar, tremendous food, music and friends..." Leo scoffed. "It can't be that awful."

Logan was about to reply when he froze on the spot. A redhead, who Leo swore looked like Finn, was walking toward them, arm in arm with a girl. Bronze skin, chocolate brown waves tied up perfectly in a high ponytail. Leo knew it when she was close enough, as thick, long lashes fluttered open to reveal emerald green eyes. Logan's.

"Ugh, the enemies are here," the man's snarky remark was punctuated by a familiar grin, earning him a quick slap on the shoulder from his companion.

"That's my little brother you're talking about, O'Hara."

Her accent, also Logan's.

"Okay, what's going on?" Logan huffed an incredulous laugh.

"Salut," the girl leaned forward to press a tender kiss to Logan's cheek before holding out her hand to Leo. "We finally meet," she said warmly. "I'm Noelle, Logan's–"

"Sister, yeah," Leo laughed bashfully. "Leo Knut, it's a pleasure to meet you." Leo's gaze shifted to a stubbled, freckled face and golden brown eyes. "And you must be..."

"Alex," the redhead shook his hand firmly. "I'm the better-looking O'Hara."

Well… Not exactly true, Leo thought. But he clearly had a point.

"What are you doing here?" Logan playfully shoved Alex. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming?"

"Supportive sibling duties, Tremblay," Alex threw an arm around Logan's shoulder. "And we haven't been to a race together in ages."

That made Logan smile. "What about the tickets? How did you–"

"Celeste," Noelle said as if it meant something obvious. "She arranged everything, of course. It was very short notice, and we thought..." She and Alex exchanged a meaningful look. "We thought we should make it a surprise."

Leo watched Alex's jaw clench, a hard, bitter bite on the inside of his cheek. He swallowed hard before asking, "Where's Fish?"

"He just texted me," Logan put his phone back in his pocket. "He's waiting inside."

Finn's expression was priceless when they found him. He broke off his conversation with James and his wife Lily mid-sentence and, in the blink of an eye, his eyebrows knitted together, a gleaming grin spread across his face, eyes wide, and then his lips quivered slightly as he all but threw himself into his brother's waiting arms. A couple of flashes lit up the dim room, greedily capturing the moment.

They got less than ten minutes of peace before a woman in a fitted black jumpsuit and high heels came to fetch Logan and Finn, asking for a quick interview with a representative from Richard Mille, one of the few sponsors they shared.

Leo looked between Alex and Noelle and smiled nervously. He wasn't sure what to do, he didn't want to be rude. Was he intruding? He probably should have left them alone.

But Alex wouldn't let him.

"The man of the moment," he said, placing a firm hand on Leo's shoulder. "Let's get something to drink, shall we?"

Soft jazz and low yellow lights warmed the ambience. Waiters danced around groups of chatting people, flawlessly carrying full trays of gold-filled crystal glasses.

Smooth tequila burned its way down Leo's throat. The zesty smell of lime and the rough grains of salt between his lips brought back bittersweet memories of fading tastes on his mouth that Leo rushed to wash away with another swig of his Margarita.

When, when, when would he finally let it go?

Meet me later, Le?

Alex and Noelle sat on the L-shaped couch across from him. They both looked stunning, Alex in his dark blue suit, tie already gone, and Noelle in a white halterneck dress that made her tan skin glow. Straight out of a James Bond movie, the two of them. And Leo didn't quite know what to do with himself.

"Okay, I'm gonna tell you this in confidence," Alex began. "I know I'm supposed to be on the other team's side, but..." He sipped at his whiskey, dark and neat, and leaned forward to put the glass back on the small marble table between them. "That call in Monza? Fucking amazing, man."

"Mhm," Noelle agreed. She nodded over the rim of her glass of sparkling wine. "And how you managed to get Lolo to listen to you, now that I'd really like to know."

"He's got a reputation, huh?" Lolo. Leo couldn't help but laugh, face burning, remembering all the times he'd heard Logan's voice on TV, the scratchy team radios, making it a point to show his disagreement with any team strategy he didn't approve of.

"You bet," a wry grin curled her full, red lips.

"You work in motorsports too, right?" Leo asked Alex. He was pretty sure he'd read his name on some article about the recent 24 Hours of Le Mans. "How come you chose the WEC instead of Formula One?"

"Oh, y'know..." Alex breathed out a weak laugh, eyes dark, just as Noelle turned to look at him. "Right opportunity at the right time," he smiled at Leo. "Fish always insists, but... Maybe someday. For now, I enjoy being able to sleep in my bed for more than a week a month."

Curiosity got the better of Leo, and the three of them ended up discussing the ins and outs of the World Endurance Championship, getting fascinating insights from the perspective of a front-page journalist. Alex seemed as caught up in the conversation as Leo was, telling him stories about his experiences in a way that reminded Leo of Finn, ever so enthusiastic when talking about something he loved.

Leo sank into their tales, too distracted to notice two blond heads moving in their direction. He caught Natalie's smirk just as she stood two steps away from the couch, behind Alex's back.

"So you actually listen to me, Freckle," she said as she reached out to pinch at Alex's waist. "I told you that blue would suit–"

Alex turned and Natalie went pale.

"...you. Jesus Christ." Her eyes widened comically, and a dark flush quickly spread from her cheeks down to her bare collarbones. She blinked twice, lips moving tentatively, until she called out in a barely there voice to Kasey, who was behind her, biting his bottom lip to suppress a full blown laugh. "Babe?"

Alex stared at her, suddenly speechless. Noelle had her eyes on Kasey, her mouth drawn into a thin line.

"Yes?" Kasey managed.

"There's two of them."

Kasey let himself laugh. "Just the wrong O'Hara, hon." The tension of the moment broke when Alex let out an amused laugh that was impossible to resist. He stood, holding out his hand to squeeze hers, and properly introduced himself.

Then, one in front of the other, Alex and Kasey hesitated. Leo thought they looked lost, and perhaps a little scared. But when Kasey pulled Alex into a tight hug, Leo could read the words you came on Kasey's trembling lips.

–

It was a roller coaster of emotions. A whole new beginning, new people, possibilities, discoveries. And now this.

Two sets of beautiful eyes stood out in the crowd, scanning every corner of the room until they found the source of their beaming grins. Two souls forever tied together, impossibly kind, generous. Surreal.

They moved in sync, elegantly, sharing a swift glance that spoke volumes. And then they were there, right in front of Leo. Strong shoulders pressed together, shiny black and dark green fabrics shimmering in the low light. Surreal.

Having fun without us, Nut?

The music grew louder, people began to move to the improvised dance floor—Alex, Natalie, and Kasey; Remus and Lily; Noelle with a rather flattered Thomas Walker—and Leo felt his world stop, a sudden brake in the middle of a high-speed ride.

Leo wanted to know what analytical, practical or rational thought could explain what was happening to him.

Why did everything feel so easy with those two?

A hard-earned life made of numbers, methodical strategies, and considered decisions, cautious. And now something unknown was pushing Leo to his limits.

"So," he managed to say. "What do you guys feel like?"

Another look, another unspoken agreement. Finn lit up in ten different shades of charm, his signature smirk on his lips, and pressed one hand on Leo's back, the other on Logan's.

Leo had promised himself that he would be careful. He needed things to be under his full control this time.

But there it was, the fire, the rush of adrenaline. This new feeling of sprinting through the narrowest streets at 150 miles per hour and not being in danger.

Leo looked between them, holding his breath.

"Let's go dance," Finn said, and Leo went, full throttle, because it felt right, and he wanted to trust himself more than anything else in the world.

#o'knutzy week 2024 #o'knutzy #lumosinlove #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut

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