#i would be anyone without your help and kind words đŸ„Č💖
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rib-rabbitmask · 9 months ago
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50 FOLLOWERSS?! AKSKSJSKJE OMG OMG IDK EVEN KNOW HOW OR WHAT TO DO TO THANK YOU ALL... đŸ„ș
i know that i don't post any drawing these days but my motivation dissapear- UNTIL I SAW THAT SKSNKAJSKSJA 😭 seruously thank you so much, i don't deserve you guys fr đŸ„Č💖
Gonna finish some drawings about valentines day and "Carnaval" rn thanks- 😊💖
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Have silly gelly bunnies <3
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minkdelovely · 2 months ago
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đŸ—Łïž EVEN HIS BONES WERE BETTER THAN OTHER PEOPLE’S.
Oh my gosh Hazel
 I can feel how close we’re getting to the BIG WORD and I thought I’d be more prepared but I’m really not
 This chapter was the sugar we needed after the last one (even though Ephi is
 abrasive, to say the least lmao). Which only makes my love for Ruth more fierce! I loved seeing Autumn just gab with a friend đŸ„č♄
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✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”
damn is EVERYTHING out of this girl’s mouth backhanded?? my older sister dominance is itching to draw the line lmao
Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty.
this hit me like a fucking train oh my godddd
Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.
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Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 
OHHH FUCK I’M TEARING UP đŸ„Č♄
You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again.
LMAOOO yeah I’d wanna avoid Brenda if I could, too
A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 
HAZEL OH MY GOD đŸ„Č
Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed.
THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT. DAAAAMNNN đŸ˜‚â€ïžâ€đŸ”„
She nodded enthusiastically,’“Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.
Is Ruth one of us, or are we Ruth? Or the “secret” third option: we’re all the ouroboros of desire for Alastor
An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”
RUTH!! 😂💖 Don’t judge a book by its cover, huh?
The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.
you need to stop it with this (please don’t stop)
“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul shining through his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”
THIS ENTIRE THING IS JUST PURE, CONCENTRATED DREAMYYY
Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?
ONE FEAR! ONE FEAR!! ONE FEAR!!!
“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 
sighhh I love Ruth 😭✹
But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.
ain’t that the fucking truth 😼‍💹
Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 
THIS GORGEOUS, HEART-WRENCHING TEE UP
A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.
AND THE KNOCK OUT OF THE PARK. GOD DAMNNN
You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had 
. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.
I’m trying so hard to hold myself together but you’re making it very difficult my dear đŸ« â™„ïž
As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would leave, that’d be
.nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 
WHAT DID I LITERALLY JUST SAY?? đŸ„ČđŸ« 
When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?
TEARS ARE BURNING MY EYES AS I TYPE THIS FUUUCKKKK
You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.
I AM SO FUCKING WEAK
 SOOO FUCKING WEAK FOR THIS MAN
“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.
“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”
“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

you already know this whole thing is too powerful. I don’t even have to say it. Not a single thing

“There is no limit. I’d 
 run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 
Your melodrama matches my melodrama, Alastor đŸ˜­â™„ïž ughh the baby steps toward confession are agonizing, so thank god for my masochistic streak đŸ’…đŸ»
“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”
THE WAY HE’S NOT WRONG THOOO
You hadn’t made him run after all for you, but instead seemed to just
.rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 
you are really tapping into some of my deep-seeded needs, JESUS CHRISTTT
Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 
I REALLY FUCKING CAN’T WITH YOU HAZEL — I AM A MESS
But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.
to quote an icon: I’LL REMEMBER YOU ALL IN THERAPY
A Doe in Fall (Part 9)
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⟱HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall
A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.
Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💩 Part 2 - Liar smut💩 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💩 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💩 Part 7 - Recognition smut💩 Part 8 - Trust sexual đŸ„”
Part 9 - Shiny Things
Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.
「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」
Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway đŸ‘ŒđŸŒ Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!
đŸŽ¶ last time on A Doe In Fall đŸŽ¶ : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find our estranged sister waiting on your stoop.
this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop
It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce
 but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman. 
“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm. 
“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”
Charming. 
“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.
An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”
“Why would I have more than one bed?”
A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”
The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her? 
The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.
How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.
“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?
Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.
“No.” 
A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”
You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.
An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction. 
Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that. 
“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.
She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”
Right.
A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock. 
“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”
Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”
You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings
) at the feet of any man willing to love her. 
“Love” her. 
There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.
Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.
Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself. 
Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.
You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move. 
Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door. 
A random memory flashed behind your eyes,  washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value. 
“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”
Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”
Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?
“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so
just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”
“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”
The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response. 
“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.” 
“Oh hey!” 
You turned back.
“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”
The numbness blanketed you with a chill. 
“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”
Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers. 
She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.
An open palm waiting for your money.
You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin. 
“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.
✩ .  âș   . ✩ .  âș   . ✩ .  âș   . ✩ .  âș   . ✩
The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.
“You
. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”
A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up. 
A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”
You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back. 
She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.
“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.
You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off. 
“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”
She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.
“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms. 
An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”
Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.
“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”
Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”
She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”
“Clever.” “Handsome.”
You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.
“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.” 
“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.
“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”
“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”
Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”
With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”
Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?
“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”
You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.
Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners. 
“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”
That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.
You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”
“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!” 
“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”
“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth. 
But, Yes.
Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.
Or, fine. 
Yes, he was a man. 
No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.
When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before. 
Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him. 
A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.
“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.
The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just
 let it. Why ruin it with
 saying childish things.”
“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”
Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.
“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”
You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had 
. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.
You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”
“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”
As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be
.nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love? 
And did that matter at all? 
You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words. 
Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours. 
A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.
Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”
He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant. 
“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.
Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens? 
When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?
No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.
You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.
He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely. 
The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge. 
“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”
You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but
 If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”
Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”
Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe. 
“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.
“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”
“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.
“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.
“Further.”
“How far?”
“There is no limit. I’d 
 run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession. 
The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just
give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just
 lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”
“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”
You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful. 
A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others. 
The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.  
“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”
Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just
.rest your neck between his canines. And trust. 
If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.
Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him. 
Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below. 
But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough. 
He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.
⋅˚₊‧ àŹłâ‹†Masterlist.àłƒàż”*:
˖ ʁ𖄔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.đ–„” ʁ ˖
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, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,
@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies
@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum
, @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000
@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain
@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,
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@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12
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