#i don’t have any reason to trust you more than the staff here

[jane-lynndrake-t]

Yeaahhhhhh, I don't think it was a coma

That's something I can agree with... but that was the only lead I had.

Damnit. Is it really 2024? I can't be.. I can't be forty-two. I wish I had a mirror. I hate that I can't disprove this. I hate that I can't confirm this.

I hate this, I hate this both.

[qnomnstrs]

Heian Era! Sukuna x Concubine! reader The only way is down

PART 2 IS HERE

I think I might give this one a part two with more fluff

Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, use of word slut, pregnancy, slight humiliation, plot with porn, fluff if you squint, creampie, double dicks, anal, fingering, blowjob, double penetration, dacryphillia, trueform! Sukuna

Word Count 3K

Sukuna speaking is in red

y/n speaking is in green

Hana speaking is in blue

Small Concubine in purple

Small Concubine’s Servant in orange

Sukuna ruled over all. Sukuna’s law was above anything else. He ruled over humans and curses. They feasted on human flesh. Towns were turned into cattle farms. Sukuna was not a nice or forgiving man. Even still, he had desires. Many concubines lived in his estate, human concubines. Sukuna had a perversion of taking those frail and weak.  He had his favorites that he visited often, causing ranks among the concubines. His favorites received a lady in waiting, their own pavilion and staff. This caused discourse in the concubines. They would try de-ranking each other to move up in status. Sukuna wasn’t any help as he has no care for the concubine disputes. He would kill them if he was displeased.

You were a mid-ranking concubine. You had your own room, bath and a lady-in-waiting. Your pavilion was shared with the other mid ranking concubines. Your servant was a low-level curse. Every servant was a curse. They were faster and more capable than humans. Not to mention a curse can protect a concubine if needed.

You currently were in the garden with the other concubines. A tea party was hosted, you showed up out of respect and curtesy.

A smaller woman next to you spoke, “I love my lady-in-waiting. I view her as a close friend. Its nice to have one! She even tried scolding me for dirtying my dress in the garden! I told her not to worry, she’s so thoughtful!”

You rolled your eyes. She clearly is a new concubine, who moved through the ranks quickly. She was very beautiful and delicate, Sukuna’s type. It irked you when the girls pretended their servants were their friends. You took a sip of your tea and calmly retorted.

“Your lady-in-waiting is here to keep you safe and presentable for Lord Sukuna. If you truly thought of her as your friend, you wouldn’t be so careless. She is the one that gets punished for your naive actions. I hope you can do better in the future.”

The small woman blushed in embarrassment; tears welled up in her eyes. She abruptly got up and rushed off.

“My lady!” Her lady-in-waiting followed closely behind her.

It wasn’t intentional to make her cry, you did feel bad for her servant though. You sighed in frustration, staying a bit longer at the garden party.

“You shouldn’t have been so rude to the new girl; she really didn’t do anything.” A woman in green stated.

“I was just trying to give her some advice, she is too naïve. She is climbing the ranks too quickly. If she becomes a top consort, she will be de ranked quickly; trusting others so openly. Once at the top, the only way is back down.”  You spoke the truth. You purposely don’t rank up for this very reason. Sukuna comes and visits you once in a blue moon. He has so many women here, he couldn’t visit them all in one month if he visited one every night. When he visits you, you sleep with him and do what he asks. You don’t do anything fancy.

Speak of the devil, Sukuna himself rounded the corner. He wore a leisure robe, his bottom set of arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t look happy. His bottom eye is looking directly at you, you shiver at the condescending glare. All the women get up from their seats and bow. You did as well.

“My Lord Sukuna” everyone says in unison. You glance forward and notice the small consort rubbing the tears out of her eyes. She is behind Sukuna. Normally Sukuna doesn’t settle consort disputes, he must of ran into her on accident.

“Tell me who made this brat cry?” He was pissed like he didn’t want to be here. You had to be careful, or it was your head. Before anyone else spoke you ratted yourself out.

“Lord Sukuna it was me. It was not my intention; I was giving her advice.”

“I’m sure, and what advice would that be? Get to the point.”

“I simply stated she should be more cautious of her actions as they affect others. She should be careful of whom she calls friends.”

Sukuna looked at your servant, Hana, who nodded in agreement.

“Is this true?” Sukuna now looked at the small lady.

“WELL- SHE!” The lady started to get anxious and loud but her servant stopped her.

“Yes, my Lord this is what happened. My lady is just not used to being critiqued so openly.”

Sukuna scoffed, “So my time was wasted for this shit!? Learn how to talk to others, I won’t accept another stupid outburst from you again”.

“Yes, my Lord” The small lady sniffled and bowed her head.

“AND YOU-“

Sukuna now had his attention back on you. You can’t deny the nervous sweat on your neck. He was so intimidating. Hopefully you wouldn’t be de-ranked or even worse killed.

“Visit my room tonight.” With that Sukuna turned and left, not even awaiting your response. He wanted you to visit him tonight? After you annoyed him? Suddenly, being de-ranked didn’t sound so bad.

“My lady you need to be careful on how you speak to Lord Sukuna” The servant was trying to calm the small lady who was still crying.

“Miss, we should prepare you a bath and get ready.” Hana spoke to you awakening you from your deep thought.

“Yes of course.”

You followed Hana to your room. She helped you undress from your layers of robes and started a warm bath. The bath had aromatic oils and flowers in it. She helped scrub you down and shave. Once done, she combed your hair, decorating it with fine jewelry. You wore a see-thru night gown and robe over it. Your attire was alluring but not over the top, just the way you liked it. Hana began escorting you to Lord Sukuna’s palace. Once you arrived at his door, Hana stopped you.

“Please be careful my lady.” You smiled at the thought. She was worried about you.

“Thank you Hana I’m sure it will be alright.”

Hana knocked, “Lord Sukuna Lady y/n is here”

“You may enter”

Hana opened the door for you. She bowed her head and left. You bowed your head and awaited Sukuna’s command. He was only after his own pleasure as usual.

“Enough with the formalities come here and undress.”

You looked up and saw Sukuna on top of his large bed. He sat in his usual position, resting on his side with a shit eating grin. You blushed at his urgency and began to undress. It was still uncomfortable to get bare in front of someone so casually, but you hid the emotion from him. You crawled onto the bed on your knees in front of him. He undid his robe revealing his hard abs and two flaccid cocks. Just seeing you naked wasn’t enough for him.

“Suck me off until I’m satisfied”

“Yes, my lord”

You bend down and put one cock in your mouth and stroke the other. Even soft, his cocks are thick and 8 inches long. He was a grower too. He was a large curse after all. You swirled your tongue around the tip. You took as much as you could in your mouth. You could feel him growing in your mouth. You repeated the motions then switched to suck the other one on top. At full length he is 12 inches and four fingers thick. Sukuna liked how well you deepthroated him compared to most concubines. You were sloppy. You would gag and have saliva dripping down your chin. You hollowed your cheeks. You loved the feeling of his cocks hitting the back of your throat and how he tasted so clean every time.

“Maybe I should bring you in here more often. I think you could take all of me eventually since you love my cocks so much, fuck!”

He put a hand on your head and pushed you down further. He rocked his body into your face. You breathed through your nose and let out a big gag. He released your head. You went back down to his bottom one. The other one resting atop your head. Pre cum dribbled into your hair and face.

“That’s enough”

You pulled back a string of saliva connecting you to his cock. Your mouth was open and your breathing was ragged. It was surprising he didn’t finish in your mouth like usual.

He pulled you on your back, towering over you. Your eyes met his chest. You admired his attractive body and markings.

“You caused quite a stir today”

“Im sorry my Lord you should have not been involved in such trivial matters.” You were scared now. Why bring this up now? What was his intention? You shook slightly.

Sukuna smiled and his pupils dilated. He liked seeing you so frail and scared. Out of all his concubines, you always remained calm and collective. It caught his eye, and he started to acknowledge your presence a while ago.

“Maybe I should make you cry as you did the other girl today. Perhaps I will fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

You looked up into his eyes. The fear in your eyes was delicious. You weren’t sure how to respond to him. You’ve had sex with Sukuna before he’s huge and it’s kind of painful, more than pleasurable. He’s never tried to please you before, only himself. You assume he means fuck you so hard that you can’t walk afterwards, nothing pleasurable about that. Sukuna stays in his same position, top arms on their elbows above your head. His bottom arms move. One hand opens your legs and the other spreads your folds. He puts in one finger. His hands are so much bigger than yours. One of his fingers was three of yours.

“damn you’re tight” he massages his finger inside trying to find where its most sensitive. You moan quietly as he abuses the same spot. As you loosen up, he adds a second finger. You put your hands up to his chest trying to stay quiet. Your legs were twitching as he penetrated you. He adds a third finger gently massaging your insides. The tension in your belly was rising about to break. You continued to let out soft mewls and wriggling your hips around. You couldn’t stay still as the pleasure was overstimulating.

“Go ahead and cum y/n”

Upon hearing Sukuna speak your name, The tension broke and you groaned as you squirted on his hand. You still tried to be as composed as possible when you came.

“Thank you, Lord Sukuna,”

“Tch what the hell was that?”

Sukuna leaned back onto his knees, while you laid down. Your eyes were widened. Curious, what he was so upset with?

“I can’t wait to break you. This time down hide your moans from me. Relax I want to see you melt under me.”

“y-yes sir” That was the first time you stuttered in front of him. How were you supposed to relax when he made you so tense? Either way you would listen to his command.

He positioned his bottom cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down. He pushed forward. His head couldn’t even fit. He continued pushing and prodding, your pussy slowly giving and allowing him entrance. His head was all the way in and you shuddered. You could feel every ridge, and vein in his cock. After your first orgasm everything was sensitive. You gripped onto his forearms. He was still on his knees, you could see his face more clearly and he yours. You blushed at the thought of him watching you receive pleasure from him. His top set of eyes watched your face and the bottom set watched your pussy. He had a shit eating grin watching you blush under him. Sukuna continued pushing his cock all the way in until you were full. You moaned and rubbed under your belly button, where you could feel the tip of his cock press against you. It was so sensitive up there. You could never reach with your own hands how far Sukuna is. His top cock was resting on your stomach. He used one of his hands to pump it. Before letting you adjust, he began moving at a slow pace. Normally he would move at a fast and rough pace. This allowed you to feel your insides being rearranged instead of going numb.

“nhnn- o-ohh! Ugh nn wait I ugh-“ You couldn’t speak normal sentences anymore. It felt like he was taking the air out of your lungs. He continued to push into you.

“Open your mouth little slut. Clearly you still need something to suck on”

He bent down and kissed you; he has never done that. It was a sloppy wet kiss. His tongue prodded you. You moaned in his mouth and whined. You moved your hips up, he had to pin you down. He switches his angle rubbing a sensitive spot that it almost hurt. You dug your nail into his arms, then scratched down his back. You put your hands everywhere they could reach to try and hold yourself. You came harshly. You couldn’t even tell your orgasm was approaching. Your pussy clenched but it was no match for the thick cock inside you; he kept pushing in as your pussy tried pushing him out.

“Fuck woman your sucking the soul out of my cock right now.”

He continued a few thrusts while a hand pumped a few fingers in your ass. You have done anal with him before, so this wasn’t an issue.

“Sir i- I can’t”

“Nu-ugh you haven’t received your punishment yet little slut I don’t see any tears yet.

He pulled out and lined both his cocks at your entrances. He pressed in. If you felt full earlier, now you really do. You were sure there wasn’t any room for any organs in your body. You laid there limp. You were still so sensitive and sore from the last round. You pussy was still trying to push him out.

“Fuck!”

This time he had a fast and rough pace. He was so deep in your ass. Tears welled up in your eyes. Finally, those sweet tears of pleasure.

“My-my Lord Sukuna please -please I- can’t”

Sukuna started to lick the tears off your face now fully aware of your desperation. It turned him on to see you unravel and needy. He continued his brutal pace, and you came. Sukuna finally roared as he came hard. He filled you to the brim, thrusting into you a few more times. Sukuna wasn’t tired in the slightest. He pulled out slowly. It felt empty.

“Get on your hands and knees, show me your pussy.” You shakily moved. His cum dripped out of both holes. He smacked your ass and played with your body.

“Fuck yes”

“Thank you, Lord Sukuna,”

“You may leave now y/n”

You jumped when he said your name. How did he remember? He never knew it before. You put on your clothes and left quietly. Hana was outside the door and helped you to your room. Once there you crashed. You were so exhausted and sore.

The next morning Hana gave you breakfast in bed, heating pads and tea. It was normal for concubines to have to stay in bed after sex. You thought about when you first arrived how embarrassing it was to have someone help wash the cum out of you or to wait outside Sukuna’s room. Now it’s normal.

Nothing unusual happened after that. A few weeks later you were tending to the garden, practicing songs and dances with the other concubines. You were all taught these arts to impress Sukuna at banquets and such. However today you were exhausted. You were sleepier than usual, as of late. Once you arrived in your room you started to fall asleep on the couch.

“My lady sorry to wake you, you mustn’t sleep on the couch please sleep in your bed.”

“Just let me rest with my eyes closed, I won’t fall asleep.”  You fell asleep sitting up on the large couch. In your room you had a bed, dresser, and sitting area for guests. Hana let you sleep there, clearly you were very tired. She went to prepare some food for later. Sukuna barged into your room suddenly

“My Lord!” Hana dropped to the ground and bowed.

“Where is she?”

“Lady y/n is resting on the couch my lord”

“Why is she sleeping there and not her bed?”

“My lord she seemed very tired and I did not want to disturb her”

“Very well you may take your leave”

Sukuna shooshed away Hana. You still slept. Sukuna came and sat next to you. He didn’t wake you, just let you sleep. You moved in your sleep and rested your head in his lap. He huffed and petted your head. He was coming for sexual reasons but decided to let you sleep. Especially since he noticed your energy was off. He studied your sleeping face and contemplated why your energy fluctuating. Then it hit him, you’re pregnant. He couldn’t believe it. He finally has an heir. Being a human-turned-curse has wasn’t sure if he could produce children. Finally, out of all the consorts you were pregnant. He boasted out laughing and it awoke you from your slumber. Your eyes opened still full of sleep. You stared at your room trying to wake up. That’s when you realized you were sleeping on someone. It was Sukuna! You jolted up and bowed your head.

“Lord Sukuna I am sorry for sleeping I wasn’t aware of your arrival.”

“Ill forgive it this time. Its understood with your condition.”

You gave him a puzzled look, as he smiled like a madman.

“Y/n’s Servant!”

Hana hurried back in “Yes my lord?”

“You will gather Y/n and her belongings; she is to be moved into my palace at once.”

“Yes of course, thank you Lord Sukuna”

“Wait my Lord why? I don’t understand”

“You are being promoted”

“I understand my Lord but why into your palace? I dare not question you my lord but I have never heard of another consort being in your palace”

“Always the courteous silver tongue you have y/n. Yes you are the first to be promoted as a wife.”

“A wife!?”

“Yes enough rambling I must go”

“Servant make sure you double y/n’s portions and have the doctor come check her for the pregnancy”

“Yes my lord” Sukuna left just as fast as he arrived.

“PREGENANT!!!???”

Hana looked at you shocked.

“Oh! Miss y/n! How delightful! A wife! And an heir!”

You couldn’t believe it. All this time you were trying to stay hidden and now you’re promoted to wife. It can’t get worse than this!

[safination]

Partners in Death... and Life

Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted

| Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Part 4: The Radio Star’s Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes||Masterlist| ao3| Tag-list| Parings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem!reader, established relationship, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm still trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) Reader is in hell for a reason. Please take note of the following warnings: Body horror. Graphic descriptions of injuries, glass piercing skin, cutting of skin, cutting of chest. Dissection of Human muscles. Misogyny Just…be careful out there

Series Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason.

Hello. I usually aim to post on Wednesdays, and I knoooow it's not a Wednesday. But, in my defense, this chapter is longer than chapters 1 and 2 combined. Also, I tried to keep the body horror to a medium level. I tried to find a perfect balance of horrifying but also still readable. Would you guys want more body horror, or less, or is this a good amount? Updated: 5/01/2024 *just realized that I forgot to add the part I was supposed to add*

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The heart monitor beeps with a steady rhythm. The model’s ECG reading dip, but that’s normal for her species. You study the model asleep on your table, and take your place.

Turning to your interns, you adjust the fit of your gloves as say, “Are you ready?

From the other side of the table, Lys nods her head with such vigor that you’re afraid it would fall off. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be!”

Heme takes their place next to you, wheeling the cart within your reach. “Aren’t there supposed to be more people here?” they ask, adjusting the fit of their mask with their shoulder. “We don’t even have an anesthesiologist present, and the technician dumped the tools and left without a word!”

Sighing, you take another look at the screen, and monitor the patient’s ECG readings. Just a couple of decades ago, you wouldn’t even be allowed to take five steps into a surgical suite, but in your death, you stare at the state-of-the-art Vox technology heart monitor.

“This was dumped at the last minute. And the Vees paid a hefty amount for the best,” you say, smiling to yourself. “I guess it doesn’t help that most of the staff have clocked-off for the night already.”

“It really doesn’t,” Heme says. You think they frown, you’re not actually sure. It’s hard to tell with masks on, but Heme sounds like they’re frowning.

“On the bright side, this is a special case, and special cases require special means,” you say. “Stick around, and I’ll make sure to show you something amazing.”

Lys squeals, jumping a bit, “I can’t wait to see your work.”

You turn to Heme. “Tell how you were guided into stopping the bleeding by Doctor Neisseria.”

Heme straightens, round their shoulders. “Hemostatic dressing for the capillaries,” they recite. “Then Lys clipped the bigger vessels, and Doctor Neisseria used an electrocautery for any that we missed.”

“Good,” you say. “Lys, is this your first time using a clip?”

“ . . . Yes,” Lys tells you. Even with a mask on, you could tell she was sulking.

You eye the cart between you and Heme, double checking that the technician brought everything you requested for. “It shows,” you say. “Practice every chance you get. Make a deal with some poor and down on their luck Sinner who wouldn’t mind making a deal for permission to poke around whenever you want. They’ll heal on their own if it’s not too severe or don’t—I mean, that’s how I did mine.”

Lys blinks at you. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Your shoulder slumps. “ . . . Shall we just begin?”

Heme hands you a needle driver, the needle already clipped to it. A bunch of suture forms around your palm. It’s study, and made of pure Sinner Magical Energy, or just magic or whatever. It comes out of your and you have full control, that’s all you need to know.

Heme and Lys lean closer to observe the threads you make.

I don’t get to do this often.” You turn your head, motioning to the detached arm placed on the side. The skin has been stretched and the jagged and stringy muscle fibers sticking out tell you it’s been ripped off rather than slice. The radius protrudes out into the air, jagged and sharp. It would have hurt this model quite a lot. “Steady her arm please.”

Lys snatches the arm, holding it with confidence as she steadies it. “This is so cool.”

Heme hums. “Cool in a gross way.”

“Whether your patient is awake or not, a steady hand is key,” you say. “When you pierce your needle, be sure to do it right at the epidermis when dealing with the skin. Too deep and you’ll puncture the arteries or nerves.”

Lys brings the arm closer, and you do the first suture that will connect the limb of Velvette’s model. Valen-something apparently tore her up, but it wasn’t enough to kill her. So, they rushed her into the Emergency Room three days before this poor girl’s debut, and dropped her into your care with her arm and leg in an ice box.

You sew the model’s arm. The threads around your fingers are light, but sturdy. You entwine some around your fingers like some puppet master for better grip. Blood vessels, bones, nerves, and muscles. Not a single cell escapes your control.  

You quiz your interns from time to time or tell them to take a closer look at where the vessels stick out the muscles, making sure they’re able to observe how a proper reattachment is conducted.

You study the threads connecting the arm to its body There are thousands of loose sutures. One single pull, and it will be completely reattached.

You shift your shoulders and crack your neck, giving it a slight stretch. “How long has it been?”

Lys glances at the clock behind you. “Five hours. I think it’s almost sunrise.”

“Be ready to be here for a while,” you say, rolling your shoulders. “The leg will be more complicated.”

Heme groans and their shoulder slump. “I guess I should just be thankful the model is mostly humanistic.”

You pull on the singular thread, and the stitches shorten until the arm is fully connected to its base. A thing line is the only indication that any limbs have been detached.

The door swings open and you snap your head at the sound.

“Hey doc!” The little Egg Boi saunters into the room, an envelope in his tiny hands. “I got something for you.”

Your feathers crack and sharpen. “If you wish to keep your shell,” you hiss at him, “you will leave this room before you contaminate it further.”

Egg Boi #04 wobbles a bit. “I was told to give you a message.”

A headache forms on your temples. You want to massage it, but that would contaminate your gloves. “Lys, show the egg to the observation room. Show him the microphone.”

Lys pouts a bit but exits the surgical suite.

Heme grabs the leg, and you begin again. You pause to take a deep breath. The threads don’t just appear out of thin air—they’re created because you will them to take shape. It gives as much as it needs to take from you.

Egg Boi# 04’s voice echoes on the speaker. “I have a note for you.”

“Read it then leave.” You pierce the tibia bone with your needle (special hell needle, you guess. Normal needles definitely cannot pierce bones) and connect it to the model’s leg.

Your concentration does not waver, even as Lys enters back into the room.

“ My dearest good doctor, ” Egg Boi #04 reads. “ What a helltastic day for –"

“Stop!” you exclaim, and the threads you’re producing fizzle a bit, “Is that from Alastor?”

“Uhhh . . . yes?”

“Give me 10 minutes.” You sew the model’s leg just like before, starting from bones, then vessels, the muscles, and finally skin, but this time at a much faster pace.  

Thousands of strings connect the detached leg to its place.

Heme gawks at you. “I thought the leg was more complicated?”

“It is.”

“It took you five minutes to sew everything ,” they say. “Why did it take the arm until sunrise?”

“You wouldn’t have been able to learn anything if I went too fast.” You hand the needle driver to Heme, who takes it with eager hands “I trust you will be able to close for me?”

“Yes!”

“Go around the skin—remember not too deep,” you say. “Once it’s all connected, just one strong pull and the threads should work their magic. Lys, once she closes, you can practice your knots.”

The door closes with a swing. You discard your gloves then peel off your protective layers, but you keep the scrub cap on your head.

The Egg Boi waddles into the room, threatening to tip any moment. He holds up Alastor’s note and you’re forced to bend when you reach for it.

You open the envelope and sigh. “This is a letter, and definitely not a note ,” you say counting all the pages jammed into the envelope. “Notes are small pieces of paper, and not fifteen pages of paper scribbled back-to-back.”

You take one deep breath, flaring your nostrils as you contemplate your marriage choices, and begin reading.

Heme enters the holding room as you’re reading through the last page.

They take a look at the pages you’ve read. “Ohhhhh a letter?” they say, discarding their mask into the trash. Their gloves are next. “Who is it from?”

“My husband.”

“Why a letter?” Heme asks you “Why not just shoot you a text or a phone call?”

“He mumbles to himself when he writes, and he just loves hearing his own voice.” You turn to the Egg Boi once you’ve read the last word. “Tell Alastor I’m busy—I can’t leave work to go to the hotel on such short notice!”

“Right . . .” Heme leans against the sink. “Management will be dropping by this afternoon.”

Your eyes squint. “This afternoon? I was told there'd be visiting tomorrow!”

“Yes, they informed you last night,” Heme says. “It’s tomorrow now—morning, actually.”

Your eyes twitch as you turn to Egg Boi #4. “Tell him I will be early. Now go, run along now, lest you get scrambled.”

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Bustling sounds from the other side of the circus themed doors. You knock then take a step backwards, least Vaggie greets you with a fist to the face.

A crash sounds from the inside. The door slams open, and Charlie pops out, hair disheveled and sticking out in odd places. You see the relief oozing into her. Charlie’s smile relaxes and her eyes stop bulging at the sight of you.

She says your name with enthusiasm. “It’s just you! I am so glad to see you.”

You wave at her. “Hello, Charlie. It’s good to see you as well.”

“Would you like to come inside?” she says at the same time another crash sounds. Charlie’s smile turns sheepish. “I hope you don’t mind the mess.”

“It’s quite alright,” you say with a polite smile. “Who am I to judge another person’s mess? It can be quite entertaining sometimes.”

 Charlies smoothens the stray hairs sticking out. It does little to actually fix it. “Sooooo what brings you by? Not that you’re not welcome here! Everyone is welcome here! We don’t discriminate at –”

The door swings wider and Alastor pops out with that permanent smile of his. “I called her here.”

Alastor helps you out of your coat as you enter through the doors, and drapes it over his arm. “I came early. I hope you don’t mind,” you say, glancing at the crudely attached banners. Strobe lights are being taped to the railings. Its brightness makes you blink. “Are you throwing a party? Is that why you called me here?”

Alastor hangs your coat on the rack. “We’re preparing for a sudden guest,” he says. “It seems we’ll have to delay our plans, only if you’re happy with waiting for me.”

Charlie shrinks and her eyes water a bit. “Alastor . . .,” she says with a frown. “If you have plans, that’s alright—go. We can manage without you here!”

“Not at all, this is where he needs to be right now,” you tell Charlie, placing a hand on her shoulder. Her smile brightens immediately. “Who will be the special guest today?”

Charlie fiddles with her fingers. “We invite my . . . dad .”

Alastor twirls his microphone. “The King of Hell himself.”

“Oh,” you start, “ the demon is coming here?”

“That’s actually Satan,” Charlie says with a smile. “Dad often gents confused with Satan but they’re not the same

“Oh . . . So, Lucifer is coming here.”

“Pretty much.”

You laugh a bit—you’re not even sure why. Maybe you shouldn’t have laughed. It sounded so awkward, even to you. “Well, how can I help? If it’s alright with you, of course.”

Charlie’s eyes brighten, and she shakes your shoulders. “Are you sure?”

Alastor grabs Charlie’s fingers with the tip of his own and pry them off you. “I’ve already come all this way,” you say, and turn to your husband. “I’m sure we can make the most out of this situation.”

Charlie leaves to change her clothes, and hopefully brush her hair while she’s at it.

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his, even when you know it’s unnecessary to escort you to a living area that’s five-feet away.

He leaves you, walking to the kitchen with a wave of his microphone.

The hotel looks the same, just more diverse colors hanging around. Niffty stalks past you without a word, engrossed in her task of sweeping the floor. Angel Dust or Vaggie don’t seem to be around, nor is Husk at his usual post. Only a one-eyed cat keeps you company.

On the table,  deflated balloons are left forgotten with two pumps resting next to it. You take your seat, and complete the unfinished task.

You’re on the third balloon when Alastor presents a mug to you.

He leans over the chair, reaching his arms to place that ‘ Oh Deer’ mug on the table. It’s difficult to meet his eyes when he leans so far in front that his whole face is upside down.

His hair hangs in the air, and your husband looks goofy in such an awkward position that you can’t help but laugh. “You look awful this hellish morning!” he says, and his grin widens until his teeth show. “I thought you could use a bit of brightening up. You’re practically dozing off in the chair.”

 “Thank you,” you say, a small smile on your face. “The coffee smells good.”

Alastor swings back, and lands next to you. “I know we agreed to leave such tasks to you,” he says and he waves his arms as he talks. “But you look ready to drop dead any second. Poor Niffty had swept about a hundred feathers on your short walk from the door to this chair—Long day?”

“ Longer day, actually. Yesterday’s long day turned into a late night that bleeds into today’s early morning.” You take a sip, and revel in its taste. Even after all these years . . . his coffee still tastes like acidic bean water. (If you smile, then that’s your business.) “The coffee tastes good.”

Alastor crosses his leg, cracking a laugh hard enough for his eyes to bulge. “You didn’t even try to check if it’s been tampered,” he says with that same wild smile. “Are you that tired, my love?”

You smile at him, lips curving bright and wide. “My deerest, did you place something into my coffee?”

“Not at all.”

“That’s disappointing,” you say, taking another sip. “That suit of yours could use some brightening up! A splash of this bean water would add such an interesting texture to it.”

“We’ll it good to see you’re not tired enough to lose your way with words,” Alastor says, smiling at you. “But if you’ve had a ‘ longer’ day, you could have sent the Egg Boy—"

“It’s Egg Boi, my deerest.”

Alastor squints, his brow furrowing as he does. “That’s what I said.”

“You said Egg Boy, deerest,” you tell him, taking a longer sip than usual to drown your laughter. “Those eggs are called Egg Bois . They have different numbers—except Frank.”

On the corner of his cheek—just where it’s always been—Alastor’s smile strains. “You said the same thing as I did.”

“Egg Bois.”

“Egg Boys.”

“Egg Bois .”

“Egg Boys .”

You chuckle a bit, and take another long slip. “If you say so.”

Alastor rolls his eyes and he makes it a point to show you he’s doing so. “You could have mentioned to that egg creature that you’d had a long day.”

“Management was dropping by my floor today.” You grab another balloon to pump it.

Alastor’s head tilts, and you hear the small crack of his neck. Static fills the air. “Well, I’m always glad to be used in such a way.”

You roll your eyes, making it a point to show Alastor that you’re doing so. The sharpened feathers and the glow of your eyes were just for the fun of it. “There is another reason why I dropped by the hotel.”

“Do tell!”

You knot the end of the balloon and throw it to the side. “Who am I to refuse the summon of the Radio Demon?”

“His wife.”

You snort, and toss a balloon at him. One balloon becomes two and now you’re just tossing whatever balloon you could get your hands on.

Alastor pops a balloon and static emits from his microphone.

You cross your arms, staring down at him. “I was going to use that.”

Alastor grabs the second pump. 

An hour passes too soon. They always seem to do around your husband. The balloons are stringed and weighted. Razzle and Dazzle—the two lambs Charlie made a point to introduce you too—put up . . . er  . . . interesting banner on the railings.

Sir Pentious slithers out the kitchen, a tray of cookies in his hold. The Hazbin Hotel looks lively. The space looks decent—live in — as if Sinners actually gathered and used the space. (Those are your favorite kind.)

Sir Pentious offers a cookie to you, and you munch on it. You give him a compliment for its taste.

By the entrance, with Vaggie to her side and Alastor at the other, Charlie takes a deep breath, her nostrils flaring as she does.

Vaggie gives her a smile, and Charlie opens the door.

The bringer of sin rushes to his daughter, drowning her in a hug.“Chaaaaarlie!”

Charlie squirms in his hold. “Heeeyy, Dad!”

Egg Boi #13 and Egg Boi #08 twist their poppers and confetti pops into the air. Niffty grabs her broom, sweeping the floor.

You watch Lucifer, and try to hide your smile. The King of Hell looks different from any paintings or drawings humans make. They can’t seem to capture how shy he looks. How awkward. No painting has been able to capture his search for a place to belong.

This Fallen Angel has blond hair. He’s not the brunette you thought he’d be, which was a shame for you rather liked brunets. It makes sense he’d be blond. Afterall, Charlie has blonde hair as well, and she is the spitting image of her father.

If someone told you it was Lucifer who birthed her, you wouldn’t be able to deny it.

“It’s finally nice to put a name to the face.” Alastor shakes Lucifer’s hand with his microphone, wiping his own right after. “You are much shorter in real life.”

You turn aways, coughing to hide your laughter as Alastor banters with Lucifer.

Husk rolls his eyes at you and grumbles. “Of course, you’d find that hilarious,” he says. “Everyone knows it's smart to insult Lucifer.”

You place a hand on your cheek. “Guilty as charged.”

Charlie brings Lucifer to meet your group. He calls Vaggie, Maggie. Smiles awkwardly when Angel Dust calls him a ‘short king’ . Lucifer waves back when Husk waves at him, and shrinks when Niffty jumps and pulls him by the collar. One by one, you’re introduced.

You extend your arm for a handshake.

Lucifer smiles awkwardly, shrinking a bit, but reaches out to shake your ha—

The chandelier crashes to the floor.

And oh God . . .

Lucifer begins to sing.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Your hair sticks to your face.

Water droplets splash on your clothes. You accept your fate, and trudge through the rain, even as your fingers freeze. The breeze blows your hair, making you nuzzle into your damp coat. You should have brought an umbrella, or taken a cab. Just your luck, a sunny day turns into a drizzle that turns your shoes into a lake. You hate damp socks.

An umbrella blocks the rain from your soaked clothes.

You spring out of its coverage, spinning to look behind. Your arms jerk out, causing you to wobble because of the wet pavement. (That’s totally not embarrassing.)

 “The point of an umbrella is to stay underneath it when it’s raining.” Alastor smiles, giving you a small wave.

You wave back.

“Oh . . . hello,” you say, adjusting the straps of your bag. Alastor takes a step forward, and you jump backwards. “I’m alright—I can manage by myself.”

“Why don’t you tell me all about your very capable self from underneath the umbrella,” he says, twirling the umbrella. “Come on, now.”

You dip your head inside. Alastor inches closer, but there’s still a respectable gap between your shoulders. “I’m really alright,” you say. “I quite love the rain.”

“Yes, the rain is a beautiful thing to frolic underneath when you’re in a meadow,” Alastor says. You can’t help but feel that Alastor is scolding you, “not when it splashes off buildings and drips off power lines and other items that have not been cleaned. We are in the city, my dear.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“My mother would roll in her grave and haunt me when she finds out I left a lady in the rain.”

“But—”

“Constant refusal is quite rude, you know,” he tells you. “And I still owe you one favor.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Alastor says with a smile that makes you smile back. “If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m happy to leave my umbrella in your umbrella-less but capable hands, and be on my way.”

You shake your head, inching closer. “We can share if you don’t mind walking.”

“I love walks. It keeps me stimulated.”

Alastor follows your every step, covering you with an umbrella that was meant for one. You glance at his shoulder, and turn away to hide your frown. Half of his shoulder sticks out into the rain, gathering droplets, while not a single speck of water slides on you.

Alastor is giving you the bigger half of the umbrella.

“Would you mind holding this?” he asks.

“Not at all,” you say, and take a hold of his umbrella. Alastor is taller, and you have to quirk your arms higher to avoid hitting his head.

Alastor slips out of his coat. You watch him slide it off his shoulders and pull his arm out the slits. He’s wearing a vest—a fine vest as well. Alastor flicks out stray waterdrops. He leans close enough for you to smell his cologne. He drapes his coat over your shoulders, grabbing the lapels to adjust its fit. His body heat lingers. It’s warm . . . he’s warm.

Alastor pries the umbrella from your grip with a wide smile. “Before you say anything, the only response that I will be accepting is, ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you, Alastor.”

“You’re welcome.” He adjusts the angle of the umbrella, careful to keep every drop of rain from touching you, even at the cost of his own clothes. “Whatever made you decide to walk?  There are cabs and busses for a reason.”

“It wasn’t that bad when I started,” you say. “Plus, I was eager to get home.”

He keeps his eyes ahead. “It’s still quite dangerous.”

You step over a puddle, narrowly missing it. “Dangerous?”

“Yes!”

“The sun is—well, was still up when I began walking.”

Alastor hums, shaking his head. “Murders and thieves do not magically dissolve in the sun.”

You smile to yourself. “I’m sure you’re quite knowledgeable on that subject.”

Alastor turns to you, and his hair shifts as he tilts his head. “Pardon?”

“I heard your voice on the radio this morning,” you tell him, adjusting his coat around your shoulders. “I caught the news segment.”

“Well,” he starts, his smile widening. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “you must have been busy when I mentioned the forecast then.”

You inch closer as much as he’ll allow you, trying to keep a respectable distance, but still close enough that Alastor doesn’t need to sacrifice his clothes to keep yours dry. “Speaking of radio, what brings you to this area?” you say. “Isn’t the radio station all the way across town?”

Alastor laughs in a way that makes you wish you’ve kept your mouth shut. “Have you been tracking my movements?”

“Not at all,” you say and try to mimic his laugh. It comes out strained instead. “I just know how to read a map.”

Alastor steps over a puddle. He places a hand on your back, guiding you away from it. “I just had some business in the area,” he says and drops his hand. “I turned the corner and I found you walking all alone in the rain!”

You smile, careful to keep your eyes forward. “I’m thankful to whatever beings that fated our paths to cross.”

Alastor leans closer, eyeing your hands. “Been gardening recently?”

You glance at your nails, at where stubborn soil sticks underneath the cuticle. “No . . . not at all,” you say slowly. “I guess you could say . . . light treasure hunting . . . ?”

“The more I get to know you, the more I find myself dumbfounded at your wide range of hobbies.”

“I hate seeing things go to waste.” You try to ignore the squish of your socks. You are definitely never forgetting your umbrella again. “For example, your garbage is my treasure.”

“What a wonderful philosophy to live by.” Alastor meets your eyes and smiles.

You smile back. “Indeed, isn’t it?”

Alastor’s hold on the umbrella stays firm, even as he follows you around the corner and across the street. Not a single drop of water lands on you. “What treasure were you able to find?”

“You have a lot of questions for me today,” you say and ignore the thumping of your heart. “I feel as if you know me more than I know you—I think that’s rather unfair.”

“Well, what would you like to know?”

You move your foot to avoid puddles of trash. The city could really use a good cleaning. “You know so much about my hobbies. So, I’d like to know some of yours.”

“There isn’t really much to tell,” he says. “The radio is my life.”

A strong breeze has you sinking deeper into Alastor’s coat. “You have your hunts.”

You glance at Alastor, and oh . . . his hair is as brown as his eyes. Wisps of hair stick to his face because of the rain.

Alastor’s brows furrow a bit, but you swear his smile turns sweet. “Those are more of a necessity than a hobby.”

“In what way?”

“The woods around my area have a lot of . . . let’s say, mammals that don’t necessarily belong there, it is as if someone just leaves them from time to time. I hunt a few here and there to thin the population a bit.”

You smile to yourself. “Well, tell me about the radio—What is that like?”

He places his free hand on his chest. “Why, it is the proper medium of expressing oneself, of course.”

“It must be nice having such a creative outlet,” you say. “Sometimes, I wonder how you’re able to come up with the most exciting segments.”

“Sadly, you would think after all these years of bringing success and money into the company, I would be allowed to have more control over my content.”

You step over another puddle. A small tug on Alastor’s arm, and he steps over it as well. “That is quite sad to hear.”

“For example,” he starts, adjusting his hold on the umbrella. “I wanted to have this whole portion just on crimes that have been committed.”

“Like . . .  the news?”

“No, not at all,” he says. “I was thinking more on the lines of old cases like robberies and murders—some solved, some not. Unfortunately, the director said it would be too gruesome.”

“It really depends on how you choose to present it,” you say. “I think audiences would love a good mystery with a satisfying conclusion.”

“That is exactly what I thought so as well!” Alastor’s smile widens. “I came across this story . . . Oh, well I wouldn’t want to bother you with the details.”

“I’d love to hear this,” you say, chuckling. “Show me how you would present it.”

“One winter night,” he starts off with that never ending smile on his lips, “a child—no ordinary child—disappears in the middle of the night. There were no signs of a break in and nothing other than the child was taken from the home. Not a single dust was out of place.”

“Wait, what was so special about the child?”

“I will tell you,” he says. “That child was the two-year old son of aviator Charles Lindenberg! Some newspapers called the child the ‘Eaglet’ because his father had become the first man to fly across the Atlantic Oce—Oh, why are we stopping?”

He angles the umbrella, careful to keep you dry. You smile at him and point at the small apartment complex behind you. “This is where I live.”

Alastor doesn’t frown, but his smile droops a bit. “Oh . . . ” he says. “I was getting to the most interesting portion of the story—what a shame.”

“A shame, indeed,” you echo. “You have such a captivating way of conveying your words.”

“Thank you.”

The rain splatters on the umbrella. It’s not going to stop anytime soon. Your socks are damp and it’s starting to get colder. “Would you like to finish what you were saying?”

Alastor’s smile widens, just a bit, but it was enough for you to notice. “On the month of May, after continuous searching, a tiny little corpse was found abandoned on the side of the road. Forensics determined that the baby was bludgeoned to death.”

“It’s quite funny,” you tell him. “You talk of such gruesome murders but I find myself captivated.”

“Indeed.”

“Thank you for going out of your way for me, Alastor.” You slip out of his coat, returning it to him. It’s cold—has it always been this cold. “Will I see you around?”

“Of course,” he says. “We always meet in such unconventional places.”

You duck out of the umbrella, giving him one last smile and head up the steps.  A twist of a doorknob, a few flights of stairs, and you would be home. You were tired, your socks are soaking, and the back of your clothes stick to your skin. So, why . . . why do you find yourself running back into the rain?

“Wait!” you find yourself exclaiming.

Alastor covers you with his umbrella. “What’s wrong?”

‘I . . . I may have a problem.” The words are slipping out of your lips. “Are you busy by any chance?”

“Not at all.”

“What about your business in the area?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I can always come back.”

 “Would you help me?” You bite the inside of your cheek.

“Of course.” Alastor brings the umbrella closer to you. “What can I do for you?”

“I think . . . ” you begin to say. Stop. Stop! You should turn back; head inside where warm clothes and a bath awaits you. “I think I’m in the wrong area.”

Alastor laughs, and it’s that same breathy and light laugh as before. He drapes his coat over your shoulder once more, and adjusts its fit to secure it around you. It’s the warmest thing you’ve ever experienced in your life. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I left a lady stranded in the rain.”

“Not at all,” you say with a smile that you do not remember smiling. “Lots of scary thieves and murders out there—apparently they don’t disappear during the day.”

Alastor nudges you along, down the path, to a destination either of you have the faintest idea where it will end.

Your feet stay locked in its place, and you hold Alastor in your gaze. (His bowtie is crooked, and even with his coat around you, he looks presentable. His vest matches his shoes. You note how his smile is asymmetrical, and how his eyes are still as brown as his hair. Alastor’s glasses are frosted, but he doesn’t seem to mind.)

“Are you alright?” Alastor asks you.

“I’m fine. It’s just . . . .” You shake your head and smile. “It would be a waste to forget this.”

“Come on,” Alastor says in a voice that is oh so soft. He offers his arm, and you hook your own around his.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“ Motherfucker! ” Husk curses into the air, his ears quirking as he does. “Would it fucking kill you to be gentle with that shit?”

“I am being gentle.” You stare him down, keeping the towel pressed firmly against his foot. “Would you want to know what it’s like when I’m not? I’d be very happy to comply.”

“ . . . No.”

“Then settle down, Husker ,” you say and use your free hand to grab the forceps from the hotel’s medical kit. “This will be much easier if you stay still . . . or don’t and give yourself a harder time. I’m not the one with glass sticking out of my foot.”

Husk sinks into the clinic bed, sulking as he crosses his arms. He picks on the pillow, fidgeting with its seams. “ Bitch. ”

You raise your eyebrows and huff. “ Virgin. ”

“I am not . . .grandma. ” Husk’s fangs show when he growls. 

Your feathers bristle. It’s smart to keep Husk talking, even if hurling insults is the way to do so. If it keeps him distracted, you won’t complain. “I died in my late twenties . . . or was it my early thirties — I honestly forget.”

The blood on his foot begins to clot, and you toss the towel to the waste basket. You walk to the sink, rinsing stray droplets of Husk’s blood with soap.

“Settle down then, grandma,” he says with a triumphant smile, and you roll your eyes. “Today, it’s your memories. Tomorrow, it could be anything.”

You plop on the clinic chair, waiting for your hands to dry. “Yes, it would make sense you’re familiar with the signs,” you shoot back, “considering you lived long enough to be called Pawpaw — Is that why you’re a cat?”

Husk barks a laugh, his wings flaring. He grabs the pillow and tosses it to you. It hits the side of the chair and langs on your lap. You pick it up and toss it back at him. “At least my husband didn’t walk out on me for several years without so much as a word.”

You chuckle, and settle his foot on your leg for better access. Taking your forceps, you brush away slivers of glass from Husk’s foot  . . . or would this be his paw?

You clip a shard of glass, and glance at him. When Husk doesn’t whine like a little bitch, you pull a shard and drop it to the metal pan across you. “At least my marriage lasted even through death, Arachnid Simp.”

Husk rolls his eyes. You smile when his whiskers twitch. “Where did you even learn that word?”

“I see you’re not going to deny it.”

Husk sinks deeper into the bed.

“This wouldn’t be happening if you—I don’t know—wore these things called shoes ?” You pluck another shard of glass. Husk tries to jerk his foot away, but your hold stays firm. “They were invented a long, long, time ago, and were created to keep your feet protected .”

“Stop talking as if I’m a child.” Husk frowns and his teeth stick out. “Wearing them feels weird.”

“I guess they kind of are weird.” You grab a fresh towel when blood squirts out of Husk’s foot. “You die and then suddenly waking up to see you don’t have toes

A beat passes between you. “Do you . . . do you not have toes?”

You toss the towel, and pick out the last shard. “Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“ What does that even mean ?” Husk growls, running his palms over his face.

“I . . . have absolutely no idea.”

You reach into the medical kit, grabbing some dressing. You peel the plastic and toss it to the trash, and press it against his foot.

Egg Boi #03 waddles up to you, a gauze roll in his tiny hands — you weren’t aware the little egg creature was in the room. You thank him with a smile, and wrap the gauze roll around Husk’s paw then his ankle. Satisfied, you clip it in its place.

“You’re all done,” you say. “It might be weird to step on it for a few hours, but it’s not impossible. The glass didn’t puncture you too deep.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh . . . and just in case, the amount of blood you saw isn’t anything to be scared of. There’s just a lot of tiny vessels on the foot. That’s why it took a while for it to stop,” you say and toss him a new set of gauze rolls and pads.

Husk stares at the items. “I don’t know how to use this.”

You stare at him, leaning into the chair. “Just slap the square on the skin and roll the gauze around your foot.”

Husk hops out of the clinic, keeping pressure off his injury.

It takes a while to clean up after yourself, but Egg Boi #03 keeps you company. The little egg speaks a lot of nonsense, but it’s entertaining nonetheless. You flick the lights, and Egg Boi #03 follows behind you.

The chandeliers had been dragged away, and the glass and debris cleared off the carpet.

Mimzy’s hug makes you take a step back.

You squirm in her hold, placing a placating hand on her shoulders.

“I am sooooo glad you are here!” Mimzy exclaims, shaking your shoulders. “This is like one big reunion, ay. Just between you and me, that Lucifer is a real looker—shame on Alastor for not warning a gal. I would have dressed better, and who knows? Maybe I could be the Queen of Hell. Ha! ”

Mimzy grabs your arm and drags you to the bar. Husk pours you a drink with a nod, and stalks away. Seeing him hop up the stairs makes you laugh.

You swirl your drink. “It’s always good to see you, old friend.”

“Not that old!” Mimzy swats your arm, a huge grin on her lips. “And there’s no need to lie to me, darling. I doubt you actually feel that way.”

“Well, I still have those burn marks on my wall from the time you decided to play bartender with matches.”

Mimzy barks a laugh, and her legs kick. “C’mon you can’t still be blaming  me! If I remember correctly, it was Alastor who brought out the matches.”

Angel Dust walks up to you with Sir Pentious trailing behind him. You wave.Sir Pentious waves back, his hood flapping open.

“Mind if we join ya?” Angel Dust asks.

“Not at all,” Mimzy says. “I’m always weak to such lookers.”

Angel Dust takes the seat next to you and pushes back his hair. Sir Pentious takes the one behind him. “Sooooo, you two and Alastor run in the same circles.” He takes a drink. “And you guys are friends with him?”

You take a sip of your own drink. “You could describe it that way.”

“Well, those are your words, not mind, but I think it fits.” Mimzy glances at you, a knowing smile on her lips. “But our good doctor here is more than just—Hey! Why do you look so surprised?”

“Well, I just didn't know he had any of those. He's been here a while and is still a big, creepy mystery,” Angel Dust says. Sir Pentious nods, his head squeaking as he does “What's his deal?”

Mimzy is happy to explain tall, dark, and creepy’s ‘deal’ .

“But before that, he was the prime bachelor of my day,” Mimzy says. “Not a single lady wouldn’t want a taste of that twink. But eh  . . .  I wouldn’t wish marriage with Alastor on even my worst enemies. It would be a real shock when you die and find out your hubby’s got a real screw loose.”

“Well, it wasn’t a shock to me,” you say, rolling your eyes. You swirl your drink—hmmm, it’s good to know Husk still knows what you like.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” Mimzy chuckles nervously. She scoots closer, elbowing you lightly.  “You happy he’s back? I still remember the few months you’d visit my place to look for your deerest, most darling Alastor, Mimzy at the bottom of a bottle.”

Your eyes twitch. “Quite pleased actually,” you say and force a smile. “It’s great to finally see my husband again.”

“ Husband? ” Angel Dust chokes on his drink.

Sir Pentious tilts his head and his hat slides off a bit. “Oh you’re married?”

You show them your ring, wiggling your finger. “Indeed.”

Sir Pentious puffs out his chest. “I would love to meet thisss husband of yours,” he says. “If you cannot be my rival, he can fight in your stead.”

“That wouldn’t be a smart idea

Mimzy stares at him. “He’s not the brightest is he?”

Angel Dust drops his drink with a clink. “ Pause ,” he splutters. “Shut u—” He coughs, still reeling from his drink going down the wrong pipe. “Shut up. Plause. Pause!”

Sir Pentious frowns, and his tongue sticks out. “No one elssseee is talking.”

“There is no way,” Angel Dust says. He turns to you, eyes bulging. “I refuse to believe that Freaky got hitched.”

Sir Pentious gapes, and his hoop opens. “Alastor is married as well?”

Mimzy slaps her forehead and points to you. “He’s married to her!”

“You are mess’in with me,” Angel Dust says. “Well, you can’t trick me. I refuse to believe it, toots.”

Mimzy takes a swig of her drink. “No one’s mes’in with ya,” she says with bright eyes. “They had a big white wedding and everything. I even got to bless them with my singing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Mimzy glares at Angel Dust, a hand on her hips and her noise in the air. “You calling me a liar?”

You place a hand on Mimzy’s shoulder. “It was a good day, wasn’t it?” you say.

“Could’ve been better without the rain,” she says shrugging.

The lights flicker. Static fills the air, making your skin buzz. The bar glows a faint green. “The rain made it sentimental actually,” you say and glance up the stairs. “We quite like the rain.”

Angel Dust crosses both sets of arms. “I thought you said you were friends.”

“ I said partners,” you tell him. “Alastor said friends.”

Angel Dust blinks at you and sighs. “So, you married him? Like you’re his wife.”

“I am, indeed!”

“Are you sure?”

“I sure hope so,” you say, crossing your legs. “It would be weird not to be sure considering I was there in a white dress, walking down the aisle.” Mimzy barks a laugh, and the feathers on her head sway. A part of you hopes she topples off the chair.

“Uh . . . Is this something we should know?” Angel Dust asks. “He’s not going to try to kill me because I learned about this right?”

“We’re not trying to hide it, but we don’t broadcast it either,” you say. “And well . . . no wife likes to be introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

Sir Pentious’ tongue sticks out. “Does Alasssstor own your soul or something?”

You empty your drink and revel in the taste. “We got married back when we were alive.”

Angel Dust reaches across the bar, grabbing a whole bottle off the shelf with his long arms. He pops open the cork and takes a swig straight from the bottom. “I still have trouble belive you,” he says, squinting his eyes. “I just . . . I can’t!”

“Your belief, or lack of, won’t change the fact that I have a ring,” you say. “And it’s not really for you to believe, now is it?”

“Why . . . ?” Angel Dust’s mouth quirks into the cutest frown. “Why . . . ya’know?”

You sigh and place a hand on your cheek with a smile. “He makes me laugh.”

Angel Dust makes a face, and coils back like he’s been shot.

“Oh he’s a total kitten,” Mimzy says with a bright smile. She inches her glass closer to Angel Dust, and he fills it up for her. “Catch him in a good mood or pour him a drink and play some jazz and he’s totally harmless.”

“You still shouldn’t toss caution into the air, Mimzy” you say. “If I were you, I’d be wary about trusting Alastor just because he likes cleaning up your mess.”

Angel Dust crosses his arm, and his eyebrows quirk. “Ain’t he your hubby?” he says. “Isn’t there this whole spiel about trust and love and faith and all that other boring vanilla shit.”

“He wouldn’t be the Radio Demon if he could be trusted by just anyone, now would he?” you say. “It still crosses me when I remember how he lied to me.”

Angel Dust’s eyes shine. “You said no wife likes being introduced as a ‘ friend ’.”

“Yes?”

“It must have crossed you quite a lot, huh?”

You shrug, a bit confused. “I mean . . .  I wasn’t really a big deal at the end of the day.”

Angel Dust’s smile widens and that golden tooth of his shimmer. “I want to know everything .”

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Despite the rain, clear skies show the moon, not a cloud in sight.

The flashlight clipped on your collar shines on your path. Your boots sink deep into the mud, but that’s alright. A few inches of goo won’t stop you from your destination. You adjust your leather medical bag—double checked that there are gloves inside.

Between those two trees, your treasure lies buried.

You lay your kit on some nearby stones and reach in for your gloves. You dig until bits of the cadaver’s skin stick out. You brush the soil of his chest and peel open the flaps of his skin. The underside of his skin has blood vessels attached to it. It was worth cutting out the fat to have a glimpse.

Superficial fascia connects his muscles to his dermis. You take your probe and disconnect the thin filament. It reminds you of spider-webs.

You discard your probe and exchange it for the bottle of formaldehyde. You can’t study the whole body, not when it’s exposed to the elements. His fingers are starting to rot, but that’s alright. The chest is all you need, for now. So, the chest is all you’ll preserve.

The cheesecloth you placed on him last night is still damp. Good, that means it’s been sanitized this whole time. You take the cheesecloth and wipe it against his open cavity, sanitizing every surface you can reach.

The formalin stings your nose and burns your eyes. It makes you cough, but you push through the pungent chemical.

You peel off the cheesecloth and use it to spread formalin into the deeper crevices between his skin and muscle.

Good. There are no maggots yet. It means you still have time.

You discard your gloves for a fresh pair and prepare your tools. You take your forceps and clip the scalpel blade onto the handle. You lay all your tools on a clean cloth for easy reach.

A human’s adipose tissue buildup is thicker than animals. This man’s fat is soft, easily squishable. Sadly, you’re not here to study his fat.

The scalpel blade is balanced perfectly. Throughout this Earth, no . . .  not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

You slice through his adipose tissue, discarding it behind you, carving the cadaver until a nice rectangle opening forms. Muscles are grey, not like the red color printed on textbooks. You run your fingers along the smooth fibers of his pectorals. It’s slimy. That’s probably moisture mixing with the formaldehyde.

You quirk your shoulder to adjust the angle of your flashlight, still running your hand on his pectoral.

There, on the side of the chest where a muscle resembles a fan, do you find what you’re looking for.

Taking your probe, you define the muscle. You don’t use your scapple—never a scapple, because it could slice the fibers. You’ll scrape off the muscles later when it’s time to move on to the systems.

You take a pen and write your notes.

Muscle name: Serratus Ventralis. Description: The Serratus Ventralis appears to be a fan-shaped muscle, just like Hyman writes it to be. Although he’s not describing humans, I think it looks the same. Willd double check to see if such similarities are indeed correct. Just like the book says, I can see the muscle extending anteriorly and posteriorly from the scapula and to the walls of the thorax. The Serratus Ventralis appears to be divisible into anterior and posterior portions, with the anterior originating deeper into the body. (Will cut open if there is still time.) The posterior border seems to be where it originates from, and while it is buried by other muscles, I think it originates from somewhere between the ribs.

Origin, Insertion, Action: Origin: Textbook says it originates from the outer surfaces of the upper eight or nine ribs.  (Will double check once I’ve moved on.) Insertion: The muscle fibers appear to move upward to the side. Inserts along the anterior surface of the medial border of the scapula Action: If it indeed is inserted from the scapula, this could mean that it could draw the scapula, forward, backward or against the body.  

You flip to the previous page, and cross out Serratus ventralis. You move on to the muscle on your list: Xiphihumeralis. Based on the name, the muscle should pass through the xiphoid process to the sternu—

“Is this what you meant about my trash being your treasure?”

You startle, jumping back until a tree hits you and there’s nowhere else to escape. Run. Run. Run! Your heart screams at you, hammering in your chest. No one is supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be alone. You were careful—not careful enough, apparently.

Alastor emerges from the trees.

He waves at you when your gazes meet, but you don’t wave back. He’s smiling. “Hello,” he greets you with a gentle voice that strikes your core. It would be foolish to mistake his gentleness for kindness. “And yet again, I’m forced to comment on how you have such interesting hobbies.”

You press deeper into the tree, even if a knot digs into your back. “This . . . .” You pause, trying to find your voice. Do you run? “This isn’t a hobby. I’m merely studying.”

Alastor drops a bag on the ground. It looks heavy. “A man?”

“A cadaver,” you say, careful to keep your voice steady. You cannot let this man see any cracks. “They’re already dead, aren’t they? Wouldn’t it be a waste to let them rot like this? At least now, their sorry lives will be making a meaningful contribution.”

The admission of your crime was easy to say. You don’t want to know what that means about you.

Alastor laughs. It’s not that breathy and light laugh he had earlier. This one is lighter, more elated. “Please, tell me more.”

You harden your heart, searching for any speck of bravery. “Why would I?”

Alastor smiles until his teeth show. The moon makes his brown eyes glow—you did not think it would be such an attractive color. “I’m the one holding the large knife.”

You glance at his hand, and oh . . . that indeed is quite a large knife. It’s not even a kitchen knife, but a proper hunting blade meant to kill. “I see you’re resorting to threats,” you say and you don’t know why you do. It’s not really a smart idea. “I did not think you, a man, would feel the need to say such things to a woman.”

“That was barely a threat,” he says. “I’m just curious to know your motivation to dig up trash.”

“I’m studying—that’s my reason.”

Alastor waves the knife as he talks. “Are there no other dead bodies for you to prey on?” he says. “Don’t hospitals have an area specifically to keep the dead?”

“Only morticians or medical students are allowed access,” you say. “I am neither.”

“Why not become one then?”

“Women as doctors are still a relatively new phenomena,” you say. “There is not a single medical school in this area that will allow me to study, nor are there any that won’t bring me into debt.” Your blood boils and it replaces your thumping heart. It still beats in your chest, but it’s not because of fear. “I needed to find a way to learn, to study, and textbooks could only describe it in words. I want to see for myself.”

Alastor plays with the tip of the knife. “Sounds like a classic case of lusting for knowledge.”

“If lust is to be my sin,” you start and a wonky smile appears on your face, “pride would be yours. A classic case of judge, jury and executioner.”

“I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well, you are holding the larger knife,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “Anything more you’d like to know?”

Alastor hums at you. “How did you figure it out?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” you say, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. “You should buy suspicious items at different times and places. Your turn—How did you know I was here?”

“A little bit of a suggestion?” he echoes laughing like he’s told the funniest joke. “You shouldn’t have told me where you lived so easily. I thought I would have to hang around your clinic for a few days before I got your address.”

“I made sure to be careful.”

“You weren’t in the slightest,” he tells you. “Even an animal is harder to track. It was quite a surprise to see you heading in this direction.”

“Wait . . . ,” you say slowly. “Hang around the clinic? You . . . you were stalking me?”

“I wouldn’t say stalking,” he says, putting his arms up. “And if we’re pointing fingers, you would have had to follow me around for a few days to learn where I buried my trash.”

Your eyes drift to his bag, and then to his knife. Realization hits you like a cruel bus. You face heat. “You!”

“Me?”

“You lied to me!” you say, venom lacing your words as you puff. “You had no business in the area, nor did you randomly spot me! You followed to kill me, didn't you?”

Alastor smiles at you.

“Oh my God!” you scream at him, throwing your arms into the air. You point at him, glaring “You’re still going to kill me?”

“I can’t exactly let you leave, my dear,” he says, rolling his eyes. “What did you think?”

You stare down at him from your nose. “Don’t be so brainless,” you spit, crossing your arms. “If you would use this thing on your head called a, ‘brain’, and use it to think, you would be able to deduce that you’re currently not in cuffs.”

Alastor glares back at you, tightening his grip on the knife. You don’t give a single flying fuck.

“Since you are adamant on not using your brain, I shall do so for you,” you say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “If I wanted to rat you out to the coppers, wouldn’t I have done so already? Hmmmm?”

“Don’t speak to me as if I am a child.”

“I wouldn’t have to, if you aren’t thinking like one,” you say. “Why would I tattle on someone for giving me what I want.”

 Alastor gives you a dry smile. “So much sarcasm to the person who does so.”

You cross your arms and lean against the tree. “I suppose I should be thanking you.”

”Will you?”

“No,” you say. “I don’t thank liars.”

You smile to yourself when Alastor rolls his eyes and furrows his brow. That strained smile of his is an extra bonus.

“If you’re going to kill me, be quick with it,” you say. “I’d like to die with my dignity as a lady.”

“How curious,” he says. “You’re not going to try and run? Fight me off in some clever way? Those are always the best kinds of hunts.”

You roll your eyes, making a point to show him that you are doing so. “That would be a waste of our time, wouldn’t it? And I think you’ll forgive me if I am not exactly keen on giving my murderer the satisfaction of experiencing ‘the best kinds of hunt’.”

Alastor laughs, breathy and light this time. He tosses the knife into the trees and puts his arms up as if surrendering. “It seems you have made me change my mind,” he says. “Not many are able to do so—especially not when I’ve settled on a hunt.”

“What an honor then,” you say, smiling dryly.

“Indeed, it is.” He takes a step forward, and when you don’t run, he walks to you and brushes stray dirt off your shoulders.

“Why change your mind?”

He smiles, inching closer to you.  That is for me to know,” he says. “But, what I will say is I know potential when I see it.”

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“Someone, please, kill me again!” Angel Dust massages his forehead with one arm, using the other to empty the bottle. His third arm reaches into the bar shelves for a new one. You stare at his arms and wonder just how it got to be so long. “You’ve got to be shiting me right now. That’s your example? That’s your final answer?”

You pick at the wooden table, suddenly finding it hard to meet his eyes “Yes . . . ?”

Angel Dust chugs his bottle at your answer.

Mimzy avoids direct eye contact, choosing to study her empty glass.

Even Sir Pentious keeps his gaze locked to the floor. You bite on your cheek, letting out a soft huff.

If they didn’t want to know, they should not have asked.

“Out of all the misery he’s caused and will be causing,” Angel Dust says, “you think that Freaky ly’in to you about his reason for walking you home was the best possible example.”

“Yes?”

Angel Dust takes a deep breath. “Let’s be clear, okay? I’ll rephrase what I said, so listen closely,” he says. “Alastor lied about – and let me get this right—he lied to you about why he was in the area, and that’s why – hold on, bear with me – and that is why you were angry.”

You cross your arms, huffing a bit. “You make it sound stupid.”

Mimzy sighs, shaking her head with amusement. “That’s because it is, darling.”

“It is not!” you say, pouting. “It’s a very valid reason to be cross.”

Angel Dust takes another swig of his bottle. “It’s the fact that you weren’t angry that he was going to murder you in cold blood for me.”

You throw your arms into the air. “Okay, so it might not have been the best example,” you say, tapping your legs. “But that isn’t exactly my fault. Alastor is strangely honest.”

Angel Dust gapes at you. “No, he is not!”

“I don’t know, hun,” Mimzy says, leaning against the bar table. “Alastor kina is.”

“You won’t get the truth if you don’t ask,” you say, nodding your head. “And when you do ask, Alastor will either say the full horrifying truth, say it in a way that’s vague but still considered to be true, or dodge and not answer your question.”

Sir Pentious tilts his head, and he keeps a hand on his hat to keep it from falling. “And that is why we should not trust him?”

“There is no we , my dear,” you say. “That’s why you shouldn’t trust him.”

The hotel trembles.

You startle in your seat, gripping the table for stability. Mimzy clutches your arm, and you grab hers. It’s a small reassuring gesture that would make you smile at any other moment.

Someone pounds on the door.

You snap your head towards the entrance, nearly giving yourself whiplash. The hinges creak with every bang, and you watch with horror as the wooden frame begins to crack. Whatever wants to go in is determined to do so.

“ MIMZY! We know you’re in there, you lousy bitch!”

You lock eyes with Mimzy, glaring at her with bristled feathers. “Really?”

“Whooops . . . ?” she says with the most innocent smile. You grab your glass and throw it at her head. Mimzy snarls at you, searching for a stray bottle. She never finds it.

Glass rains down to the floor. Dust fills the space, and you cough when it irritates your throat. The whole hotel is in disarray. With a yelp, you jump away from the bar when one of the bone heads detaches and crushes your seat.

Mimzy scurries behind the bar.

A portal rips open in the middle of the room . . .  Huh , that’s pretty cool. Vaggie steps out, Lucifer and Charlie behind her. “What is going on?”

Mimzy explains what she did. You roll your eyes when she does.

Fireballs shoot out the broken windows.

Motherfucker! You are going to kill Mimzy. You press against the wall to avoid Sir Pentious’ long tail from smacking into you as he slithers about. Angel Dust scurried away at the first sign of trouble. Of-fucking-course this happens today. Niffty scurries about, cleaning every debris in sight, You grab her by the collar, pulling her away from a stray fire. Niffty squirms out of your hold, and hops away. Another fireball keeps you from pursuing her.

“We’re under siege!” Sir Pentious exclaims, slithering about. “Take cover!”

Alastor pops out of your shadow, jerking your arm to pull you away.

You flap your arms to regain your balance.

Alastor keeps a steady hand on your shoulder, his hold on you firm. His touch keeps you grounded. Your eyes flutter to where you pressed against the wall, but Alastor pokes your cheek with the tips of your fingers, nudging your face to keep your eyes on him. The hotel burns in chaos, and you dig your fingers into the fabric of his coat.

Alastor holds your gaze. He smiles at you softly, but you see the hardness in his eyes and the tension is his jaw. 

You try to give him your best smile. “Much better?”

“No, not in the slightest” he says, eyes squinting into a harsh glare. Alastor doesn’t frown, but his teeth bare into a snarl. “Are you hurt?”

The hotel trembles, and more fire crashes through the windows. 

You try to turn to the chaos around you, but Alastor leans to the side, blocking the surroundings with his face. “I’d like an answer.”

He smoothes the feathers on your hair, and you lean into his hold, shaking your head. “Not a single feather out of place,” you say. “Thank you, my deerest.”

The hotel trembles once more, but you keep your gaze locked into Alastor’s.

“All of you get a safe distance,” Vaggie says, spear raised.” I’ll take care of this.”

 Satisfied, Alastor drops his hand from your head and turns to the door. “No, my dear. Leave it to me.” Radio static warps the air around you. His eyes morph into radio dials. “It’s time I remind everyone why I am here.” He has the smile on his face—that same smile that tell you he’s on the hunt. It makes you buzz.

Mimzy pops her head out.  “Ugh, finally!” she says, rolling her eyes. “Took you long enough.”

Tendrils shoot out of Alastor’s back and it waves around the air as if owning a mind of its own. His bones break with audible cracks to adjust to his expanding size. “A reminder to all, not to mess with the radio demon!” His teeth stick out when he smiles, and the little ‘x’ on his forehead appears.

Alastor laughs and begins his kill.

You rush out when your husband crawls out the broken doors, bolting from the bar and out the entrance. You watch Alastor. He grabs a shark with the tips of his fingers and uses the others to pull him apart, slowly, painfully , with a grin.

“Mimzy . . . ” you say, slowly.

Mimzy shrinks next to you. “ . . . Yeah?”

Alastor’s nails elongate and he pierces the shark, letting his blood trail down, reveling in his screams. “I really appreciate everything you do for me.”

A leg sails across the air, it’s bone sticking out. You smile to yourself as Alastor hunts down his prey. Blood paints the flowers red when his tendrils wag like a happy tail.

You’re faintly aware of Lucifer and Charlie arguing behind you.

The show is over too soon.

Alastor shrinks, twirls his microphone and stretches.

Mimzy runs, the first to approach Alastor. You don’t hear a word they’re saying, but Mimzy jabs her fingers into his coat. She leaves with a frown and a middle finger pointed at him.

You walk closer to your husband, a smile on your face. Alastor inches to you, bending close enough for you to reach his bowtie. The fabric is smooth against your fingers as your straighten it for him. “Much better?” you ask.

“Indeed.”

“You put up quite the show,” you tell him. “You looked absolutely riveting, my deer.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and he offers his arm, guiding you back into the hotel. “Did I?”

“You always do, my love.”

And oh . . . 

Another song.

Lucifer leaves, taking his singing with him.

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As quietly as possible, you grab your belongings and check that nothing is missing: wallet, flip-phone, bus card, pieces of mint, various essential items, and lastly, your umbrella. You step out of what is left of the Hazbin Hotel’s front doors and stifle a yawn. Today’s excitement has gone on for too long. It was time to go home.

Drops of acid fall from the sky, a light drizzle forming. It was a good idea to stash that umbrella in your bag.

Alastor slithers out of your shadow, and covers your heads with an umbrella. “Did you happen to forget your umbrella?”

You force a sheepish smile on your lips. “I did, actually,” you lie to him. “But a walk seems rather lovely today.”

Alastor twirls the umbrella, his smile widening. “May I join you for your walk?”

“Are you not still working?” You glance behind you, observing the hotel.

Angel Dust sweeps glass off the carpet. He steals glances from time to time, trying his hardest to avoid looking in your direction—it doesn’t try hard enough. Your eyes meet, and you brush your stray feathers from your hair. A not so subtle way of showing off your ring. You stick out your tongue.

Angel Dust laughs, shaking his head with amusement.

Alastor adjusts the umbrella, angling it to block the prying eyes from inside the hotel. He raises his eyebrows, looking at you with a questionable glance.

You offer your most innocent smile. “I think they’re going to need a new door.”

“I think it’s time I clocked out,” he says, inching the umbrella closer. “I shouldn’t have them getting too dependent on me.”

“Are those not grounds for prime picking?”

“I wouldn’t exactly be a doting husband if I left my wife to walk alone in the rain,” Alastor tells you.

“ Doting husband ?”

He nods, leaning closer to you. “Yes. Was that not your condition for our marriage?”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Did I say that?”

“You did.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, humming a bit. “I do not remember saying that at all.”

“Well, it wasn’t for you to remember,” he says. “And in any case, I did not call you to the hotel to prepare for some party.”

“Then why did you call me here?”

Alastor meets your eyes and his smile widens. “Allow me to join you, and you shall find out.”

“You’ve piqued my interest, deerest,” you say. “The best walks are usually the ones that are shared. It doesn’t hurt that you have an umbrella.”

“What would you do without me?”

You roll your eyes, and take a step closer. “You always seem to remember for me.”

Alastor fiddles with the umbrella. “What did you do for several years—get pelted by acid?”

“You would know the answer to that had you been present for those years,” you say and you don’t fight the coy smile that forms on your lips.

Alastor hums in displeasure. “Well, in any case, I only have this one umbrella.”

“I guess we’ll have to share.”

“Yes, it seems we will.”

Alastor offers his arm, and you loop your own around his. He doesn’t need to take precautions to ensure your clothes stay dry nor do you have to for his own attire, not when you press closely against each other. The umbrella covers the both of you just right.

You rest your head on his arm. It’s nice. Warm. Even if it was as thick as a stick. His bones press into your cheek. Your eyes flutter into a close . . .  just . . .  one . . .  second . . . 

Your knees buckle causing you to trip.

A frim grab of your waist keeps you from the ground. Your nose crinkles when you collide with Alastor’s chest. Finding strength in your legs, you dig your foot into the ground and stand.

Alastor keeps his hold on your waist steady, and you don’t move from his hold.

“Before you say anything—you are not fine,” he says. “I don’t want to hear anything else but an agreement.”

You peel your face from his chest, meeting his eyes to give him the brightest smile you can muster. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “It seems . . . It seems it will be my turn to postpone our outing today,” you say. “The excitement of the day seems to be catching up to me.”

You fell asleep while walking,” he says. “If it was not for me, you would be on the pavement.”

“Then it is a good thing I am no longer alone.”

A single tendril emerges from his back. It wraps around the umbrella’s handle, keeping it secured over your heads.

Alastor’s hand shifts from your waist to your back. You feel his other arm snaking down your legs, trailing your skin until he reaches the back of your knees.

Alastor lifts you like a bride.

Well, you actually are a bride . . .  his bride, specifically.

Alastor continues the walk, holding you in his arms. You lean into him, and he places a chin on your head. “Your pointy chin is poking me, my deerest,” you say but you don’t move to push him off. “It’s digging into my scalp.

His chest rise and fall as he laughs, and you feel every bit of it against your cheek. “I could always drop you right over this puddle.”

“That wouldn’t really be part of the doting husband image, would it?” you say chuckling into his suit.

“No, I guess it would not.”

Smiling to yourself, you nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. “Hey, Al,” you mumble softly, “tell me a story.”

At the corner of your eyes, you see Alastor glance at you. His gaze lasts a second before he turns back ahead.  “It was 1929,” he says. “The beginning of the glorious Great Depression.”

You roll your eyes even if he doesn’t see it. “You are the only one I know who calls the Great Depression ‘ glorious’ . People were starving, and we almost got fired from our jobs.”

“That’s because it was a great year.”

“Because you got to see the sufferings of the masses?” You laugh softly. “That’s definitely something you would do. I can practically hear you laughing at the way they try to claw their way out of misery, only to fail spectacularly.”

“Because we got married that year,” he says. Even if you’re wearing a coat, and Alastor wears his gloves. Even with layers of cloth between your skin, you still feel the way Alastor caress your with his thumb. “Can I continue my story now or would you like to bicker about your failing memory?”

“Continue.”

“So, the start of the glorious Great Depression,” he says. “That day, I saw an ad for the local zoo. I wasn’t doing anything important, so I decided to support my local animals.”

“How kind of you,” you say, stifling a yawn.

“Indeed it was,” he says. “I stalk through the animals. Looking at every malnourished species they kept locked up—”

“You get to the alligator enclosure and to this day, swear that you saw it do a backflip,” you mumble softly, eyes dropping. “That’s pretty good for someone you claim to possess failing memories.”

“Alright then. I shall find another.” Alastor hums as he thinks, and his chest vibrates as he does. “Summer of 1916–long before I met you.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” you say, huffing. “I’m well aware of the year we met, my deer. So, Summer of 1916?”

“It was a dark and stormy night. Weird for the summer seasons. Usually, the house becomes a furnace, but it was terribly cold,” Alastor tells you. “During that second night of the hurricane, a knock sounds from the door.”

“Oh . . .  I’ve heard this as well.” You pick on the lapels of Alastor’s coat, tracing the white lines.

“You have?” Alastor raises his eyebrows

“Yes, it was your neighbor. His tree fell into the window and you and your mother ended up sheltering him for the night,” you say. “Then, you’ll tell me that he gifted you three pounts of cheese the next week.”

“I guess there’s nothing left to tell.”

You lean back to meet his eyes. They’re no longer brown. Once, a long time ago, you thought it was your favorite color. Now, you don’t think you’ve ever had a favorite color. You just liked his color. “Nonsense,” you says. “We are definitely not that old. I’m sure there should be be at least a few.”

“Alright, this one began fifteen years ago,” he says, tightening his grip on you. “I was waiting outside St. An’s, and a Sinner came out. It was my first time seeing a cow. It was quite a conundrum because — Oh, I think you’ve heard this already. Have you?”

Your eyelids are heavy. “I have.”

“And you choose not to inform me?”

“Can you tell it to me again?” You sink deeper into his hold.

“Of course, my love.”

Alastor’s steps lag until he comes to a full stop. He holds you in his gaze as the acid rain splatters grow stronger. It’s just you and him in this tiny bubble of an umbrella.

His eyes flicker, touching every inch of this scene. You do not know what he is thinking.

“Are you alright, my love?” you find yourself asking.

“Yes,” he says. “I’m just . . . trying not to waste, that’s all.”

“Come on,” you say in a voice that is oh so soft.

Alastor continues his story. You don’t hear the end of it.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: | Part 4: The Radio Stars' Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes| I am excited to know what you guys think about this chapter. My replies and inbox are always open for any questions. I always get so happy to see my notifications. It's a bit addicting actually. Thank you to everyone who has interacted with this story. Every like, reblog, and reply means so much to me. Part 4 will be poasted as soon as possible

[chaosheadspace]

Hiii I hope you feel better soon!

8 or 46 for the kiss prompts?

@embroiderling

HI, thank you for sending in an ask! I did 46 (out of jealousy). I tried combining them, but what came out of my brain has really nothing to do with secrecy lol. Enjoy!

In theory, it could have been a good day. In theory. It had been Hob’s day off, teaching part-time and all, and he’d wanted to just relax for once. Don’t get him wrong, he loves life, but the last few months have been hectic with school, finding new staff for the New Inn and sorting out the veritable mess with his oldest friend. He’d come out on top of that, though, because (Hob still can’t believe it) said friend is now his boyfriend, and Hob has vowed to himself (and to Dream, for that matter), to make him as happy as he possibly can be.

Dream is busy tonight though, and so Hob had planned on a bath and a nice dinner, maybe a film. These plans are thoroughly derailed just as he’s putting in a load of laundry. His phone rings, and his barman for tonight barely has a voice, and according to him also a fever, maybe even RSV. Apparently the test said so. Remembering that Jon has asthma, Hob sternly tells him to go to urgent care, and then hangs up to curse a bit.

He’s got no one else to cover that shift.

Hob tries to see the bright side. He loves working the bar, to meet new people, to chat with regulars during (admittedly rare) lulls. So he does what he has to, moves his bath to the afternoon and then puts on a haphazard bun, his best apron and his best smile.

Upon entering the New Inn proper though, the smile quickly slides off his face again.

Dream is here, sitting at one of the tables, full wine glass in front of him, and opposite him a very stunning woman. Both of them are absorbed in conversation, like the world doesn’t matter to them right now, and Hob can’t help the familiar, sickening lurch his stomach gives.

Hob might be old, but he’s not been a good man for long stretches of his life, and even with six hundred odd years to work the kinks out of his personality, some of his faults run deep. Like his jealousy. Oily bitterness on his tongue, an older friend than even Dream. They look good together, right in a way Hob knows he could never be. And he trusts Dream, really he does, he trusts Dream’s heart more than his own.

The thing is, he doesn’t trust himself to be good enough, because he knows he’s not. His own light is a candle to Dream’s supernova, easily outshined, swallowed up.

No, Hob is not a good man at all, because the first thing he does is go right over to them.

“Hi love, can I get you anything else or are you good?” Hob’s got many faces. He’s managed to be polite in front of the queen once, he can manage it now. Maybe.

Dream looks up, startled out of his concentration, and the way his face lights up is a small consolation, but not enough to calm the burning acid in his stomach. He can’t let them know. Can’t let him know. If Hob could get any more jealous, he’s sure there would be poison dripping out between his teeth.

“Hello Hob,” Dream says, his voice like velvet, “This is Calliope. My ex-wife, I believe you would call it.”

Hob swallows. Contradictory feelings tear his heart apart inside his chest. Surely there is a reason they are apart now, but there had been something once, enough to get married…

Hob’s cruel mind reminds him of his recent daydreams , flashing images of a silver ring with rubies and a small cottage in front of his eyes. If he were alone, he’d shake his head and tug his hair and maybe scream into a pillow a bit.

Deep brown, soulful eyes look up into his, and Hob swallows again and forces his smile wider.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Hob, his boyfriend.”

Calliope raises one eyebrow and shakes his outstretched hand as if she could see through him down to his last secret. Which she probably can, let’s be honest. In all his years, Hob’s never gotten as good at subtlety as he wished, and maybe his rampant jealousy is painted on his face.

“Really?” Calliope says, and Hob is gone, finished, his anger vaulting him over the edge.

He whips to the side, takes Dream’s face into his hands and kisses him in the middle of his own inn, apron and all, in plain view of the whole floor. Doesn’t keep it strictly appropriate either, instead he kisses Dream like it’ll be the last time, like the end of the world was upon them, filthy, with tongue. A very tiny, quickly squashed part of him tells him he might come to regret this later. But he has to, he can’t help it, can’t push down this feeling any longer, and so he stakes his claim.

Dream purrs under him, his chest rumbling, his neck tilted almost too far to be comfortable. There’s hands on Hob’s hips, fingers in his belt loops, tugging him down into Dream’s lap. Hob doesn’t care enough to resist. It’d be a bitch and a half to relocate his life fifteen years before it’s time but right now there’s no place else he’d rather be.

Dream remembers too late that Hob, unlike him, has to breathe, so by the time Dream lets him go just an inch, he’s panting like he’s run a marathon, and more than a little dizzy.

“I see,” he can hear Calliope’s amused voice behind his back.

Dream hooks his chin over Hob’s shoulder, possibly to say something, the rumbling purr still rolling through his chest and into Hob’s.

Calliope doesn’t let him get a word in, though. “It’s fine,” she says, “but do keep me out of it next time. We can catch up at a later date.” Then there’s only footsteps and the din of the Inn around them.

A stray thought slowly filters into Hob’s brain, through the mess of feelings and lack of oxygen. He takes another breath, clears his throat.

“Did you…did you do that on purpose?” he asks.

The purring intensifies, then Dream speaks, haughty, vague. “Maybe.”

Hob laughs. He knows he should be mad, but right now he’s just relieved to be accepted, wanted even in his messy imperfection.

send me a kissy prompt or read the finished ones here

[judesmoonbeauty]

Miss Fairytale Keeper, Come Have Fun With Us: Nica Schwartz EPILOGUE

Translations will not include screenshots or CGs as mentioned here. Fan translation only. Not 100% accurate. Please expect grammatical errors. Cybird owns everything. Feel free to re-blog, but please do not post my translations elsewhere. Thank you, for you support! ☾.

Nica: She truly is a cute robin.

I heard a muttered voice and turned around, but he just smiled and waved.

Kate: Did you say something?

Nica: Nothing at all. Anyway, if you don’t go home, then will you keep doing naughty things with me?

Kate: I won’t!

When I turned away from him, Nica began to walk ahead, chuckling.

(I’m so tired today…..)

(It’s all because of Nica’s teasing me)

As I watched his nonchalant back, I felt a little irritated, but I didn’t feel any regret about taking his hand.

[Transitions to the Palace.]

One day, a few days after the mission —

(I’m glad the issue was exposed because there was evidence of illegal gambling.)

It was thought that the evidence had been lost in the fire, but a ledger left at the scene revealed illegal gambling, and was delivered to Her Majesty the Queen.

(This is just the tip of the iceberg.)

I recalled Nica’s words and came to a halt.

(Still, I think we need to solve the problems in front of us one at a time.)

With a changed mindset, I started walking,

(Maybe I should talk to Nica about it?)

I turned on my heel to search the entire palace to lay out the facts.

Nica: I found a cute robin looking for me.

At that moment, Nica appeared before me and I jumped in surprise.

Kate: How did you know I was looking for you?

Nica: Heh, so you really were looking for me.

(I’ve been taken along for a ride…..)

Nica: Is there something you wanted to say to me?

Nica: How about some tea?

When I accepted the invitation with a nod, he escorted me to the drawing room, where I sat down on the sofa.

Nica: So, you wanted to have a chat about the casino the other day?

Kate: How’s that….

Nica: I’m a staff officer, right?

Nica: Information gathering is a skill.

He takes a sip of his tea and begins cutting the deck of playing cards he has in hand.

Nica: The core of the aristocrats were arrested, but the children of the upper class were released on bail.

Nica: Well, they’re nothing more than debauched sons and daughters.

Kate: …..People who’ve lost everything because of gambling.

Nica: At best they’ll go to a rescue institution, otherwise won’t they die in ditch somewhere? [1]

Nica: I don’t care what happens to the gambling addicts.

I frowned at his skillful shuffling.

Kate: They certainly brought it upon themselves.

Kate: But I don't believe that all of the people who attacked me had ill intentions that were beyond the point of no return.

Whatever the reason, it was a crime to cause an explosion and attack so many people.

Kate: I don’t approve of methods that do not allow room for rehabilitation.

Nica’s eyes widened and he blinks repeatedly.

Then, there’s a loud laugh.

Nica: I’m jealous that a kind young lady is worried about them.

Nica: Would you like to gamble to find out how they feel?

Kate: Huh?

Nica: You might understand if you experience the thrill of not knowing if you’ll win or lose,

Nica: The exhilaration of winning and the despair of losing.

When I gazed at him who was dealing the cards alternately,

Nica: What will you bet? Money? Your body?

Kate: I won’t bet that!

Nica: The bigger the stakes, the more intense it is.

When he picks up the cards dealt,

Nica: If I win, show me around the city.

Nica: Of course, without telling Crown.

Nica discards a pair of matching cards, and I realize this is a game of Old Maid.

Nica: You might not be trusted as a fairytale keeper anymore.

Kate: What’s in it for me?

Nica: If you win, I’ll tell you all about us.

Kate: What?

He flashed a card,

Nica: What’s our aim, what we’re going to do, I’ll answer all your questions.

Nica: What will you do?

He smiled meaningfully and crossed his legs.

(Maybe I can learn about “their lies” that Harrison was talking about.)

Kate: I’ll do it.

Nica: Now you’re talking.

Taking a deep breath I faced it.

Nica: Ladies first.

As he said that, I reached and pulled out a card, but

(Ah,)

I drew the joker, and resisted the urge to make a facial expression.

Then Nica smiled widely.

(Maybe he knows what I drew…..?)

Nica: Why are you staring at me like that. Have you fallen in love with me?

This battle may have been decided who’d lose from the start.

Ftn [1] 野垂れ死に 'Notarejini' - Literally, to die in a field or die a dog’s death.

[Master List] Dividers: @.adornedwithlight

Tags list: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko Please let me know if you'd like to be added to my tags list!

[acearchivist359]

something i can’t stop thinking about is that at this point pretty much everyone has been mentioned except melanie. which is especially confusing to me considering the archives character name drops/mentions/cameos we’ve been getting have all been because of celia [with the exception of gertrude and gerry which came from sam’s email from “john”]

first we had georgie which would make sense from celia, she spent a lot of time with georgie in the apocalypse, she trusted georgie, she knew georgie. she likely knew if this georgie was anything like archives georgie that she could help her

then we had jon and martin which . considering jon’s position in the apocalypse and his relevance to the magnus institute it would make sense for her to look for him and suspect that he may be involved or worth looking in to. martin likely was lumped in with jon because of his importance to jon which is something celia would know or at least have an inkling of. considering by the time jon and martin got to the tunnels they were practically attached at the hip not to mention the way jon tore out of there like a bat out of hell after martin when annabelle took him. but jon would have been the more important person to look for cause celia knew what he was, they all did, at least to the extent that he was like, melanie and georgie, unaffected by the apocalypse. they also knew jon was melanies boss [at least laverne did but i’m going to assume it was common knowledge]. if i got taken from a world that just had an apocalypse and ended up researching the very same place i ended up hiding during said apocalypse i too would look for the man who was at one point in charge of that place.

then there’s helen and basira which are interesting additions, if a bit confusing. far as i remember, and as i’ve seen people point out, celia’s only interaction with helen was helen trying to eat her. she never knew helen in any capacity other than that. celia didn’t work in the archives like melanie or basira or martin so she would have only seen helen as a monster. it’s possible she knew more about her from melanie but . we can’t confirm any of that. i think it’s safe to assume that’s how she knows helen’s full name, unless helen introduce herself, but that’s neither here nor there.

and basira . i don’t remember if they met? i’ve seen a lot of people saying they didn’t but i really don’t remember. clearly celia knew who basira was, we can see that especially after tmagp 24. like with helen, it’s definitely possible she heard about basira from melanie and gerogie. especially considering melanie and basira were pretty good friends, they out for drinks together, they hung out. it’s perfectly reasonable to think that melanie would have been concerned for basira and may have discussed that.

but that still begs the question of where is melanie now? when the point is looking into the magnus institute and now we’re looking into helen richardson and we’ve not had even a mention of melanie? melanie who actually worked in the archives, even longer than basira did? melanie who celia knew and knew well, just as well as she would have georgie?

it just confuses me that she’s not even been remotely mentioned despite being a notable member of the archives staff in later seasons and someone celia was friends with. especially when you consider almost everyone of the last of the archives staff has been mentioned [jon, martin and basira] and the only ones who haven’t are melanie and daisy.

daisy not being mentioned is t much of a mystery because celia definitely didn’t meet her cause she was dead before celia even met jon and martin. that being said with the stuff with basira that’s starting to make less sense too. but where is melanie??

[dianneking]

Dangerous Games - Larissa/GN!Reader

Reader declares that jealousy doesn’t apply to them. Larissa takes it upon herself to prove a point. Will she take it too far?

TW: Explicit sexual situations, explicit language, swearing, angst, jealousy, non-exclusive relationship, mentions of love bites and bruising, emotional manipulation.

Reader has no specified gender. 

Crossposted on AO3.

Dangerous Games

Wordcount: 4378

"What do you mean, you don't believe in jealousy?" Larissa scoffed from where she was lounging on her bed gloriously naked, as you kept putting your clothes back on.

You had a sort of arrangement going on. A purely physical, no strings attached kind of arrangement: when the stress of managing and teaching a school full of teenagers with paranormal abilities got too much, either of you would call for a meeting. You would rant to each other about your frustrations, until words left the floor to frantic kissing, hands exploring each other's bodies, items of clothing flying across the room. Sometimes you made it to Larissa’s custom-built canopy bed, sometimes only to her desk. Sometimes she had you pinned to the door, a hand finding its way to the fly of your jeans, as she rutted against your thigh.

It was tawdry, it was dirty, it was highly unprofessional. It was also extremely hot. Even when you were in staff meetings that ran too long you could feel the tension building between you two, measured in stares, in the brush of your fingers against hers as you passed her some papers, in the apparently casual touch of her foot against your calves. Neither you nor she went out of your way to talk about it too much, not wanting to put a label on it that would force you to face the connection that the two of you felt for each other. As if by talking about it you would jinx it somehow.

"I think jealousy is overrated. Either you are in an exclusive relationship with someone, and you should be able to trust them not to cheat on you, or you are non-exclusive, and whomever they sleep with is none of your business. Simple as that."

"You make it sound so cold and calculated. But jealousy is illogical, darling, it’s pure unadulterated fire that burns you from within. You cannot think your way around it when you feel it. You cannot rationalize it." She sounded patronizing, as if you were but a kid who didn’t know the way of the world yet. You shrugged, not showing how that tone bothered you, reminding you of the age gap between you, just another reason why you could never aspire to have something more with this amazing woman. "I guess I've never felt it then. Or maybe it doesn't work on me."

“One day, darling, you’ll feel it too.” She promised, vague and menacing like a soothsayer.

“I guess I might. Sleep well, Larissa, I’ll see you around.” As always, you didn’t turn back when you left her room, too afraid she might be able to read on your face the longing to just stay there with her until morning.

*

You stopped in front of the teacher’s lounge, your hand already on the handle, dead in your tracks as you heard the raised voices inside. It was unusual for Larissa to be found here unless there was a meeting, she usually preferred to spend time in her study. You tried to listen in, trying to understand what was going on before barging in.

“I told you, Larissa, no.”

“Oh, don’t be so uptight, Vlad. It’s all in good fun.”

“No, it’s not. It’s unprofessional, and borderline immoral too.”

“Aw, come on, Vlad. Just the one time…who knows, maybe you’ll end up enjoying it too.”

Well. That was more than unusual. You knew that lilting, suggestive tone well, but had never heard it outside of your own meetings with Larissa.

“Hello there!”

You saw Marilyn coming up from the other side of the hallway, smiling as always, blissfully oblivious to the exchange going on into the teacher’s lounge, and you couldn’t lurk in front of the door any longer. You opened the door, and strode in, holding it open for the redhead, while your eyes fell on the two whose conversation you were interrupting. Larissa was looming over Vlad, invading his personal space,  having backed him up against the bookshelf on the far end of the lounge. His hands were up, as if trying to fend her off, while one of hers was directly beside his head, holding onto one of the shelves and half-blocking him in. Like a deer in the headlights, Vlad’s eyes darted to you and Marilyn, who candidly asked, “Is everything alright?”

The fencing coach unfroze at that, and without bothering to respond, he dashed away from his compromising position and towards the door, followed by Larissa’s voice calling after him: “When you change your mind, you know where my quarters are, Vlad!”

 Clearly, he had changed his mind at some point because when you were coming back from your usual morning run the next day, you saw him slinking out of Larissa’s rooms, still in yesterday’s rumpled clothes, his normally tidy hair sticking up in every direction. Bed hair. He looked at you, sending you a sheepish smile in lieu of a greeting, as he shrugged in a ‘What could I do?’ way.

You didn’t blame him. It was hard to say no to Larissa when she wanted something, you had some first-hand experience with that. Did they fuck all through the night, or had he been allowed to sleep there? You had never dared to ask to spend the night. You had assumed she wouldn’t want you to, it would have been part of that putting a label on whatever you had going on. And she for sure had never thought to ask. Or maybe she simply had someone else to fulfil that need.

*

It couldn’t have been Vlad, you thought as you studied the bite mark on Larissa’s thigh, while she was squirming and panting on her chair, three of your fingers knuckle-deep into her, curling up to stroke her just in the right place. Vlad was a vampire, and the imprints his canines would leave were quite different from the ones you could see from your vantage point, kneeling between Larissa’s long legs, as your tongue ran along the milky expanses, marred with bruises you surely didn’t leave.

She had yet another lover, then. You swallowed around the realization, unsure on how to properly wrap your mind around it. You were spared for the moment, as her hand came to tangle in your hair, guiding your mouth back to her folds, back to pleasuring her. You buried yourself into her, trying to lose any semblance of rational thought in her inebriating taste.

*

It felt like once you started seeing the hints, they just kept popping out more and more. The librarian’s soft blush as Larissa gave her shoulder a squeeze and left her hand there for a while, as she congratulated her on the success of her book club. The Lycan Studies teacher’s glassy eyes as the principal leaned into his personal space, asking him if he could please go into more detail about his changes to the curriculum about werewolf mating habits, such a fascinating topic. Lingering glances, casual touches that you had never given any relevance to suddenly took on deeper meaning.

Even the school nurse wasn’t allowed medical neutrality, apparently. You had the dubious pleasure of discovering this as you were accompanying a young gorgon who had managed to stone his right arm from the shoulder down in an attempt to avoid a surprise quiz (it hadn’t worked, as he still had his left hand to type with).

“I never knew you had such a passion for red wine, Mx Lin, you’ll have to drop by my office sometime or another, so you can sample the best I have to offer.”

“Oh, well Principal, I hardly think that–”

“I insist. Drinking them all alone by myself would be such a waste…some things are meant to be enjoyed in company.”

You irritatedly cleared your throat. Flirting was all fun and everything, but some things were best kept away from the students. While the nurse had the decency to look sheepish, Larissa looked down at you, unrepentant, a predatory smirk gracing her crimson lips as she let her eyes roam over your stiff body.

*

It had been the longest week of your life. A week piled up with evidence that pointed all in one direction, towards a flashing neon sign that you were trying your best to still ignore. But all illusions have to break at some point when confronted with reality.

Apparently, your breaking point was the resident normie botanist.

“Marilyn?”

“Oh hi, there! I didn’t know Larissa had another meeting after ours! She really goes hard at it, doesn’t she?”

“I…I’m sorry?”

“I mean, it’s a Friday night and she has one-on-one meetings with the both of us back to back…she sure can be intense, can’t she?”

“I’m sure she can…”

“Well, I’ll be off! Don’t let her tie you up for the whole evening, it is Friday after all!” She waved at you and left, skipping down the hallway, oblivious to your sputtering, or maybe ignoring it willingly, as you tried to ascertain whether she was being suggestive on purpose or if it was your mind that went straight to the gutter. Unable – or maybe unwilling – to solve that specific mystery, you knocked lightly on Larissa’s door to announce your presence, and pushed the door open without waiting for her reply.

The office was partly plunged in the shadows, the main source of light being the flickering flames of the fire, and a couple of small lamps scattered across the room. It wasn’t the sort of ambience you would have at the end of a business meeting. It felt cozy, intimate, more suited to a rendezvous of different nature than discussing lectures and school funds for greenhouses.

Was Marilyn yet another of Larissa’s seemingly endless string of lovers? The bubbly redhead that skipped down the corridors muttering country songs to herself? That Marilyn, who always looked like the epitome of the oblivious virgin? What did she have to offer to someone like Larissa? Was it some sort of sick corruption fantasy?

Your eyes sought the familiar figure of your boss and found her using the glass of her window as a mirror as she fixed her hair. She had probably messed it up running her own hands through it, while going over the paperwork, it didn't have to mean anything. You let your gaze drop to her wrinkled pencil skirt, it could have been due to a long day of sitting at the desk. Even within your own mind you didn’t know why you kept trying to make up excuses, but when she turned towards you, a sultry smile on her face and a greeting on her lips, you couldn’t help but stare transfixed at her mouth as you slowly made her way towards her, as if sleepwalking.

Beside her bottom lip, there was a smudge of lipstick.

In a different color to the one she was wearing.

A color matching Marilyn’s coral pink.

“Are you alright darling?”

You ignored her question as well as the moniker, simply advancing towards her like an unstoppable wave. You walked right into her space and lifted a hand to her face.

“You…” Your voice felt rough, dry. As if you had forgotten how to speak. You cradled her cheek in your hand, an unexpected jolt of pain coursing though you when she leaned into your touch, her long lashes fluttering closed for a second as if unconsciously relishing in the contact with you. She was such a good actress, no wonder so many of you had fallen into her lure.

“You have a smudge here.” You tracked the pad of your thumb against it, removing the proof. You searched her gaze, unsure and possibly afraid of what you’d find there. She held your stare, no trace of guilt and regret in her eyes, but a weird questioning intensity, as if she herself was searching for something in you, and not finding it. Maybe she was looking for whatever she found in all of her other lovers. Or maybe they didn’t have it, either, always coming up short to Larissa Weems’ high standards.

"Jesus, Larissa. I get it that you are the principal and so you’re good at multitasking, but you sure need to worry about crowd control in here." You tried to sound light and teasing about it, but your joke fell flat, weighted down by the vein of bitterness in your voice.

"Whatever could you possibly mean by that?" The intensity in her gaze was suddenly gone, supplanted by a flirty playfulness in her voice that rubbed you the wrong way. You wondered if she used the same tone with them as well. Did she tailor her flirting to whomever was in her clutches at the time, or she was always like this, and all of you simply had a thing for your hot, tall, domineering boss?

Not that you could be one to talk. The minute she had flirted with you the first time around, you had been completely captivated by her, ecstatic at the chance you had been offered. That fumbling first time together had been one of your most treasured memories until this day, but it was somehow turning sour as you thought about it now.

"How many?"

"I'm sorry?"

"How many people have you fucked in Nevermore? The whole staff? Maybe one or two students of age, too? I hope you still have the morals to leave the minors be."

"There's no need to be crass, darling. One might think you are being jealous."

The word hit you like a slap and you took a step back, away from her. Was that the reason for the roiling pit of resentment at the bottom of your stomach? It couldn't be. It was just disappointment. You honestly thought that what you two had was somewhat special, even if purely physical. Instead, you had found out that you were just one of many. Another bed warmer in the principal’s collection.

"Of course I'm not." You answered, mechanically.

"You say it, but somehow I don't believe you."

"I mean it though. I don't have any claim on you, Larissa. You made it pretty evident in the past week."

She looked like she was getting angry with this conversation, her hand gripping the back of her chair until her knuckles were white. "Is that so? Then why should you care how many people I choose to sleep with?"

"I don't! I just…want to know whether it meant at least something to you, or if I'm just another fucking notch on your bedpost."

"You know…" she prowled closer, and this time you couldn’t move away, frozen to the spot as she bent her head and started to kiss the side of your neck. Her perfume enveloped your senses, making you lightheaded, while her hands played with the hem of your shirt, slipping under it, grazing the side of your torso, cold against your almost feverish skin. You were already beginning to give in, throwing your head back to give her better access to your throat, to suck on it, leaving a necklace of bruises as she often did (you always had to wear turtlenecks for a few days after one of your meetings with her, and she seemed to take great pleasure in that).

But this time she ignored your exposed neck, choosing to let her lips ghost across yours, so that when she spoke again, you could feel her breath on you. "You can admit that you were wrong. That you are jealous after all. That seeing me with someone else makes you want to scream from the rooftops that you want me to be yours and yours alone…Your little secret would be safe with me." She closed the distance between your mouths, pressing her lips to yours in a hard, unyielding kiss, her tongue immediately trying to gain entrance to spar with yours.

The same mouth, lips and tongue who had been ravishing Marilyn not five minutes ago, if you could put two and two together. And that sum was suddenly too much for you.

You felt like a vat of burning tar had been poured inside of you. Heavy, and scorching hot. “Jealousy is illogical, darling, it’s pure unadulterated fire that burns you from within.” Her own voice resonated in your brain, mocking, patronizing, like that day when apparently everything had started to go wrong.

“You can admit that you were wrong.” You felt yourself go rigid as your mind caught up to your emotions. You had been had. You were jealous. The mere thought of Larissa being in this same position with countless other people filled you with indescribable rage. And she knew it, and did it on purpose. That was probably the most painful aspect of it all: the realization that it had been nothing but a game to her.

Suddenly you felt just sad, dirty, and used. Whatever connection you had deluded yourself into thinking the two of you had, was obviously just a bit of fun to Larissa. Something that could be thrown to the side to prove her point in a debate you had almost forgotten about.

Expendable. Like a pet that started misbehaving and was unceremoniously dropped in front of a shelter.

You pushed her away, your eyes filling with tears of rage and disappointment. She even had the audacity to look at you with a surprised expression, as if you detaching yourself from her irresistible lips was the last thing she imagined could happen. Like you were there just to do her bidding. Another one of her malleable playthings. One she could manipulate into feeling whatever she wanted to, to appease her ego.

“Fuck you, Larissa.” The sentence came out angry, curt and it didn’t make you feel any better.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Fuck you. I’m done here. You can go shag some other fucktoy from your collection when you’re in the mood.”

You turned on your heel, leaving her warmth behind as you crossed the room to the door in short, agitated steps.

She caught up with you as you were fighting against the lock, and held the door closed, leaning against it with one hand, the other roughly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around.

"Let me out."

You took in her face, still beautiful even when hardened by anger. Her voice was low and menacing as she spoke to you: "If you think for one second that you can just insult me and leave, you have vastly misunderstood me, darling."

"Yeah well, I'm starting to realize as well that I misunderstood you."

"Is that it? How so?"

You felt tears coming back to your eyes, and you looked away from her, towards your feet, trying not to show her your hurt. A pointless endeavor, really, because you were sure it filtered into the words you spoke next.

"I thought you were a kind, strong person. Someone who put the good of Nevermore before anything else, even your personal life. And I accepted it, admired it even. That's why I never asked you more than what we had – she already has her hands full with all her duties, I thought, a relationship that goes beyond the purely physical level is clearly not what she wants."

You scoffed, and it came out as more of a sob than anything else.

"Of course, I didn't realize that your hands were full because they were down any pants you could find… more fool me I guess, to think that what we had was something more than another roll in the hay for you."

"You…wanted to make it something more?" the disbelief coming from her voice piled more pain on your poor abused heart.

"Ridiculous, right? To think that I truly and well fell for you, how pitiful. At least I know you won't be left alone to take care of your frustrations if I leave our little arrangement."

"Darling, I…"

"You made it pretty obvious that I don't mean jack shit to you, so if you please let me out, I'd appreciate it."

"It was not real."

"Yeah, I realized it as well. Spare me the pity."

"No, that's not what I meant!"

"Then what on Earth did you mean, Larissa? I'm not following anymore."

"I… I just wanted to prove you wrong. To make you admit that you are jealous. Of me."

"Yeah, I gathered as much. Congratulations, you've won. You've also fucked me up and broke my heart while you were at it, but that's not something you care about, do you?"

"That was never my intention, none of it was real."

"You keep saying that, and I get that you don't think twice about sleeping around, but we're all real people, with real emotions. Someone was bound to get hurt at some point. That someone was me, just my luck."

"I've never slept with anyone else." She murmured this, as if it was a confession, and you couldn't help the strangled laugh that fell from your lips. "Unbelievable. You're just…” You rubbed your hands on your face, your incredulity at the sheer nerve of her making it hard to put into words. “God, Larissa, gaslighting might have worked if you hadn't given me time and time again proof of your activities. Wasn't it the point of this little game of yours? To let me see that you have just as much fun with all the others?"

"I know how it seems, but I never did anything with them. I…used my powers so it would look like I did."

"You really expect me to believe that?"

You looked up at her, disbelief written plainly on your face. Why couldn’t she just let you go? There was nothing you could offer that she couldn’t find in all the others, so what was the point of this whole production?

"It's the truth. I did nothing more than flirt with other people. I shifted the love bites and the lipstick on myself."

"What about Vlad?"

"I was trying to convince me to help with this ruse. He refused.”

"Larissa, I saw him coming out of your rooms one morning."

"I know. It was me."

You let yourself slowly slide along the door until you were sitting on the floor, hiding your face in your hands. You really didn’t know what to think now. Was she being serious, or was this another elaborate plot?

"You have a lot of issues woman."

"I know. I said I was sorry."

"Actually no, you didn't."

"I'm saying it now, then. I am truly sorry, darling. I fucked everything up to prove a point."

"You really did."

The conversation, the whole week was spinning before your closed eyes, as you tried to make any sense of it, and of what it all meant. Was it really just an illusion? And even if it was, where did this leave you? You had confessed your feelings for her, there was no way you could now go back to the no-strings-attached dalliance you had before. And you didn’t want to, either.

You felt the warmth from her body seep into yours as she sat beside you, her hand coming to rest on your shoulder. Your traitorous heart leapt in your chest, beating faster just because of that little touch. Oh, the hold this woman still had on you. It was unfair. You wished that you could instantly turn all of your feelings for her to hatred instead. That would make this all easier to go through. If you hated her, you could leave this room and never come back except in a professional setting.

What would that even look like? To set your eyes on Principal Weems and just feel resentment for her, until it dulled into nothingness, leaving behind only the memory of feelings. To listen to her talk during meetings and not be captivated by her smooth, melodious voice. To hate the way her lips quirked up when something went her way.

You couldn’t even imagine it, so in love you were with her, still.

“Is there…is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Larissa,” it came out tiredly, you were   “Are you already trying to get back in my pants?”

“No! I meant… I am sorry, and I do care about you, and what we have.”

“I…I’m not sure I can trust you enough right now. I am afraid I wouldn’t be able to go back to whatever we had before. I…I don’t think I could take it.”

“Can I take you on a date?”

“What?” The question came out strangled, disbelieving. Never in your wildest fantasies you had dared to dream Principal Larissa Weems would be asking you out. It just wasn’t how the real world worked. “Is this another kind of game? Because I told you I’ve fallen for you?”

“I…I didn’t think you’d want to have anything more with me. That was why it made me so angry when you said you weren’t jealous. I thought it meant you didn’t care. I wanted you to care. About me.”

“Larissa, I’ve been head over heels for you for ages. You never hinted that you wanted anything more. I don’t want your pity.”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured to agree. I am your boss, I didn’t want you to feel like you had to. It is one thing to release some tension together, I didn’t think you’d want to…be seen with me.”

She dropped her gaze to the ground as she said this, and she suddenly didn’t look like the confident principal you were used to seeing. She looked afraid and lonely and small. You brought your hand to her chin, lifting it so that her eyes could meet your own.

“Larissa, there’s nothing in the world I would love more than to date you. But if we want to make it work, we both need to talk to each other, okay? No more games, no more assumptions. Deal?”

Her incredulous smile lit up her whole face, as her mesmerizing eyes once again searched yours, and sparkled with joy at finally finding there what they were looking for.

“Deal.”

Liked it? Here’s my fanfiction masterlist, where you can find more deliciously angsty fics! (And also some non-angsty ones).

[the-other-art-blog]

Richard Gunningworth: *ignores Sophie for years, barely acknowledges her existence, makes her feel unloved, gets married without considering Sophie, does nothing to defend her against his wife’s abuse, doesn’t take the proper measures to secure her future if he dies*

The Bton fandom: “I think Sophie’s father really loved her. He must have been in love with her mother. Yes! It was forbidden love! Poor baby, he ignored Sophie because it was too painful to see her.”

Violet: *loses the love of her life when she was 8 months pregnant, suffers depression, has a traumatic birth, suffers post-partum depression, recovers and dedicates her life to raise her children and makes sure her children live a HEA*

The Bton Fandom: “what a horrible mother, she should have been there for Anthony. She’s an absent mother! She’s the worst.”

Make it make sense.

If Violet would have died and Edmund would have crumbled, everyone would have made excuses for him. Stop acting as if Anthony raised those children alone. Violet was depressed for a while, but then SHE raised them. And before Edmund died, they were loving and involved parents.

People forget too easily all the damage Richard did to Sophie.

Let's just recap all the shitty things he did in the book.

He abused his power as a wealthy heir to take advantage of a poor maid.

He left said maid alone, even when he knew there was a possibility of getting her pregnant. And yes, we don't know why she left, but if he cared he would have done something.

He let Sophie live with him because he had to. The book is clear in that he is not happy about her arrival and decides to treat her as a ward. Now, yes, this technically gave Sophie many opprtunities, but he only did it to safe his reputation. He made her pay for his mistakes.

He abandoned her in the country while he spent most of the year in London doing who knows what. Sophie grew up completely alone, except the servants. She had no friends ebcause everyone knew she was an illegitimate child.

When he is in the country, he barely spent time with her. Although I believe he asked for reports from the governess and knew she could be an accomplished woman.

He married Araminta without ever considering Sophie. If he cared about Sophie, he would have mentioned her to Araminta before proposing to her. No loving father would have made any decision without making sure that his new wife treated his daughter with respect. In fact, Araminta was treated as a fool here too, cause she deserved to know. As horrible as she was, she deserved to know Sophie existed, and the fact that Richard didn't think it important to tell her shows how privileged and horrible he was.He was a very wealthy earl, he could have had anyone. He was only 36 years old and if Sophie looked like him, he should have been handsome.

When he presented to the whole staff, he totally forgot about Sophie. He wasn't even planning on making a formal presentation!!! That scene breaks my heart cause Sophie beams when he tells her he didn’t see her. Like how despicable you have to be to make her feel like she’s forgetable and more insignificant than a scullery maid. Let’s not pretend that this messed up with Sophie’s self-esteem.

He didn’t take measures to protect Sophie’s dowry. He left her money... and then what? There were no further instructions on what to do with her. Did he plan to arrange a marriage? How could he have trusted Sophie’s only opportunity for a good life to a woman who hated her?!?!?!?! An ambitious woman who only cared about money and status.

He was aware of Araminta’s treatment towards Sophie and he allowed it. As horrible as Araminta was, the only reason why that woman came near Sophie was Richard. And Sophie knew it.

I know the dowry was extremely important to Sophie, and it does prove that he acknowledge her existence and his responsibility. But honestly, it wasn’t enough. Even if he was already thinking about a future for Sophie where he dies, he could have been more specific in the will. Or, he could have left instructions to his lawyer. What if Sophie didn’t find a husband? Could she have gotten access to the money? I do believe he would have searched for a decent man, but I don’t think he planned a HEA for Sophie, merely a man willing to overlook her illegitimacy. I don’t think they would have had contact once Sophie got married.

And frankly, the fact that people tend to brush off his conduct and abuse and just focus on Araminta pisses me off. Men really can get away with everything.

NEGLECT IS ABUSE!!!!!!

Richard made Sophie carry all the weight of his crimes. He went on being an earl in London and being wealthy and influential. Sophie couldn’t have done anything, she was just a child. The servants didn’t have the power to defend her either. And then Benedict came and he tried to do the same. He wanted her to carry with all the shame of being a mistress while he continued with his life. But this time Sophie could say no and forced Benedict to make sacrifices.

[eden-of-cranberries-and-sparrows]

It Will Come Back

Chapter 1: You know better, babe

Authors note: Hello, my lovelies! I am very excited to share my very first fanfic with all of you! Since this is my very first fanfic I just ask that you all please be gentle with my work. I am working towards being more skilled in writing. That's all, I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Non-described wound and smoking

It started with an offering of help.

You were always a bleeding heart. Giving food to lost animals as a child. Always offering some money to whatever homeless person you’d cross paths with. Whatever soul down on their luck you would offer the least bit of kindness to them. You could say that you’ve always had a thing for strays.

The soup kitchen at the local church you were volunteering at was always satisfying to work at. Having gotten along with most of the staff and volunteers there, you felt as if you fitted right in.

Although after a long shift you were aching for a break. Having sneaked off to the back door of the church, you quickly sat down on the stone steps and lit a cigarette.

You always liked taking your smoke breaks here. Sitting on the church steps while staring into the dark woods at this time of night brought a sense of peace to you. The silence giving you time to wind down and relax.

However, the universe decided for whatever reason to break that silence. While you always heard rustling from the forest next to you, this sounded different. As if something bigger than some wild animal was about to pop out of the bushes.

The more the forest rustles, the more it gains your attention. Standing up, you scan the forest to find out where the rustling was coming from. As the sound came closer, you prepared yourself for whatever might come out.

‘Is it another drifter? No, they usually leave right after dinner is served-’ You thought until the noise revealed itself.

A man. Or at least you think it’s a man. Most men are not bright red, almost 7 feet tall, and… wounded?

After he stumbles out of the forest, he brushes off the leaves and vines that got caught on his impressive frame. As he looks up at you, he stops, as if shocked that you are here. He says nothing, only analyzing your appearance. You tense up, afraid of his intentions.

After a long, agonizing minute of silence, he speaks “You got any of those to spare?” pointing towards your side.

Unsure of what he means, you look around yourself until you realize he meant your cigarette. “Oh! Um…yeah, here.” You start walking up towards him as you fish out another cigarette.

He gives a look of surprise. You are not sure if he is surprised that you’re sharing with him or that you are approaching him. But either way he gives a crooked smile towards you.

“Heh. Thanks, kid.” As you hand him the cigarette, your arms start to goosebump as your fingers touch. Looking up at his eyes, their golden appearance can’t help but remind you of honey. Embarrassed by the thought, you look down, and notice his, rather gigantic, arm holding onto his bleeding side.

“Oh my god, are you alright?” You say to his shock. Twice in one night you surprise him.

“Heh-don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ve had worse.” He assures you. Despite this, you give a tight-lipped frown.

“Are you sure? Because that looks pretty bad. I have a first aid kit inside. Here, let me go get it.” You said as you started to run back into the church before he could reply.

Your exit left Hellboy alone with his thoughts. Why is this human being so nice to him? Why aren’t they running away in terror? Why are they helping him?

He wasn’t sure of the answers to these questions, and he wasn’t sure he could trust you. But he did know one thing, sticking around with you could be interesting.

The church door opening and shutting interrupted his thoughts. As he looked up from lighting his cigarette, his vision observed you, looking worried and lit up by the church's door light right behind you.

‘Heh.’ he thought. ‘Almost like a halo’

“Come sit over here so I can check out your wounds.” You say as you sit down on the steps. Opening the first aid kit, you pull out bandages, antiseptic, gauze, and paper tape.

He sighs, smoke coming out of his mouth and sorounding him like fog “I’m telling ya kid. I’ll be fine. I heal faster than most.”

“Doesn’t mean you should walk around with an open wound. That’s how you get an infection.” You argued.

Hes silent for a moment, watching you as you tend to his wounds. “Kid why are you doing this. I mean- most people see a big scary monster and they run for the hills, why don’t you?” He asks in a defensive tone.

You look up at him, not sure how to respond. “Well-” You start, “I mean, I can’t just let someone go around bleeding everywhere. I mean what kind of person would I be if I didn’t help you, even if you are a big scary monster- and for the record I don’t think big scary monsters ask politely for a cigarette.”

For the third time since he has met you, you have shocked him right down to his core. Giving him an unknown feeling in his stomach and making his chest feel tight.

“There, I think we’re all done.” You pronounced. “Now, I know you said that you heal fast, but I want you to take it easy for the next few days. Oh! And here.” You reached into the first aid box for a cherry lollipop. “Take this, the church always stocks the first aid kits with lollipops for any kids who get hurt. Not saying you’re a kid! I just thought it might make you feel better.” You rambled.

He takes the lollipop, and for the second time that night you feel goosebumps crawl along your arms.

“Heh. Well, ain’t you sweet.” he chuckles out.

Before the blush takes over your face, he gets up and flicks his cigarette butt into the garbage can next to him. “Well, thanks for the help kid. You have a nice night.” he says as he starts to walk away.

“Wait!” You blurt out.

He stops to look over his shoulder. Deciding to throw caution to the wind you nervously ask, “I know this is a cliche but, will I ever see you again?”

‘Christ’ he thinks, ‘if this keeps on going I gotta learn to stop being surprised.’

He smiles and pops the lollipop into his mouth “Sure kid. I’ll see you later.”

“Alligator.” You finish for him in a shy smile.

He chuckles as he walks off. Leaving you to wonder when you’ll see him next.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

summary: coney island. break my soul in two looking for you but you're right here. if I can't relate to you anymore then who am I related to?

Sergeant Barnes had taken her advice, something which the other staff who usually came to upkeep the home did not believe. He didn’t take suggestions, at least he hadn’t since he was a child. He was one of those people who’d rather fail on his own accord rather than succeed on someone else’s. He’d just rather be stubborn yet an au pair had had him listening on how to parent his daughter. This had become much more evident when he’d called her somewhere around midday, asking if se could bring Sadie over to the office so he could spend some time with her. She’d never really gone to his office before, she’d never even questioned where it was. Usually a quickly handwritten note stuck to the fridge with a magnet with a just barely understood address. She didn’t know why she had thought he’d have a modest office - nothing about James Buchanan Barnes was modest, and as she stood in front of the glass building that seemed to thrust into the skies forever. In that moment she was afraid she didn’t know who was more in awe of it - her or Sadie who was tightly gripping her hand. 

Everything was ... polished, clean, almost crystalline. If she were to be honest, the building from the inside looking like a private high-end hospital or maybe a really white and sleek restaurant. It was intimidating, it matched the owner and it almost seemed out of place for an au pair dressed in Zara clothing and a toddler in beige clothing carrying a very bright Bluey backpack. 

      - Hi. - she smiled at the receptionist. - I’m Y/N, I’m Sergeant Barnes au pair. He asked me to bring his daughter to his office. 

      - I’ll let him know. 

Y/N looked down at Sadie, slightly shaking her arm to try and calm the little girl down. She didn’t look comfortable, staring at everyone who came in and out with fright. It wasn’t unexpected, she didn’t particularly enjoy strangers and this building was a whole building of strangers.

     - Hey, look who it is! - Y/N turned towards the direction of the sound to see Sam. 

Sam was one of Bucky’s only trusted people, the other owner of the company and honestly the reason why Y/N knew even the slightest of things about Bucky. He’d usually come by the house to play with Sadie when he could, having named himself as the young girl’s godfather despite Bucky’s objections. 

     - That’s the coolest Bluey backpack, Sisi. - he gave her a little twirl. - I’m so jealous. You have to lend it to me sometime. 

     - Y/N got it. - she smiled, proudly taking her backpack off to show it to her godfather. - There is Bluey and Bingo. 

      - Y/N never gets me presents. - Sam joked. - How are you? I heard from the grapevine that you gave Barnes a good old earful. Is he paying you for babysitting him as well? 

      - Maybe he values my opinion. - she teased as Sam placed a hand over his heart feigning hurt. - He’ll tell you off if he sees you hanging around instead of doing whatever it is you two do. 

     - I don’t know, Y/L/N. If babysitting ever goes south, perhaps you oughta join us. Would do well with someone who can get Barnes to change his mind. 

      - Sergeant Barnes is waiting. - the receptionist returned. - He also said he’ll be expecting a meeting with you soon, Mr. Wilson. 

     - Tell him he can keep waiting. - he waved the warning off before squatting down to Sadie’s level. - You go and hang out with dad. Tell me all about it later, Sisi. 

     - Bye, uncle Sam. - she waved with a grin before turning back to Y/N, extending her hand towards her again. 

The two of them followed the receptionist through clear halls decorated with elegant art, tall white and grey pottery as well as several plants which looked as fresh as any seen in nature. Soon, two large black doors came in view in a scene that reminded her somewhat of the entry to Jurassic Park. Perhaps because both housed two beings with terrible tempers. Sadie held onto Y/N’s leg as the receptionist left the two to grasp with who was going to open the door. 

     - Wanna go. - she buried her head in the fabric of Y/N’s trousers. - Please.

     - Sadie ... - Y/N leaned down to pick her up. - Daddy really wants to hang out with you. 

The little girl buried her face in her neck, mumbling about being scared. She couldn’t really blame her, the building was intimidating and even though her father sat on the other side of that door, all the 2 year old could see was a big door in a frightening building. 

     - We’re going in together. You can hold on to me, it’ll be ok. 

     - Promise?

     - Promise. - she smiled down at her before her hand reached to open the door. 

The office was without personality, much different to how Bucky had decorated his house. The office was just as clean as the rest of the building, decorated like any other office in a decoration magazine. Whilst his house was sophisticated, there were dots of personality everywhere from Sadie’s drawings on the fridge, to Bucky’s postcard collection in frames everywhere you’d looked. She wondered for a second, for a millisecond, if he even spent time here and if he did how much time did he spend. It looked too pristine but Sadie didn’t care, her face lighting up as she saw her dad. 

     - Look who it is. - she pointed at Bucky as Sadie jumped onto the floor to run over to her dad. 

     - Daddy, look, Bluey. - she pointed to her backpack. - Y/N gave it to me.

(...)

It was official. Y/N had no clue what to do with her free time. She had done her revision, looked at all her notes, even spent half the afternoon looking through her thesis only to find herself bored. She missed Sadie asking about her thesis, heck, she even missed the sound of the obnoxious children’s cartoons. Therefore, it was not upsetting when she got a message from Bucky, an hour earlier than expected. She walked back into that building with an unshaken confidence, climbing the stairs up to the office. 

     - FAIR! - Sadie rushed from the office to hug her leg. - Daddy is taking us. 

     - It’s Coney Island. If you’re not busy. - Bucky added as he came not far behind his daughter, keeping a trained eye on her so she wouldn’t wander far. - Sadie said she wanted you to come. 

     - What happened to your hair, baby? - she lowered to the 2 year old’s height, finding her hair on a half arranged scrunchie to the right of her head. 

     - It’s fine. - Bucky said nervously. - You like it, don’t you, Sisi? 

     - No. - she pouted. 

     - It’s alright, baby. - Y/N carefully pulled the scrunchie down. - It looks better down anyway. 

    - Thanks. - Bucky mumbled. - I’m not good with hair ... at least Sadie’s hair. 

It was an odd feeling. An odd feeling as he found himself completely at odds with how to look after his child while she just did it so effortlessly. She seemed to know better, better than him and she was a complete outsider. She wasn’t her mother, she wasn’t family yet Sadie followed her like a baby duck, happily telling her what she did. No tantrums, no anything. All she did was extend her little hand towards Y/N and Bucky couldn’t help the little green monster yearning to come out of him. He’d never really questioned what he was sacrificing, he thought it was ok. That’s what father’s did, right? That’s what his father had done and he always seemed to so tuned to his children’s needs. Yet, here he was, not knowing what to do about his own daughter.

He just starred at the spectacle of the fair, the sounds of children and their parents muzzled by his own thoughts. He just wondered, perhaps with some sort of obsession, if this, if who he was, was enough for Sadie. Was he a father or just the man who gave her a home? 

     - Sergeant Barnes? - her voice broke him from a daze he didn’t realise he’d been stuck in from his office all the way to the fair. - Sergeant Barnes, are you alright? 

     - Sorry. - he blinked harshly. - I was distracted. 

     - I gathered that much. - she looked at him from the corner of her eye. - Work? 

     - In a way. - he shrugged. - You’re good with Sadie. 

     - It’s part of my job. - she smiled at him. - You should fire me if I’m not good with Sadie. 

     - Not what I meant. - he continued looking at the aquarium exposition they’d set which was breath taking for little Sadie. - She really likes you. You can do her hair and she asks for you all the time. 

      - Sergeant Barnes, I ...

      - When she’s with me ... - he took a deep breathe, the words getting stuck in the middle of his throat. - When she’s with me she asks for you. 

      - She asks for you as well. - she tried to comfort him. - She’s 2. I wouldn’t dwell on it. 

      - You’re like Mary fucking Poppins. 

      - Or maybe I just give her spoonfuls of sugar. - she joked. - You’re a good dad, Sergeant Barnes. A grumpy one but a good one. 

      - I thought we were done with Sergeant Barnes.

     - Well, I am not done with being called sir. - she looked down at Sadie, pulling her away from the aquarium before she attempted to break the glass. - Why don’t we go on the merry go round? 

      - Fishies! - she pointed back at the fishes. 

      - It’s ok, Sisi. We can get you a gold fish after. 

How they had ended up here, Bucky wasn’t sure. All he knew is that Y/N was holding Sadie’s against her chest, the little girl having dozed off after going on every single ride and tent she could find, while Bucky had his handfuls with big stuffed teddies, two goldfishes (because of course Sadie wanted a fish to keep the other fish company), and a half eaten cotton candy which Sadie had said she would finish home.

      - You sure you don’t need help? - she asked, moving Sadie so she was more comfortably laying against her chest. - I can carry one of the stuffies. 

      - It’s okay. I may have gone overboard with the stuffies. 

      - At least you have a few new fans. - she teased, remembering how some of the mums had fawned as Bucky had easily won any and every fair game to win the biggest teddy available. - I’m sure you’ve increased your popularity. 

      - Did you have fun? - he attempted to change the subject. He knew his effect on women and he did not like to discuss it. Last thing he needed was a relationship to disrupt Sadie’s life. He was no stranger to a one night stand or even to having a few friends with benefits but that’s where it ended. For all Sadie, and even Y/N, were concerned he was a celibate, single man. It was for the best. 

      - As much fun as you can have when you ride the merry-go-round 10 times. 

     - C’mon, you need to have fun. What do you want to do? 

     - It’s okay, Sergeant Barnes. We need to get Sadie home and ...

     - Bucky. - he interrupted her. - It’s Bucky and I asked you what you want to do. Trust me, Sadie’s not waking up any time soon. I want you to have fun as well. 

     - Fine. I want to shoot some cans. 

     - You want to shoot some cans? - he chuckled. - Alright. We can find something like that. 

It wasn’t hard to find something like that. He just found it odd she wanted to do that. Perhaps it was the first thing that came through her mind when he asked her to do something she liked or maybe she had some pent up aggression within her. Whatever it was, Bucky was curious. He didn’t know much about her outside of what needed to be known. He knew she was working on her post graduate qualifications, doing a PhD, but he wasn’t sure on what. She didn’t share much. 

     - Here, let me hold her. - he shifted the things on his arms, finding space to hold his daughter against his hip. Y/N shrugged, handing him Sadie as if she would’ve easily shot the cans while holding the two year old. - Maybe you should ...

     - I got it. - she grabbed the prop weapon, gathering her aim before shooting 5 cans down in a row. 

     - Do you ... do you shoot often? - he looked at her with a mix of confusion and amazement. 

     - Not really. - she said, not taking her eyes off the other 5 cans which she easily knocked down before turning to the guy manning the booth. - Can I get the blue dog plush, please?

     - You’re a good shot. 

     - Is that a compliment, Sergeant Barnes? 

     - I’m a better shot but you’re not bad. - he added. - Come on. We have somewhere else to go. 

     - Are you gonna show me how much of a better shot you are?

     - Don’t need to. Have medals to prove it, Y/N. Besides, I have my daughter here. 

     - Uh ... I think you’re just scared of losing. 

     - Is that so?

     - Yes.

     - Ok. There’s a shooting range about half an hour from my office, I’ll happily show you my skills there. 

     - Can’t perform without your familiar tools? - she crossed her arms. 

     - Oh doll. - he smirked. - I can perform with any tool you choose. 

[briebysabs]

Okay I wanna talk about woosan in the ateez canon lore for a minute because they’re actually insane. Like sure, they’re a popular pairing so it’s natural to have them be the classic duo in MVs. But they’ve done it so many times that it has to be more than fanservice at this point.

For instance, the ending to Eternal Sunshine where Woo runs and takes San’s hand as they float mid-air. What was the purpose this has still not been explained. A theory I heard was that Eternal Sunshine is a collective dream Ateez is having but still. I get they were really pushing woosan in 2021 but I squinted my eyes, it’s sus to me.

I’ve heard the theory too that WY from Halateez might be a traitor. I think it stemmed from the Hala Hala video where he’s left standing with blood on his mouth, everyone else fallen. Sick ass shot btw but they did defeat the Z-world government in Crazy Form (though idk if that was Halateez or A-world Ateez). So I feel like if he was it would’ve been revealed by now but it’s still a possibility.

I’ve also heard that canon woosan (before anyone yells I said canon not irl) are an implied couple and that’s the subtle nodding to standing up against an oppressive government and Ateez’s whole themes surrounding freedom. Could be true but that’s also putting a lot of faith into a kpop company being progressive enough to integrate that into their storyline.

There is what woosan said at a fansign about their characters in bouncy:

I understand that they’re the Black Pirates in disguise but if WY was ever a traitor, his lack of caring what happens to San would make sense. What makes the angst is that San wholeheartedly trusts in WY here. But my personal theory that I have is at some point, one version of woosan is going to sacrifice themself for the other. Now, it is a leap to say Ateez would kill off a member in their storyline because it could upset some fans. But they can get away with it regardless if it’s permanent or temporary because they have multiple versions of themselves in their lore. So nobody is 100% gone forever but it’ll still be a loss.

And preferably I want it to be WY if it ever happens. Here’s why: idk about Z-world WY but A-world WY’s biggest obstacle or regret was being too late, lacking confidence, being uncertain and missing his chance. While San wanted stability and was tired of his life constantly changing, thus losing friends. So think about it.

If WY died for San, he overcame his wall. He took a chance, he didn’t miss it and would regret nothing bc he couldn’t lose San. While San now lost his best friend forever, the biggest change of his life. And I do know that their backstories in A-world are somewhat reflective of themselves irl. And WY has been described as really the glue that holds the team together, that they wouldn’t be as close as they are without him. Not that losing any other member wouldn’t be heartbreaking but like….if WY died in canon I feel like even the staff would be crying behind the camera y’know what I mean?

And San can go full “I gotta save him, I can’t lose another friend he means too much to me”. It’ll work bc even if you’ve only watched the MVs without knowing anything else about woosan, you know what San means bc you usually see them paired in the songs. So he may use the Cromer (if they still have it) to time travel somehow which will be bringing us to another dilemma because Yunho’s brother has been dead. And I’m pretty sure in one of the diaries they went back in time for some reason, Yunho saw this opportunity and tried to save him from the accident that killed him but it still happened anyway. So there’s 1. Yunho’s like hey San I love WY too but why should we save him and not my brother? Then 2. Yunho going uh I tried doing this before and it didn’t work and I had to relive my brother dying so San don’t do this. And then San just doesn’t listen so it causes a rift within the group.

I feel like this would also give an excuse to keep the story going because the revolution is over. I think the main thing that caused me some fear about this comeback was Mingi going on a podcast saying how 2024 was really their year and they want to end it with a grand finale. Terrifying words, I think the incoming comeback is gonna be lore and it’s gonna be big. Doesn’t need to be woosan-related, probably isn’t but it just spawned my inner worm thoughts of their place in the lore.

[bestworstcase]

We’re all having fun here, so following the throughline of the possibility that Summer trained Cinder, and Summer instilled her ideals of what it means to truly be a huntress in Cinder: Do we think there was any turmoil, delicious conflict, between Summer, Cinder, and Salem after Atlas fell and Summer’s daughters died? (reports of their deaths were greatly exaggerated) Does Summer double down after that loss? Does doubt creep in, as it must have before with Oz? If Summer left to right a grievous wrong, and to make the world safer for her daughters, FREE their world, and lost Yang & Ruby before she could return to them. How do you see the fallout of her daughter’s “alleged” deaths impacting Summer’s resolve? How much has Cinder divulged? The same lie she told Salem? Does she tweak it for her audience? If Summer replicates Rhodes in her mind, how does Cinder parry Summer’s anguish and fury? I love the image of Summer defending Cinder from attack and all the implications to their relationship. Oooo I want it to be messy and fraught! Let it hurt! Reveal the core of tragedy, love and grief.

i think abt this a normal amount :)

(<- has written fic. one day i’ll polish it up and post it but only god knows when)

my first presupposition is that it will be salem who tells summer what happened. how she does so will depend upon what additional details she is able to coax cinder into sharing with her whilst en route to beacon and what she may be able to extrapolate from that information: if salem knows of the ever after (as her allusion to the blacksmith in WOR: aura implies), and she can get cinder to tell her how team rwby “died,” i think she might feel relatively confident that summer’s daughters are neither dead nor in an especially dangerous predicament.

in that case, the news salem shares with summer is that her daughters fell through the staff during the battle for atlas and are in all likelihood alive in another realm, one to which the staff can create an entrance. this is not altogether bad news; at worst summer has a different set of worries than before (her daughters are on the frontlines -> her daughters are in an otherworld and might face unknown dangers). the tension in this scenario arises from the implicit promise that salem intends to rescue summer’s daughters from this other place once the war has been ended, which will no doubt infuriate cinder.

otherwise, if either salem doesn’t know about the ever after or cinder refuses to elaborate, salem does have to tell summer that her daughters are dead. that is a kind of grief salem understands intimately—she is still, still mourning her own daughters and hating herself for causing their deaths—and if she cares for summer even the tiniest bit i think it will be very difficult for her to say. but the reason i think it will nevertheless be salem who breaks the news is that she cannot lose cinder too; one reason this situation is so juicy is that it’s… this again:

except this time it is salem finding herself in hazel’s shoes as the bearer of bad news with consequences she expects to fall upon someone she wants desperately to protect from harm. “i take full responsibility”/“but that wouldn’t be fair, now, would it? we all know who’s truly to blame.”

for cinder fall, spring can wait. if there is anyone in the world salem would lie for, anyone in the world for whom she would take the blame for something she did not do, it’s cinder. and if there is anyone in the world who knows salem well enough to perceive that she’s lying and understand why, it’s summer.

i do think that salem cares for summer as much as she does cinder and that summer likewise cares for both salem and cinder; the narrative purpose of isolating These Three together at beacon under these circumstances at this juncture is unclear if they don’t. there is also a great deal of trust between salem and summer rose: salem has no doubt of summer’s loyalties after more than a year without progress in vale, summer had to trust that salem would keep her word to spare yang and ruby. (which salem did.)

so:

telling summer that her daughters are dead is going to be very distressing for salem; she knows exactly how painful it will be for summer to hear. but she has to protect cinder. because she can’t be sure how summer will react, the safest course is to take the blame herself. if that means summer hates her, betrays her, leaves her, so be it.

summer has known salem for fourteen years, and she’s quite likely known cinder longer than she knew her own daughters. she has also had fourteen years to think about the path she chose and ample opportunity in these last sixteen to eighteen months to change her mind. if she knows salem well enough to see her distress and realize the lie, what runs through her mind in that moment? (salem would not have killed her daughters, nor allowed them to be harmed if she could stop it; but cinder had reason to want ruby dead, and salem can’t bear to lose her.)

i think, for summer, what it probably comes down to is not trust or sunk cost but the choice to forgive or not. because she could retaliate, if she chose. summer has silver eyes. cinder murdered her daughters.

but. fourteen years, she’s been working with salem; cinder is also the girl she trained, and sixteen, eighteen months ago when summer got to the top of beacon tower, she chose to get cinder to safety and left ruby lying there unconscious. does she not also care for them? is she not also agonizingly aware that she is as responsible for the deaths of her children as salem is, for igniting this war in the first place? can she not also understand why cinder felt the need to do the things she did?

it’s such an awful, impossible thing, but summer’s heart has always been split down the middle by the fault lines of this war, and the woman who killed her daughters is the one she chose to protect over ruby the last time she had to make the choice, that night atop beacon tower. is there any question of vengeance when this is her family too?

which is the second crack in cinder’s view of the world and will, i suspect, take salem very much by surprise also. AND THEN THERE’S TAI… to whom cinder is just a murderer. he’s the wildcard because i truly have no idea how he might react, other than really badly.

but for summer i think the emotional center of gravity has to be forgiveness, both for narrative reasons and based on what the clues we’ve been given about her fate hint about who she is. the conversations in the ruins of beacon will be very interesting to watch.

[everlasting-rainfall]

Have you considered any of the other CP9 agents for the skin to fur au? I feel like Blueno or Kalifa would make such interesting yanderes

I have actually! Well except Fukurou and Spandam because I’m not the biggest fans of them like I think they’re alright but I don’t typically find myself daydreaming about them in these kinds of scenarios, you know?

Yeah, I’m sure you get it

Anyways so because I don’t think that I can write the two of them together, this might just be moreso some short imagines. Sorry!

But as an apology, I’ll throw in some imagines about Kumadori as well. Does that sound good? I certainly hope it does as Kumadori is pretty nice like I’d give him a kiss or two if I could

Anyways before I start rambling too much! Let’s get into it, shall we?

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

Kidnapping, Stalking, Delusions, Transformation, Violence, Breaking and Entering, Manipulation, Implied Murder, Impregnation, Rainfall Probably Not Knowing How Zoo’s Work

!-POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS-!

!-MINORS DO NOT INTERACT AT ALL-!

Okay so we’re gonna start off with Blueno and his animal theme in CP9 is apparently a bull which suits him quite well in all honesty considering those big bull horns on the sides of his head

But I can honestly imagine that like with the zoo where all of the CP9 agents currently live, there’s his enclosure which isn’t too popular with anyone as it’s just a bull when there’s so much more interesting things to be seen like a giraffe or a leopard or a wolf so typically Blueno doesn’t get many visitors

It doesn’t bother him much though as the zookeepers only really come in to feed him and then clean his area so it makes for good alone time and if he’s truly bored then he can always simply wander into one of the more secluded parts of his enclosure and transform into a human

Escaping their enclosures is rarely hard after all and it’s easy to slip out plus he’s memorized what times he’s fed and taken care of so he just has to be back before then

Wandering the park is how he eventually meets you like let’s say that the reason that he noticed you is because you brought in some kind of outside drink and the zoo doesn’t allow that so he points it out to you and whether or not you knew that rule. You toss it just to get him off your back

You probably expect that to be your very last interaction with Blueno and he expects it too but instead he finds himself following you around when you visit. He justifies it to himself as making sure that you don’t cause any further problems but really he wants to follow you

His more animal instincts are telling him to keep you out of trouble so you won’t wind up getting hurt as there are a lot of predatory animals in the zoo that aren’t members of CP9 so as a result, he sees you as a heifer that needs to be protected and guarded

You of course notice that this man won’t stop following you around and it is getting worrying especially as if you approach him about it then he just winds up denying it and if you talk to a staff member then he always conveniently manages to disappear

It’s getting worrying and irritating so you more than likely stop going to the zoo so much just to avoid this guy and the stalking does stop

Mostly because Blueno doesn’t want to risk losing track of time and blowing his cover by going to look for you

But trust me, Blueno is going absolutely crazy over this like he is on edge and everyone can tell like Kaku once had to tell him to calm down in giraffe before he got himself in trouble. Blueno can’t help it though as you aren’t here and he needs you otherwise you could wind up hurt or worse in his eyes

You never reappear at the zoo however and it’s starting to make him truly consider leaving to find you and drag you back so you can’t leave him ever again

However wouldn’t you know it? There you are… Coming to celebrate some kind of work related event or family birthday or something here, he’ll watch you from afar just like he’s always done but you aren’t getting away this time… He’ll make sure of it…

So when you head off on your own to the bathrooms, that’s when he gets you… Blueno snatches you and knocks you unconscious before dragging you off to his enclosure, you’ll be safe with him… He knows it…

I can’t see him forcing himself on you at first but he definitely turns you in some alternative method as now you’re a cow of some kind with him

This has happened so much at the zoo at this point that there are questions as to where you came from but no one questions it for long as hey, at least there’s something to hopefully make people more interested in Blueno’s enclosure now

Honestly I can see him being one of the more laidback members of the CP9 animal shifters like he won’t keep you stuck inside of the den like how Lucci and Jabra do to their S/O’s but he still doesn’t like people looking at you for too long so he might try to get in the direct line of sight of anyone whose looking at you for too long

And yeah, your family or your co-workers might wonder where you went but do you really think that they’ll ever find out? I mean… Magical bull man who took you and turned into a magical cow lady?

Yeah, right… You’re here forever with Blueno in the zoo and he might eventually want to put a few calves in you but that can wait for right now as he’s just enjoying the fact that he’s keeping you safe with him in the enclosure

So for Kalifa, let’s imagine something different here as her animal is apparently a sheep when I looked it up and I’m unsure if a zoo would keep a sheep in an enclosure unless it’s a petting zoo and that would not fly with Kalifa…

So let’s imagine that she chooses to be in her human form when she’s at the zoo like she works there while the others act as zoo animals that people can gawk at. She might be doing something similar to what she did with Iceberg where she was like his assistant but she could also just be a zookeeper

I like assistant better though so let’s go with that and let’s say that eventually with all the disappearances at the zoo, there’s been a rise in problems and the zoo winds up hiring you to help Kalifa with the piles of paperwork that need to be done while the owner handles everything else

Working with Kalifa isn’t too bad but it’s not the best as she’s a very serious and intimidating lady plus you once tried to give her a soda after a vending machine spit out two instead of one and she claimed it was sexual harassment

You’re fairly certain that she doesn’t like you in the slightest but although she was indifferent to you at first, she actually starts to enjoy your presence as the two of you work together

Part of her starts to feel stressed as well when you don’t show up to work one day and when she calls you, she finds out that you’re sick. Cue Kalifa showing up at your house while you’re resting having brought you some medicine and things to make you more comfortable

In your sick state, you don’t question how she got in as most of your attention is on the fact that she bought you the next book/dvd/game of your favorite series

Honestly chances are that Kalifa uses this as a chance to snoop around your house and find out more about you. She learns as much as she can while she snoops and winds up feeling a new sort of connection to you

Especially if she happens to find like a wool sweater in your closet or laundry basket as if your fate wasn’t sealed with her before then now it’s permanently sealed as she starts to imagine you as a sheep animal shifter just like her. It’s safe enough to say that she likes the visual

Maybe you’ll have a few dates as you work with Kalifa and now that you two talk more, she finds out about them and if she can’t scare them off then she’s always up for blackmail or faking some things to make your date look like a scumbag

When the day comes where Kalifa needs to shave her wool, she typically just gets rid of it but this time. She decides to make a little something and fastens a nice article of clothing for you which she offers to you

And the next day when you walk in wearing it? You might as well have just asked the girl to marry you as there is a blush across her cheeks the whole time that you both work which she refuses to explain

Eventually they can’t hide the zoo can’t recover from all of the disappearances so the animals are being transferred to a new one and likely the members of CP9 are as well so Kalifa immediately applies for a job at the new zoo

Meanwhile you don’t really intend on moving so you try to say goodbye to Kalifa, that won’t fly with her though as Goodbye? Yeah, right…

Kalifa will attempt to manipulate you into moving with her at first and if that doesn’t work then she’ll simply pack her things, get ready to leave, and make one final stop on her way out of town

Now you’re across her backseat probably having your pressure point hit so you would fall unconscious. Does she feel bad about it? Not a chance… You were being stubborn about following your mate after all…

You became her mate when you accepted her wool sweater, don’t you know? And now there’s no way out for you as you’re being forcefully moved with Kalifa to a new town

She would fuck you to turn you or bite you but those aren’t all that appealing to her as what would truly be nice is drawing a bath and stripping you down, putting a fun little mixture in the water to activate it and gently washing your body with her hands until you’re just like her

No one will take an interest in what clearly belongs to her after that and if they do then it’s simple, really… Do what everyone else does go homewrecking bastards and get rid of them as efficiently as possible…

So as for Kumadori, if I’m correct he is supposed to be a lion in his animal theming and I don’t know about you guys but at the zoo. I always wanna see the lions like they are amazing and I love them (biased as lions are favorite animal)

Anyways so I can honestly imagine that Kumadori might be one of the most popular animals at the zoo like even moreso than Lucci, Kaku, Jabra, or any of the non animal shifter animals living there

It’s not just because he’s a lion either as we’ve all seen how Kumadori can be and those traits don’t get dialed back even when he’s in his animal form and that’s what makes him so popular as he practically puts on a show for all of the guests with what he does

He brings in the most money out of all the animals and people love to see his antics and how he can be eventually seeing the popularity, the zoo owner hires you to basically do shows with him like educational ones but they’re still clearly meant to attract more visitors and make money…

You were scared at first when you heard you would be working with a lion but the worst thing that this lion did was seemingly try to commit seppuku when he thought he offended you and then got sad when his claws didn’t cut him

Kumadori has to be one of the most dramatic yet oddly obedient animals that you’ve met as he’s willing to work with you and put on these shows for visitors but you once tripped and fell during a show only for this lion to act like you had just fallen to your death

If there was a spotlight in his enclosure then it most certainly would be pointed at him… But hey, the crowd loved it and you did too as you were getting paid

What you only really saw as a job however, Kumadori saw at first as a partnership of two performers on a stage that would potentially transform into something more as the two of you kept up the shows together

He even started to let out a tearful roar of farewell whenever you would leave his enclosure for the day, he would bellow out for you to “Oh please not leave me all alone, my dear! For I would miss you so much that I will meet my dearly departed mother in heaven before you return!” and all you hear is “ROAR!! Roar, roar, roar! ROAR!!”

His heart does break whenever you leave him as well and it only gets worse if he sees you speaking to someone else outside his enclosure… Jealousy stirs heavily in his chest to the point where he would like nothing more than to rip you away from that person…

Even when he rubs his scent all over you the next day through nuzzling, others still speak to you! Can’t they understand that you’re his? The nerve of those homewreckers!!

When the zoo closes for the day and the members of CP9 are able to actively speak to one another, thanks to Kalifa turning off the cameras before she finishes her work. Kumadori airs his grieveneces about you leaving and leaving him to drown in his own heartbreak and tears

This is when the others remind him about what he can do, he can make it so that you’ll stay forever just so long as he can turn you into an animal shifter just like him. The look of amazement that comes across his face as he imagines you as his beautiful lion/lioness

It’s heavenly to the point where he might actually die and go to heaven… He needs it… He wants it…

So the next time that the two of you put on a show, he attempts to make it intimate and romantic but there’s only so much a lion can do to make things romantic when he sinks his teeth into you

It’s a deep bite that breaks the skin and he tries to act so apologetic about it, he doesn’t feel one shred of regret for it however even as you immediately leave after the show

He knows that you’ll come home to him soon so he doesn’t even bother with the farewell roar this time as he just waits

He waits and waits until the chaos of a lion on the loose can be heard and the smile stretches across his face as he starts to clean up around his enclosure and den

A few hours later, you’re dragged in as an unconscious lion recovering from the effects of a tranquilizer dart. The zookeepers are talking about how insane all of this is but they’re happy to have a new lion at the very least

They wait to see if Kumadori will have a bad reaction to you which of course he doesn’t, he drags you off to what’s now your shared den and lays you down

After which he cuddles with you and couldn’t be happier, you’ll be disorientated and confused when you wake up but he’ll tell you all about how “The stars have aligned and brought us together, my dear!! They have granted our wish to be together and now we shall never part from each other’s side!!”

Better get used to loud voices and Kumadori’s weirdness as you’ll be experiencing it for the rest of your life now… He’ll never let you go…

And if anyone would try to take you from him whether it be human, animal shifter, or anything else then it will be over his dead body especially if he winds up putting his cubs in your belly as proof of your love

(Sorry, it was the best gif I could find of him that wasn’t just a clip from the show… I have no idea who it belongs to as I found it on Google Images but IT IS NOT MINE…)

[goldeneyedgirl]

Sonya! (Imagine, for a moment, that Tumblr Staff actually fixed the bug that means I have to screenshot and tag you @sonyawix for replies.) I missed you!

Jasper's just there realising that a couple of decades of training and practice with the Cullens was no match for a tiny teenage girl who looks at him like he's the second coming. She did more for his self-esteem in one night than anyone has done for him since he was human.

Jasper's softer in STL and his trauma has already been sorted, organised, and filed in his mental storage unit so he just has to simp over worry about Mary-Alice. Mary-Alice has the trauma conga-line but it gets pretty soft for both of them starting next chapter.

But it's why Jasper chapters are usually easier to write.

And listen, we all switch hyperfixations. I read a whole bunch of MCU fics that had Correct Vibes but Incorrect Takes, and beautililies had to stop me from writing MCU fic before I worked on Jalice fics. Also the idea I am carrying 70% of your Jalice experience is fucking wild. What do you want? I feel like I need to give you something because 2024 was not my most active year ever.

My little Mabel has recovered from the infections she had well, but decided to keep things interesting and acquired an ear infection which has since been upgraded to a double ear infection because what's more fun than a lot of credit card debt? Even more credit card debt! She is why I can only stare longing at Coach bags and not own fun stuff like that.

And honestly, I join you in solidarity that my sister and father are also Shitty Fucking People. Sometimes, people are rancid, and we just need to salute their bullshit and carry on our merry way.

It is law that if you bring up Anathema, I post something. I picked this scene WIP because Alice being a dramatic teenage girl is somehow so funny in my head? I can't wait to get to a scene where she's dramatic in front of Jasper and he's just "...you're adorable, you know that right?" And she's like, "absolutely not."

But for now, Alice makes a small scene.

“This is to never get back to the Clearwaters,” I could hear Freddie saying to Charlie Swan in a low voice. “Any of them. I trust you, Charlie.”

Charlie sighed. “Fred, I’ve known you a long time, and I don’t like this at all. What is so important you have to meet with them alone, without Sue and Billy knowing?"

Silence, and I was tempted to creep up the hallway to be able to hear better.

“… This is about Alice and her well-being. If… I have reason to believe that if Sue, Harry, and Billy knew more about Alice’s … health and genetic make-up, they would be deeply unhappy."

That was most likely an understatement. I had a feeling that if Sue found out that I was biologically half-vampire, I would be persona-non-grata in the Clearwater household. There was a fifty-percent chance that Harry would hunt me for sport, honestly. His aim with a shotgun was second-to-none.

//

Dr Cullen had brought his wife, and there was something almost funny seeing them in our home - they were both dressed in very stiff, fancy clothing, standing in the entrance looking awkward. I was in the kitchen finishing the washing up in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt; both Freddie and Charlie were still wearing work clothing.

The apartment was still mostly in the late 60s style from when it was built. Lots of brown and yellow. Freddie always intended to renovate, but we never seemed to get around to it - moving all the books would take us days, and we’d have to stay downstairs. It was cozy up here, and if we made any changes, it would be to clean out the third floor.

“Hello Alice.” Mrs Cullen smiled so warmly at me, but I felt oddly shy, offering a little wave as I put plates back into the cupboard.

“Turn on the coffee maker, love, before you go,” Freddie said, and I got the message that this wasn’t going to be a meeting I was included in. I wasn’t upset about that; somehow Dr and Mrs Cullen were far and away more intimidating than Jasper was. Somehow the golden eyes and the pale skin that looked so right on him made me nervous around them.

Thankfully, Dulcie was having dinner with her brother’s family tonight. It meant we could have this meeting at home and she’d probably bring home left-over dessert. Hopefully that really good blueberry donut thing that Mrs Stanley usually made for Dulcie’s birthday.

It also meant that whilst I had been told I wouldn’t be joining in on the meeting today, there was no one in the house that would check to make sure I was wearing headphones and watching movies on my laptop instead of eavesdropping for all I was worth. And in my defence, I had to know what Freddie was telling everyone so I didn’t mess up the story later on. It was just planning ahead.

//

“He can read minds?” I shrieked, giving myself away instantly.

Charlie Swan swore, sloshing his coffee in surprise, as the rest of them spun around to look at me in the hallway.

“Alice,” Freddie groaned but I didn’t care that I would be doing extra cleaning this week or whatever as punishment.

A girl’s mind is private. There are things happening up there that die with me, okay?

Things like me contemplating the logistics of having sex on a gurney now that I’d met Jasper and realised he was a foot and a half taller than me, and probably 100lb heavier.

Or the fact that whilst my visions hadn’t been instructional, so to speak, they had given me a certain amount of reference material to reflect on. I might never have been a Girl Scout, but I do like to be prepared.

And the idea that one of the Cullens could mind-read and had probably told the entire family that a good fifty-percent of my brain power was solely dedicated to what I had seen of Jasper’s body in my vision at any time was… not ideal. Not at all how I planned to integrate myself into their lives. I was aiming for lovable future daughter-in-law, not mouth-breathing creeper.

“Edward considers the contents of everyone’s mind private, unless harm would result in keeping it secret,” Mrs Cullen quickly reassured me. Please. I had seen Leah and Seth together; I knew what siblings were like. There was no way in hell that Jasper hadn't been informed that I had absolutely noticed he was ripped when he helped me up.

“I’m taking a lot of emotional damage learning this,” I said slightly hysterically. “Can he hear everything?”

“Only when he’s present.” Was Dr Cullen laughing at me? He looked amused.

“Alice,” Freddie sounded tired. “There are brownies in the downstairs freezer if you want some dessert.”

Huh. It was bad if Freddie was bribing me with the catering supplies.

“That would help,” I said, trying to walk through the kitchen to get a knife with some kind of dignity. “You understand why I would be uncomfortable with a teenage boy reading my mind, right?”

“I think we’re all on the same page about that,” Charlie said. He didn’t look amused.

"Alice, I really don't think there's anything in your head that Edward Cullen would worry about," Freddie said, obviously trying to sound comforting and mostly made me want to slam my head against a wall.

"I've had unmonitored access to the internet since I was eleven and no boyfriend! Or girlfriend! There's plenty up there I don't want Jasper's brother knowing!" I snatched up the cake knife and looked over to see Freddie looking like he needed a drink, Charlie Swan looking the most uncomfortable I had ever seen him - and that included the ass-injury incident - and Mrs Cullen trying very unsuccessfully not to laugh at me.

"And now I've made it worse. I'm calling Cynthia!"

It's not the fact that my father was a vampire that makes me a freak. I manage to do that all by myself.

[lightlycareless]

How are Naoya’s brothers when interacting with Y/N and Naoya’s kids? Are they close with them or are they more hands off? I feel like Y/N’s siblings would be pretty hands on like always sending gifts and does their best to show up to important events etc. 😊

Hello!! Thank you so much for sending in this ask!! It's the perfect continuation for this one :> Now onto the good stuff.

It is safe to say that the reason why the relationship between Naoya and his brother’s doesn’t completely estrange is because of your daughter.

At first, no one wanted to approach her, they may have given you their congratulations and whatnot, but because she was Naoya’s kid, they wanted to give her the same treatment they did towards her dad… you know, just in case.

Most of them stuck to that agreement, mostly those that were rarely inside the house to begin with, but those that remained behind got to see how she treated you, Naoya, and the rest of the staff: and any misconceptions they had of her slowly begin to disappear, replaced by intrigue.

Naomi is, as much as a kid could be, well behaved. There’s no denying that at least one of the parents cares for her. But most importantly, the reason why they decided to finally “approach” her was because she is highly charismatic.

No one could believe that Naomi was Naoya’s daughter tbh. And they still don’t, really, for an immeasurable number of reasons: starting from the notion that he actually settled down, the always… well, “adventurous” Naoya! The one that scowled out of disgust at the mention of marriage, now, was married, and not only that, had a also had a child.

From there, the happiness he irradiated once news of your pregnancy began to circulate. That’s another one no one would be able to forget. Followed by how ecstatic he was to have a girl—against all teachings of the Zen’in, he, the main believer of them—and finally, how he surprisingly turned out to be for all intents and purposes, a good father; at least from what they were able to see from Naomi.

So, thinking that she wasn’t a “brat” as her father was around her age, they’ve decided to finally give her a chance and get to know her niece a bit better. And they ended up liking her far better than Naoya lol.

Continuing the tradition of making a “would trust-wouldn’t trust list…” here is how their dynamics would go down + other members of the Zen’in clan/estate.

Would trust:

Naofumi. He’s a total sweetheart, everybody knows he wouldn’t hurt a fly, so rest assured your daughter is in good hands whenever he’s around. He tends to be a bit awkward when she’s around, though, not really wanting to do anything that might irk her father, but Naomi is the one that ends up helping him out of his shell, and when he does, that’s when the fun begins (lol) Naomi likes him a lot; with him… she can be like the leader of the group, you know? Whatever she wants, he follows + he’s a good cook, and Naomi always appreciates good food. I dare say, he might be her favorite uncle (from the Zen'in side)

Junko. She takes good care of Naomi, but she’s not really child friendly if that makes sense. She’s very strict, doesn’t interact with your daughter that much in the sense that she kind of just lets her do her own things while looking from afar. Naomi doesn’t like her that much, considers her to be a bit creepy even. You’d have to come and reassure her that she’s not really scary, just not talkative. Naomi doesn’t buy it.

Mariya. There’s not a single thing she cannot do and that extends to taking care of your daughter. Naomi really likes her because she tends to take her to the nearby village whenever errands need to be made, and of course, because she buys her things every single time. Also, Mariya is the one that ends up getting the “endless curiosity” treatment from Naomi, in other words, the one she goes to when wanting to know why certain thing works the way it does, or why it doesn’t. Can’t say she didn’t have it coming, Mariya always liked to show off whenever Naomi was around lol.

Haruko. Kind of. 😊

Hitomi. Undoubtedly; she really enjoys having Naomi around because she tends to hype her work. And let's be real, because she adores your daughter so much she constantly gifts her any clothes that she wants. They both have the time of their lives when doing so, with Naomi doodling the most extravagant dress she could imagine, and Hitomi doing her best to make it happen. Naomi is kind of her doll in that sense, and she's nothing but happy to oblige.

Naoaki. If it were to Naoya, not a single one of his siblings would allowed near. However…

Ranta. Of course he's trusted with Naomi!!! He's Naoya's best friend after all; however, he doesn't hang around much with Naomi unless Naoya is there, because of work and such. But he'll try to help both whenever possible. She'll never admit it, but Naomi likes it when Ranta is around because her dad tends to be more fun.

Wouldn't trust:

Naobito, Ogi. Nothing else to say.

Naohiko. Nope. That man has no control when it comes to expressing himself. He's just rude, a bad influence on Naomi. And to be fair, as much as he says he likes to settle down and have a family, he doesn't like the kids part. Less if they're not his. So there's that.

Naoaki. That man is just the same as Mai and Maki when it comes to instigating Naoya, if not worse. It's the only reason why both decided to not allow Naomi near him; but outside of that, he's really nice with her. Unfortunately he's not around the estate that often, so they don't interact much.

Jinichi. Would be in the other list... but Naomi is scared of him. Also, because Naoya tends to draw comparisons between Toji and him, Naomi quickly caught up on it and would mimic him, much to your embarrassment. You're the one that decided to not let her near just to avoid upsetting him.

Haruko. Another one that should be on the "would trust" list... if it weren't for the fact that she tends to go overboard with her spoiling; because she's such a good cook and Naomi loves food, she goes ahead to do about anything Naomi wants... until one day she got sick. Naofumi still had some decorum when holding back thanks to the fear he has of Naoya, but Haruko doesn't have anything to fear apparently, and with an enthusiastic, limitless child like yours... You cherish her very much, but you don't trust her with Naomi unless Hitomi is near.

And there you have it, the dynamics between the Zen'in clan/estate and Naomi :> They're pretty... amicable, I guess, considering their reputation. Naomi is out there changing people's hearts lol.

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask! It got me thinking of some scenarios I want to write hehe.

Take care and hope to see you soon!

[lfghughes]

Key To My Heart

a/n: i somehow ended up writing a lot more than expected ooops

warning: cursing

Long distance relationships were not easy, that was something you came to find out very quickly. It’s not that you and Kirby had any kind of fights about it or that there were any kind of trust issues. You just hated the fact that when you wanted to go home to your boyfriend after a long day he wasn’t there. There was no doubt that he felt the same way. It didn’t help that on top of that he had a busy schedule so there were certain periods of times where you barely talked or would have to wait until very late at night to talk.

The reason right now that you were living apart was he clearly had his team he played for but you were still going to school and you didn’t want to switch to online since you only had so little time left in school. So you both had decided that for right now this is what worked. This was your last semester though and neither of you really had the talk of what comes next.

You didn’t want to assume you were just going to move there and you decided to see if it was something he would bring up so you wouldn’t feel like you were pressuring him in any way to make a serious move. It was your spring break though and you wanted to surprise him at one of his games.

How you managed to keep it a secret, you had no clue. You were so excited about it and you had almost spoiled the surprise yourself a few times just while on the phone with him. To get there and surprise him would require a lot of planning and reaching out to his friends and teammates and they were all very eager to help. This involved a little white lie too. So he wouldn’t think something bad happened to you because you were having to travel and not talk a whole lot you had told him you’d be taking some before spring break exams.

At the arena, the boys and some of the staff had managed to secure you a pretty good spot to where he would be able to see you but just in case you made a sign for him that you had spent a lot of hours decorating. As soon as he skated out for his warm ups he had taken a total of two laps and when his eyes scanned the crowd before him, his eyes fell on you for a second before it turned to someone else and then right back to you.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” You could see him mouth the exact words but the smile on his lips said he was more than excited to see you. He skated on over and waved at you. He then pointed towards the tunnel he headed out from to where you knew the locker rooms and all the staff would be. You understood what he was saying so you found a staff member and quickly let them know the situation and after confirming that it was okay for you to go back there you went to meet Kirby.

There were no words as he walked over straight to you, lifting you up in his arms in a tight hug. “Are you kidding me?? How did you get here?? Your exams?? What?? Did the guys know about this? Is this why they were being suspicious all day?” There were so many questions and you couldn’t help but laugh at all of them. “Surprise! It’s spring break so I figured I’d come over for the week.” A look of realization came on his face as he held his hand up like he was trying to pause the conversation.

“I have to go grab something from the locker room, give me a second.” He quickly headed back around, leaving you confused as to what he was getting. When he came back he had a little black box and no not the kind that had a diamond ring in it so you knew he wasn’t about to randomly propose in the back of the arena. “I know school is ending soon for you and you don’t have to say yes because I get it’s asking for a lot for you to move out here for me but here’s the key to my place.”

You were surprised that he had gone and made a key for you and even though you still had a month before school ended you were already excited about this future. “It’s a yes, for sure a yes. I mean as long as you’re okay with coming home to me every night.” You told him and he smiled at you and thought of that. “I’m more than okay with that.”