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sentientcave · 9 months ago

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Retirement Party

Chapter Three - Smoke and Whiskey

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Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Generally creepy behaviour, Alcohol mention, Smoking mention (Tobacco, cannabis), plus-sized reader, female reader, There is something fucking wrong with these guys for real, More reader details given, but we're still pretty vague about it. Even though it is hard for me.

~3.2k

When you go back inside, you wind up wedged between John and Ghost on the bigger couch. Johnny’s stretched out on the smaller one, and Gaz claimed the chair that you’d been sitting in earlier, leaving you with no other option. Neither of them makes any effort to give you more space, even though they could. Ghost’s leg is pressed against yours from thigh to ankle, and John’s pinky finger keeps finding your thigh when he rests his tumbler against his knee. You want to curl up properly, tuck your feet up underneath yourself, but you can't without pressing even closer to at least one of them. At least Ghost isn’t quite as intimidating without his mask on.

After a while, Gaz and Ghost go out for a cigarette. The chair looks inviting, and you’d like to get a little space, but Price’s arm drops around your shoulders casually, pulling you in a little closer to his side. “Relax,” he says against the top of your head. “You’re alright, doll.”

The door opens again. “Soap, we’ve got a spliff, you want?” Gaz asks.

Johnny picks himself off the other couch, grinning. “Aye. An’ then cake?”

“Fuckin’ forgot about cake,” Ghost says. “Hey doll, d’you want some of this? Cap?”

“Who rolled it?” John asks. “Because I’m not smoking one of Gaz’s joints ever again.”

“Oh fuck off, Price, I can roll just fine.”

John looks at you and shakes his head slightly. “He really can’t.”

“I can roll,” you say. “I always do with my friends.”

You can see the calculation running behind John's eyes as he adds new information to what he knows and assumes about you. You want to laugh. You almost do. Most people take one look at you, with your big doe eyes and round face and and sunny disposition and think that you're some innocent little thing. Sure, you tend to live life with your arms open, and that might come across as naive to some, but you're not inexperienced by any means. You're nearly thirty years old, you're by no means a child.

"Let's see, then," he says. "Box on the coffee table has everything."

"Does tha' mean we can smoke inside again?" Soap asks. "It's startin' ta get pure Baltic out here."

John looks at you expectantly. "Up to you, doll."

"It's not my house."

He hums. "You're stayin' a while. Might as well be. It's important that you're comfortable."

You slide to the floor and reach for the box. "Well. You'd better open a window or two. But I don't mind."

Making a fuss over the semantics isn't worth doing. You probably are staying a while. Even if John really won't force you, you'll still need his cooperation to get all your stuff loaded back into the van, and all four of them are likely headed for hangovers.

John tells them to open the windows, and leans forward to watch you break up slightly sticky buds into the grinder. He brushes your hair behind your shoulders for you, and when you tip your head back to look at him, there's something in his eyes that makes your ears warm.

Johnny drops down to the floor on the other side of the table, a crumpled looking joint hanging out of his mouth. You can see what John means about not wanting to smoke it.

"You want a drink, doll?" Gaz asks. "More tea?"

You twist to look at him, hanging over the back of the couch, that handsome face smiling. "Have you got pop? Wouldn't mind a ginger ale."

"Got irn bru too," Soap suggests. "Ye've got some Scot in ye, aye?"

"Yes."

"Didja want more?"

You level an unimpressed look at him across the table. "I should've seen that one coming."

"I'd like to see ye com--"

"That'll do, Soap," John says firmly. "She's not goin' to have sex with you."

"Might feel a bit better if she did," Soap says, shrugging. "Ah'm just sayin'."

"You're not saying anything." Gaz sets an unopened can of ginger ale on the table next to you. "If you're gagging for it, we'll take care of you in a bit."

"And if you don't behave yourself you're not goin' to get anything," John rumbles from behind you. "She's been good. Surprised none of you have been slapped."

"Just the once." Gaz snags the joint from Johnny and sits back in the chair.

Ghost snorts. "What did you do?"

"Surprised her picking her up. My own fault."

You lean back and hold up the neat joint you've been rolling, hooking your arm over John's knee. He sets his whiskey to the side and takes it, holding it up for an inspection. "Nice work, doll," he says warmly. “Got a bit of a wild streak to you, eh?”

The praise makes you glow, despite yourself, and you laugh aloud at the second part, a real laugh, not nervous or bitter. All four of them shift their attention to you at the sound, snapping a tension you hadn’t noticed until you felt it’s absence. It’s important to them that you feel comfortable, and your genuine laughter is the first sign that you’re on your way. They really did think that they’d done you a favour.

Insane. But almost sweet, in a fucked up, unsettling way.

You pluck the joint out of John’s fingers and meet his dark blue eyes evenly, not missing the hunger that sparks into existence. “Got a light?”

John pulls his lighter out of his pocket, a little awkward with you leaning on his other leg, and holds the dancing flame out for you. You have to lean in a little to get to it, so you do, your eyes still locked on his as you inhale, the slight sizzle of paper and weed igniting clear in the otherwise silent room. You can hear the way his breath catches too, taken by surprise yet again. You offer the joint back to him, holding in a lungful of smoke.

“Shite,” Johnny hisses, breaking the heavy silence. “Yer absolutely sure ye dinnae want your cunt licked?”

You blow smoke at him from across the coffee table. “I’m sure.”

It doesn’t take long before drowsy complacency overtakes you. Curling up against John’s leg, your arm still hooked over his leg, you let conversation wash over your awareness, not paying enough attention to pick out one thing or another. John’s hand settles on your head, fingers threading into your dark hair, combing through soft strands idly. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, blue eyes half-lidded but still plenty aware, a funny smile twisting the edges of his mouth upwards. He has nice lips under that bristling moustache of his, not as thin as you would have expected. His voice is a pleasant rumble when he speaks to the others,

He takes a sip of whiskey, and you follow the bob of his throat as he swallows, the way the tip of his tongue darting across his lips. It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s watching you study him.

“Hello, beautiful,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

For the first time since you’ve been there, you don’t feel scared. Just dozy and content, like a cat curled up next to a fireplace. “I’m alright,” you admit. “It’s been a strange day.”

His fingers flex, not quite gripping your hair, just holding you in place with the lightest pressure, encouraging you to keep facing him rather than turning away. “I imagine so.” His hand glides along to your ear, his thumb grazing over the shell, sending shivers down your spine. “It won’t be so strange tomorrow.”

“No more surprises planned?”

John glances up, looking at each of his men in turn, and then back to you. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“We do have cake, though,” Soap says. “Ye want some, bonnie?”

“Yes please.” You only turn to look at Soap for a moment before John is gently coaxing you back, curling his fingers around your jaw. Can he feel the way your heart leaps into your throat, thrumming like a hummingbird’s wings? It’s hard to look John in the eye, but harder still to pull yourself away. His touch leaves burning traces behind, and you’re all too aware of your body and the way you respond to him. It’s all too much, too soon and too strange.

He catches your hand when you try to brush his away. “Why don’t you come on back up here, doll?” he asks. “Be more comfortable than the floor, don’t you think?”

“No, I’m happy down here.” You tuck your knees to your chest, looping your arms around your legs, extricating yourself from his sphere of influence just a little. You’re still pressed up against his calf, but you don’t need to go that far, you just need to face forward so you won’t get pinned under that blue stare again.

John has a certain gravity, a magnetism that you can’t help but be drawn in by. It would be all too easy to sink into his arms, but the idea that you’d been given to him still bothers you, like a persistent, sharp little stone in your shoe, ruining what might have been something.

You perk up some when Soap hands you a plate with a slice of chocolate cake on it. It's not the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but it tastes incredible, rich dark chocolate and an icing that had so much whiskey in it that your teeth feel funny after a few bites.

"This is really good, Johnny," you tell him. "If the whole military thing doesn't work out, you could consider becoming a baker."

"Thanks, hen. And dinnae think I havena considered it. Gettin' closer to packin' it in awl the time. Just cannae leave Gaz until he's got a good team watchin' his back."

"We've got some good sergeants," Gaz says. "Nitro's got real promise."

"Shivs too. Little devil," Ghost adds. "You need a door smasher though. Those girls are tough as 'ell, but some occasions call for a big boot."

"Aye, ye'd say that, bein' the biggest fuckin' boot the Queen's army has ever seen."

"King now," John points out.

"Oh, fuck if I care which poncy arsed Windsor is sittin' in the big chair."

"Bloody leeches," Ghost agrees.

"I've got Sanderson in mind." Gaz winks at you, like you're in on some secret.

"Gary Sanderson? Is he no' dead?"

"No! Turns out he locked himself in a cryo chamber when the bomb went off. That facility was full of 'em, all kinds of experimental tech. It was finally safe to take a team in and we found him. Nitro started calling him Roach, and it's stuck."

"He's a damn good soldier. Be good for the taskforce," Price agrees. "Would've picked him ten years ago."

"Well, he's had a nice long nap, and he's hopping mad about missing so much. He'll make a good doorsmasher," Gaz says.

"How about that Lucky kid? Nitro’s brother.” Price asks. “He looked pretty promising. Unless his luck ran out.”

Gaz hums, licking frosting off his fork. “He’s a good kid, but his problem is that as soon as Nitro’s around he lets her do all his thinking for him. Splits her focus.”

You sigh, setting your half-finished slice of cake down on the table in front of you, and climb to your feet, wincing at the ache of not moving for so long. You edge between Ghost’s knees and the coffee table and skirt around the edge of the couch wordlessly. No one stops you, and there’s no falter to their conversation despite the eyes that follow you until you disappear upstairs to use the washroom.

As you wash your hands, you stare at your own face in the mirror. You look pretty, even with your eyeliner a little smudged, and your lipstick faded to nothing. The buzz of THC is your system makes you giggle. Pretty enough to kidnap, even.

You think about it for a long moment, and then take your makeup off and braid your hair back so you can wash your face properly, and brush your teeth too. All the weirdness of the day is catching up, and all you want to do is sleep it off. The low buzz of their voices carries up the stairs when you step out into the hallway again, seemingly unbothered by your absence. There's no reason for you to say goodnight-- you don't owe them any kind of civility. But you still hesitate.

Long enough that John appears at the bottom of the stairs. "You alright, doll?" He asks. "Comin' back down?" The stairs creak slightly under his weight as he starts coming up towards you.

"I was thinking-- I'm just tired, is all. It's been a long day."

He stops two steps down, so he's still looking up at you. "I understand. We can talk more in the morning."

"I'm sure there's a lot to discuss."

"If you say so. Already told you most of what I needed to tell."

"Just most?"

He nods, and beckons you closer, a conspiratorial smile on his face. You take one halting step toward him, and then another, until you stand right at the top of the stairs. His big hands catch yours, holding you in place when he moves one step up, taller than you once more.

You stare up at him, and your breathing is turned shallow, your heartbeat rapid and heady. His eyes glitter in the dim light as he leans close, the tip of his nose skimming yours, as if he means to kiss you. Like a deer pinned under the headlights of a rapidly approaching truck, you stand frozen, unsure if you even want to move, or if you welcome the inevitable collision.

He smells like smoke and whiskey when he speaks, his lips so close to yours you can feel the soft brush of breath on your skin. "Forgot to tell you how good you look in my shirt," he purrs. "Been thinkin' to say so all night."

Heat licks across your cheeks, his words waking something dangerous in your core, something that wants his hands on you more than anything else. It’s unfair, what he does to you already, barely more than a stranger, and you want him to be a good man so you can indulge that desire without fear of consequence. It’s been such a long time since someone looked at you the way he looks at you now, an almost indescribable fondness that you haven’t even begun to earn.

“It’s a nice shirt,” you say lamely. “Thank you for lending it to me.” You don’t mention that it smells very pleasantly like him, and how it’s been a bit difficult to keep yourself from sniffing at the flannel all evening.

“You’re welcome to anything I have,” he says, and you know he means it.

“I hope that includes your bed,” you say jokingly, trying (and failing) to diffuse the intensity in his eyes. “Because I think that’s where I’m headed now.”

“Of course it does.” His thumb rubs across your knuckles, the other hand coming up to cradle your cheek. You shake, all nerves, worried that he’ll close the distance and kiss you, but he just taps his forehead against yours instead, eyes smiling. “Off you go, sweet thing. You give us a shout if we get too loud, eh?”

You swallow nervously and nod, taking a step backwards. “Goodnight, John.”

"Goodnight, doll.”

You quickly shut yourself into the other room, flicking on the light while you strip down to your panties and wrap the flannel shirt around yourself again, and tuck yourself into bed. It’s been a bizarre day, and the room feels strange, too open and too dark, but it still doesn’t take long to fall asleep.

Hours later, you wake at the sound of the door opening and clicking shut again. You sit up before you’re fully alert, dreams shredding apart and solidifying into reality as you blink away sleep.

“Shh, s’just me,” John’s voice comes out of the darkness, slurring slightly. You can’t see anything in the darkness, until he crosses over to the window and opens the curtains, letting in a little light from the waxing moon outside. He turns towards her, his big frame silhouetted against the scant light, humming. “Bloody hell, you’re a pretty little thing.” The soft clink of his belt buckle is far too loud in the quiet room, as is the rustle of his clothes as he strips down to his boxers.

“John, what are you doing?” you ask nervously.

“Coming to bed,” he says, like it’s obvious. “M’too old to sleep on the floor, and Gaz is on the big couch.”

“Oh. I’ll move then. I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.” You throw back the sheets and swing your legs onto the floor.

“No, no, stay right where you are.” He swoops over and grips your legs gently, lifting them up and back onto the bed. He smells strongly of whiskey and mint toothpaste, and the clinging remnants of cigar smoke. “We can share tonight. Get things set up better tomorrow.”

“John…”

He slides into bed beside you and easily pulls you close, strong arms wrapping around you tightly, rolling so you’re half on top of him, one hand cradling your back and the other on your waist. “Yeah, doll?” he asks.

“John, we can’t— I can’t sleep like this.”

“Shh, just give me a minute to hold my pretty girl.” He nuzzles against the top of your head. “I’m gonna be so good to you, sweetheart. I promise.”

"You're drunk," you say, holding the flimsy excuse out for him, hoping that he'll take it. You don't want to think about him meaning it. It makes going home look all the more unlikely.

"A little," he admits. His hand drifts lower, fingers dipping below the soft lace of your panties to dig into soft skin around your hip. He groans. "You're perfect. Sweet and soft, so damn beautiful. I'll make you happy. I'll give you anything you want, if you stay with me."

"John! Stop that, we can talk later, just go to sleep."

"I know this all started wrong, doll. The lads got carried away. But this is right. You feel that too, don't you? We'll have to come up with a better story for our kids, hm? Something proper romantic." He kisses the top of your head, humming happily.

"Our kids?" you squeak. "Jesus, John, you can't be serious."

"Course I am. We can start trying whenever you're ready."

Well, at least now you know he's just as delusional as the rest of them. "You don't even know if I want kids."

"You do," he says confidently. "Tell me I'm wrong."

"You're drunk," you say firmly. "Go to sleep."

He chuckles. "You didn't say I'm wrong."

You push away and roll over so you don't have to look right at him. Even in the darkness, you're certain that your face betrays more than you'd like. It was none of his business if you wanted kids. You certainly weren't going to have them with him. "Go to sleep," you repeat.

"Yes ma'am," he says, looping his arms around you again, tugging you close to his chest. "Goodnight, doll."

Thanks for reading!

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

#cod mw fanfiction #cave writing #John Price x Reader #x reader #dark fic #This chapter was so hard to write so I'm sorry if it's not as good #but the good news is that the next chapter is already finished! So I'll post it tomorrow #John you are so awful I hate you what is wrong with you #Also: I have like 4k of two lil Nitro fics because she captured my heart so we have that to look forward to as well #Anyway enjoy!#Retirement Party #Retirement Party Chapter 3 #Initially forgot a readmore lmao

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r0tting-rat · 2 months ago

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Would u guys hunt me down like a fawn, maul me to death and feast off my flesh if I ever told you I was considering writing a "make-your-choice" DCA domestic horror au with multiple endings, kinda in a graphic novel style, where u lose/obtain frienship points that could lead u to get a lil kissy <3 from Sun and Moon or to be brutally murdered in cold blood (dw they recycle so your body will be disposed of accordingly)

Did I meantion it's heavily inspired by the song "Suburbia Overture" and takes place in a secluded mansion with HUGE Stoker's Dracula vibes?

Ahaha just joking ahah I'm not doing that.

Unless.

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critterbitter · 1 year ago

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Do you have an ao3/plan on uploading your work there?

(Does a lil jig) I have no work on ao3 but I have been drabbling together some stuff! It’s a long term project though haha, and I’m not likely to post because I’m still job hunting. (Shakes my little hat) but i can be convinced! Some stray dollars for lunch mmmight motivate me. Ehe.

For people curious what I WANT to write, if i have time:

Hisui Horizon Event — (alternate version of Canon but flavored with my war crimes.)

Ingo is sent to Hisui with no name and no memories. He copes.

Without her anchor, Chandelure fades. (Elesa and Emmet, mourning the loss of their third, will not let her slip gently into the grave.)

Salvaging the Ship of Theseus — (definitely canon divergence because, well.)

Emmet and Eelektross fall into Hisui seventeen months after Ingo’s disappearance and a month before PLA.

May I introduce: Shitty merchant Emmet, who’s definitely not fluent in Hisui flavored Kantonese. One concerned Eelektross, who’s about to change the landscape of pokemon-human relations forever. Warden Ingo, who is attempting to retire wardenship to go looking at the rift bubbles. Lady Sneasler, who’s using Ingo as a babysitter for her three rascally sneaslets.

And a very angry Elesa, armed with an extra pissed Chandelure, as they hunt down Sinnohian legends to get their favorite muppets back.

(HERE’S A DRABBLE. I have a lot of thoughts for Salvaging the Ship of Theseus. So many thoughts. Help. HELP.)

(Sigh. I have so many outline ideas. But writing is hard so yall. Art or fics, I’m not powerful enough to do both.)

But also interest check? Intwest chweck? WAH (gets swatted at with a broom))

#ask #mailbox #critterbitter screams into the void #the mind is willing but the body is weak #i have fanfic ideas but. writing hard.#and i hate posting unfinished work waaGhhh #(stares at STSOT— …i have finished the first chappie and i have. so much respect for fanfic writers. how do you do it.#how do you write so much. holy shit.)#submas #submas fic #its not a fic its a drabble #but STILL!#emmet #ingo #(sits) its so hard to be an adult and have a hyperfixation. mmm.

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tavysboy · 5 months ago

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No other love can warm my heart, now that I’ve known the comfort of your arms.

Unedited version under cut 💛

#john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #doodles #getting inspiration to draw them cuddling after playing with my soapghost sims and seeing them cuddle like yeah i can do that #i gotta draw them in their outfits too … especially their date night ones they are adorable i Hate them #also i know i didnt draw soaps tattoo okay . i am a loser i normally draw but didnt feel like it <3 sorry #i just susushdjfkglg i love them so much and this is how i cope <3 #i hope to draw more of them … i still need to doodle them in my marriage ome*averse fic with simon and his pretty collars …. sigh #why am i even censoring that Anyways. much love to my first art piece that i have felt the need to finish since TWO YEARS AGO … AHAHAAAAAAAA #(two is pushing it more like one . maybe)

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tkpuke · 1 year ago

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Best Mistake

Pairing - Alastor x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,015

In which you’re a new member in the Hazbin Hotel trying to redeem yourself. Everyone has made you feel welcomed, you’ve warmed up to everyone, everyone except one. It is no secret that you do not trust him, and Alastor seems to take matters into his own hands and change that.

This is a tickle fic. Do not read if that’s not your thing.

It has only been a month, but you vividly remember how your first day went when entering the doors of Hazbin Hotel. Charlie immediately running up to you with such a tight suffocating hug, asking but almost demanding Angel he takes your bags into your room as she expresses her delight of having you stay.

Staying wasn’t your first option. The idea of a sinner redeeming themself enough to see the pearly white gates of Heaven greet them was almost laughable to you. When you first entered Hell, you thought that you finally reached the end. Made yourself at home and rot yourself away almost like how you did on earth.

One stroll in town is when you saw a commercial advertising Hazbin Hotel. You watched Charlie eagerly tell the purpose of the Hotel as she gives the viewers a thirty second tour, almost losing her breath as she tries to fit in as much information as possible before her timed commercial ends. You weren’t alone watching it, people gathering near you as they whisper to the person next to them their opinions. The majority of the reaction was chuckles here and doubts there. You, admittedly, also had your doubts.

Although, did you really believe you belonged down here? That this was your final ending?

Which brings you back to remembering your first day. Charlie had an iron grip on your hand from her excitement, pulling you to every room in the hotel and showing off its purposes and making sure to not leave any details out. Once an hour went by and she finally finished, she made you meet the staff and other guests individually.

You were a little intimidated by Vaggie, but could tell she will be very sweet once she warms up to you. Angel seemed like the guy that could make you crack out of your shy shell by spending five minutes with him. Husk didn’t say much, but you could tell he likes being here rather than anywhere else. Just don’t call him out on that. Niffty left you guessing if she is twelve or somewhere in her mid 20s, would not be surprised if older than that. Oh and also, her swiftness and pleasure for pain and torturing bugs kept you awake on your first few nights. Sir Pentious looks naturally suspicious, but he was actually very nice when greeting and you asked him a little about his egg minions.

“Aaaannd the last person I want to introduce you to is…!” Charlie sing song, bringing you down the halls in search for her last friend she has yet for you to meet. She opens a door, assuming to yourself that’s their room as she peeks her head in a little. You waited behind her, rubbing your neck a little as sudden goosebumps were felt. Charlie turned around after not having much luck finding him in there, but quickly gasped when she looked behind you.

“Alastor! There you are!”

You froze in place for a few seconds as the name fell upon your ears. Alastor. Alastor. You inhaled deeply, slowly turning around and almost having to crane your neck to make visible of the face smiling down at you, arms behind his back and small radio statics being played. Every hair on your body stood up, forgetting to blink when you two locked eyes for a good solid minute.

Count yourself as scared shitless.

You came back to reality, stepping back to keep a good distance between you two but went for a small tumble. “Woah, I got you!” Charlie giggled, catching you before you could fall. Unaware of the now fear written all over your body, she continues on by gesturing her hand towards the seven foot demon.

“Y/N, this is Alastor. Alastor, this is Y/N. Our new guest!”

He sticks his hand out towards you for a handshake, but all you could do was stare at his red claws that looks like he’s been sharpening them every five minutes. Alastor took your hand, knowing he would be standing there all day if he let you willingly shake it.

“Don’t leave me hanging, dear! It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/N.” You knew awkward silences went by after that, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his hand interlacing with yours. You just want to get the hell out of here and run far, far away from this hotel and never look back. You knew there would be regrets when you gave this hotel a chance.

Okay, this was actually your first time meeting Alastor, but his stories were no stranger to you. Recalling back when hearing those horrifying, blood-curdling screams being broadcasted on the radio for all to hear as if it was a fair warning, people begin telling you the man responsible behind all of it. You wished later on you’d never asked, The thought of The Radio Demon selecting you as his next victim crawling into your dreams which turned to nightmares. Of course, you know that chance is slim, but is never zero. Down in Hell, you just don’t know what the fuck kind of trouble you’ll find yourself in.

Now having a face to the name, he completely became a new wave of terrifying to you. The red claws you observed earlier sent a shiver down your spine. Those pointy yellow teeth that you swear on Lucifer he’s put to good use. Bonus points for his tall, lanky figure which practically makes him towering over you so easily.

What you did not expect, though, was his strange resemblance to a deer. The antlers and, also, are those ears? Funnily enough, it kind of made him less scary. Almost. Not really.

Ever since your first interaction with him, you weren’t dumb understanding that he right off the bat knows your lack in trust and feeling unsafe around him. You would often walk down the halls being paranoid that eyes were watching you intently, eyes belonging to Alastor but had no further proof it really was him.

At certain times, you were convinced the demon was toying with how you felt by saying things to you that definitely came off creepy, but could never accuse him of doing it purposefully when he smiles like there’s no tomorrow. He always looks at you harmlessly, but you’d be a fool to take that as a sign to let your guard down. Every conversation he picks up with you ends short on your end, pretending you have somewhere else to be.

That somewhere being away from him.

Everyone knew the relationship you stand with him. Some didn’t blame you, especially Vaggie. Others, like Charlie, tried her best to ease your worries.

“Alastor is a great friend, Y/N! Just give him a chance.” She would say to you on most days, but it was gonna take more than believing someone’s word for you.

So, bless her, Charlie decided to come up with a trust activity exercise.

“Charlie, I appreciate you trying but I don’t see how this will make a difference…” You say as she rounds everybody up, some sitting and some standing. Charlie waves a dismissive hand. “Not with that attitude it won’t!” Her confidence is quite admirable, something in which you lack greatly.

She went over the jist of the activity, it being pretty simple. Everyone gets a turn to stand on a table and fall backwards, trusting everyone behind them that they will catch you with no hesitation. It seems easy, but once you are up there doubts will for sure start flooding your mind.

It’s called trust fall. A game you remembered playing when you were in middle school, to test your friends on their trust. However, to put this test on a seven foot demon with a horrifying reputation that all of Hell is aware of? Yeah, you wish you could count yourself out of this one.

One by one, everyone went up on top of the table and fell into the arms of those whose duty was to catch them. Some fell as soon as they climbed on top without letting second thoughts get a chance to swoop in their mind, while others took a little bit of reassurance.

Once it was your turn, you did one last pleading look towards Charlie, but she gave you two thumbs up and gestured for you to go. Sighing, you made your way up and looked down at everyone having their arms up and ready. Your eyes looked over to the middle, there Alastor standing nice and tall with his signature grin. A grin you want to see drop at least once.

As you turned your back, you didn’t hear everyone scoot back and have Alastor the only one standing near the table, in range of catching you easily. You took a couple of seconds to yourself to ease your breathing, because you are embarrassingly afraid of heights, but then you let yourself fall.

Arms slide past under yours, fingers resting on your sides as your back hit against a chest. The first thing that clouded your mind was how it felt like only one person catch you, but the next thing on your mind was how you suddenly felt fingers dig a little in your sides, pulling a small squeal from you as you quickly turn around to view the culprit.

Alastor stared down at you, feigning cluelessness. He clapped his hands together, ignoring your confused yet questionable stare at him. “Now! That wasn’t so hard was it, darling?” Vaggie nodded slightly in agreement, while Charlie ran over and gave you a big hug and excitedly expressing how proud she was of you.

Yet, you are still stuck on the question what just happened right after you fell. Every time you look over at him, he just smiles your way innocently, making you second guess yourself on what you truly felt.

You weren’t crazy. You knew exactly what he did, and he damn well knows it too, but it still feels so unlikely to happen.

Ever since the trust activity happened, which has now been a full week, Alastor seems to be playing a one sided game with you. A game that leaves you frustrated yet confused on what he’s gaining from it.

You’ll find yourself reaching for an item placed high on a shelf. Alastor will come strolling along, offering to give you a helping hand, and in the midst of doing so you’ll feel a ticklish breeze near your ribs. Now, the breeze would feel so similarly like fingers dancing along your ribs, their intent to send a ticklish wave throughout your body. Hence you turning with a glare, but Alastor would simply ignore the face you’d be making and hand you the item you’ve been trying to reach.

Another time you felt the same breeze is when you ultimately made a bad decision thinking you could fit into a hoodie that definitely wasn’t your size. You saw it displayed in a store when you decided to take a walk downtown, immediately calling your name. It was so cute in your eyes, despite realizing it wasn’t your true size you usually get clothes in, you wanted to give it a try.

Now, you noticed it was a grand mistake and a waste of money when the tightness it held around your body was starting to get unbearable. What you weren’t expecting, though, was how it didn’t budge any further when you rolled it up and couldn’t get it over your head, blocking your eyes.

You didn’t know whether to feel blessed or cursed that Alastor was walking down the halls during that time. A blessing, because he saw your poor state and undoubtedly offered to help. A curse, because you felt that damn ticklish breeze along your ribs in the midst of him helping you out, a yelp of surprise leaving your lips.

“There we are!” He exclaimed heartily, tossing the hoodie to the side and watching you fix your ruffled up hair but also eyeing him skeptically. “What was that?” You asked, but it almost sounded like an accusation because you damn well knew what caused it.

“What was what, dear?” He beamed, raising an eyebrow with arms crossed behind. You stared for a couple of seconds, not knowing whether to sound like a lunatic explaining what’s been happening for the last couple of days whenever he’s around, or to let it slide once again. Unfortunately, you were already feeling exhausted and were in the middle of heading to bed, so you waved a dismissive hand.

“Nothing, nothing.”

It kept you on your toes. Always checking your surroundings when walking around outside of your room, it got Angel questioning to Vaggie if someone’s out to get you by how paranoid you look.

You knew how stupid you looked to others, because you haven’t talked about any of what’s happening to you with any of them. You thought they would either laugh and say your imagining things, which you weren’t guilty of also thinking the same, or they would confront the overlord himself. If anything, you were at your wits end. You were considering doing the latter yourself, because it really has you on edge.

And so, you did.

One thing that you like to spend your free time on is painting. Painting anything that’s in front of you or whatever idea you had in mind that day. It could also depend on your mood, and for this particular Tuesday afternoon you felt quite peaceful. Your hands were almost as dirty as your palette, sticking your tongue out a bit whenever you were focused and gently dragging the paintbrush across the paper.

Your peace filled mind abruptly vanished when ears picked up on a familiar humming and distant blue jazz playing on a radio. It didn’t take long for you to put the hum to a name, looking over your shoulder but he was already behind you.

You gasped, his sudden appearance startling you. Standing up a bit too fast caused your easel to tip slightly and send your paper flying down, but luckily Alastor caught it and brought it up high to fully view the painting in front of him.

“You never told me you paint, dearie! I’m certain this will turn out marvelous once you’re finished.” His eyes look up for a response, but you’re standing like it’s a predator vs prey fight. Nervousness written all over you, hands out to defend yourself.

“Don’t you dare.” You say, making him tilt his head and squint his eyes a little. “Don’t I dare what?” His smile tightens, but you swore up and down its a smirk laced with nothing but mischief behind it. He’s being a little shit acting oblivious, and he damn well knows it.

“You know what!” You raised your voice a little, trying to sound intimidating but if he keeps staring down at you like he’s about to pounce, you might shrink in fear. Alastor takes a step forward, and you take a step back.

“Oohh sweetheart, whatever do you mean?” He’s got you backed into a wall, which staggers your confidence. Nonetheless, you gulped away any indication you’re feeling quite rather terrified, as anyone else would, and stand a little taller. “Don’t act dumb, Alastor.” The radio demon hummed as if he was collecting any memory of what could possibly trouble you, which made your eye twitch.

“Ah! Do you mean this?” Bringing his hands forward, Alastor danced his fingers alongside your ribs, instantly having the same vibe as the breeze you’ve been feeling. You barely had any chance to react and defend yourself, immediately grabbing his wrists as tightly as you can to tear them away. It did absolutely nothing, by the way.

Being tickled by an overlord was not on your list of things that could happen down at your time in hell. If anyone were to tickle you at the hotel, Alastor wouldn’t even be one of your top three guesses. Him sending those ticklish breezes your way, knowing how easily it got you to squeal and feel embarrassed. Knowing how it kept you on your toes around him, but still not so sure of yourself if it really was him responsible for it. Knowing how easily it can get under your skin.

He tsked at your hands gripping onto his wrists, his tendrils making an appearance and snatching them away, making your entire torso fully vulnerable. However, he did not continue on with his attack and instead watched you struggle a little, chuckling under his breath.

“Why are yohou doing this?” You say, a nervous giggle tittering out because anyone would be a fool to think his onslaught ends there. Alastor traces his fingers alongside your neck up till it reaches under your chin, which tickles like hell.

“You’ve been far too tensed recently, and there should be none of that.” A calm tone in his voice, acting like he’s not about to bring you into a breathless mess. “And you think what you’ve been doing to me over the last couple of days was making me less tense?” You shot a glare, but it bounced right off of him.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alastor tiptoed his fingers on your tricep all the way down to right on the soft spot of your underarms, causing you to violently jolt. “I thought my little game was helping, with all your delightful short squeals you’ve been giving me. hmm, what does it sound like again?”

His fingers, more like claws, resting on your underarms started scratching, not disappointing him when you squealed just like he predicted. Alastor pressed his fingers in a little deeper, searching for a more boisterous laugh. Your true real laugh that you’ve been choking back lately because of how badly it made you feel insecure.

You did not fail him with his goal. You laughed a little harder and tugged on the restraints on your wrists a little harder, but wherever you move, his hands follow. “I must say Y/N, your laugh is like music to my ears. Shall we have everyone else listen?” He sways his radio stick closer to you, but you shake your head desperately.

“Nohoho! Plehehease!” It was a little humiliating, but you were already getting close to your limit. On earth, friends and family recognized how you were more ticklish than the average person. You were a regular victim to tickle fights with your close loved ones, always yelling truce within five minutes. In this situation, you were a little hesitant that begging would translate to him ‘continue’.

Yet, luck was on your side since Alastor took notice you were already having slight tears mirth your eyes. Regardless, he didn’t plan on doing this for very long from the get-go. The whole thing of him brushing his hands against your sides during the trust fall was a honest mistake, but when Alastor picks up on weaknesses that people have, he puts a pin on it and takes advantage of it later down the road for his own good use. Tickling was something Alastor learned was a common weakness for most people, but the other half people rather enjoyed the feeling and the bond it creates.

For you, he already found out it was the second preference. You will never in a million years admit to it, but this entire thing seemed kind of playful to you. The kind of playful you haven’t experienced in so long. Haven’t laughed genuine in so long, and have all your ticklish spots exploited when the reason behind it is for all in good fun. And oh, to be a teasy asshole. He’s doing great in that field.

“Such a sensitive being you are. Have you always known you were this ticklish?” To be honest, you kind of wished he would stop talking. You can’t explain it, but it made everything tickle ten times worse. He’s aware. Of course he is.

You felt his hands travel to every spot that can be ticklish, quickly catching on he was in search for that one spot that can make you go ballistics. “Alastor, wahahait..” you stopped struggling awhile ago, realizing it brought you no use. He yet again ignored your giggly pleas, fueling him to keep going. The more his hands traveled down almost near your hips, the more you start to get nervous and newfound energy kicking in to pull your body away from him.

He catches on.

His next movement happened so fast, you swear it all went down in a blink. The minute he latched onto your hips, you let out a snort, cheeks forming a tint of pink. The tendrils finally release your wrists, at the same time Alastor switched up the pace and drilled his thumbs in a motioning circle. Your legs didn’t stand a chance to support you up, immediately crashing down but he did not follow.

You laid there for a moment, greedily sucking in sweet air to the point you almost thought you saw Heaven itself. When you felt like you collected yourself, you slowly sat up and moved a couple of strands away from your face to view Alastor, looming over you with his widest grin yet in his books. “Bad spot?” He tilts his head down at you, and in response you huff and roll your eyes. He lends you his hand, looking at it hesitantly before taking it. “Come now, let’s get you on your feet.”

You brushed yourself off, finding your painting propped up neatly back on the easel. Alastor follows your eyes, coming to stand next to you. “If you add a pop of red into the sunset you’re creating, I’d say it would almost look like I’m viewing out from a window. What do you say?” Raising an eyebrow, you look up at him. “Do you know how to paint?”

Alastor beams. “Not at all.”

You chuckle at that, picking up the palette and switching to a new freshly blank paper. Picking up a second paintbrush, you handed it over to the demon. “Here, I’ll teach you.”

Teaching wasn’t your strong suit, or either Alastor was seriously terrible at painting. Either way, you guys shared a couple of laughs, listened to any stories he got reminded of along the way, gladly listening. The finished product was suppose to be anything his heart desires to paint of, and after examining it for a few seconds you felt the need to ask what the hell you were looking at. To him, it’s him and his mother enjoying a warm meal of jambalaya while sitting on their front porch. To you, it’s just a big blob of bright colors, but the more you squint the more you start to see his vision and let out a small smile.

The guilt of judging him way too harshly off the bat started to set in. You tried not to blame yourself too much, because if anyone heard the tales and myths you’ve been hearing about The Radio Demon, anyone would jump at the sight of him. Although, there’s one thing you always believed in people: Second Chances.

If everyone at the hotel did not see a problem with not only having him stay, but having him help out a tremendous amount to have Hazbin live up to its full potential, then that must mean they all put a lot of trust in the guy. Charlie specifically, and although people might say she’s naive, she’s not dumb. If putting full trust in Alastor was a mistake, she would’ve taken care of that a long time ago.

However, trust is a sensitive topic for you. Alastor has a long way of achieving that, but for now the time you’re spending with him is something you’ll smile to yourself later tonight.

Maybe The Hazbin Hotel has already started to redeem some qualities of yourself you thought you would never get to see.

#hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel tickle fic #ler!alastor #lee!reader #ler!alastor x lee!reader #alastor x reader #tickle fic #tickle post #tickle community #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel Alastor fic #AAAAA I FINALLY FINISHED IT #holy shit this was suppose to be done Friday but now I’m posting it on a Sunday night #ngl I took forever cause I hated some parts and kept rewriting #but now I think I like it and I hope u do too :D #I know yall mfs are hungry for ler!Alastor so eat up

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the-random-phan · 8 months ago

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Sides of a Coin

#danny phantom #dp #vlad masters #<3 #danny is PISSED lmao #a smug vlad is never a good vlad #vaguely inspired by a fanfic idea bouncing around in my skull. but im gonna keep it private until i finish it #i hate that I have so many abandoned fics. i dont wanna post any more multi-chap's unless they're already finished #my art #(also IF i finish it. tis just an idea for myself. for fun :3)#i should totally be asleep but i just kinda blinked and 2+ hours had passed 🥰🥰🥰

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earthlyruins · 8 months ago

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"zoro would've killed sanji if he saw what he did during wci" i think you people genuinely failed your 9th grade english class. there is a difference between being righteously angry/furious at someone's actions—someone who you respect and silently consider a friend—without knowing the whole story versus actually killing that person due to a mistake. no one is doubting zoro's strength or loyalty to luffy but the mischaracterization is wild here. not only would zoro not kill sanji in wci (he hesitated even agreeing when sanji ASKED HIM TO in wano & don't even get me started on the entirety that is thriller bark), but luffy wouldn't give the fucking order either because he has never viewed the sacrifice of another's life as an option.

yes zoro would've been pissed !! but did you all seriously not see arlong park or enies lobby. it's been stated a hundred times or more that sanji sacrifices himself because he values others over his own life—and the straw hats Know This. it's a key reason as to why robin is so pleased when sanji asks for her help in wano because he's learning to lean on people just like she did. they've sailed together for years. they've considered each other family for Years. they care about one another and that is the truth for zoro and sanji as well as literally any other straw hat. sanji did what he thought was right in the moment, and though he was wrong, i think considering everything we know about him—everything the crew knows about him, zoro included—they would understand.

#insta comments pissing me the fuck off as per usual. i need my computer back to finish this fic it's been 3 weeks 😭 this is a key concept #black leg sanji #roronoa zoro #op #one piece #monkey d luffy #zosan #ig #they never hated each other god DAMMIT I'm suffering hrre

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monaetheworldsdestroyer · 16 days ago

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cherik hell's kitchen au except Erik is the only one that participates in the show so it's just a normal hell's kitchen season except he's there and every time we get that snapshot thing of him where he's supposed to comment on what's currently happening he just whines about missing his husband. thanks to his powers he's a machine in the kitchen but he doesn't win because other competitors vote to kick him out almost every episode 'cause they don't like him (and it's his fault they don't)

#x men #xmen #erik lehnsherr #magneto #charles xavier #professor x #cherik #xmen movies #fanfiction #fanfiction ideas #i guess #i've been bingeing the first seasons of hk's polish edition and i decided that Erik would hate it there so i immediately put him there #as a treat #for me not for him #i'm not going to write this #but i'm done with another fic #the one i posted about before #as soon as my beta reader finishes it i'll post it(⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)

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burguesinha24 · 6 days ago

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the archer- in which you’re sad as fuck and vi comforts you (fluffy)

your hands shook as you knelt on the floor of your bathroom. you had really thought you were past this. you had an amazing girlfriend, loving friends, and a great life in general.

but I guess life’s a bitch, hm?

you heard a light knock on the door through your sniffles and choked sobs.

“babe? everything alright?”

“I-I’m ok.” despite your best efforts, your voice still broke when you responded to her. the door opened, and you silently cursed yourself for not locking it.

“whoa, hey, what’s going on?” vi’s blue eyes glittered in concern, her brows knit tightly together. your lower lip trembled as you tried your best to keep a fresh wave of tears down.

“I-i don’t know, I don’t k-know-” she knelt done to where you were crouching, cupping your face with her warm, calloused hands. she brushed away the tears that you didn’t even know were falling.

“hey, calm down. take a deep breath for me, baby. ok? in-”

you inhaled deeply with her.

“-out.”

you breathed out shakily. you repeated the action a few times before your tears stopped and your breathing evened out.

“you wanna talk about it?” her voice was soft, her hands still on your face, grounding you.

“I honestly don’t know. everyone at work was pissing me off and I don’t know I just-”

you cut yourself off, closing your eyes as you felt that same snake of desperation coiling around your heart.

“hey, how about I order food for us, hmm?” you opened your eyes, taking in the kind, loving smile she graced you with. you nodded slowly.

“yeah, yeah ok. as long as we don’t put pineapple on the pizza.” she snorted, shaking her head and ruffling up your hair.

“hater.” she teased. you smiled back.

“more like I have taste.”

“horrible taste.”

later that night, you found yourself forgetting about your horrible day and the mental breakdown you had almost endured. laying there in vi’s arms, the smell of cheap, greasy pizza filling the air while you two watched some shitty romcom, you figured that maybe life wasn’t such a bitch.

not when you had her by your side.

———

a/n: this is kind of shit but I literally just had the shittiest day ever so I wanted to write some comfort 😔 luv u guysss

#Vi #vi x reader #violet lanes #arcane #vi x you #comfort #fluff #warmth #lesbian #i genuinely want to die guys I hate my fucking family UGH #why’d I have to be born into this mess it’s FUCKING ME UP #anyways I hope u liked the fluff #IM ALMOST DONE WITH THE RIG WORKER FIC #THEN ILL FINISH PART TWO OF THE TRAINER FIC #I PROMISE IM COOKING GUYS #MWAH MWAH #LUV U ALL

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b-o-e · 2 years ago

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snorrrk mimimi

Wally Darling x Reader

Warnings: he watches you sleep bro :’) fluff though, nothin weird.

although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #1 :)

When you wake up in the morning, something is different…

“Good morning,”

A familiar sing-song voice gently coaxed you from your sleep. With a grunt and some shifting around, you settled back down, a deep sigh of content releasing from your nostrils.

“G’mornin, Darling,” you mumbled the surname of who you knew that voice belonged to. Your tone sounded more endearing than simply his last name, though.

Gosh, what a nice sleep you had. You were warm and cozy, blanket pulled up and around you, arms hugged around something comfy while a hand carefully rubbed along your back.

A few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

Another deep breath left your body, your mind slipping back into its relaxed, thoughtless state, until a peculiar thought disturbed just that.

Why was there a hand on your back?

Your brows twitched in confusion. Actually, let’s back up even more:

Why were you hearing Wally’s voice, and now his quiet giggles?

Groggy with sleep, you grumbled words incoherent to even yourself, forcing your heavy eyes open and looking up.

“Hi,” Wally’s eyes peered down into yours, his smile spread slightly wider than usual. Based on his expression, he seemed quite amused.

“Hi,” you muttered your reply, laying your head back down, satisfied you got your answers. Now it made sense! You heard his voice because he was here, and felt a hand because it was him. Easy peasy, and back to sleep you go!

…

But it didn’t make sense.

Why was he here? Why was your bed raising and deflating? Why hasn’t realization struck you yet?

…

A gasp tore through your lips. Your eyes darted open, and you quickly pushed yourself up. Ah, there was the realization!

“Wally!” You exclaimed, staring at the close-proximity face of your very familiar neighbor.

“Yes?” He responded.

You looked down at where you’d been resting. Wally’s body laid underneath yours, plonked on your couch. Your lower half had been situated in the couch space between his legs, your head having rested on his chest, where you spotted a small damp circle on his shirt.

“Please tell me I’m still dreaming,” you begged who knows what as a pool of embarrassment filled your stomach.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, but I don’t believe you are,” Wally gave a little chuckle. “Are you well?”

“I am so sorry,” your hands covered your face as you sat back onto your legs. “Oh my goodness, this is so embarrassing…” you grumbled out, red in the face.

“What is there to be embarrassed about?” Wally’s voice rang out with perplexity as he was unable to find anything wrong.

“I fell asleep on you!” You exclaimed, hands removing themselves from your face. “And drooled on you, among-- other things, probably!” You groaned, shaking your head. How could you have let this happen?

The last bits you could remember were watching TV with Wally last night. He had stayed during the evening for a visit, but you don’t remember discussion of a sleepover. You must’ve trapped him whenever you passed out!

“That’s no big deal, silly,” Wally smiled. “It’s nothing more than a bit of drool. I get paint on me all the time!” Not quite the same, but you don’t point it out.

“But I basically trapped you here! You should’ve gone back to Home, but you had to deal with me instead,” you huffed, lost as to how he failed to see the problems.

“I could’ve gone back to Home,” he corrected, “but I didn’t wish to disturb you and wanted to stay here,” he added, before at least something seemed to click. “Oh, I suppose I see what’s wrong now. I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’m sorry,”

“No, that’s not—" you gave up, letting yourself lay back on his chest with a long groan. What did it matter anyways? You’d been there for a multitude of hours already.

“That’s not the issue,” you grumbled after a minute, more composed after getting that out of you. “You’re always welcome here,” you admitted, the flush on your cheeks partly for a different reason now.

“Ha ha, and you’re always welcome here, if you’d like,” his voice rumbled gently, his hand finding itself atop of your head this time. He loved to drown you further in your embarrassment, didn’t he?

Nonetheless, you relaxed a little, sighing. “I owe you an apology, though. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to stay overnight for my comfort, and I’m sorry for whatever odd things I probably did while asleep,”

“And I’ll tell you once again not to be,” he assured calmly. You could practically hear the amusement in his voice. “You’ve done nothing wrong at all. I hope you don’t mind this.”

Your eyes fell shut. Honestly? You didn’t. Although you were flustered, consciously aware of your current position now, it was… nice.

“… I’m not heavy, am I?”

“Not at all,”

Silence followed Wally’s promise, his thumb drawing shapes on your shoulder.

…

“… Your eyes move a little while you sleep,”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, body shooting up to attention. “Do I sleep with my eyes open?”

“Ha ha! No, they move underneath your eyelids,” he shut his eyes, tapping his own eyelids for emphasis. “They moved side to side,” his fingers demonstrated the movement, eyes flicking open after.

“Oh thank goodness,” your body deflated in relief, lowering against him once more. “Yeah, they do that. It’s called, uh…” you paused, racking your mind for the term. “Oh, REM sleep, rapid eye movement,” you said as it came back to you.

“Is there a reason they do that?”

“I won’t lie, my minds too foggy to remember right now,” you shrugged with a light laugh. “Did I do anything else funky?”

“You talk,”

“Right, that quirk I knew about,” you giggled, rubbing a hand against your face, flustered by someone else learning your sleeping habits. Especially him of all people…

“Did I say anything eligible?” You asked. Most times you would only mumble, not too often understandable words or phrases.

Wally hummed in thought, looking up at the ceiling as he seemed to try to recall. “Well, for the most part, no,” he decided. “Just some random words. No deep, dark, secrets, ha ha,” he assured with a playful tone.

“Once again, thank goodness. I need to remain somewhat mysterious or else you’ll lose interest in me,” you jested, earning a pout.

“As if that would ever happen!” Wally smiled, shaking his head as he disagreed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you giggled, a blanket of silence falling back into place. You felt content, even a bit giddy to be in your neighbourly crush’s embrace. His clear lack of judgment or concern was comforting, as were his soft hums and gentle touches to your body.

Eventually, after you figured you’ve used poor Wally as a pillow for long enough, you finally pushed yourself back up. “Well Wally, I suppose we should start the day now, shouldn’t we?” Your sentence finished with a yawn, your arms reaching to the sky as you stretched. Wally only hummed as he watched you, head tipping to the side with interest.

“I suppose so, neighbour.”

You sure were a mystery to him, one that he’d like to unravel. There was so much about you he had yet to find out, but couldn’t wait to learn as he spent more time with you! So, for now, he’ll leave out the details of you murmuring his name in your sleep to save you the extra embarrassment. It was cute you were thinking of him, anyway.

here is a lil thing for welcome home B) here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me! I hope you enjoyed, likes and reblogs are appreciated <3 (gimme dopamine boost RAHHHH)

Posted Friday, April 21, 2023 at 2:35 PM

#welcome home #wally x reader #wally darling #wally darling x reader #yuhhhh #solid chance of me never posting anything related ever again after this cause my brain hates me B)#welcome home x reader #y’all interested in a howdy fic? I MAY have one in the oven ;)#we will see how I feel about it #if it gets finished aoOuuGghhh

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skitskatdacat63 · 2 months ago

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One makes him up, so the other can break him down.

This is a little terrifying but hello!! Posted my first fic on ao3!! I would've saved the illustrations for the fic's eyes only, but I'm too happy with them haha. Hope you'll still go on to read regardless!!

As always, my thoughts and progress, since I can't help myself:

I'm soooooo proud of these. I never ever really do dramatic lighting, so I'm really surprised that I pulled it off.

It's surreal actually posting this because for a while, I've thought about how if I ever post a fic, I'll have to make illustrations too because I can't do anything not full force. Look at me now! I'm shocked. Also didn't think I'd finish it tonight, but here it sits before you nevertheless(though as always, I'm writing this past my bedtime before class, time efficient as always.) So with that being said, here are some notes, though if I had known I'd be writing this so soon, I would've prepared more lol.

First of all, I hope it's clear both of these are Mark's perception. Gah, the fact that his face is the only one you can see clearly. The first is obviously him unwillingly fantasizing about what exactly went down last night.

Aghhhhh the difference in colors and settings of the two drawings is so important to me. The warmth and intimacy of the bed behind curtains in the first one, and the coldness and openess of the second. It's so clear Mark feels like he's been distanced, like he's been ousted. It's like he's been thrown outside on a cold winter's day, no longer able to feel the heat from the comfortable warm stove inside.

Mark was probably assigned to Seb bcs he has a much greater appreciation for the Spanish etiquette, which Seb has very little interest in. He'll abide by it when he absolutely has to. But he's just a very non-typical Emperor. People find it charming so it's not a public death sentence for him, but it is an issue. Thus, Mark is there to keep him in line. Though important to note that when Fernando, who has an equal if not greater respect for the showmanship of etiquette, realizes Mark is interested in that as well, they start warming up to each other.

The inherent disrespect of Fernando just. Throwing Seb's clothing onto the floor. Meanwhile he probably took like, 20 minutes folding his up(that's what Seb was gonna tell Mark at the end of the fic.) Borderline ripping off Seb's clothes only to edge him. Its not even like the ripping off the clothes is because of passion or anything, he's deliberately being an asshole. Don't worry Nandl, Seb's turned on by it!

So sorry to marknando fans if their dynamic feels like a complete 180 haha. Its not like I'm like, they actually hate each other!! It's just their relationship under completely different circumstances. They're like two dogs in a dog fight, they don't have any real reason to hate each other, but they're put against each other regardless. They don't understand their hatred, just know that they have it and that they're supposed to have it. The inherent hatred the mistress has for the spouse, and vice versa. If they actually were able to talk without barriers, they'd realize they actually get along pretty well. They kinda just hate each other because of their respective relationships to Seb. And then there's Seb who's mostly completely oblivious to his effect, though of course plays with it a bit.

Seb's marriage completely recontextualizes their relationship in Mark's eyes. Though there's something incredibly sado-masochistic about the way he can't blame Seb for it at all. He's a loyal dog after all. But when it was just them, he was obviously Seb's main companion and lover. Seb definitely slept with people on the side, but Mark brushed that off: 1. Bcs its very period typical. 2. He was the main, they were the side, what more needs to be said! But now *he's* the side piece, and is left wondering if their relationship was down to proximity alone. Not to pull a Mark and completely excuse Seb, but it's not. Just very different perceptions of love and relationships. And again, as I've mentioned before, he was raised to always be the most important person in the room, so he obviously has very different understandings, especially since he's always the center.

NANDL!!!!!! In my Habsburg book I've been reading lately, they randomly referred to one of them affectionately as "Nandl" and it's stuck in my head ever since. Can we start a movement to canonize that as an official Fernando nickname? I'm sooooo fond of it, I litrally ended the fic that way just so I could shoehorn that nickname in.

Speaking of the ending. It was really tough, I almost wanted to have Fernando burst in, looking for his ring, and then coming across whatever that is. But I didn't want to disrupt their moment anymore, it felt cruel. Though shame I couldn't mention that the reason why Seb's pants are nowhere to be found is because Fernando accidentally put them on and didn't realize till he was out of the room.

*I FORGOT TO POINT OUT ONE OF MY FAVORITE PARTS! Truly the danger of writing a post while falling asleep. There's something so incredibly funny to me the way they're talking so refined and then Seb just throws out: "that guy." It's a way to show his own disrespect of Fernando, not even using his name, implying he's just some guy(nur ein Kerl.) I laughed writing it cause it reminds me of the random dry humor anecdotes I've read lately.

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