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pshbites · 4 months ago

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LOVE ON AiR 2. YAP CENTRAL EP.135: alpha male podcasts?!

WARNiNGS » pop culture references, profanity, errrm cant rlly think of anything else

3.6k words (IMSORRY), also it may be a bit confusing but its kind of written like an audio transcript! not all written parts will be like this only the podcast episodes! also this is NOT proofread so pls excuse any typos or grammar mistakes 😞😞

episode desc - enjoy your stay today in yap central :D ! in todays episode we started off with a deep question about love and relationships and gave our inputs on that. after allll those deep talks we did a good ole blind ranking forms of ‘first dates’. following that up we mention alpha male podcasts and why they should be indefinitely wiped off the face of the earth. to wrap things up we discuss proper aux etiquette *COUGH* kat *COOUGHHH*. hope you had fun with us today and come back to visit yap central!

*the set up is a big living room, there’s two couches, mics propped up. the room has a very calming aura, there’s fairy lights and blankets on the couches. as well as plushies and throw pillows. on the couch to the left, kat, riki, and you are seated, adjusting your seating positions to be comfortable. on the couch to the right, jungwon, giselle, and sunoo are seated. jungwon sits back down after standing and gets comfortable*

jungwon: okay the camera is on now

sunoo: kat i can’t take your costume seriously

*all laugh in unison, riki is pointing at her, laughing and even after everyone is done he still can’t stop.*

yn: for audio listeners we’re dressed as mario kart characters and kat is..

kat: YOSHI *in yoshi voice*

riki: *still laughing* it’s the tail man

giselle: this might be the best theme we’ve had so far

sunoo: no no the one where we switched clothes was funny

*girls laugh at the memory, jungwon groans and rolls his eyes*

jungwon: okay no the girls chose bad clothes on purpose that day

riki: i think we were set up

yn: i lost a beloved crop top that day

jungwon: it was way too tight around my arms!

giselle: that’s surprising considering you have noodle arms

riki: false *makes buzzer sound with mouth* he actually has been going to the gym more often

kat: what improvement won *claps*

sunoo: oh my god did i tell you guys about the comments on my skin care video with jungwon

yn: no? the one where you opened the PR package right?

kat: wait can you give me some of those?

giselle: yeah same

sunoo: of course, thank you dr jart by the way for the package! *he looks to the camera, giving a peace sign*

jungwon: what the hell were the comments?

sunoo: no yeah basically some of them were like oh how cute, or just about the skincare then the others were saying me and jungwon were a cute couple.

*riki moves the mic away to laugh at sunoo, you and jungwon gasp.*

kat: honestly i was expecting ship edits of me and yn

yn: SAME!

giselle: that’s so cute you guys are official!

*riki continues to laugh while jungwon glares at giselle, then looks to the camera*

jungwon: me and sunoo aren’t dating hate to break it to you all

sunoo: you aren’t even my type calm down

riki: rejected in front of the whole world how do you feel jungwon?

jungwon: anyways beep-

giselle: wait before we sign in can we get a water break

yn: yeah i have to go to the bathroom

jungwon: i literally told you guys to go before

yn: would you want me to piss on your carpet

giselle: how would twitter feel knowing you let your editor go thirsty

jungwon: *sighs* go hurry up

*you and giselle walk out of the room, talking but mics cannot pick it up*

kat: did you guys see the whole brooke schofield and clinton kane thing?

sunoo: oh my god yeah.. that shit is crazy

riki: what happened

sunoo & kat: basically- oh no you go first

jungwon: one of you say it

*kat looks to sunoo, nodding for him to speak*

sunoo: basically brooke, the co host on cancelled, dated this singer named clinton kane and he full blown LIED about every aspect of their relationship like he said his whole family died but they didn’t and he faked having an australian accent.

riki: rip you can’t make your mom jokes

jungwon: *laughs* no but there’s no way

kat: no yeah and she made like a tiktok series kind of exposing him and they’re just going back to back.

riki: what does this dude look like

sunoo: *snorts* look him up on tiktok. clinton kane

*both riki and jungwon get out their phones, typing away. the two of them look at their phones then each other. jungwon and riki start laughing*

kat: i know! like how did she date him *laughs*

jungwon: brooke dated HIM?

sunoo: YES! that’s what i’m saying

jungwon: look at his teeth he probably has gingivitis

kat: ugh his breath probably stinks all the time

*you and giselle come back into the room, confused at the conversation at hand and taking your seats. riki stares at his phone confused then looks to everyone else*

riki: wait he’s not a ginger

yn: what?

riki: his hair is brown idiot

jungwon: wait what are you talking about

sunoo: riki are you on the right account stupid

riki: i literally am. you said he has gingivitis, he’s literally not ginger

*giselle gasps and starts laughing, causing the others to laugh. riki laughs nervously*

riki: what

giselle: gingivitis means the tar on your teeth, not being a ginger

sunoo: oh my god *wiping his tears away, still laughing*

*riki groans, making everyone laugh, once collected jungwon clears his throat, sitting up*

yn: thank god we came back to that

giselle: i know

riki: okay guys that’s enough it’s not that funny

sunoo: oh it is.

jungwon: alright, can we sign in now?

*jungwon looks to everyone and they nod, each getting comfortable in their spot*

jungwon: beep beep! you’ve arrived in yap central im your co host for today, mario.

riki: and i am your second host, luigi

jungwon: starting from the far left we have

kat: yoshi *in yoshi voice, waving to the camera*

yn: princess daisy! *you show your crown, smiling.*

giselle: princess peach! *she gives the camera a peace sign.*

sunoo: and i’m toad *he giggles at his hat, the top of the toad.*

yn: i think out of everyone’s i love kats costume

*kat laughs, pulling her yoshi onesie hood over her head. making the others laugh and smile at her.*

jungwon: she’s so lucky she’s in a onesie me and riki have these stupid ass gloves

riki: i don’t know man it’s kinda sick

sunoo: *taking a sip of his water* is it not uncomfortable

giselle: it’s giving mickey mouse

riki: it’s giving your mom

sunoo: guys riki discovered your mom jokes today

kat: well your mom has ligma

sunoo: the fuck is ligma

yn & kat: LIGMA BALLS!!!!

*everyone bursts out laughing at the immature joke. sunoo does not look amused yet still laughs along*

jungwon: it’s the way i saw it coming too

riki: i saw your mom coming

yn: pause??

sunoo: oh that’s not

giselle: boyfriend! i’m nervous!

*you, kat and giselle all giggle at her little reference*

riki: wait no-

jungwon: dude my mom watches this

riki: i’m sorry miss yang i didn’t mean it

jungwon: SHES MARRIED.

riki: okay then what do i call a married woman?!?

kat: mrs, not ms.

riki: see was that so hard. *riki looks to the camera, interview style.* i’m sorry mrs yang i promise i will never say anything like that again

jungwon: yeah she doesn’t watch the pod man, but thanks for apologizing to all the mrs yangs out there!

*you and kat hold back your laughs as you look at riki. riki then rolls his eyes and jungwon earning a smile from him and opens his phone to the questions he has pulled up.*

riki: everyone ready for the first question?

*they all nod, shifting in their seats a little to get adjusted. you sip from your water, giving your attention to riki and making sure the mic doesn’t pick it up.*

riki: it’s kinda deep, is it easier to love or be loved.

giselle: *gasps* that’s good one

jungwon: it came from the patreon

riki: since i asked the question let’s start on the other side, sunoo.

sunoo: i think being loved has like a feeling you can’t replace you know.

yn: i agree, it’s like everything comes like full circle when you’re being loved by someone. it’s a really good feeling.

sunoo: i do think though, to give love and to be loved has like its cons too. say if you were in a one sided relationship and you were giving love to someone who wouldn’t want it back, it hurts a lot.

jungwon: it’s just draining on the person overall.

kat: but i feel like if you were on the other side of that isn’t it equally as bad? you know if you were being loved by someone who you didn’t love back it’s just another issue because you feel like you owe them your love

giselle: i agree with you, kat i do but i think it’s so much more tolling on the person giving love because it’s like you’re giving a part of yourself to someone else to cherish and hold.

sunoo: wow that was poetic

giselle: i know right?

kat: yeah i get what you mean

giselle: giving your love is just so much deeper. sure to be loved is such a great feeling but giving your love isn’t just surface level, it’s like you actually love that person so much, and it’s so passionate too.

riki: but that can be said for the other perspective too

giselle: you’re right

yn: i honestly think being loved is something everyone gets to experience once in their lifetime, it’s not only limited to intimate relationships

jungwon: ahh you have a point

yn: you get to be loved by your parents, friends, anyone really who cares about you. it’s a good feeling and i think that almost everyone should have that kind of feeling in their lives.

sunoo: what would you describe it as?

yn: i think it’s different for every relationship. like for example being loved by my family is the thing that nothing can replace, it’s like a warm hug after a long storm. it’s familiar and it’s a feeling that i just think i would give the world to have all the time.

riki: im the same way, even though i don’t live near my family anymore i miss them like crazy all the time. like my moms hugs.

sunoo: ughhhh my moms hugs, im gonna drive by and hug her after this

kat: are you gonna open the door and just give her a big fat hug and leave

sunoo: you make me sound like a situationship who fucks you then leaves

giselle: not our fault you worded it like that

jungwon: i agree with you though yn. i do think that being loved just offers so much more than just intimate relationships.

riki: i do too. but i see giselles point too. why did i have to pick the best question ever. *riki groans but smiles in the process, making kat slap his arm.*

sunoo: you just wanted an ego boost.

niki: perhaps.

jungwon: i think that it’s a tie, both of them have their pros and cons

kat: that’s a good way to end it

sunoo: didn’t know it was a deep podcast today

riki: sorry *laughs nervously*

yn: no it’s okay i liked the question *you smile to riki, rubbing his shoulder*

giselle: yeah same

jungwon: well then you guys are gonna like this next segment.

kat: wait let me guess would you rather?

jungwon: no

kat: scenarios?

jungwon: no kat-

kat: opinions on the [BLEEP]?!

*the group look to each other, then burst out laughing.*

giselle: fuck i’m gonna have to edit that out

kat: what?

sunoo: we cant talk about the [BLEEP] thing remember.

yn: yeah or else it’ll be our neck. according to [BLEEP]

jungwon: guys stop bringing it up now we have to bleep all of that

kat: sorry.. *she smiles nervously at jungwon and giselle and they both wave her off*

jungwon: what i was trying to say is that our next segment is blind ranking

sunoo: oh my god i love these

yn: same

jungwon: topic is first dates

riki: okay well i can’t participate i’ve never been on an actual date

*sunoo moves his mic away to laugh at riki, riki stares at him to shut him up*

jungwon: yeah that’s why i chose it for our episode dumbass. anyways there’s five of them so here’s the first one. a music festival

kat: oh my god 3 duh

yn: ehhhhh 5?

kat: *gasp* what

giselle: yeah im with yn

sunoo: yeah 5

kat: why that’s so fun

yn: it’s too sweaty like i had to be super comfortable to even go to head in the clouds with riki and won

giselle: i feel like that’s cool to do if you’re already dating but first date? i don’t think so

jungwon: majority rules sorry kat

kat: yall are fake

riki: okay next one is a classic, the movies

sunoo: honestly 4

giselle: maybe 3 i don’t know it’s very like highschool

yn: yeah i see what you mean. i think it’s just weird because what if you’re watching a popular movie and neither of you really like it. also you can’t really talk to get to know the person

jungwon: personally this is a 5 for me

kat: it’s so like.. middle school

riki: doing that damn arm stretch.

*everyone laughs at riki’s joke as he fake yawns to stretch his arms and put it around kat, making her laugh even harder.*

jungwon: i was abusing that card in highschool

yn: it’s so corny eww *laughs*

kat: no it’s kinda smooth if someone can pull it off

sunoo: i remember i did the counting shoulder thing in middle school

yn: oh my god i remember that

riki: i never heard of that one

kat: like 1, 2 *she counts her own shoulders* and 3 *she puts her arm behind riki, him laughing as she did it*

giselle: that’s a good one

jungwon: so movie 4?

kat: yep movie 4.

yn: this is so fun

jungwon: the next one is go karting

sunoo: OOOOO

yn: might put this as a 1

kat: okay but what if they choose a really really good one for the last one

yn: ugh you’re right

sunoo: im saying 2

giselle: lowkey 3

yn: noooo its so fun. like its playful and it’s not too much talking where it awkward. and then after that you can grab food and talk

riki: that honestly sounds perfect

kat: okay you’re convincing me

sunoo: let’s stick with two because i know they’re gonna pick a good one

giselle: okay yeah 2

riki: next one is eating. like going out to eat

yn: 3 it’s a safe choice

giselle: yeah it’s safe

sunoo: oh my god what’s the last one i’m excited

jungwon: sitting at your number 1 spot is a date in the park

kat: oh..

*you and sunoo side eye one another, and start laughing*

riki: you guys fumbled

giselle: ugh we should’ve put go kart at 1

jungwon: i would’ve put go kart at 1 too

yn: okay park isn’t that bad

sunoo: no it’s bad imagine all the bugs. and there isn’t a single cute park where we live

kat: that’s definitely 5

giselle: yeah i agree

yn: what time are we at won?

jungwon: about an hour. you guys ready for a break

riki: yep, i’m gonna go grab water

kat: yeah i have to use the bathroom

*riki and kat get up, moving their mics. they both walk out of the room. the rest of the group continues to scroll on their phones, checking notifications. giselle laughs and sets her phone down*

giselle: did you guys see the top albums of all time? from apple music.

jungwon: *snorts* yeah, yn what’d you think about the list

yn: oh i loved it, i think there was too much classic rock on there but my girl lauryn hill sitting pretty at number 1

sunoo: i love that album, like it’s so good

jungwon: frank ocean was top 5 i think we’re getting an album

*giselle laughs, shaking her head*

giselle: i fear we won’t be getting one for a while.

yn: no but imagine not knowing who lauryn hill is?

*sunoo and jungwon side eye each other but stay quiet to let yn go on*

yn: you must have some shit music taste if you don’t know lauryn hill is all i have to say

sunoo: must be an alpha male

*giselle, you and sunoo laugh. jungwon looks at sunoo, holding back a laugh*

jungwon: cmon we weren’t gonna talk about it

yn: speaking of alpha males let’s talk about alpha male podcasts. have we ever covered that?

giselle: don’t think we have

sunoo: it has to be rage bait

jungwon: well no have you seen andrew tate, he was like so serious about it.

yn: i think alpha male podcast are so stupid. like you must be so sensitive about your masculinity if you have to run a podcast all about it.

*riki and kat enter the room, taking a seat*

kat: what are we talking about?

jungwon: lauryn hill and now alpha male podcasts

riki: i fucking love lauryn hill

kat: alpha male podcast should be wiped off the face of the earth

giselle: and they invite like instagram models on there and like flame them for no reason

jungwon: they are like the bane of this existence

sunoo: honestly is it just me or like recently has there been an uprise in podcasts

giselle: no i get what you mean

yn: i think when all those like old youtubers started doing podcasts they became popular again.

riki: everyone and their mom has podcast

kat: dude we have a podcast

riki: yeah.. we’re everyone and their mom keep up

*you laugh next to him, shaking your head*

jungwon: you guys ready for the last question

giselle: mhm

jungwon: so as surprising as it is we’ve never talked about aux etiquette on this podcast. what do you guys think proper aux etiquette is?

giselle: i think proper aux etiquette is playing music that everyone listens to

jungwon: yeah.. *jungwon glares at kat, making you and riki laugh. kat furrows her brows in confusion*

kat: um hello im an amazing dj

sunoo: you’re in fact not

yn: yeah babe

kat: *scoffs* what! wait do you guys seriously not like my music?

riki: well no it’s just whenever you’re on aux-

jungwon: which is all the fucking time

*you and sunoo laugh*

riki: like i was saying whenever you’re on aux, you always try and get us on to the music you listen to and it’s just shitty house music like *starts imitating one of the songs*

kat: you guys don’t appreciate taste

jungwon: you mean noise? yeah we don’t

*kat laughs*

sunoo: hot take i really don’t want music when im hanging out with my friends

yn: your worst take yet

sunoo: okay what the fuck

riki: i’m sorry but pitch silence? fuck i’d go crazy in a car with kat and yn

yn: rude

riki: you two talk soooo much

kat: not our fault you’re a nonchalant emo

jungwon: *laughing* fuck

giselle: i agree with sunoo to an extent like it depends on what we’re doing. if we were going to a club or something i’d want to get hyped up but on the way back i would want to debrief

sunoo: yeah i agree with that

riki: let’s rank us in terms of aux

jungwon: kat is dead last

kat: your music taste isn’t amazing i don’t know why you’re talking

jungwon: least i can admit it

sunoo: the girls are fighting..

yn: i think it goes kat in last, then sunoo

sunoo: wait what

yn: your music taste isn’t like versatile. no hate it’s just not great on aux

sunoo: yeah well yours is shit too

yn: don’t care *you stick your tongue out at him making him stick it out back, the two of you giggle*

giselle: i think first place is between riki and yn

yn: my brother just another me

*you and riki fist bump each other, giggling*

jungwon: it’s gonna go to their big fat egos

riki: frank ocean is never gonna release an album ever again

jungwon: take that back

riki: your mom

kat: as much as i hate to say it jungwon might be second. it’s tied between you and giselle

sunoo: so we agree that kat should never get aux

giselle: she’s always fucking arguing for it too

*the group laughs*

yn: like damn if you’re gonna fight for aux atleast put on music we all like

kat: ugh fine i will next time

riki: next time im getting aux

jungwon: we’re gonna hear emo music the whole ride

riki: to be emo is to be free

giselle: rikilations

sunoo: what time are we at?

jungwon: an hour thirty ish. should we end it?

kat: i mean did you guys have any other questions

riki: nah i didnt, did you? *he looks to jungwon*

jungwon: nope

giselle: okay sign us out then

riki: thank you for staying with us today at yap central we hope you enjoyed your stay.

jungwon: remember to subscribe, like, comment, and share this video. check out our bio for resources and sign up for patreon. peace!

previous masterlist next

AUTHORS NOTE » i had SOO much fun writing this, like it felt like i was actually sitting there with them. the bleeps aren't too hard to guess bc its pretty obvious. i wanted to include them so it felt more real and i hope this wasnt TOO confusing

TAGLiST » @lqfiles @strawberrysavi @blockbusterhee @onlyhyunjin @purennn @jungkit @flwoie @imheretoread @firstclassjaylee @pinkishyng @luvgiselle @kang-ulzzang @cherryxbxmb @jkslvsnella @urslytherin @somerandomf1fan @i03jae @kittykangz @s0urcherry @istglevi-gotmesimping

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kozumesphone · 19 days ago

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astronomy

𝓽sukishima kei x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : cassie!!!!! ilysm for requesting this <3 + i'm sorry I didn't write this sooner 😭 I had the best time nerding out about stars in this fic fr! alsoalso it's pretty short, so i'm sorry about that too 😩

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : stargazing , friend!tsukki x friend!reader , both of them like each other but are oblivious , no actual moves are made (maybe part 2) , very very short drabble , reader rambling about constellations (<3) , shooting stars ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 0.7k

“the sky is so pretty tonight,” I sighed. tsukishima and I sat cross-legged on our school’s roof.

since we were both a part of the student council, as co-sports captains, we had to stay back after hours to work on setting up everything for next week’s inter-school volleyball tournament that karasuno’s hosting.

we had just finished setting up all the stalls outside the court, and decided to call it a day since it was nearly nine in the night.

exhausted, I flopped onto my back. I pulled tsukishima down with me, and pulled out his arm to rest my head on.

“my favourite cushion,” I mumbled, smiling.

“my time as a cushion is very valuable, I must say.” he said, joking. “I bill by the hour.”

“yes, sir! you’ll get paid for being the best cushion ever.”

“I better.” he grumbled, and the both of us laughed.

after a while of just looking at the stars, tsukishima broke the silence.

“which constellation is that?” he asked me, pointing at the sky.

“oh! that’s hydra! it’s the longest constellation that’s ever been officially named.” I said, starting to ramble about it. “it’s made of, like, 17 different stars. oh my god, i’ve never been happier about how less pollution there is, in our prefecture. anyway, the brightest one there, if you see it,” I pointed at one star. “that’s alphard, or alpha hydrae. it’s like the defining star because it’s brighter than the rest, in the hydra constellation.”

“what about the one above that?” he asked, pointing to a quadrilateral-looking arrangement of stars.

“I think that’s… corvus? it’s symbolised by a crow or a raven. the four ends of the quadrilateral you can see, are gamma, delta, epsilon, and beta corvi. it’s associated with the greek god, apollo.”

I turned to check if he fell asleep, but he was staring at me quietly. he quickly whipped his head ahead, masking his smile.

I traced my fingers over the freckles on his cheek, under his eyes.

“this constellation’s my favourite one of all, though,” I whispered, observing his freckles. no matter how faint at night, everytime I saw them, I had this urge to trace every single one of them. join them like stars join to make constellations, and name them all.

his eyes fluttered close slowly.

I turned back to the sky, my cold fingers still resting against his warm cheek.

before I could continue telling him about the other constellations I could spot, a shooting star appeared at the edge of my vision. I sat up suddenly, and slapped tsukki’s arm.

“it’s a shooting star!” I exclaimed, in awe. “make a wish, tsukki! quick!”

I closed my eyes, and clasped my hands.

I wish I get amazing grades forever. and… I wish this moment with tsukki… lasted forever. I also wish for cute stuffed toys for my birthday this year!

I opened my eyes and turned to tsukishima, who was already looking at me.

“did you make a wish?” I asked, smiling.

tsukishima’s pov:

“make a wish, tsukki! quick!” y/n said.

my heart fluttered at the nickname, even though she called me that a lot. get a grip, kei! I chide myself.

her eyes closed, and her eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

I took in all of her features. the shape of her eyes. the slope of her nose. the curve of her lips. her beauty.

“did you make a wish?” she asked, opening her eyes and turning to me.

heat crept up my neck after getting caught staring at her. twice.

“yeah,” I lied.

every smile she sent my way, and every laugh i’d heard from her. every low moment in our volleyball careers we went through together. every win we celebrated with each others’ teams.

she was my dream come true.

what else could I wish for, if all i’d ever wanted was right in front of my eyes?

kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

#skye's cafe ~ ⋆.˚#⭑𓂃 skye’s haikyuuverse !#tsukishima kei #tsukki #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #fem!reader #f!reader #tsukishima x you #tsukki x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq #haikyuu #anime oneshots #astronomy #stargazing

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safination · 8 months ago

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Partners in Death…And Life

Part 4: The Radio Stars’ Co-host Just Wants To Do The Dishes

|Part 3: Not Everything You Hear From the Radio Should be Trusted| Part 5: Glimpse of Me and You| |Masterlist| Ao3| Taglist| Parings: Alastor x wife! Reader. Tags: fem!reader established relationships, hopefully not but just in case ooc!Alastor (I'm trying my best, guys) Reader is in hell for a reason, Warnings: Very brief dissection of the human body. Kidneys Summary: After a seven-year absence, you find the man you were married to in life, not only back in town, but also helping... *checks notes*... the Princess of Hell run a hotel aimed at rehabilitating sinners who were sent to the bad place for a reason. It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me. I am sorry :D. These past *checks notes* three weeks (yikes) have been really busy for me. But I’m finally posting?

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The light from the bus stop illuminates Alastor’s block handwriting. Smiles are drawn on the edges of note with different colored ballpoint pens. Dear God, it was like looking at kindergarten art, but you appreciate it nonetheless. Alastor’s instructions tell you that his house is a ten-minute walk from the bus stop.

You flip the note, studying the map Alastor drew.

A bird caws from the patches of trees across the road. There’s no living soul out here besides your own for miles.

You tighten your grip on the straps of your bag, and walk until you find yourself standing before a wooden gate. The hatch unlocks easily, and you hike up the path until you’re stepping on to the porch.

Alastor’s house isn’t much—well, it’s much more than the tiny apartment in the city that you call home, but besides that, he has a very normal looking house. You don’t know why you expect anything different. The flowers on his windowsill brighten the place, and the rocking chairs by the edge makes it homier.

You smoothen your hair, fiddling with the note. A deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another deep inhale, and then another—

Fuck it. You knock on the door.

A beat passes, and then another beat passes, and then another. Oh God, did he not hear your knock? Should you knock again? Your father always said that it was rude to knock twice, but you’re sure the knock should have been heard. Alastor was probably at the back of the house. You’re just going to knock again.

Alastor swings the door open, smiling at you. “You are right on time!”

Soft music plays behind him. The lights inside make his living-room look warm. “You said to be here by eight . . . so . . . Here I am!” you say with a light laugh. It doesn’t come out as you hope. “I’m very fond of being punctual.” Okay . . . hmmm . . . why did you say that?

You smoothen your hair, and fiddle with the straps of your bag.

“I admire punctuality.” Alastor smiles at you.

You smile back.

He opens the door wider. “Would you like to come in?”

‘Yes.’

‘Right.’

‘Of course I would!’

All proper responses to his question. It’s a shame you don’t say them. You reach into your bag instead, and shove a paper bag into his arms. “It’s raw.”

Alastor lifts the paper bag, studying it with careful eyes until they flicker to the wet patches at the bottom. “ . . . I’m almost afraid to ask who it came from.”

You step through the door, and take off your coat. “My father, actually.”

Alastor tilts his head. “This is your father—am I supposed to cook him or something?”

“It’s venison!” you say, and run your hand through your hair. “Dad went hunting last week, and he gave me a bunch of meat and well . . . well, I thought you'd appreciate it more than I do. There’s too much for me to eat alone. And it’s always polite to give a gift when you’re visiting a home.”

Alastor secures your gift around his arms, and takes your coat. He’s smiling. You think he’s being genuine—you can’t really tell. “Thank you.”

He hangs your coat on the rack, and ushers you deeper inside his home. Alastor disappears into what you think is his kitchen, but you stay planted in his living-room floor. His house is nice for someone who lives alone. Things all have a place, they’re not necessarily organized, but it’s neat. It makes you smile.

It’s easy to see Alastor between the walls.

This is a home that’s been lived in. You count at least three portable radios in the living-room alone. There are books on the coffee table by the window, and the spines are creased as if it’s been read over and over and over again.

There’s a chair next to the window as well. It has stains, and the cushions sink as if they’ve been loved for decades. You can practically see Alastor in that chair, a warm drink in his hand. He’ll reach across, and twist the knob of the radio that already has his favorite station tuned.

Alastor strides out of the kitchen, your gift probably inside his freezer. “Follow me,” he says with a wave of his arm. “I have something to show you.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

There are photo frames lining the wall of his stairs.

You observe it as you follow deeper into this house. Some are photographs of what you’re going to assume is Alastor, and some are certificates. You don’t have time to poke around and read each and every one of them.

Alastor opens his arms, shaking them as he presents you with a door.

A single door . . . One door at the back of the house. A door you don’t know where it will lead.

You stare at him, and take one single step back. “You’re not going to kill me in your basement, right?”

Alastor laughs at you, wiping a tear for the sake of showing you. “Good heavens no! Why would you ever think that?”

“Because I’m inside a man’s house, and he’s currently leading me to the basement. A man, might I add, dumps bodies in the forest,” you tell him with a wonky smile. “I hope you don’t go around asking every lady to your murder basement.”

“I don’t, actually.”

“My goodness, you really know how to make a lady feel extra special.” You fiddle with the straps of your bag, tightening your grip to stifle the urge to smoothen your hair. “So, how do you want to do this?”

Alastor tilts his head. (It’s kind of cute.) “Do what?”

“You know . . . uh . . . . You’ll tell me to run,” you say, then motion to the china vase behind. “Then I’ll grab this really nice and expensive looking vase and smash it over your head.”

“Please don’t.”

“And then I’ll make a run for the door.”

He raises his eyebrows. “You weren’t interested in running last time.”

“And I’m still not,” you say. “So there’s no point in killing me.”

He chuckles a bit and his glasses slide down his nose. He pushes it up. “Think of this as a gift! Or more like an offer of partnership.”

“A gift of death?”

“I've already told you I wasn’t planning on killing you anymore,” he says, sighing. “Just . . . just follow me, and you’ll see!”

You huff and cross your arms. “I detest being lied to.”

Alastor opens the basement door. The hinges creak. It appears as if darkness itself lives inside, swirling and eating up whatever light that passes through. “Yes, that’s good to know.”

You take another step back. “That’s a really creepy basement.”

“You haven’t even been inside yet,” Alastor says. He places a light hand on your back, practically pushing you down. “Now, now, don’t be so stubborn.”

You grab the door frames, and push against him to resist. “I’m not going without knowing what’s down there.”

Alastor presses on your back. “If you go down there and see what I’ve prepared, you will feel very silly for causing such a ruckus.”

You push back harder, using the door frames as support. “As first dates go, this is giving really mixed signals,” you say, trying to smile. “I hope you don’t treat all ladies like this.”

Alastor rolls his eyes. “Just the stubborn ones.”

You and Alastor are at a stalemate. He pushes. You push back. The classic dilemma of an unmovable force versus an immovable object. “If you kill me, I will haunt you,” you say, digging your feet into the wooden floors. “I will haunt you, and hide all your tacky bow ties.”

Alastor stops pushing, and you fumble backwards from the lack of his opposing force. He points his nose to the air, straightening his bow ties. “It is not.”

You frown at him. “Oh . . . I’m really sorry.”

“You should be.”

Taking this opportunity, you press against the wall like a hissing cat. “I’m sorry you actually believe that!”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose, and takes one deep breath. He strides to you, and the world goes upside-down when he flips you over his shoulder. Alastor carries you like a common sack of worthless potatoes.

“I really don’t like this!” you shriek, angling your head to glare at him. Alastor has a surprisingly really nice back. Like . . . a really, really nice back.

Alastor meets your eyes and smirks. “You’ll like it in a second.”

He tightens his grip around your hips, and his boney shoulders dig into your stomach. You keep your eyes ahead. “You have a really flat butt.”

He pauses for a second. “Stop looking at it.”

“I will do as I please,” you say with a huff, and go limp in his hold as you accept your fate. “It’s just all pointy. Maybe some squats will be helpful?”

“If it’s such a horror to you, stop ogling my buttocks like a pervert.”

“Now you’re just putting words into my mouth,” you say with a weird giggle. “These pants suit you well.”

He shakes you like a wet noodle. “I will drop you.”

“Please don’t.”

Alastor flips you, and your feet land safely on the ground. His basement is totally not creepy, totally not creepy at all. The fluorescent light bulb swaying around totally does not add to general horror. The blacked-out windows, and the spiderwebs on the wood make you not want to sprint to the top.

The cadaver bag on the table makes you stay.

It’s filled. You walk to the table, and observe the lump. Grasping the zipper, you pull it until the face of a dead man greets you. He’s fresh. Killed less than a day ago.

Alastor opens his arms, wide, as if to present to you. “Your studying can all be done right here!”

You stare at him, accepting the smile that creeps on your face. “Really?” you say, and trace this man’s nose with your fingers—his skin is cold. He is cold and dead, and full of organs you can poke around and observe. “You’re going to just allow me to dissect this body?”

Alastor smiles at you. “See?” he says. “You were making all the fuss, and now your smile could light up this very room.”

The laughter starts as a soft giggle that builds into excited glee. “I could kiss you right now.”

Alastor takes a step back. “Please don’t”

You roll your eyes then observe the person lying on this table. He wasn’t as big as the one before. This man still has the colors on his face, a bit pale, but he looks like he could just be in a sickly sleep. “Did you like this person?”

“Not at all,” he says. “He’d be alive if he was.”

“Then do you like me?” you say with a grin, placing a hand on your hips. “All this to get my attention, I see. I prefer being dined first, but not the worst first date I’ve ever been on.”

Alastor glares at you as he makes a face. “Ha. Ha. Very funny.”

“So quick to answer that it’s almost insulting,” you say. “Well, it was your decision to keep me alive.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that pierces your very core. The lightbulb makes a shadow pass over his eyes, and you swear his eyes glow. Every single cell in your body screams as Alastor looks down at you from his glasses with a smile and darkened brown eyes that match his well-kept brown hair. “And I’m currently debating my choice,” he says. “I do not like being mocked. I can still change my mind if I find you a weak link.”

“Oh . . . I . . . oh . . . .,” you say dumbly, coughing a little bit. The words aren’t doing their job.

“Do you understand me?”

Basements are supposed to be cold—you definitely don’t feel cold right now. “I’m sure you can—I don’t doubt that at all.” To break your gaze on him, you turn to the dead man between you and Alastor. “This man didn’t suffer.”

Alastor’s eyebrows raise. “And?”

“I’m not a total idiot when it comes to . . . uh . . . hunting,” you say, tilting the dead guy’s chin to see his neck. It was a bit stiff. “There’s a single deep slice on his neck. He was probably still high on adrenaline when you killed him, but with the other body, you took your time. That guy suffered—this one didn’t”

He crosses his arms. “I don’t see your point.”

“Nevermind . . . just . . . ,” you start and smile a bit. “Thank you for preserving this body so well, but unfortunately, I think I’ll have to refuse.”

Alastor’s eye twitches as he takes a step closer to you. His shadow towers over you. “You’re refusing?”

You zip the man back into his bag. “You don’t need a partner,” you say. “If anything, bringing him back into your house is risky. If it’s my silence you want, you already have it. There’s no need for all this.”

“I never asked for your silence.”

“Yet it’s yours nonetheless,” you say. “Thank you for the gift or offer for partnership, but I’m not interested in going into business with you.”

“Is this not beneficial for you?”

“It is . . . it really is, and every fiber wants to give in but it’s not wise for me to get mixed up with you,” you tell him. “I think you’re mistaking my sin for gluttony. I know trouble when I see it, and I’m not afraid to flee from it.”

Alastor’s face twists as his smile turns into a snarl. “All you could ever want right here.”

“You obviously want something from me,” you say. “I know you’re not above using tricks to get what you want. Although, I don’t understand why you take such time out of your day to do such consuming things.”

He glares at you. “There’s always the chance that you’d say no,” he says. “And I can’t have that happen.”

“I decide if something is worth my time or not,” you say. “I will only ask once: what do you want from me?”

Alastor exhales, and pushes his glasses. “I’d like to watch you work. There’s something I want to confirm.”

You study him for a second. “That’s all?”

“Yes.”

“Then hand me a pack of gloves please,” you say. “I can show you all the things I’ve learned.”

Alastor tosses gloves to your face. It whacks you and lands on the table. You curse at him, and roll your eyes.

There’s a large container of formaldehyde under the table. You don’t know where he got it or how, but still, you take a stray brush forgotten on one of the tables, and brush the skin with chemicals. The sharp smell stings your eyes, but you’ve learned to tolerate it. Alastor scrunches his nose, taking a step back.

Opening the window would probably be wise, but you could do that later. Your father always did hope that you’d grow out of your bad habit. But with such an exhilarating opportunity, caution is at the back of your mind.

The scapple fits into your palm as if it was made for you. Throughout this Earth, no . . . not just Earth, but Heaven and Hell as well, nothing will ever be as perfect.

Alastor laughs, not the breathy and light kind, but in a loud and triumphant way. His eyes bulge out, looking like they could pop out any second “It seems I was not wrong,” he says. “You have the most precious smile I have ever seen.”

“Okay?”

Alastor leans closer to you, jerking your chin to face him. “All this time I’ve seen you; I have never seen your smile as true and honest as now.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The bristles of the brush tangle on your feathers. It’s a struggle to smoothen the feathers at the back of your head now that you live alone.

The clock strikes an hour past noon, and work will call for you soon. It would be nice to be one time if this motherfucking brush would do its fucking job! You tug on the handle, cursing when it jerks your scalp. The smack of your forehead on the vanity table echoes around the room. The feathers bundled on the floor make you screech. That’s it. It’s over. You are not taking another second of this.

Discarding the brush, you head to the kitchen.

You grab two mugs, and take two spoonful of coffee ground and feed it to the coffee machine. With only a press of a button, you make the most perfectly perfected perfect cup of coffee. You take both mugs and take a seat on that little side table inside the kitchen.

The second mug steams with coffee.

You plop your chin on the table, unable to draw your eyes aways as you stare at it. Making a second cup is a waste of your money. Deep down to your very core, you’re aware that it’s a waste. It strikes you with the gentleness of a plane crash every single morning you make it, and every single night you have to throw it away.

Silence is your companion in this empty house. Where are the days when soft music plays on the radio? Where are the days where light footsteps walk around the carpeted floors? Where are the days of stories over dinner? These days watching television is the only way to fill that silence.

A knock breaks your pathetic moping.

The knocking starts out soft and hesitant, until it’s replaced with loud banging.

Swiping your mug from the table, you stride to the front door and swing it open. Charlie and Alastor stand in front of you, big smiles on their faces.

Your husband pushes a small ugly statue right up your face, presenting it to you with a self-satisfied smile. “I was told it was polite to bring a gift to a person’s home,” Alastor says. “Do you like it?”

“Oh no . . . ,” Charlie says, frowning a bit. “I didn’t bring anything.”

Alastor places a hand on her shoulder. “No worries then! This gift shall be from the both of us.”

The mug slips from your hold. Charlie catches it, not a single drop spilling, and plops it back on your hand. You blink at Alastor and frown. “Why are you knocking?”

“We’re here on super serious business talk,” he says, wrapping an arm around Charlie’s shoulders to bring her closer. “Charlotte here has something to ask you.”

Charlie smiles. “Just Charlie, actually.”

You shake your head, tightening your grip on the mug. “No.”

Alastor tilts his head. “No?”

“No, this is your home,” you say, opening the door wider. “There’s no need to knock.”

Alastor and Charlie step inside, and you take a sip of your coffee—a long, drawn out sip. Alastor walks to the shelf nearest the door, placing your ugly little statue on the shelf that’s meant for all other ugly knickknacks. It blends in with all the other gifts Alastor’s given you.

Charlie’s eyes bounce around the walls, eyes wide as she looks around. “Wooooaaaaah,” she says. “This is a really nice house you guys have!”

Alastor glares at the television. “Why, thank you!” he says. “I put in a lot of care into how it looks. It seems you’ve redecorated—I don’t like it.”

“Oh, you never do,” you say. “Let’s move to the kitchen, shall we?”

Alastor’s ears straighten. “The kitchen?” he echoes. “Oh yes. Let’s go the kitchen.”

Alastor hooks his arms around yours, pulling you to the kitchen. There’s determination set in each step. You and Charlie take your seats by the kitchen table. Charlie continues to look around. You see it in her eyes as they flicker around to count each radio.

It seems you’ve made a mistake.

Alastor goes straight to the refrigerator, and swings it open.

With horror, you watch as his gaze observes each level meticulously, humming as he does. There’s not much to look at, considering the only thing inside are a couple of eggs, empty plastic containers that you’ve been too lazy to wash, last week’s takeout, and a couple of sauces and condiments.

When he finally closes it, your shoulders sink as you exhale . . . until, of course , Alastor wraps his fingers around the freezer’s handle.

“Would you like anything, Charlie?” Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth. “I think we have juice or lemonade—”

“We don’t have any of those,” Alastor says, and his gaze bears down on you. “It makes me wonder what will be inside our freezer, my love.”

Charlie smiles brightly. “I don’t need anything,” she says. “I had tea with Rosie this morning, and Alastor and I had lunch on the way here.”

“That’s wonderful to hear,” you say, chuckling nervously. “You know what? It’s such a hellish day today, and it would be a waste to spend it here. Why don’t we move to the garden?”

“No.” Alastor crosses his arm. “We are staying right here.”

You sulk in your seat, drooping a little. “ . . . okay.”

Finally, Alastor opens the freezer door. His twitching eyes and pursed lips tell you everything you need to know about how the next fifteen minutes will go. Carefully, with the tips of his fingers, Alastor pulls out one of those microwave meals you buy at the grocery. He glares at the frozen chicken nuggets and pork cutlets, and all the processed frozen food you store there for easy meals.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say, giving him your most innocent smile. “And I barely eat those anyway. Those microwaved meals are just there for the occasional meal, I swear!”

Without uttering a single word, Alastor opens the cabinet under the sink where the trash can stays, and pulls it out. Empty microwave meals fill the brim. He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Oh dear . . . ” Charlie winces. “That’s a lot, even for me.

You sulk deeper into your chair.

Alastor inspects the cabinets above the sink. The only things that greet him are a bunch of pots and pans. Relief pours into you . . . until of course, Alastor grabs the largest pot at the back of the cabinet and opens it, smashing any sense of relief with a metal bat.

Alastor pulls out a large pack of instant noodles. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he asks. “I remember telling you that I don’t like you eating these.”

“But they’re delicious,” you say, pouting a bit.

“These aren’t healthy,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “They’re full of chemicals!”

“Everything is full of chemicals!” you counter. “And I only had a few. The dosage makes the poison.”

Alastor opens the trash can and tosses what was supposed to be your dinner. “The plastic said it was a pack of twelve?”

You cross your arms. “And? I don’t see your point.”

“There’s only two left.”

You fiddle with the handle of your mug. “I . . . I was busy . . . ?”

“We’re all busy,” he says and you could pick out the faintest sound of static. “Not a single fresh fruit or vegetable, or any proper meats. Have I taught you nothing?”

Your pout deepens. “Do we have to do this in front of Charlie, my deerest?”

Charlie raises her arms in surrender. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “Aren’t you a doctor?”

“Yes, one would think . . . .,” Alastor trails off. His eyes land on the second mug of coffee on the table, and his neck tilts to angle until it snaps. Static scratches that air until it warps. His eyes darken to reveal radio dials. “Expecting a guest today?”

You blink at him a bit dumbly, and take a long and drawn-out sip of your coffee to try and compose yourself. It doesn’t work. “I don’t make coffee for guests.”

Charlie panics a bit. “There, there Alastor,” she says. “No need to get all crazy!”

Alastor’s antlers grow. “I’m aware you don’t. So, who is it for?”

“Oh . . . .” Dumbly blinking at him continues, and the words don’t seem to be doing their job.

Alastor leans closer, his voice morphing a bit. “I’d appreciate an answer, my love.”

“It's yours,” you find yourself saying. “ . . . If you want it, that is.”

He blinks at you. You blink at him. Charlie blinks at the both of you.

Gone are the growing antlers, and the static that buzzes your skin. Alastor stands before you with that never ending smile, perfectly normal—well, as normal as he can be. “You weren’t aware I’d be visiting.”

You frown at him. “It’s not a visit if it’s your own home.”

“I didn’t tell you I’d be coming home,” he says. “Why make one for me?”

The heat on your face makes you turn away. “Just take it, deerest.”

“Taste lovely as always!” he says, taking a swig. Your frown turns into a soft smile as your watch him drink. “But don’t think you’re getting away from this conversation.”

“It really isn’t my fault.”

“Oh, really now?” Alastor raises his eyebrows. “I’m positive I taught you how to cook nutritious dishes.”

You flick the mug, and a soft clink echoes a bit. “I still cook proper food for myself,” you tell him, showing him your saddest smile. “But . . . I find myself hating the dishes.”

Alastor twirls his microphone, and it strikes the ground with a soft thunk. “And you think saying this will get you off the hook?”

You stick your tongue out. “Is it working?”

Alastor sighs at you, and turns to the ticking clock. “We’re wasting time—go talk to Charlotte.”

Charlie smiles awkwardly. “Just Charlie, actually.”

With a triumphant smile, you turn to Charlie. “So,” you begin, “what business are we going to talk about today?”

It’s Charlies turn to sulk into the kitchen chair. “Extermination is a month away,” she says. “And Adam is heading straight to the hotel first! It’s just one bad event after another because Heaven refuses to listen, and I’m running out of options.”

Alastor steps behind you. Suddenly, a brush combs through the back of your feathers, smoothing those parts of your head that you’ve never been able to reach by yourself. Sometimes, you think Hell gave you feathers so someone could brush it for you. A part of you warms at the fact that you didn’t even need to ask your husband to smoothen your feathers. It’s a job he’s been doing since you first spawned in hell, and it seems it’s work he’s keen on continuing.

“Extermination,” you echo. “I love the extermination. There are so many desperate and poor souls who want to keep their limbs. I get rather busy—prime deal making opportunities right there.”

Charlie winces a bit. “Oh dear . . . um . . . okay. That sounds fun? And a little violent.”

Alastor speaks up from behind you, still running a brush through your feathers. “We can from Cannibal Town! Charlie was able to convince Rosie’s people to take arms.”

“Then, what brings you to me?” you ask, stiffening your back as you try not to lean into the brush that combs through your feathers. Alastor always was better at preening you. “I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Alastor suggested that I ask for your help,” Charlie says. “He said you’re one of the few people who knows how to fix wounds that come from Angelic Weapons.”

You bat your eyes at Alastor. “Spilling all my secrets, I see.”

Alastor glides the brush over your hair, leaning close to your ear. “Oh, not everything.”

You laugh and glance at Charlie. “In front of a guest, my deer?”

Charlie cringes with the most hilarious frown.

“It’s just a matter of counteracting the holiness of their weapons,” you say, clearing your throat. “After that, it’s purely medical.”

“How is that even possible?”

Alastor trails through your feathers, and it tingles and flutters. You keep your expression emotionless. “I’m surprised you don’t know this,” you say. “Did Belphegor never tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Well, eons ago, Belphegor found out that angelic weapons are considered holy, and that’s very bad for a Sinner,” you explain. “So, she and a bunch of her team found out that if you cut off the holy site or embed a large amount of Sinner energy, one will be able to treat it.”

Alastor leans closer, butting into the conversation. “I prefer it when you cut it off.”

“Of course you do,” you say with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

“Embedding the wounds with your magic takes too much energy from you, and because of that you always come home to me with sunken eyes. That is, if you don’t pass out before you reach the front door,” Alastor tells you. “I don’t understand why you go out of your way when they’re not worthy.”

“Worthy?”

“Yes, worthy,” he says. “Had they been competent, they wouldn’t need to go to you in the first place. It only proves that they’re weak.”

You smile at his words. “I guess I never thought of it that way.

Charlie rolls her eyes at the both of you. “So, you could help us?”

You twist, turning to Alastor. “I think you’ve gotten all my feathers straightened out,” you say. “My love, can you do me a favor?”

Lightly, Alastor taps your head with the tip of his cane. “Of course, how can I help?”

“I think the plants need some watering.”

The brush on Alastor’s hand dissolves with a poof. He leans closer once again, trailing your cheek with his finger until they hook on your chin. He captures you with his stare, and you allow him to trap you. He presses his lips on your cheek, and disappears into his shadow.

You take an even longer sip of your coffee.

Charlie massages her forehead, eyes twitching. “Dear Satan, it’s like watching my parents all over again! I can leave, you know,” she says, snorting. “Give you two a little privacy?”

“Oh, don’t bother,” you tell her. “There wouldn’t be enough time.”

Her brows furrow. “Time?”

“After all, extermination is in a month,” you say, brightening your smile. “We’re going to need at least two.”

“ What the fuuuuck,. ” Charlie whispers underneath her breath, her voice a pitch higher.

“Every couple of years, there will be certain seasons where it takes six!” you say. “Sinner bodies are just so exhilarating.”

Charlie chokes on her spit, and her eyes bulge. “Are you serious?”

“Hmmm, I could be—who knows?” You raise your mug to toast, and take a drink.

“You’re joking,” Charlie says. “ . . . Right? Please tell me you’re joking.”

“My dear, is that a question you would want an answer to?” you ask. “Would you be prepared if the answer happens to be no ?”

Charlie sinks deeper into her chair. “Okay, then! Moving on, now.”

Leaning on your palm, you laugh. “My deerly beloved husband wouldn’t give all this information for free,” you say. “What did he ask for?”

“We made a deal.”

Your hands drop to the table. “Oh Charlotte,” you say. “That was a foolish mistake. You don’t know what Alastor does to the so—“

“I still have my soul!” Charlie exclaims, balling her fist. “From Vaggie! From you—his own wife! I did what I needed to do to keep my people safe . . . Sorry.”

“You shouldn’t be so reliant on Alastor,” you tell her with a small smile. “You can’t trust him.”

“He’s given me no reason no to trust him, and . . . ,” Charlie trails off. “And Alastor is my friend.”

Your smile brightens a bit. “Friend?”

“Yes?” Charlie says. “Everyone at the hotel is my friend, and he’s been a tremendous help.”

You place your hands over Charlies and give it a squeeze. “Convince me to help you.”

“W-what?”

“Alastor isn’t asking me to go play medic in the middle of a warzone.” Your brush your feathers out of your face. “If he was asking, I would say yes without a second thought because that’s who we are, but he isn’t asking me, Charlie, you are.”

Charlie hums, placing a finger on her lips as she thinks. “I heard from Angel that you and Alastor got married whe—“

CRASH!

She grips the table, eyes wide as she looks around. “What was that?”

You take a long and drawn-out sip of coffee, contemplating your choice for marriage. “Nothing to be worried about,” you say. “That was just my television.”

“Your Tv?” Charlie frowns a bit. “Did . . . did Alastor just throw away your Tv?”

You laugh, swatting your hand in the air. “Not at all!” you say. “It probably tripped out my window—those picture boxes are always so clumsy.”

Charlie raises her eyebrows. “You’re saying that your Tv . . . just tripped out the window.”

You smile at her. “You were saying something?”

She sighs, massaging her forehead. “You got married when you were alive, but continue to stay together. It’s very rare for Sinners to do such a thing,” she says. “And with all of that . . . uh . . . Alastorness.”

“It’s alright, you can just say bat-shit crazy.”

“I’d prefer not to,” she says with an awkward laugh. “So, how were you able to stay together for so long

“Are you . . . ,” you trail off, blinking. “Are you asking me for relationship advice?”

“A bit? If that’s okay,” she says. “Rosie already helped but, well, she did eat her first husband.”

“I don’t think I can be of much help.” Your lips purse. “Alastor and I don’t exactly have the most conventional marriage.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1927

“Do you like it?” Alastor offers you a spoonful of the simmering sauce.

You lean closer, shifting from your seat on his kitchen counter. Alastor dips the spoon in your opened mouth. “It’s spicy,” you say, lips twisting when you cough. “Is it supposed to be like that?”

Alastor tilts his head. A lock of his hair falls to the side. “No . . . it’s not.” He takes back the spoon and dips it into the pan. Alastor coughs as soon as it hits his tongue. “How many peppers did you add?”

Your legs sway, and the heels of your foot tap the cabinets below you. “I added what was written on the recipe! Exactly twelve peppers.”

Alastor twists the stove’s knob, killing the fire. “Take a look at the notebook again,�� he says and reaches over your legs, grabbing his book full of recipes. “If you use these things called ‘eyes’ and ready, you’d be able to see that it says, ‘one to two’!”

“No, it does not!” you huff, grabbing the notebook from him. You read through the list of ingredients. There, near the bottom, pass the four cloves of chopped garlic, half a shallot, and a pinch of pepper, ‘one to two peppers’ is scribbled with blocky letters. “Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me.”

Alastor adjusts his sleeves, pulling it back up his forearm. (Hmm, not a bad look.) “There’s no point in teaching you how to cook this if you don’t know how to read!” he says, eyes twitching. “Go . . . Just go over there and let me fix this.”

“I already said I was sorry!”

“No, you did not!” Alastor says, throwing his hands into the air. “What you said was,‘Oh . . . that’s my bad. Yeah, that’s on me’, actually.”

“Yeah, that’s on me,” you repeat with a snort. “That’s my bad.”

“Get out of my kitchen before you ruin dinner.” He leans on the counter, crossing his arms. You hum to yourself. Alastor should pull his sleeves up more. “Go set the table or something. And wash your hair when you get home—it smells like chemicals.”

With a huff, you do as you're told.

You slide off his counter, opening the cabinet and grab two bowls with one arm and reach for the table placemats with the other.

Two sets of utensils, glass cups, and paper napkins. It’s one more set than what you prepare when you’re at your own home. Two . . . Two. It’s becoming quite the word in your vocabulary.

There’s a proper table waiting to be used in the other room, but this smaller one you’re setting, with its fraying edges and turmeric stains suit the both of you much better.

Three ice-cubes bobble at the top of Alastor’s water. It’s how he likes it. It’s funny. You don’t remember Alastor disclosing this particular information. It’s just something you noticed one day, and you’ve never stopped noticing. What else have you unconsciously learned about him, and what have you unconsciously taught him about you?

Alastor walks to the table, a large steaming bowl in his hands. He places it between the bowls, and you reach into the drawer for a ladle.

The taste tingles your tongue. It’s good. Better than anything you could possibly make for yourself.

You reach into your pocket and toss a handkerchief at Alastor’s face. It lands on between his hair. He tilts his head, shaking it, and the cloth slides on the table. “It’s yours,” you tell him, taking a spoonful of your food. “Thanks for dinner.”

Alastor studies how his name is embroidered in near letters, thumbing the music notes framing it. “Dinner was a way to thank you for this week’s meat.”

He tosses back the handkerchief. It smacks your face.

You peel it from your skin, and trace the letters you’ve threaded during your very scarce free time. “I can’t go around with a handkerchief that has your name on it.”

His smile widens. “Why not?”

“People would think I’m a fan.” You hand Alastor the handkerchief this time. “Just take it as a gift then.”

Alastor takes it from you, and places it into his pocket.

You hum into your spoon with a pleased smile. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor takes his time chewing and swallowing his food. “As you can see,” he tells you, “I’m eating.”

“I’m bored,” you say. “Eat while you talk.”

He reaches across the table, and his fingers catch on the knob of the radio to turn it on.

Classical music plays out of the speaker. It was correct to assume that Alastor pre-sets radios to play his favorite stations. Although, you didn’t imagine that each of his many radios would have their own specific station. A different radio for different stations. You questioned Alastor about it, but he didn’t say much.

Once the bottom of the bowls has been scraped into your stomachs, you take the dishes and go to the sink.

Your nose scrunches at the sight of the piled dishes. Alastor watches you with a smile. You turn away when you notice.

Alastor takes a container from the cabinet above your head. He’s warm. Always warm.

He takes two containers, placing the leftovers inside. And there it is again, that word—Two. Not one, but two. One for him. One for you. You didn’t ask for leftovers. You’ve never asked at all. Alastor will just hand you the container like it’s the most automatic thing in this world for him to do.

You take the first of many bowls, and rinse the stubborn pieces with your hands. “There’s too many dishes,” you say. “It’s like you have one for every ingredient. Did you really need to use separate ones for each and every ingredient we used?”

He leans on the counter, slotting himself next to you. “I don’t like mixing the flavors until it’s time to add them.”

Alastor adjusts his pulled sleeves and crosses his arms.

The bowl slips from your grip.

“Oh . . . I . . . uh . . . sorry,” you say, picking up the bowl. “I mean, you really didn’t need one for the salt and pepper. They already come in containers—why couldn’t you just, I don’t know, eyeball it?”

“Eyeball it?”

“Yeah, or feel it with your soul or something,” you say and pick up the measuring spoons to show him. “You had to measure three pinches of salt instead of actually just pinching it.”

Alastor laughs, and strands of his hair slide down to his eyes. “And how did it taste?”

Your shoulders slump when you sigh. “Good.”

He bumps his shoulders with yours. “That’s just the way I was taught.”

“Well,” you start, “your way creates more dishes for me to clean.”

Alastor pivots from the counter, and takes his place in front of the second sink. He grabs the dish you’ve already rinsed and sponges it with soap. It’s quite the system you’ve created. You grab a dirty dish, rinse it, and pass it on to Alastor who cleans it with a sponge.

The next minute goes something like this:

Alastor flicks water at your face. You ignore it.

Flick. Ignore.

The water damps your hair. You kick his leg. “Stop that.”

Alastor drenches his hand under the faucet, letting his fingers accumulate water. He flicks it at you.

The grip you have on the plate tightens. “I am going to smash this on your head.”

Alastor raises his eyebrows. He glares. You glare back. He cups his hand under the faucet like a bowl. The water pools between his hands. He throws the water at you. It hits your eyes, blinding you. That does little to stop you.

You grip the plate, swinging it in his direction.

The plate doesn’t connect with anything . . . Sadly. You rub the water out your eyes, and find Alastor kneeling on the floor with a triumphant smile.

Alastor stands up, brushing dirt from his pants. “You missed.”

“You ducked.”

“I can’t believe you actually did that,” he says. “What if you actually hit me?”

You pass the plate to Alastor before you scratch the urge to swing at that smug smile of his. “Hey Al,” you say. “Tell me what you did today.”

Alastor closes the faucet. “You always ask me that.”

“That’s because you say it in entertaining ways,” you say. “It’s boring to wash the dishes without something to distract me.”

Alastor soaps the dish. “Your lessening attention span worries me.”

You roll your eyes at him, and flick water at his face. “Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he says. “I find myself having no reason to deny you.”

Alastor’s glasses slide down his nose. He leans close enough for you to smell his perfume. He’s warm—always warm. It takes a second for you to understand. You dry your hands on a stray towel and fix it in place.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1928.

The metal bench cools the back of your neck.

The sun blinds your eyes, but you keep a steady gaze on the afternoon beams. When was the last time you felt the heat of the sun kiss your skin? As the seconds tick by. As the birds fly above you. As the leaves fall from their stem, melting on this bench seems like a heavenly idea.

But as the clock will eventually strike. But as the birds will eventually find their nest. But as the leaves will eventually land. So, too, must you eventually go back to work.

A shadow blocks the sun.

It takes a second for your eyes to adjust. Alastor’s upside-down face smiles at you. “Good morning to you!”

With a yelp, you swing your forehead forward.

Alastor leans backwards, narrowly missing your head by centimeters. “Not the greeting I imagined, but hello to you as well,” he says. “The receptionist said I could find you here.”

You twist, turning to him with a frown. “Are you okay?”

Alastor slides over the bench, and takes the free seat next to you. His legs cross. “Why would I not be, okay?”

There’s some bag slung over his shoulder, but that’s not important right now. Your eyes trail his body. Hair? Fixed. Smile? Wide. Clothes? Perfect. “You’re at a clinic.”

Alastor swats his hand. “I was in the area.”

That classic city stench attacks your nose, but it’s just nice to feel the way your hair sways from the breeze. “You’re not going to kill me, right?”

Alastor nudges his leg with yours. “You say that every single time!”

Your smile turns smug. “I’ll stop saying it when it stops becoming funny.”

Alastor rolls his eyes, showing it off to you. “It never was.”

“It is to me,” you say and wave your hands in the air. “Just imagine this, the great Alastor had to stalk me!”

“I am great, but remind me again,” he begins, propping his arm on the bench to lean on it, “how long did you have to follow me?”

Sighing, you lean your head on the backrest to count the clouds. It’s nice to be able to see actual clouds for once instead of the drawing of children who wait. “ . . . Three months.”

“Exactly,” he says, and you hear the smugness in his words. “And I didn’t need to do any stalking—you led me straight to your house.”

You blow a raspberry at him. “Why are you even here then?”

Alastor props his legs on your lap. You push him off. He brings it back. It’s not worth fighting him right now. “I actually was in the area,” he says, and hands you the bag slung over his shoulder. “The director thought it would be a grand idea to bring the staff out to lunch.”

You unzip the bag, and packed lunch greets you. And there it is again. Two. Two. Two. One for you. One for him. Maybe both for you? “Al, tell me why I’m currently looking at two packed lunches?”

Alastor beams at you, and slides his legs off your lap. “I accidentally cooked too much today,” he said. “I thought it would be a grand idea to share.”

Your frown. “But . . . you already ate.”

“Oh . . . I was already planning on dropping by,” he says. “It was quite the stroke of luck that you’re only taking your break now, and that we happened to have lunch nearby. I thought I’d bring you a treat.”

Questions bubble on your throat. “Thank you, Al,” you say instead. You open the container and take a bite, savoring the taste. “It’s delicious.”

Alastor leans closer, and picks a leaf off your head. “That’s because I actually followed the recipe.”

You point your spoon at him. “That was just that one time!”

He smiles at you, chuckling softly. “Three actually.”

Before the clock strikes, it will tick. Before the birds find their nest, they will fly. Before the leaves hit the ground, it will fall. And before you eventually go back to work, you will eat on this bench, Alastor to your side.

He stares ahead. As you eat, you watch his eyes flicker. It goes from the kid then to a plant then to an old lady. This, you don’t question. You’ve stopped wondering what he could possibly be thinking years ago.

Alastor leans closer to your ear. “Do you see that lady?” he asks, voice low. His breath tickles your skin. “That one over there with the feather on her hat?”

You scan the people around the area, spotting the lady old enough to be your grandmother. A scarf wraps around her neck, despite the sun beaming with the afternoon heat. She lazily walks around. “What about her?”

“Do you think her name could be Edith? She looks like an Edith,” Alastor says. “She probably had three children, and married young when her parents forced her to marry this ugly but rich man she could never love.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. It’s like a mantra that plays in your head. There’s no reason not to play along whatever nonsense he’s spouting. “Sure, why not?”

“But no!” he exclaims into your ear. You jerk away and shove him with an elbow. “Oof . . . .Edith just had to defy all expectations, and she chose to elope with her childhood sweetheart. He’s not the richest man, but they survived.”

“That’s sweet.”

“And to this day,” he says, “everyone still calls her, ‘Edith the Penguin’.”

“Edith the penguin?” you echo. “Now I’m just confused.”

Alastor’s eyes shine. “Because she walks like a penguin with their ass on fire,” he snorts. “Your turn, now.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

“Fine.” You place your spoon down, and look around to the first person who grabs your attention. “That little kid over there—His name is Thomas, and he likes balloons.”

Alastor blinks at you. “And?”

You take your time chewing and swallowing your food. “That’s all.”

He gawks at you, and rolls your eyes. “It must be so boring to be you.”

“It is not!” You huff at him, and kick his leg. “I am a very interesting person, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh really, now? Thomas, and he likes balloons?” Alastor says,and points at the kid with twitching eyes. “He’s holding a balloon!”

You wave your arms, the spoon still in your grip. “So, he probably likes it!” you say. “Thomas wouldn’t get a balloon if he didn’t like it.”

“I pity your sense of imagination.”

Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. Alastor brought you lunch. And you would love to be brought lunch again.

You swallow what remains inside the container, and pack it up. “Is this what you do when you zone out as I’m tal—and you’re doing it again, aren’t you?” you say. “You are an incredibly judgmental person.”

“It’s called using my imagination. Something you apparently don’t have,” he says with a snort. “So . . . tell me what you did today.”

You raise your eyebrows at him. “That’s my question.”

Alastor shrugs, taking the closed container and zipping it inside his bag. He hands you a tissue. “Well, I’m asking it now.”

You prop your arm on the bench, leaning on it. Alastor’s hair spikes out in odd places today. It must have quite the trek to the clinic. “I’m not as good a storyteller as you are.”

He props his arms on the bench, mimicking your pose. His eyes stare straight into yours. “ I don’t need a story,” he says. “I just want to know what you did today.”

You press your palm on his face, pushing him away from your face. The sun’s heat is really getting to you. Alastor’s nose crinkles as he rubs it. “Why would you even want to know what I do?”

Alastor props his elbows on his knees, observing the people around him. “You always ask me what I did,” he says. “I want to know if there’s something special about it.:

“There’s nothing special about it,” you tell him. Was there actually? You’re not sure. “I just like knowing, and it always entertains me.”

Alastor meets your eyes with a wide smile. “Then tell me what you did today,” he says. “Entertain me.”

The clock ticks closer. The birds are already close to their nests. The leaves are already floating to the ground. You are already close to going back to work, closer to this moment becoming nothing but a distant memory. “That was my first meal of the day.”

Alastor’s eyebrows furrow and his lips twist into a hard scowl. “That’s not healthy.”

You shut your eyes and sigh. “I never said it was.”

“How would you live without me?”

Remember, Alastor brought you lunch, and it would be nice if he could bring you lunch again. “I’m going to hit you.”

Alastor bumps your knees with his. “Lovely,” he says, and you can hear the smile he’s wearing. “I’m sure it will be very painful because you’re so full of energy right now.”

Eyes still shut, you bump his knees back. “I’ve been busy,” you say. “And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “First of all, we’re all busy,” he says. “Second, I didn’t roll my eyes.”

“You did—it was audible,” you tell him with a soft chuckle. “Anyway, there’s nothing new with my day. It’s just the usual, people to see, files to file, blood to draw, pee to get on me.”

Alastor digs his finger into your cheek, twisting it as he presses down. “Wow, you really are a horrible storyteller.”

You know what, maybe you don’t need Alastor bringing you lunch. You peek open an eye to stare at him. “I’m going to smash a plate on your head once we start doing the dishes.”

Alastor mashes your cheek like some button. Over and over and over and over again. You swat his hand, and he rubs it with a grimace. “Were you planning on dropping by today?”

You place an arm over your eyes, blocking out the sun. “Will I have to do the dishes?”

“You don’t have to specifically do the dishes.”

You comb through your hair with your fingers. “That wouldn’t exactly be fair to you.”

“If you're so insistent, we can find something else for you to do,” he says. “I mean, if you hate it so much you don’t have to do it.”

“I don’t hate it,” you say with a sigh. A church bell sounds. It echoes through the buildings and through the trees. “Al . . . I’m tired.”

“I know,” he says, and you hear how softly he chuckles. “Your eyes are drooping so low I could fill the entire ocean in them.”

“I want to sleep, Al.”

“I know.”

“I hate this job.”

Alastor pauses for a second, and he bumps his shoulders with yours. “You don’t.”

The clock hasn’t struck yet. The birds haven’t flown to their nests. The leaves haven’t reached the ground. And so too will you stay in this moment of time.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

1929

Footsteps creak on the wooden stairs. The sound is ignored, just like every other thing that isn’t relevant to you.

The dead cadaver under you has weird kidneys. The one on your palm is too small for a kidney that belongs to someone of his size. You take your scalpel, slicing it to observe the cross section.

“It’s time to stop,” Alastor tells you. Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Him and his smile is not important right now. “You’ve been here all night.”

“Leave me alone,” you mumble. The human body continues to be amazing. The medulla is clearly outlined. The colors of its cells were so different from the cortex. “ . . . Kidneys, Alastor. He has weird kidneys. Hehehehe weird kidneys . . . ”

Alastor says your name in a way that forces you to listen.

“ . . . Oh . . . yes?” you say a bit dumbly.

“It’s nightfall,” he says, and the tone of his voice buzzes your skin. “Come on now, do as you're told. Be upstairs in fifteen minutes.”

It’s not an easy task to do as Alastor says, especially when this man’s left kidney is a whole different size from the right. However, with a frown, you slot the kidney from the opened chest cavity, and pack up the body.

You step out of the basement, and walk to the kitchen.

There’s a plate waiting for you on the table. It’s still hot. Muffled music plays from the porch, and you see Alastor’s outline through the windows. Taking your plate, you step out the front door and into the outdoors.

(Something you really need to start seeing more.)

And oh . . . he’s not listening to the radio. Alastor plays the recording of his show. It was a present you got him a few months back.

You take your seat on the matching rocking chair.

Alastor watches you settle into your seat. He turns the volume down. “Tables were invented for a reason.”

The chair rocks when you swing your legs. “It’s nice out here,” you say, and take a bite of vegetables. “The sky is much clearer. It helps that there’s no stench of piss.”

He turns to you with a small smile. “That’s because you live in the city.”

The wind blows your hair into your face. You push it out of the way. “Hey, Al,” you say slowly. “Tell me what you did today.”

“Why should I?”

You lean back into the chair, letting the rocking sway you. “Well, you got home late,” you say. “I had to use my keys.”

Alastor leans back on the chair, using the tips of his shoe to rock himself. “Yes, that was the point of the keys,” he says, humming. “It would be a shame to come home to another broken window.”

The taste of the vegetables mixed with the meat makes you smile in delight. “Are you still holding on to that?”

“Always.”

“I paid you back, eventually,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him. “Why are you still holding a grudge for an honest accident?”

On his cheek , where it’s always been and where it’ll always be, his smile strains. “You expect me to believe that a rock smashing my window was an honest accident.”

You offer him your most innocent smile. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope your windows are much sturdier then,” he says, mimicking your smile. “One of these days, I might cause an accident.”

The stars twinkle in the sky. There’s a vast amount of knowledge those gassy balls hold. Maybe your life would be less horrific if you were interested in the stars instead. “In my defense, you were late.”

Alastor pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t wait fifteen minutes?”

You take another bite of your meal, and sway happily to do a little dance. “Just . . . okay? Just tell me what you did before I finish my meal.”

Alastor reaches into his pocket and tosses a keychain at you. It lands between your legs.

You set the plate on the coffee table between you, and hold the keychain to the light. It was a cute, little cartoon alligator. “What’s this?”

“It’s yours.”

“I can tell that much,” you say, twirling the gift between your fingers. “You never give me nice knickknacks. It’s always the ugly ones

Alastor huffs at you. “That doesn’t sound like my problem anymore,” he says. “I thought you would appreciate something that looks halfway decent one and for all.”

“I find the ugly ones really charming, actually. They’re very funny to look at,” you say. “So, where did you get this?”

Alastor clasps his hands, resting it on his stomach as he rocks himself. “Saw an advertisement. Went to the zoo.”

You scrunch your face. “That’s all you’re going to tell me?”

“Go finish your meal.”

You pocket his gift, and grab the plate on the table. “Master of storytelling right here, ladies and gentlemen,” you say, barking a laugh. “I figured you would love the excuse of hearing yourself talk.”

Alastor ignores you, reaching for his notepad instead.

You watch Alastor as he writes on his notepad. The breeze sways a strand of his hair. His lips twist when he thinks, just like he’s doing right now

Your eyes fall on your plate, to where vegetables and meat were carefully tossed together. Alastor cooked today—he always cooks.

When you finish, you’ll grab the plates, and begin the mountain of dishes. Even when dish soap stings your fingers, even when the feeling of wet food grosses you, and even when thousands of dirty dishes wait for you . . . it’s something you don’t mind.

Once this meal is finished, you and him will step inside. He’ll properly tell you about his day, and you’ll take the pan and scrub it.

Ah . . . there it is again. That word—Two.

But it’s not two of anything. It’s simply just two. You and Alastor.

“You’re frowning,” Alastor says. He stares at you from the corner of his eyes. “Why?”

It’s weird.

Very weird.

You don’t . . . You don’t understand. How do you say the words you do not know how to explain?

It’s almost as if . . . “We should get married.”

Alastor’s laughter rings across the open land. “No.”

The inside of your cheek stings from how you bite it. You turn away to hide your flushed cheeks. “I . . . It just came out, okay?” you mumble. “I’m really trying not to be offended that you turned me down without a second thought, and with a laugh as well.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad. “Don’t be,” he says. “I’m nothing you want.”

The moonlight reflects off his brown eyes.

“Sometimes . . . ,” you begin, and a small smile appears on your lips. “Sometimes I wish you see yourself the way I see you.”

Alastor laughs at you again. “You’ve been having such thoughts about me?” he says. “What an absolute honor! I’m deeply flattered.”

“And then you say words like that, and I immediately know it’s not worth it

Alastor lifts his eyes from his notepad to peek at you. He fixes his eyeglasses. “You don’t actually think we should get married.”

To be infuriating, you take a bite from your plate, savoring each flavor with drawn out chews.

“I have no idea,” you say. “But . . . I mean, why not? There are many good reasons for me to marry you—it’s advantages for me, and everyone already thinks we’re dating.”

Alastor turns back to his notepad, shaking his head. “That’s the most absurd idea I’ve ever heard.”

“What, being in a relationship with me?”

“Yes.”

“That’s twice you’ve managed to offend me.” You laugh to hide your frown. “But that friend of yours. The feathery one from the lounge you like taking me to.”

Alastor tilts his head. “Mimzy?”

“Ah yes, her,” you say with a hum. “She asked me if you um . . . uh . . . well, if you liked vanilla or hot and spicy.”

“If I had to answer, Id say hot and spicy?” Alastor says, and you laugh at the confusion on his face. “I got a bottle of this pepper flakes infused with old. It was quite the treat.”

“That’s exactly what I figured you would say,” you tell him.“Unfortunately for you, Mimzy was talking about sex.”

Alastor scrunches his face.

“Oh don’t make such a face, there is absolutely no need to be afraid of the prospect of such activities.” The final bite of your meal bursts with so much flavor that you revel it for a second. “Al, let’s get married.”

Alastor glares at you. “No.”

You place the plate on the coffee table. It can be washed after this conversation. “Why not?”

He points his pen between you and him..“We aren't even dating,” he says. “And . . . I can’t express such passionate displays of affection.”

You rock the chair with your shoe. An owl hoots from somewhere beyond the trees. Huh, you weren’t aware owls lived in this area. “Don’t be a child—just say sex.”

Again, his face scrunches. “I will not.”

“It’s a really good thing,” you say, sighing, “that no one’s asking.”

Alastor searches for your eyes. He holds it. It was only ever his to hold anyway. “I’m not even sure I’m interested in romance.”

You look around, whipping your head. “I think I’m missing the part where someone asked.”

“Be serious.”

“Okay fine. This is me being serious because I am when I say that all I don’t need your romance—Al, you accepted me for who I am, and to me? That is enough,” you say with a soft smile. “You are all I could ever ask for.”

Alastor stares at the stars, his eyes capturing each one. “I can’t love you like a husband should.”

The stares are really beautiful. Each shines in their own way. Alastor sees the beauty in them, but you aren’t going to be beaten by a gas ball.

Tonight, you will be the only star Alastor should keep his gaze on.

“Alastor, look at me.”

He keeps his eyes on the stars.

Huffing, you stride to his chair, and block his view of the night sky.

You plant your arms on the armrest for support, and inch your face so close that you are the only thing he will see. “Alastor,” you say his name, voice oh so soft, “look at me.”

Oh . . . his eyes are browner than you thought. It’s a deep and dark brown that pulls you in.

“You can love me in ways that matter.” You press your forehead against his, and close your eyes.

There are more words to be said, but right now you and him stay in this moment of time. Just . . . for . . . a second.

“I will never force you to love me in ways you cannot,” you whisper. The ends of his hair brush against your skin. “Alastor, I could never reject the type of love you can offer me. I can never deny you.”

Alastor caresses your cheek with the back of his fingers. “Friends don’t get married.”

Impulsivity was such a bad habit of yours. It’s a fact that makes you bear the consequences, but consequences be damned. You take his hand, holding it in yours. The pads of his fingers have different textures. Some are smooth. Some are rough. But the whole thing warms you to the touch.

It’s unfair. He’s unfair. How could something as simple as taking his hand intoxicate?

Your lips hover over his skin, brushing it a little. Alastor doesn’t pull away. With a smile that Alastor always seems to put on your lips, you plant a soft kiss on his ring finger.

“We aren’t normal people. There’s no reason to force ourselves into a conventional relationship.” You meet his eyes with a smile. Every word you utter brushes your lips yo his skin. “This marriage will be defined however we want. You offered me a partnership in death . . . .This is me offering you a partnership in life.”

You press your lip on the back of his hand one final time, and return to your chair.

Alastor doesn’t speak.

You rock yourself with your foot, enjoying the sway of the chair.“There is that added benefit that the police won’t be suspicious of a doting husband.”

Alastor scrunches his face. “Doting husband?” he echoes. “I thought we wouldn’t be having a normal marriage.”

“That doesn’t mean a lady doesn’t want to feel special,” you say, snorting. “I’ve always dreamed of a doting husband.”

Alastor rips a page out of his notepad. He folds it with his hands.

His vets match his shoes today. The hair on the back of his head sticks out and curls. Did he take a nap today? “I could be like this every single night,” you say softly. “You and me. The two of us under the stars until our hairs turn gray.”

Alastor’s gaze stays locked on the piece of paper he’s folding. “Why me?”

You stare at him with a smile, and lean your face on your palm. “Does it need to be said?”

Alastor glances at you with those brown eyes of his. “I’m asking.”

“It’s because . . . It’s . . . I . . . ,” your trail off. How do you summon the words to describe something you don’t understand?

There’s a smug smile on Alastor’s lips. “What, is it because you love me?”

“Would it be so bad if I did?” you say, chuckling into your arm. “But . . . well, I don’t exactly know how to properly say this.”

“Just open your mouth,” he says, rolling his eyes, “and let the words do it’s job.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing the dishes with you for the rest of my life,” you tell him, and your cheeks tingle. “Maybe even past life. Can you imagine that? You and me in hell, doing our dishes together.”

There’s an odd look on his face. “Sure.”

“We can listen to the radio,” you say. “And I’ll ask you about your day, and you will tell me the wildest and most grandiose story while we clean a pot.”

Alastor smiles at you. “You hate doing the dishes.”

“I do not.”

“You do. I see it—I always do,” he says with a soft chuckle. Alastor taps his nose. “Your nose scrunches every time, yet you never ask for help.”

What expression are you making right now?

You bring your legs to your chest. “I’m willing to give up everything for dirty dishes if it means I have you as a companion for the rest of my life.”

Alastor turns back to whatever he was folding.

You hide your face in your legs, face flushed and warm. “Say something . . . please,” you say, whispering. “I just poured out my heart for you

You hear Alastor rise from his seat. He places a hand on your head. “Today’s dinner . . . ,” he says, and his voice is the softest it’s ever been. “Did you like it?”

You smile even if he couldn’t see it, and lean into his hand. “It was one of the most delicious thing I have ever tasted.”

“I wouldn’t mind making it for you for the rest of my life . . . if you’re willing to wash the dishes with me for the rest of yours,” Alastor says, and you think this is the most honest thing he’s ever told you. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t want it, this is yours now.”

You peek out of your knees. Alastor’s smile is soft. He opens his palms and your eyes flicker to them. He shows you what he’s been folding. It’s the paper of his notepad folded into a ring—a paper ring.

“Do it again,” you say with a beam that could rival the stars. “Ask me again.”

Alastor caresses your cheek, the back of his finger brushing down your skin. “Doting husband?”

“Exactly,” you say with a laugh and lean into his touch. “You catch on very quickly.”

Alastor takes your hand in his, and his thumb brushes over your ring finger. Does he feel your skin the way you feel his? He kneels on one knee and the paper ring is presented to you. “Would you do me the honor of accepting my hand in marriage?”

You insert your ring finger into the paper ring. “The honor would be mine, my dearest.”

Alastor stares at you.

You stare back.

The moment your eyes settle on one another, laughter echoes across the land. It’s loud and breathy, and it echoes so far that the local wildlife gets disturbed. Alastor settles back on his chair, rocking himself.

Alastor calms down first. “Oh . . . uh . . . Should we share a passionate kiss?”

The stars shine above you. Not a single gas ball can beat the brightness of your smile. “Do you want to?” you ask. “Be honest, my dear.”

Alastor hesitates for a second. “Not particularly—Do you?”

“Maybe? Sometimes?” you say with a shrug. “I could live a happy life without such passionate kisses.”

“Really?” he says, and the surprise in his voice makes you laugh. “You would be fine without one?”

“Well, since you’re so insistent, I’ll allow a kiss.”

Alastor snorts into the air. “And where and when would you want such a kiss?”

You hold him in your gaze. There’s so much to learn, so much to figure out. It’s alright. There will be time. “Anywhere and anytime, you want, my love.”

“You’re going to give me control?” he asks. “Is this not something you would want as well?”

“I’ll make this easy enough for you to understand,” you tell him, tracing the paper ring around your finger. “I demand a kiss whenever you are completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

Alastor hums, looking away to study the woodcarving on his chair. He picks on them. “I supposed if you need anyone to fulfill your needs I only as—”

“Just say sex, my dearest,” you say, and Alastor sinks into his chair with a huff. “That will never happen. This isn’t a friendship, my love. I am entering a relationship with you. No matter how unconventional, it is still ours.”

Alastor locks your eyes with a pleased smile. “Good.”

The rocking chair rocks you into a small lull. “My dear.”

“Yes?”

“My love.”

Alastor sighs. “Yes?”

“My dearest,” you say. “Would you want to share a bed?”

Alastor stays silent. There’s hesitation on his face. You see it in the way his lips twist. You see it in the way his eyebrows furrow. You see it in the way he leans back on his chair to stare at the stars.

“Okay then, we can circle back to that later,” you say with a soft chuckle. “How about a room—Do you want to share one?”

Alastor raises his eyebrows, staring at you with silent judgment. He is a book that you are allowed to learn. There’s so much to read, and so much still left to be read. That’s okay. There’s time. No matter how long. You have time.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, we can share a room without sharing a bed,” you exclaim, throwing your hands into the air. “We can even have bunk beds. That would be cool. I’ve always wanted a bunk bed.”

Alastor rests his face on his palm to look at you. There it is again, the breathy and light laughter. “We are not sleeping on a bunk bed.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Charlie’s smile slowly morphs into a frow that you cannot decipher. It makes sense that you can’t. Afterall, she is not the book you’ve spent your life learning to read. “You . . . You don’t actually love each other?”

There’s a frame hanging on your kitchen wall that says otherwise.

It holds an art piece you embroidered for the sole purpose of giving it to your husband. The color of the wooden frame compliments the colors of the thread as if it was carefully chosen to match. The one here in the kitchen is but one of many frames around the house. Alastor keeps every single item safe beneath the glass to to be admired.

There’s a shelf standing on the living-room carpet that says otherwise.

It holds ugly knick knacks that Alastor bought for the sole purpose of giving it to his wife. It’s a pain to dust the shelves, but not a speck of dirt touches its surface, as if it was carefully taken care of. The one in there in the living-room is but one of many shelves around the house. You keep every item spotless to be admired.

“We’re not heartless,” you say. “Alastor and I don’t have the same relationship you and your girlfriend have.”

Charlie sways in her seat, a hand rests on her chin when she hums. “ I am so sorry,” he says. “I think it’s great and all that, I’m just having trouble understanding.”

“It’s not exactly for you to understand.” You take a sip from your mug.

“So it’s not a relationship,” Charlie says. “Sooooo, is it like a really really deep friendship?”

“The lines between us are so blurry that it’s become deeper than friendship,” you admit with a small smile. “I just know that my soul is connected to him in ways I do not know how to tell him.”

“Is that really possible?” Charlie asks. “To just . . . love each other so differently?”

“Can our relationship not just . . . exist?” You lean on your palms. “Do you really think it’s so impossible for two people to just . . . to just look forward to cooking and washing the dishes together?”

Charlie’s eyes brighten. “I think I’m starting to understand,” she says. “So like—”

“Charlie . . . if I sit here and answer all of your questions, we’re going to waste time.” You play with the fiddle of your mug. “You didn’t come here for relationship advice.”

“Oh . . . yes.” Charlie sits there. Her smile slowly falls into a frown. “I’ve been thinking of how to convince you to help me, but I can’t think of a single thing to say, and I don’t want to force you either.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You haven’t exactly asked for my help either.”

Charlie blinks at you. “ . . . Huh?”

You raise your mug to toast to her. “If you want my help, just ask for it.”

Charlie grabs your hand with a tight grip. “Please, help me,” she says, voice shaking. “I don’t want to drag Cannibal Town into an all-out war without knowing there was a way to keep them safe.”

“Sure, why not?” You pull your hand away.

A loud squeal bounces off the walls.

Charlie pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. She hauls you with all the strength of a hellborn princess. Your feet drag against the floor as she pulls you out of the kitchen and into the living-room.

Charlie drops you with a wince on her face. She stares at the broken window, and the obviously missing television.

You trip out of her hold.

Alastor wraps his hand on your shoulders, steading you against him until you find your balance. His touch lingers on you.

The television shaped hole on your glass window makes your eyes twitch.

Alastor steps away from you, twirling his microphone. It strikes the floor with a harsh thunk. “Oh, yes that,” he says. “It seems there was an unfortunate accident.”

“Oh, really now?” you say, placing a hand on your hips. “I would love to know exactly how that happened.”

Alastor’s smile widens, and his arms wave the air. “The clumsy boxed tripped right out the window.”

Your smile strains. “That is rather unfortunate,” you say. “What a shame, I rather liked that television. It’s been a constant companion, and never has it once disappeared on me for several years.”

Alastor glares at you.

You glare back.

“I would love to help you clean this mess,” Alastor says with that triumphant smile of his.

Would a second broken window be worth trouble if it means there would be an Alastor-shaped hole?

“Perfect!” you say. “I’m sure you still remember where we keep the broom.”

Alastor boops your nose. “Unfortunately, the cannibals will be meeting us at the hotel,” he says. “I think it’s time we take our leave. Say goodbye to my wife, Charlotte.”

Charlie opens her mouth to correct him. She changes her mind at the last minute, choosing to sulk with a wave instead.

Alastor opens the door, allowing Charlie to step out first. She strides to the flowerbeds, kneeling to observe the plants.

Alastor stills by the door frame.

He inches close enough for you to reach him. The fabric of his lapels smoothen as you adjust its fit on him.

A breeze tussles Alastor’s hair. You swipe the stray locks, brushing his hair away from his forehead, until . . . until the x that marks the gunshot catches your eyes. Frowning, you thumb the mark, caressing it with oh so soft touches. There was a time where you believed that you and him had all the time in the world. Death laughed at you that night.

Alastor watches you, taking your wrist to pull it away.

He leans closer, and picks a feather on your head. “Will you indulge me?” he asks. “There’s just something I want to ask of you before I leave.”

“Say it, and it will be yours.”

Alastor pokes his cheeks, mimicking a smile. “Just one of these from you will do—Something to power me through the day.”

With a soft chuckle, you widen your lips to show him the brightest smile you can muster. “Is that much better, my love?”

Alastor presses a kiss on your cheek. “Indeed,” he says. “You’ve been frowning for a while now.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Have I?”

Alastor boops your nose. “You have,” says. “What’s troubling you, my dear?”

“It’s nothing serious to you,” you tell him with a shake of your head. “It’s nothing worth listening to.”

Alastor taps his fingers across his microphone. “It’s not nothing. Especially when you frown like that,” he says. “If it’s serious to you, it is worth listening to.”

“Sometimes . . .I still find myself wondering how you feel,” you say, smoothening the feathers on your head “Even after being married for so long, there are times where I still do not know

“You’re not a mind reader,” he says. “If you want to know, you should just ask.”

“Alright then,” you say with a smile. “How are you feeling today, my love?”

Alastor caresses your cheek. The back of his fingers brush down your skin until it hooks around your chin. You tilt it to the side, offering your cheek, ready for him.

Alastor tugs your chin, adjusting your face until your eyes are drawn into his own. And oh . . . Has he always looked at you like this?

Alastor inches closer, his nose nudging against your own. Your heart thumps in your ear.

A minute has never felt so long as you stay frozen. It’s a whole minute if his lips brushing inches above yours. It’s a whole minute of his finger stroking the skin of your chin. It’s a whole minute of feeling his breath on your skin. It’s a whole minute where inches of space separate your

Alastor tortures you with the simplest of sensation that intoxicated you to your very core. You don’t move away, not from him—never from him.

Your eyes close when Alastor presses his lips across yours.

The taste of this morning’s coffee is dizzying. The soft tickles of his breath make your fingers curl around the fabric of his coat. You were never a poet. It’s Alastor who was better with his words. You cannot describe the way he kisses you with sweet metaphors or soft analogies.

Alastor pulls away.

You inch closer to chase him, until self-control takes over. It splashes you with the warmth of a bucket filled with ice.

Oh . . . oh.

There are words to be said, questions to be asked. The heat tingling of your cheeks and the electricity buzzing your lips make it hard to find the words.

You bury your face into the fabric of Alastor’s chest, curling into him to hide how red your face flushes. The back of his coat crumples when you grip it.

Alastor wraps his arms around you, tightening the hug. His finger stroke your shoulder blade. “Does that answer your question?”

You inhale into his clothes. It’s warm. He’s warm. So warm that int transfers to you. “No, not at all,” you mumble. “Where did you learn to do that?”

Alastor leans back, pushing you away to search your face.He stares at you.

You stare at everything but him.

Alastor squishes your cheek, giving it a light shake. “Stop demanding things from me when you’re not going to remember.”

“I did no such thing.” You swat his hand away. “Will I be seeing you soon?”

Charlie catches your eyes. She quickly glances away before eventually looking back. You bring out your hand, folding your fingers to indicate the number two. Charlie cringes so deep she creates a double chin.

Alastor brushes feathers out of your face. “You wouldn’t need to ask if you accepted Charlie’s offer to stay at the hotel,” he says. “ I was given a room there. I think you would like it . . . but, there’s still thousands of unused rooms if you wish to stay somewhere else.”

“My deerest, are you asking me to stay at the hotel?”

Alastor’s silence makes you chuckle.

With the tips of your toes, you reach to press a kiss on his cheek. “I will see you soon.”

“You always will.”

Charlie and Alastor leave with a wave. You close the door before they reach the gate, leaning on the door. The wood does little to settle the way your skin buzzes. Demand a kiss? You would never do such a thing.

The clock strikes. It’s time to leave for work. You take your coffee mug, scrubbing it with soap. (If you drop it twice, then that’s your business.) You open the cupboard, placing your matching mug next to Alastor’s clean one.

Today . . . Today will be a good day.

For today, there’s no need to throw away cold coffee mugs.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part: |Glimpse of Me and You: Part 1| First of all, you will never catch my Alastor cooking jambalaya. It’s a great dish, I know. But I refuse to fall into the curse. Part of the reason why this chapter took so long to publish, besides work getting in the way, was because I didn’t know how I would want Alastor and Reader to love each other. Like do I make it purely romantic? But I like keeping this as canon as possible. And I know that Alastor is only canonically ace. This problem struck me until I realized that to be accepted is to be loved. So I decided to write a story that will make me happy to show you. There are so many other fics with pure romance, and I wanted to respect Alastor’s asexuality and everyone who relates to him. This is my love letter to him and to you. Also, I’m just going to put it out there, just in case someone might ask why there’s a kiss on the lips? This is a reminder that you can define a relationship any way you could want. I debated whether that kiss should be on the cheek or on the lips. A cheek kiss isn’t inherently romantic, so I could have just done this. The lip kiss just felt…correct. I wanted to showcase that the relationship between Alastor and Reader isn’t a conventional one, and that it’s fine to have one that differs from what is considered normal. So the best way would be to take something that everything thinks is very romantic and twist it in a way that it could mean something different. And thus, any kiss before and after this chapter really just means that Alastor is completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.

Taglist: @mybrainautocorrect @ray-rook @teavibesaf @valentique @qardasngan @tobyisher3 @amoraneuro @okay-babe @holymusicialmothman @lyralibra @alastorssimp @aestheticglas-blog @slaggylemon

#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x wife!reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x you #Alastor #radio demon #alastor x wife reader #human alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Hazbin Hotel #hazbin hotel imagines

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bunnypeew · 9 months ago

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Hiya!

So I have this request thing for Alastor!

Alastor x Fem!(if that's ok) co-hostess and they like knew each other when they were alive and were co hosts!

Mon ange - Alastor x Fem!reader

That sounds so cute!! yes I can definitely give it a shot, I'm guessing she was the co-host to his radio show :3c

She has been looking for a job for a couple more days now since her last job didn't end up very well. She heard of this Hazbin Hotel was something about rehabilitation, so she thought that maybe she could find a job there as a hostess, the same job she had when she was alive back when. So that she did, it was quite some time till she found the way to it but when she did it was a pretty swell walk, arrived at the hotel she knocked on the door awaiting a reply. This blonde opened the door with an excited face

''Oh my god! hi! I'm Charlie welcome to the hazbin hotel!! How can I help you,,

she says in an eager voice grabbing Y/n hands to give them a shake, she then gives her time to reply to the question she posed

''Oh right. Em, I'm not sure if you are looking for employees but I kind of was looking for a job, if that's okay,,

this made Charlie even more excited, which Y/n thought was impossible but there it was. With a little gentle push, Charlie made her come inside the hotel to see the lobby where a bunch of other demons were hanging out. A spider demon was sitting at the bar with a cat demon, on the other side a girl with an x over her eye was holding up an angelic spear and looking at Y/n, and finally near them now there was another rather tall demon, his aesthetic being mostly composed of red and a little bit of white on his collar, Y/n eyes made their way up to the mans face seeing he had a rather sinister smile, something about that was quite familiar to her but she couldn't put a finger on it

Charlie started presenting every demon to her, Angel Dust, Husk and Vaggie, waiting for this creepy guy to get presented

''And this is our hotel Host Alastor!,,

hearing that Y/n froze giving him another look from head to toe to see if this person was actually her Alastor the one she had known her entire life and with whom she co-hosted the radio broadcast most of New Orleans was listening to at the time. She walked a little closer to him, her hand reaching for him a little bit

Memories started to flow in as she heard that name, memories from when she was still alive, 1930s New Orleans, Louisiana. She had been quite the charmer when she was alive, not exactly to attract men but in general she had a charming personality. She hadn't really found anyone she actually liked for years, not being one for relationships anyway but it was when she went to this speakeasy for a couple of drinks that she found her someone, at the time they were just talking to each other each and every night about all kinds of stuff, especially cooking, since Alastor was a real foodie and loved to talk about some of his mother recipes sometimes, But it was not until one night where she went to visit him at his home near the forest that she found out about his hobby of killing and eating people, at first she was quite scared about it but she knew that he wouldn't hurt her for the world, so she felt safe around him even for what he did. At that time, Alastor suggested she become his co-hostess for the radio show he put up, and since she was kind of head over heels for him she accepted. they would put up shows almost every night talking about all kinds of stuff and playing mostly jazz music, sometimes the occasional love song Y/n would put into giving a hint to him, It took a while for Alastor to realise what was going on in her mind, he could tell something was bothering her but he couldn't put a finger on it, it was not until you actually confessed to him one time before a broadcast that he understood what was going on

''Oh mon ange you should have told me sooner, you know I'm quite rusty when it comes to romance, but I do accept your heart as mine~,,

He said that the night before he would be found dead in the forest near his house, shot through the forehead by some hunter who mistook him for a deer, their relationship ending there and then leaving Y/n heartbroken and alone.

''Alastor?,,

she mutters out loud looking him in the eyes, his smile falters ever so slightly looking at the shorter woman, some sort of confusion in his eyes as this person seemed to know him, and then it finally clicked in his head

''mon chéri? Y/n is that you?,,

he speaks in a soft but firm voice, reaching out for her hand, taking it in his looking her up and down once before realising it was in fact her, the co-hostess he had on his radio show, not to mention, his chéri.

''Oh my stars Alastor it's actually you, I thought I'd never find you again!,,

she says going for an embrace, and surprisingly to everyone Alastor accept it right away, putting his arms around her shoulders and squeezing

''so you two know each other?,,

Charlie says out of nowhere looking at them with a 'You guys were an item at some point and I know it' look on her face

''yeah, we both hosted his radio show when we were alive! I was the co-hostess, it was such a pleasurable time for us both, and yes we were kind of a thing.. which I hope we could still do...,,

she says turning her attention fully to the deer demon before her. with a soft smile on her lips and a gentle touch on his hand. Alastor looked her softly in the eyes, himself wanting to be closer to her once again in another lifetime, or deathtime. He wanted nothing more at that right moment.

''Of course mon chéri, I would love nothing more, hell you said you were looking for a job, how about getting your old one back! my dearest you are fit to be my co-hostess once again ha!,,

he says with a power-filled voice, his gaze still soft on her, taking her hand now and placing a kiss on it.

''Mon ange,,

A/n: here it is!!! I actually loved writing this one Im so soft for Alastor speaking french istg, hope you enjoyed this one shot :3c

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #oneshot #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel #viziepop #hazbinhotel #hazbin hotel 2024 #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin

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fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Text

Just Testing continues...

(READ THIS FOR CONTEXT LOLOLOL)

He looks like an addict who got another dose injected right into his veins. His hair is wild and all over the place, his eyes unfocused and euphoric, his movements uncoordinated and—he is gone. You follow him quickly, leaving two girls complaining and one in the mannequin-like state from before. Their voices become background noise and then an afterthought when you find yourself in the wide hallway from before.

“You better have something interesting,” you snark when the director excitedly points at the same room you fucked Tiffany’s face in. “You just pulled me out of heaven, this better be good.”

“Well, you might need a towel for this one,” the co-host jokes.

You enter the room confused at those words. There is no water in it, but what looks like a thick salmon-colored blanket rolled out from one end of the room to the other. You wonder what it might feel like to fuck on this fluffy feather-filled futon, when an unexpected shove on your back reminds you that this is what you are here for.

“What the fuck?” you shout once, then twice on impact. It’s not a futon, more a waterbed filled with something similar to water but definitely not water. Stiff and less comfortable to what you were looking for. This was not in the script.

“It’s filled with lube,” another familiar girl says. “See?”

She slams down the pointy end of her heels dangerously close to your crotch and watches the clear, slightly viscous liquid spill out of it. Before you can react to the surprisingly warm lube hitting your skin, she starts to pounce on you, soft fingers not-so-softly wrapped around your throat.

“Yu-Yuri, what the he—st-op that!”

“Make me.”

Like so many girls today, Yuri squats down. However, she is the first to press her clothed pussy onto your cock while boring more holes for lube to spill and shoot out. The more pressure she puts on you, the wetter the surface becomes.

Your first attempts at freeing yourself are futile, everything is slippery, nothing gives you the stability to get upright. Especially Yuri’s arm, thighs and high boots make your fingers slip again and again while she goes in again and again to attack your chest and shoulder with nibbles and quick bites.

“F-fuck you, you bitch!”

Finally, you get a hold of something. Your hands slip into the openings of Yuri’s white, now see-through bodysuit and with all your might you yank her to the side. More and more lube swells out and now Yuri has trouble getting up. Her heels get stuck in another set of holes and you finally have the upper hand, pinning her back down into the wet mess.

"You think you got me, huh?" Yuri barks at you, realizing that it's her turn now to lose grip on oily skin.

"Oh no, I guarantee I got ya."

Spin Yuri round and around in the puddle below her lilith frame, find that her shorts have a conveniently placed zipper on their backside. Open up, press her down, until enough lube has come out to cover her small ass. Inserting will be the easiest part, it's a lot harder to keep the brat down, especially when she suddenly starts swimming in the viscous lake.

“Oh-oh my God, i-it’s so big,” Yuri screams out, clenching around your unstoppable member creeping deeper into her anal cavity. A variety of wet sounds soon fill the microphones and the headphones of horny consumers, who’d love to see more of Yuri’s small, yet perfect bottom. Sadly, she still wears those damn white shorts. At least those with a thing for heels will have the time of their lives.

“Stop being such a bitch, Yuri,” you groan into her ear, her body firmly trapped beneath you. In the meantime, your hands attempt the impossible task of controlling her slick hair or slicker hands. “If you behave, I’ll make you cum.”

“Y-you can never make me cum!”

“I bet you are already so clo—hey!”

In a moment of pride and distraction by the insanely pleasurable way her asshole narrows and widens, Yuri is able to crawl forward, out of the pit of lube and sweat, onto a flat part of the excessively large waterbed. She did not make it very far, so you reach for her shorts and try to pull her back. However, in an unforeseen twist that will leave everyone satisfied, the shorts come off, slide down Yuri’s legs and get tangled up with her high boots. Yuri tries to escape further, but you basically have her on a leash and easily pull her back into her cage—the pit beneath your body.

“Okay, okay, I give up, don’t hurt me please” Yuri begs and looks at you with wide open eyes. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

“Then be a good girl and scream and cream while Daddy fucks your tight little ass-pussy.”

Woah, where did that come from? Not in the script, but now it’s too late to take it back. Better follow it up with something distracting, no one will notice if you’re playing it cool now. How can they forget about your misuse of the parental replacement word, when Yuri follows your command without fail and even puts in extra effort each time you fill her fully?

“Daddy, yes, Daddy! D-destroy my ass, use it as your hole, I-I’m your—”

A sudden pause, Yuri must be very close.

“Hm? I’m waiting,” you tease her and stop your annihilation of her wrong-but-right hole.

“I-I’m your slut, Daddy, your pleasure girl! Fuck my ass-pussy—fuck, harder, Daddy, harder!”

Fuck it, this stays in the final cut. Not only because you don’t want to let this lube-filled waterbed idea go to waste, but also because Yuri is the literal definition of a slut for a Daddy. Overused kink or not, they will lap it up like hungry dogs anyways.

Yuri’s moans grow in pitch, in loudness, while her ass grows in tightness. She is riding the edge, while you ride her ass, it has to end somewhere, in absolute bliss. Daddy’s little pleasure girl, a slut fitting for his cock needs to cum violently, or else she isn’t really useful.

“Then cum like a slut!

“Cum for Daddy!”

Yuri still twitches and whines on the red plastic, when you get up and grab a nearby towel to dry yourself. One towel is not enough, you need two, three before you can walk on the smooth tiles without the constant threat of slipping. Ignore the words coming from the co-hosts mouth, something something ‘first time’, something something ‘gentle, careful’, why is he talking so much right now? Nod along and enter a room with an atmosphere cold and uneasy like north kor—the north pole, of course.

“Hi, I’m Sullyoon,” a girl quickly says, barely getting her words louder than a whisper. She stands in the corner of the room, politely smiling at you, but hesitant to get closer. Her legs fidget in place and her fingers rub the plain brown skirt nervously.

"Hey, no need to hide it," you tell her with a bright grin to ease the tension roaming her body. "You're nervous, I can see it."

"Ye-yeah, a little bit," Sullyoon admits, averting her gorgeous face when you approach her.

"That is completely fine and very understandable. I think everyone feels unsure about their first time."

Gently place a hand on her shoulder. Sullyoon squirms, her feet shuffle closer together, her puppy-like eyes shimmer with uncertainty. Such a great actress.

"We don't have to continue this," you whisper.

"But wouldn't that put you, give you like trouble?" she returns the whisper. "I don't wanna cause problems."

"I should be the least of your concerns, Sullyoon. Think about what you want and don't be ashamed to tell me."

Sullyoon stares down to your semi-erect cock, her finger hesitantly reaching for it. She then looks to the camera, the formerly pale face in a rosy hue.

"I want to try it, I mean, try to put it in my mouth."

"You're cute, Sullyoon, and brave. Just pinch me when things go too far."

"Like this?" she giggles and giggles a bit louder when you hiss and jump at her nails pinching your thigh. Anything to make her feel secure and to lighten the mood.

"Yes, yes, I see you're good at that. Now, how about you try to get down? You can hold onto this… wall for stability."

Sullyoon takes labored breaths when she is eye to eye with your you-know-what. Who can blame here? Its semi-hard state is still enough to dwarf her hand and fill most of her mouth. Sullyoon knows, thus she remains cautious. First, the tip of her tongue on your tip, tickling your slit gently, while you gently pat her head.

"This is nice," you hum slowly.

"Does it really feel good?"

You nod to Sullyoon's innocent question and feel her grow more confident with each lick, until she puckers her lips to let you enter. Instead of bobbing her head up and down like the more experienced actresses, Sullyoon stays motionless, except for her tongue swirling tornado-like.

"Hm, try, try taking more of it," you encourage her, but Sullyoon shakes her head.

"I-I'm scared. C-can you take the lead?"

"Uhm, sure. First, I need you to spit on it."

Sullyoon makes this adorable expression when she gathers water in her mouth, then lewdly unleashes it onto your base, missing most of your shaft.

"Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to—"

"No no, just—drool on it. God, you're fucking cute like this."

Rub Sullyoon's cheek. There she goes, trying to hide her embarrassment behind quick actions, but you see right through it. The clear string of drool leaking down her lower lip engulfs your glans, then the rest when you put your shaft inside her.

Well played, all the faux innocence and shyness. Sullyoon is a professional, and like a professional she knows how to struggle while not struggling. Gawk gawk, you could go faster and fuck those plump lips, ruin what might look pure but surely isn't. However, you are supposed to have different plans.

Don't fuck over the director again, so you slow down a bit and coo to Sullyoon who coughs, coughs, coughs, tears in her orbs, the dozen of times you've seen it today alone. Now you have to pretend to care.

"Everything alright, sweetie?" Play with her pink lips. "You are doing great by the way."

"Thanks. I think you can go harder."

Oh no, who would have thought? This is ridiculous, but they don't need to know. They just have to imagine themselves in your shoes, they are actually the one thrusting, filling a virgin mouth with their girth, and the cute girl loves it. She wants them to take her rougher, claim her; the only one claiming her is you.

Bulge her cheek, a slip up perfect for the camera. It moves from her face to her throat where you bulge again and she gurgles. When a mixture of pre-cum, leftover lube and, of course, Sullyoon's sweet spit land on the lens, you have to cover your mouth to muffle your laughs. Those laughs are suddenly moans, when Sullyoon eagerly sucks faster than you can thrust.

"Oh shit~ Would you look at that, she can do it on her own.

"Quick learner."

Feed into the lies one final time, fondle her dark brown hair one final time, hear her gag one final time—time to leave her tender, warm upper cavern for what you know will be warm too.

"Any other tips for the first blowjob?"

Your co-host’s constant interruptions and unnecessary questions have become stale and almost as annoying as his creepy face peeking in the frame from time to time. In their haze, some might not notice, others on the other hand might get annoyed, so you have to show them how to ignore him. Let’s be honest, they are only here for the testing, so you will give them exactly that.

When the following room was pitched to you, you were excited. When the responsible manager told you the actress they’d like to have for this scene, you became ecstatic. One of your favorites in a cozy room, the temperature meticulously adjusted to the point you can’t feel where your skin ends and the air begins. You don’t walk into the room, you melt into it, becoming one with your surroundings.

“It’s a high pleasure to see you again, Hitomi,” you greet, voice exalted and booming. “I hope you're comfortable and equally excited.”

Hitomi grins cutely, the upper row of her flawless teeth shines white like the snow. She has her head turned to watch you over her shoulders. Her petite frame is bare on the floor which is the right amount warmer than the air to keep the coldest feet warm and her body in heat.

“I came all the way from Japan for my massage,” she giggles and you lean down to kiss her. Straight on the lips, dive to the cheek, then back on the lips. The two of you have a perfect understanding of the others preferences, so there is nothing that can go wrong. Hitomi is smooth sailing, every part of her body is a feast for your eyes, and you can’t help but show her off.

“Show me your abs again, please,” you whisper. Hitomi hushes you with a motion, her arms around your nape, her tongue on your lips, her body easy to lift up from the ground. When the short girl is on her feet, you turn her nude body to the camera. Wordlessly, your fingers indicate the perfections: hard abs as mountains and valleys for sweat to run over, almost flat tits with hard nipples in a faint pink, the elegantly trimmed bush above her tight innie.

“Magnificent, absolutely astonishing.” Your ravishing compliments are cut short by Hitomi getting back into her initial prone position.

“Thank you a lot, darling, but I thought you were here to test me.

“Put it in, pretty please~?”

The significantly shorter japanese girl can grab you and throw you like a ragdoll from one fever dream into the next; you don’t oppose it, you long for it. The way her tiny butt wraps around your enormous length, the way she squeals at first, just to fall into bliss and moan like a cockslut, it’s what you would call greatness.

Things get even greater when your blurry vision finds the two purple braids on Hitomi’s head. They bounce in the same rhythm as she does, as you do, and with a simple tug they stop. Hitomi gasps, the unexpected pain scaring her. You quickly let go of them, apologetically fucking her asshole faster.

“D-don’t let go. Hold them, pull them!"

Hitomi's chest rises from the ground, her screams not muffled from the heated floor and instead sent to the ceiling. The more your fingers entwine with the braids, the tighter she becomes. This is new, something fresh for your friends-with-benefits relationship. Things will never get boring with Hitomi.

"Her snug hole is good, fuck."

Spread her ass cheeks, spread her legs for the camera to film the penetration. The soft skin tries to milk you, pull you back in and you gladly surrender to another slam, followed by another, and another.

"This is the best!" Hitomi groans, the only not obscene words in between all her grunts and groans.

"Fuck, it is. The floor, this ass, y-you're too good, I'm so close."

"Time to fulfill your promise." That was not Hitomi’s voice. Who the hell—

"N-Nayeon?!"

Out of nowhere, Nayeon wraps her arm around your throat and forces you to pull out. Your throbbing, swollen, burning cock is about to burst, which is why Nayeon does not waste a second. She gets in position right next to a trembling, sulking Hitomi. Your crotch instinctively turns towards her face, that stupidly gorgeous, slutty face. Her tongue hangs from her lips and like a mindless maniac she jerks you off.

Pain, so much pain. This is what some artists were talking about. Pain and painting are eerily similar, Nayeon's pale face and an empty canvas too. From her temple hidden behind thin strands of gold hair to her pointy chin, your paint brush erupts the watery-white color on her, but as expected, she does not stop there.

Nayeon rubs your cock from side to side, smearing her entire gleeful face until your knees give out and you stumble backwards into the awaiting arms of a staff member. It's out of the camera's point of view, so luckily the footage isn't ruined by your ugly, breathless expression, though Nayeon's game is not yet over.

"Thank you for keeping your promise~"

"What, what pro-mise?" you stutter.

"Don't you remember?" Nayeon pouts. "Last time you creamed my pussy and afterwards told me you'd have some for my face soon. Does ‘Beverly Hills mansion’ ring a bell?"

"Ah… I guess… yeah."

She is oblivious to you dying under her semen-glazed nose. You know she is not the last, there is still a way to go until you can finally rest, but how? It's impossible, you can barely move, your loins are on fire, your mouth is dry—

A bucket of cold water. Dunk your head in it, lap some of the life-saving elixir, cool off the roaring fire on your skin. A close call, Nayeon made you go up in flames and she is ready to do it again. Your eyes have been purified by the clean water, just for Nayeon to dirty them again. She collects some of your seed from her soft features with two fingers and quickly shoves them into Hitomi’s ass. The japanese girl whimpers when Nayeon doesn’t stop drilling it deep down.

“U-unnie~!”

The way she smacks Hitomi’s ass with the back of her hand while blowing bubbles with the cum dripping into her mouth is a dagger. Your mind goes blank. Someone somehow shoves a blue pill in your mouth. The camera is oblivious to what you do, still focusing on Nayeon. She fingers, she licks, she hums, all for the fans, all for Hitomi to not go without her fair share of pleasure.

In the hallway is a table. Two members of staff sprint away when you sprint towards it, eager to test the extraordinary effects of the pill. They have just brought in the table, unfortunately the test object is still missing. She is still backstage, still on her phone, still dressed for crying out loud. Step through wires and confused stylists, slap the phone out of her hand, she yelps.

“Hey, what are you—wait, huh?”

A perk of your Asia Tour: all the girls are small and light. The same goes for this one, you easily pick her up and place her down on the table. Her hips instinctively rise up, you can unbuckle her belt and get rid of her gray denim shorts.

“Okay what the fuck is this?” you growl at her and reach in between the voluptuous buttocks and pull at a red thong.

“I thought you’d like it,” the girl sulks and wiggles her trunk seductively.

“I’d like it if it was the same color as this.”

‘This’ is Chaeryeong’s ass. ‘This’ gets a harsh spank that wakes up the camera crew from their Nayeon-Hitomi-induced trance. They run over to film Chaeryeon’s blissful face as you beat her ass violently, changing up your hands and targets until it’s red all over. Not necessarily the crimson red of her thong, but it will do. Pull it aside to find her desperate, delicious-looking hole, begging to be stretched.

Chaeryeong’s dazed eyes shoot wide open when you widen the circumference of her ring with your cock, hammering away with the same unrelenting force you hit her ass with. The table creaks and sways, definitely not made for this, but for the sake of science you won’t stop turning it into plywood.

“Stupid bitch with a fat ass!”

That was her scream, and she is goddamn right. Every moan by Chaeryeong and every gasp from behind the scenes further encourages you to break through. Don’t worry about her butt, it’s thorough usage can be seen in all kinds of amateur and professional videos. Don’t worry about the table either, you're just testing its durability. When the first wooden leg begins to splinter, you know it’s over.

“Verdict,” you growl through gritted teeth grinding the great depths of Chaeryeong’s rectum. “An absolute failure.”

“Yes!” she screams, holding onto the table’s edge for fake stability. “I’m useless, just a trunky butt for people to breed!”

“No, not you, the damn tabl—”

Right on que, the wooden structure breaks in two, three, more and more pieces. At this point you might as well beat Chaeryeong’s ass on the marble floor, it’s natural coldness could heal the sore parts a bit. She seems to be the person who is the most opposed to this however. Her hole sucks you back in, telling you to annihilate it and Chaeryeong’s vocal cords until the next scene starts.

“Don’t stop hitting it, I deserve it!” Chaeryeong babbles. “Break me like the table!”

You find yourself in a dilemma: On one hand you could do this all day, the continuous pump and smack, on the other hand you fear for both your and her health. Your hands and her ass have the same burning red color, they need a rest, some distance from each other. The clacks of plastic shoes save you from this addictive, yet dangerous session.

“Enough Chaery—” Sakura complains in a stern, sexy voice. “—more cherry.”

You watch intently as Sakura gets in position. You did not notice her carrying a glass bowl of fresh cherries as well as a bottle of spray cream, both of which she places down before her. In the crouching position, her pink miniskirt made of wool hugs her slender body perfectly, the checkered crop-top meanwhile forms a contrast as it makes her chest look extra big with its bagginess.

Sakura reaches for two of the cherries, fully ignoring you approaching her and leaving behind a mewling Chaeryeong, ready for more. You can’t give the horny brunette more, she had her turn with you, though there seems to be someone willing to relieve her remaining horniness.

“Hold still.”

Tiffany. Where did she come from? She must have teleported behind Chaeryeong, pushing aside some of the rubble to get her face up close with the younger girl's ass. She puts her nose on the gaped hole and accompanies her tongue brushing over Chaeryeong’s slit with an echoing slap to her bottom.

“Hey, keep your eyes on me!” Sakura angrily whispers, but it’s hard to oblige her. To get you back into the scene, she has to go all out. Both cherries find their way to her sweet lips. They have a very similar, though be it a bit darker color, and they engulf the fruits. Sakura pulls off the stems, then roughly pulls your cock closer to her mouth.

You surrender to her idea. The woman in her legendary golden hair is well-known to take the lead. After some adjusting, you find your tip disappearing into Sakura’s mouth, her cheeks bulging from the inside thanks to the cherries resting in each of them. You feel the firm skin of the fruits press down on the sides of your member, an astonishingly different sensation from everything that happened before.

“Oh fuck,” you groan in bliss.

“Oh fuck!” Chaeryeong screams in lust. You can’t help but turn your head and look over your shoulder as Tiffany rams a strapon into her Dongsaengs awaiting butthole.

Sakura’s hands reach for your butt, mercilessly digging her nails into the skin and forcing you further down her throat. You meet her angry, tearfilled orbs as she gags on your erection. Throw your head back. The cherries have your base in a tight choke-hold, sort of like a cock ring.

“F-fuck, I’m sorry, Sa-Sakura,” you apologize. “I did not know y-you were into foodplay.”

Not only your member, also the two fruits fall out of Sakura’s mouth when she backs off. The heavy coughing does not prevent her from catching them. Full of concern you want to reach down, but suddenly her fingers craze your balls.

“Put them in your mouth and shut up.”

Take the two red, fruity objects and follow her instructions. Sakura pulls up the bottle of spray cream and rapidly shakes it up and down. Something something ‘can you do that to my cock, please?’ but you can’t say that, unless you have a death wish. A few seconds later, Sakura aligns the tip of the bottle with your base and sprays a perfectly straight line of whipped cream up to your tip. It’s freezing cold, you hiss and accidentally bite into the juicy flesh of the cherries.

You have a taste, Sakura has a taste. She slurps the white treat off of your cock, licks up the remnants with a quick deepthroat and immediately goes to repeat the process. This time, your more sensitive underside gets attacked by the coldness of the cream and then the hotness of her mouth and the strong slurps of her lips. You start to chew—hopefully Sakura does not.

“Delicious. Finally, your dick tastes good.”

“E-excuse me?”

“I said—shut up! Who told you to eat those cherries?”

In her anger, Sakura spills some of the cream on her crop top.

“Ah fuck. All because of you, you stupid moron!”

“S-sorry…”

Sakura sighs and pops open the two buttons holding the crop top together. The handful of her breast looks ready to be glazed and licked, but instead of her cherry-red nippled you bite on cherry-red cherries.

“At least make yourself useful.”

Sakura opens her mouth wide. She sends lots and lots of white stuff into it; not the kind of white stuff you’d like her to eat, but the way she fills her mouth with whipped cream looks insanely hot. The moment she is finished you put your cock up to the stuffed cavern and fuck into it.

Like an avalanche, the cream topples down to Sakura’s chest, hitting her nubs, making her squirm. This elegant woman has never looked messier. She is certainly no stranger to weird, chaotic shoots, but never has her mouth been such an overflowing, dirty hole. Sakura chokes up some more when you finally reach the hot back of her throat, launching cream all over your crotch.

This surely must be the finale, the last scene, because you need to clean up, need to take a break from it all. The final shot of Sakura’s face as you groan her name should be enough, an excellent fit for a thumbnail. It alone would sell a hundred-thousand copies, therefore no need for anymore, just please say cut!

“Here, you’ll need it.” Your co-host hands you a couple of wet wipes.

“What for?” you respond, the mask of acting not on your face, just exhaustion.

“The next test, of course.” He points to the far end of the hallway, the room next to the mirrors. “There is one more bed, one more person, I think you remember her?

“It was your idea, after all.”

“Mina.”

A nod.

“Clean yourself, would be a pain in the ass for her if you didn’t, hehe.”

You might not have any other choice, but he definitely could have worded that better or not at all. However, it’s probably not on camera anyways because everyone’s eyes have switched back to Tiffany and Chaeryeong. The older has one leg of the younger on her shoulder while roughly penetrating the tight hole in a standing position. Chaeryeong’s sticky hands try to balance her numb body on the wall behind her, leaving her more vulnerable to the thrusts and consequentially, screaming louder than ever.

This is your chance to sneak away, and you take it. The best for your spent, hurt cock would be to flee the set altogether, but with only one more girl remaining, separating you from glory and a sweet, sweet paycheck, you decide to get it over with. In Mina’s room, the smell of a freshly washed bed and of a rose petal perfume pulls the brakes on your hastiness. You come to a halt, in awe at what’s before you.

“Hey~” Mina coos when she lifts her gorgeous face from the white sheets in which it was buried. She stretches her arms out and you see her eye-lashes flutter quickly.

“Have you been sleeping?” you ask her with a chuckle.

“Just dozing. Believe it or not, this bed is probably the best I have ever laid in.”

Inch closer and lean down to her face as Mina bites her lips and tugs away the blonde, no, golden hair behind her cute ears. Though it’s just as bright as the pillows, blankets and the metal frame of the bed, her hair still has the biggest contrast to it all. Mina’s pale skin and white, oversized shirt camouflage her very well.

“I’d love to make a cringe joke out of what you just said, but to be honest, I don’t want to hear them anymore. It’s been a long day.”

“Aw, I really wanted you to follow it up with the ‘get laid’, but nevermind. Where is the camera?”

“It will be here in a second. We should get ready—only if you are really, really certain, one-hundred percent positive though.”

Mina rolls her eyes and rubs your abs tenderly, gasping at the sweat and the remnants of other liquids on them.

“You sound like your manager. I signed the papers, all the agreements and contracts and the other bullshit. Usually, boys don’t ask ten times before they go for it.”

“Understandable, with that ass of yours.”

“I knew you’d get it.”

Mina pulls the hem of her shirt up to expose her round, juicy ass to you. Reach over to it and fondle it while you walk around the bed behind her. Hasty steps echo through the hallway, the crew must be on their way. In the last seconds of uninterrupted intimacy, you nuzzle down to Mina’s ear while your cock is already trapped in between her cheeks.

“Congrats on debuting. Everyone will see that your pure-looking face and bubble-butt were made for porn.”

Your final growl leaves Mina trembling, her ass jiggles, her orbs find the lense of an unsteady camera peeking through the door. Triumphantly, you wave the cameraman over to you. He takes deep breaths, keeps the camera focused on Mina’s body, so you can start the final testing session.

“We’ve seen so much today,” you announce with your best impression of a CEO giving a year-end speech. “Too many crazy ideas, crazy girls—it’s time to get back to the fundamentals. A bed, simple and comfortable and a woman, pretty and horny. Nothing more,—”

You spread Mina’s cheeks apart, spit on the beautiful tight ring and find the perfect angle to get inside her.

“—nothing less.”

Repeat what you have done fourteen damn times today. You can use flattering words, exquisite or humorous remarks, suddenness or gracefulness, in the end it’s all hard buttfucking. They are here for it, seeing a huge ass ripple, a beautiful girl moan, a cock move in and out—as long as the neuron activation hits, they won’t be able to resist it.

“Isn’t she the one and only acceptable pick for this bed?” you ask the audience as Mina’s ecstatic moans bounce off the walls. “The right color scheme, the same scent, similar addictiveness to use it—her—every night. Only the sheets have to get a bit more ruffled like her hair.”

Your fingers run through Mina’s angelice locks, making her raise her chin high towards the viewer's point of view. She is looking right into their soul, their tired, horny, blissful eyes of envy and adoration, whatever is left of them. They don’t need to be inside her tight ass, she can wring them dry with her allure alone.

“How do you like your first on-cam cock, Mina?”

“It’s big—it’s so damn good, fuck.”

Grab Mina’s slutty little waist and pick up the pace. She digs her teeth into the sheets to muffle the loud noises from her mouth for whatever reason—it’s an amateur mistake. Everyone is too focused on her bottom anyways, especially you as your testing of her depth continues with a new-found final spurt of stamina.

“The platonic ideal for a non-platonic relationship; a good fucking bed for a good fucking.” Your voice cracks, falls silent afterwards. The last seconds are nothing but pants and firm claps of skin on skin. Mina’s eyes roll into the back of her head, her slit leaks juices onto the bed. Thrusts, pumps, twitches, it all comes to an end in a gaping hole whose neediness mirrors that of Chaewon’s, Chaeryeon’s, Hitomi’s…

There you go. You did it, you fucking bastard. Fall unconscious as the director shouts ‘cut’, your life has to end right on cue. It’s ironic, the audience will only notice you throughout the video; what happens afterwards is irrelevant. You are basically dead.

You are basically dead—unless some of the porn sites freeze and the poor, horny soul has to stare at it forever until regretfully smashing their device to bits, never daring to repair it. Oh no, they might have to admit to watching porn to some random repairman, how scandalous.

You are scandalous, holding onto a pillow at night, wishing for someone to be there for more than mere sex. Although you love doing it and could do it all the time, there is no love in it. Even a robotic, seemingly heartless sex machine like you wants some love, some cuddles, some kisses—

“Where is this pretentious buffoon?”

“Yeah, I want to beat his ass as well; idiot thinks he can just cum on me and leave, ts.”

“I’ll put him out of his misery after the two of you are done.”

Three women stand in the frame of the door. Befitting of her character, Wonyoung was the first to speak to you and is currently the first to climb onto the bed. Her thin body is once again wrapped in the black suit, but her fabulous legs are on full display and kick you down into the mattress as she towers over you.

The second to speak was Seungyeon, who utters more and more complaints while getting closer to the bed until Wonyoung hushes her with a deadly glare. From then on, Seungyeon focuses on showing you her reserved anger in a different way: she uses both hands to press your chest down and immobilize you fully.

The last to speak was Tiffany. She pays you no mind, instead sitting down next to the still dazed Mina and carefully pats the younger’s head. Strange, she is never this wholesome with you, but with a newbie like Mina it’s no problem? Maybe she really wants to put you out of your misery today.

“Wh-what is happening?” Mina asks, utterly confused as she watches you staring at Seungyeon’s bare tits swinging right over your face. “I thought the shoot was over.”

“Oh it is, sweetie,” Tiffany smiles, while Wonyoung goes to stroke your dick with both her hands and slowly crouches down towards it. “We are just testing.”

“Testing what?”

“Testing when this imbicel’s heart will stop from cumming too much.”

“Won-Wonyoung, please, no!”

Your plea goes unheard—it’s on tape nonetheless.

Fin

(A/N3: Thank you for reading this mess!)

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #just testing #male reader insert

614 notes · View notes

oldiesstationlover11607 · 4 months ago

Note

perhaps peter has an important interview for something like a college interview or something and perhaps reader had something to do before it so couldn’t go with him (for moral support) but then she rushes through her thing to get to him and surprises him like 5 min prior, gives him a good luck kiss when his name gets called and tells him to call her after. they celebrate that night (since it went well) with pizza, a movie and cuddles.

Interview - Tom!Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader

Pairing: Tom!Peter Parker x Fem!Stark!Reader

Warnings: None! Super fluffy <3

Word Count: 1,001

Note: Reader isn't Stark's daughter she's Stark's niece

A/N: I hope you like this @urmykindofwoman !!

Peter and I were in our senior year, which came with all the busy days and rough nights of writing college application essays, getting final assessments to the teachers, and booking interviews. While Peter and I were dating, we definitely weren’t going down the same career path. I had my own after-school radio show, wanting to go into something arts and humanities-based, and Peter clearly wanted to do biology and biochemistry. He wanted to go to MIT; science and technology were his whole life—especially with his ‘internship’ with Tony, who had helped him get an interview.

“Y/N? Where’s my suit?” Peter asked, running around his bedroom frantically.

“It’s over there, Pete. Relax, and you’ll do fine. I’m sure Tony put in a good word for you anyway,” I smiled.

“And you’re sure you can’t come with me? I just—this interview is a big deal for me, and if I don’t get in, then I have no idea what I’m going to do,” he said as he folded the suit and put it into his backpack.

“You know I can’t. I’ve got the radio show in an hour, and I can’t miss that,” I sighed, getting up and grabbing my bag. Peter nodded, reluctantly accepting the situation. “But make sure to call me once it’s over and let me know how it goes, okay?” I pulled him in for a quick kiss.

“I love you,” he grinned.

“Ditto, spider boy.”

I walked to the radio station to meet Ned, who had been co-hosting with me for the last few years. We didn’t have any guests for this episode, and instead, we were talking about the latest Star Wars movie that had come out. The episode lasted for an hour and a half, and I sat there staring at the clock to see if I could leave and make it to support Peter before his interview.

“And that’s our show!” Ned smiled and played the last piece of music, finally turning off our mics. “Okay, you better hurry if you’re going to be on time to surprise Peter.” I nodded, grabbing my bag and rushing out of the studio. I ran down the street towards Peter’s house, where he was doing the interview online. Knocking on the door, I noticed it was only 10 minutes before the interview started.

“Y/N?! Oh my god, what are you doing here? What about the show and Ned and—”

“I ran here when we finished. You said you wanted me for support, so I’m here, Spidey,” I grinned. Peter returned the smile, picked me up, and spun us around.

“Okay, Pete, you need to get yourself ready. They’re going to call you any second now, and you’re gonna ace it!” I pressed my lips to his in a lighthearted kiss, my hand coming up to curl his hair in my fingers. He pulled away once his computer started ringing and closed the door to his bedroom.

I sat there scrolling through my phone, hearing the hum of Peter’s voice through the door when he responded to the questions. MJ had sent me a few text messages about our English report, so I took the time to respond. About an hour later, Peter finally opened the door and walked out. I stood up excitedly, walking over to him.

“How’d it go?” His face showed no emotion, and my mind raced through all the possibilities. I’d put him off his game by surprising him, hadn’t I? Peter was going to hate me, and Tony was going to be so disappointed in Peter. It was all my fault.

“They said it was a pleasure to meet me,” a small smile grew on his face, and he looked shell-shocked, completely unsure of how to act.

“Oh my god, Peter, yes!” I screamed, running into his arms. “We need to celebrate! I’ll call Tony and organize something. We are 100% having a pizza party with the others.”

“You’re too good for me, Y/N.” Peter pressed a kiss to my cheek as I pulled out my phone to call my uncle.

“Hi, Tony. Yes, Peter did well in his interview. I’m wondering if we can order pizza and invite the others for a movie to celebrate?” Peter placed kisses across my jaw and down my neck, smiling with each press of his lips.

“Okay, I’ll call them and make sure they’ll be there,” Tony responded.

“Tell him I say hi,” Peter mumbled.

“Peter says—”

“I can hear him, Y/N. Tell him to watch where he puts those hands. Be here by 6, okay?” Tony laughed before hanging up. Peter pulled away and looked up at me with a questioning expression.

“Stark Tower at 6.”

“God, I love you,” he grinned.

“I know you do,” I said, getting everything I needed for dinner.

“That was 100% a Star Wars reference, wasn’t it?” Peter pointed to his Empire Strikes Back poster, and I nodded, trying to suppress my laughter. Peter shot out a web to pull me close to him again.

“You’re a nerd, you know that, Parker?”

“As if you’re any worse; you’ve got that Stark blood in you. I can smell it with my spider-sense—”

“Your Peter tingle,” I interrupted. He let out a loud and annoyed sigh.

“And you’ve ruined the moment.”

“You ruined it yourself, spider boy.”

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

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clubdionysus · 6 months ago

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[BAD DECISION #31] The Photo Booth

warnings: THE photoboth chapter!!!! a legend amongst bd readers!!!! we meet jaykays mum (shes the best) and his dad (legend), byeol gets her own back for the 'daddy' debacle, teasing, shameless flirting, a lil dirty talk, jaykay is desperate and whiney (just how we like him!!), precum...swapping?? as much as it can be swapped lmao, jaykay does her glitter ::(((((, a date! between friends!! some would argue!!, photobooths, kissing !!!!, oh god I love them so much, very cute, mmmmmm the way he says goodnight!! or alternatively, the way he doesn't say goodnight!!, our babies are v confused <3 cos they are stewpid <33

wc: 9k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Mum? Dad?" Jeongguk calls into the entryway of his family home, pushing the door further open with his shoulder.

Your bag is hooked over his broad back, along with his own, Jeongguk not even considering it a favour. Just helps you out in little ways whenever he can, just because he can. You do what you can to make his life easier, and so it's reciprocated without a second thought.

Carrying a bunch of fresh flowers that had hastily been picked up from the shop across the street, you're a little nervous. There was no way you could show up empty-handed, but had been so scatterbrained when you left your place, it had completely slipped your mind. They're pretty pink posies and are something - which is always better than nothing, even if they aren't all that impressive.

"Oh, you're here!" A sweet voice calls from the back of the house. The sound of indoor slippers scuff against the wooden floors, as his mother scurries to greet you both. "I thought you'd call when you were on your way!"

"Sorry," he apologises and leans down to let the bags softly tumble to the floor, before outstretching his arm for a hug. "Left in a bit of a rush."

Squeezing his mother gently, his back eclipses her from your view. Hands patting his back, you think you can tell a lot about a person from their hands - and she's no exception.

Well-manicured, his mum clearly looks after herself. She wears just two rings - her wedding band and engagement ring. Gold. The only remaining elements of her wedding jewellery that had survived the '98 gold drive.

"Spent my whole life in that house," Jeongguk had said of his family home on the journey to Busan. He'd been opening up. Telling you tales that you'd have never heard if you had declined his offer. Is clueing you in on the life that formed him. Wants you to know. "They held onto it throughout everything. The financial crisis, turn of the century, everything. I'm lucky. We were never well-off, but they never let me know when we were struggling."

It explains a lot about who Jeongguk is, you think. Never wants others to shoulder his burdens. Keeps things bottled up until the glass shatters - but you can see through glass. You always know.

A modest three-bed, there's something nostalgic about the four walls he calls home. Though you've never been here, it somehow feels familiar - but that's perhaps more so to do with the scent of laundry drying, and the fact that Jeongguk uses the same fabric conditioner as his mother always has done.

Swanning Jeongguk out of the way, his mother greets you with a smile that could stoke warmth in even the coldest of hearts - and suddenly, you understand exactly where Jeongguk gets it from.

Dark, round eyes, and a smile as radiant as a spring day, she's got the kind of delicate nature bestowed upon Disney princesses. If you were to learn she'd been a model in her youth, you wouldn't be surprised.

Introducing yourself, you hold out the flowers for her to take.

"For you," you offer, a little shy and reserved, in a way that Jeongguk doesn't see too often. Your glitter - toned down today, for some reason - sparkles in the late afternoon sun that pours through the windows. "Thank you so much for offering to host me. I really hope it hasn't put you out too much-"

"Oh, don't be silly," she tuts, flipping her hand away as if to emphasise that it really is no big deal. "It's always lovely to have Jeongguk's friends staying with us."

She glances over to Jeongguk. Leans in a little closer. Whispers just loud enough for him to hear. "Plus I'm sure you'll be a far better house guest than Jimin ever is!"

"Mum!" Jeongguk goes to defend his housemate - but he knows his mother adores Jimin. Treats him like a third son. Knows she's creating an alliance with you, given the little lie Jeongguk told about you previously dating Jimin.

"What?!" She plays innocent, and it's suddenly so easy to see why Jeongguk is the way that he is. A product of the people around him, he soaks up their best qualities like a sponge in search of water. His playfulness must come from her. Taking the bunch of flowers, she smiles. "Let's go put these in a vase. You must be hungry."

"Ravenous," Jeongguk confirms, as if he didn't eat half an hour ago. "What's for dinner? And where's dad?"

"At the driving range," she tuts, encouraging you both further into the house.

Large and open plan, the sitting room is adjacent to the kitchen; a space designed for socialisation, it's clear that Jeongguk's parents enjoy hosting. It's no surprise that they agreed to let you stay without hesitation, and is also why Jeongguk had no qualms about asking.

"Minhyuk got a new driver that he wanted to show off, apparently," she continues. "A Titlelist. Got it in some dodgy back alley sale. Your father reckons he's been scammed, but Minhyuk reckons it's the real deal, so I'll guess we'll see."

"Minhyuk lives down the road," Jeongguk explains to you as his mum rummages around in a cupboard to find her favourite vase. He's smiling, amused by it all. "Bit of a busybody. Likes being in people's business, so Dad likes to return the favour. Petty middle-aged man shit."

"Watch your language," his mother scolds. He apologises immediately.

It's sweet, seeing Jeongguk like this. He's always been respectful, even if he does swear like a sailor and has a sense of humour that would send a prude to an early grave.

"As for dinner, I told your father to meet us at the samgyeopsal place you like down by the beach-"

"Ugh," Jeongguk smiles, beaming from ear to ear. "Thank you."

"Don't know why you're thanking me," she hums sweetly as she arranges the flowers in the vase. A little lacklustre while they were still wrapped up, she manages to preen them to look far more beautiful. "You're paying."

"I'm- what?!" He whines, now, taking on the role of youngest son perfectly.

She's just joking, and you all know it - but you also know Jeongguk will likely try and cover the bill regardless. Glancing over to you with a cheeky grin, his mum playfully shrugs her shoulders. You return the smile, and giggle a little harder when Jeongguk continues to whine.

"Oh hush your moaning," she simply says. "Go take your bags through to your rooms. We'll head out in half an hour."

Jeongguk doesn't protest. Drags you along with him back to the entry hall to retrieve the bags.

"See," he says quietly, finding your shyness all rather curious. You're never normally like this. Never so quiet. "Told you there was nothing to worry about. Mum always likes my friends."

Picking up your bag to hoist it over your shoulder, you simply say, "Nerves are natural."

Jeongguk doesn't entirely disagree, but really thinks there's no need for you to feel this way.

"Yeah, if you're meeting, like, a girlfriend's parents," he says. "My parents are nothing to be scared of. Idiot."

"Doesn't matter if I'm not your girlfriend, Gguk. I still want them to like me," you remind him. "And let's be realistic here, parents aren't one for subtleties. You've brought a girl home and have hickies on your neck - I need to touch up the foundation, by the way. If they notice, they're gonna add two and two and get five."

"Well actually," he interjects. "They'll add two and two and get four. You are the girl who gave me them."

You laugh. He's got a point. "But I'm not your girlfriend ."

Yep , he thinks. Thanks for the reminder.

It's not like he even wants that. He knows that things are good as they are. Knows that any indication of things getting serious will likely make you run for the hills.

Things feel easy, now. He doesn't wanna do anything that will complicate it. Won't tell you how he's feeling, 'cause he knows the second it does, things will change.

He doesn't know if it would be for better or for worse, but he knows you. Knows his own lived experiences.

The mistakes made with Hayun have contorted his ability to go with his heart, because he knows the pain it can cause. Will take the nail-biting uncertainty of his feelings for you over the soul-crushing certainty of rejection any day of the week.

You're equally as shaped by your own experiences.

Once had a man who would declare his love for you on a Monday morning before his monthly business trip, only for him to spend the entire week in bed with a girl from the accounting department. You've no trust in words. No trust in anything, really, when it comes to matters of the heart. All you can trust is how you feel - but even that's a little more confusing than usual, these days.

"And thank God for that," Jeongguk teases, which seems to settle the woes within you. He tilts his head to the side and guides you up the hallway. "C'mon. I'll show you to your room."

He deliberately doesn't show you his own room. Will show you later, once he's had the chance to hide away most of the embarrassing stuff he hasn't touched since he was a teenager.

Instead, he leads you straight into his brother's old room, and winces.

"It's worse than I remembered."

Jeongmin's bedroom walls are coated in the Lotte Giants; like an oil slick on the surface of a road, or ice cream dripping down the side of a cone. Unsubtle, garish and impossible to ignore, the man is an interior decor menace.

Flags, shirts, commemorative posters, you name it; Jeongmin has it. You think he must have personally spent enough money to fund an entire season of the KBO.

It's a pretty inoffensive colour scheme - white, blue, red - but it's still an eyesore. The rest of the house is well-decorated. Tasteful. Roses do come with thorns, you consider. Maybe Jeongmin and Jeongguk's rooms qualify for that position.

"So your brother likes football?" You deadpan - although you're sure if there was a Lotte Giants branded football, you'd be able to find one in this room.

Jeongguk just shakes his head. Doesn't even dignify it with a proper response.

"It's a miracle he even managed to get girlfriends during high school. This shit is... I didn't recall there being so much."

Signed baseballs, bobbleheads, foam fingers. God. It's endless. Trading card binders, house slippers, even a rubber duck. It's overwhelming.

"What about now?" You ask of Jeongmin's passion. "Still obsessed?"

"Less so," Jeongguk shrugs. "Did call his dog Seagull, though."

The prospect of a dog being called Seagull has you bursting into laughter. You half think Jeongguk is joking - but quickly realise he isn't. For some reason, that only makes it even funnier.

"Will he be at dinner? Your brother?" You ask, setting your bag down on the freshly made bed. The scent of laundry detergent wafts up, and it reminds you of being back at Jeongguk's place in the city. You've never felt more at home in a stranger's bedroom.

"Why?" Jeongguk asks, narrowing his eyes, remembering what you had said earlier. "You're not allowe-"

"Oh give over," you laugh. "You know I won't."

You've never seen his brother, but already know Jeongguk must be the brother. The one that the girls go crazy over.

Then again, Jeongguk did say that his brother is a fuck boy. Perhaps he's just as handsome.

Impossible .

Thing is, Jeongguk doesn't know you won't go for his brother. You made threats earlier. Knows he ignited a fire in you the second he pulled the 'Daddy' stunt. Knows you're competitive. Regrets it a little bit now. Only has himself to blame.

"Anyway, piss off," you playfully tell him. "I wanna get changed."

Jeongguk doesn't care. Takes a seat by his brother's desk, instead. Smirks. Raises his brows in that promiscuous, boyish way that always disrupts the butterflies who peacefully rest in your diaphragm. "Okay. Get changed."

"Gguk," you deadpan. He's pushing his luck, and he knows it. Glances over to the door. It's ajar, but pushed shut enough to obscure any unwanted eyes. Just means he needs to keep his deep voice quiet.

"What?" He flirts. "Nothing I haven't seen before."

"Your mum is down the hallway!" You whisper-shriek. Sometimes you forget how much of a boy Jeongguk is, and then he pulls shit like this.

The worst part?

You love it when he's like this; all cheeky and brazen, audacious in his quest to get what he wants.

And when it's you that he wants? Oh, it gets you all hot under the collar. He has that effect on people, you think. It can't just be you.

"So?" He licks his lips. Rakes his eyes down your body. Looks fucking hungry - and to him, you look like a 5-course meal he'd gladly get on his knees and beg for. "She's not gonna come in."

His lips press down against one another, tightly. His lip ring does the thing. You whine.

"Gguk."

"Byeol." He teases. "It's not like you're getting naked. Not like we'd be doing anything. Seen you in your underwear so many times."

He'd like to know that he still can. Wants to know he hasn't fucked it all up by getting you a little vulnerable earlier.

"Maybe I am getting naked," you whisper back, feeling challenged now.

"Are you?"

"Should I?" You tease. He sits up a little straighter. Tries to be subtle as his hand drops between his legs, the heel of his palm pressing against himself. Fails. You know he's adjusting himself. Know that it means he's getting a little excited.

"Think if you need to, then you should," he simply replies. "Just a little revision of a bird, no? Nakedness ? It'd be good."

You don't need to get fully undressed. Not in the slightest - and you're not gonna.

In fact, Jeongguk isn't gonna see anything - but you're still gonna fuck with him a little first. He deserves it after this morning.

You turn away from him. Shrug the jacket off your shoulders. Toss it onto the bed. Open up your bag, and have a little dig around.

"I'm not sure what to wear," you hum, sounding a little defeated. It's intentional. Want him to think you're being genuine.

Turning to face him, you hold lingerie in either hand. Packed deliberately just to fuck with him. Had figured you'd wear it discreetly, letting him know as and when he deserved to know. Would use it to wind him up - and not to give him any satisfaction. He's right in thinking he's ignited a little competition in you.

Didn't realise you'd take him to war, instead.

He's not seen you in either of these. Has never really seen you in your 'nice' stuff. All of your underwear is nice to a certain extent, because you're intentional with your purchases. Like feeling good beneath even a pair of sweats.

However, Jeongguk has only ever been treated to matching sets.

After all, you've never tried to seduce him. He's your friend. You fuck each other, sure, but it's cause it's comfortable. Safe.

The lace in your hand is far too exciting for your established arrangement.

In your left hand is a lace bodysuit. Mesh panels make up the structure, but it's the ornate, hand-sewn lace that really makes it beautiful. The neckline is fairly high, so sometimes you get away with wearing it at a top on nights out. Been a while since you went that risque.

In your right hand, it's a classic black garter belt. Jeongguk has no idea what the fuck they're called, just knows he likes them.

He swallows. Licks his lips. Doesn't know where to focus his eyes. Barely realises he's gripping himself now. Is so fucking hard.

"Which is your favourite?" You ask, eyes innocent, voice nonchalant.

Jeongguk thinks he'll die if you wear either.

"Both are fine," he manages to say, eventually.

"Fine isn't good," you pout.

"Well what do you want me to say, B?" He whispers, clearly a little frustrated. Not with you. With himself . "That as soon as you put them on, I'll wanna take them off you? They're fuckin' hot. Both of them. Fuck ."

He tilts his head back. Whines a little. Moans. "Why do I do this to myself?"

"Think you might be a masochist," you giggle now, tossing the lingerie back down by your bag. Will save it for later. Poor boy is going through it. "You did this to yourself."

He looks at you with a huff and a frown that is far too sweet for the situation at hand.

"I'm stupid," he pouts. "Pea brain. You're the one with a big brain. You should tell me to stop doing pea brain things."

"You wouldn't listen to me even if I did," you smile fondly as you walk towards him - 'cause even if it looks like he's admitting defeat, you don't trust him yet. His cock is too hard to be making sensible choices.

Coming to a stop between his legs, you don't stop Jeongguk when his large hands stroke up the backs of your thighs. Your own hands are toying with his hair. It's all very amorous; affectionate despite the allure.

"You don't know that," he whispers, still. Cupping his strong jaw, you tilt his head upwards. Your hair is still up from earlier, and he regrets it now. Always loves it when your hair tumbles around his face. Likes being consumed by the entity of you. The scent of your shampoo, the softness of your well-conditioned hair. Heaven.

"You made a bad decision this morning," you remind him. "Would have done it even if I told you it was a bad decision."

Regretfully, Jeongguk thinks this is true. That instant gratification of his ' Daddy' stunt made it worth it.

Worth it at the time, at least.

He's not so sure, now.

Sinking to your knees, your hands stroke up his thighs. Jeongguk looks down at you, tongue wetting his lips. There's a change in his breathing. Anticipation.

"You know," you say quietly, making sure no sound travels at all. You're not looking to get kicked out of Jeongguk's house within an hour of being invited in. Looking directly at his hard crotch as your hands squeeze his thighs, you simper. "I really thought you were gonna take charge this morning. Thought you were gonna get me where you wanted me."

"Yeah?" he husks, pulling on his shirt, releasing it from the belt around his waist. Lifts it a little. Gets his abs out. Is doing shit he knows will make you salivate. One of your hands follows his encouragement and pushes up his chest. Hard beneath your warm hand, his body really is a gift from the gods.

"Yeah," you tease.

"What did you think, huh?" He says, his hand cupping your cheek to raise your gaze to his. It'd embarrass you, if it were anyone else; but for some reason, you don't mind worshipping Jeongguk unabashedly. Are on your knees like his body is your alter. Whisper words of sin like you're in a confessional. Pray that you'll never have to give this up. Religion is wasted on you, and Jeongguk is a false God, but you've never felt more holy than when you're committing cardinal sins with him. "Where was I gonna get you?"

Smiling in that coy way you so often do whenever he gets you a little vocal, your eyes rake back down his body.

"Right here," you shrug. Give him those eyes; the ones that make Jeongguk think he's seeing fucking stars. Smirk, before you say, "thought you were gonna get your cock in my mouth."

"Shit," he curses as you press down over the hard ridge in his pants. He's always so pleased to see you - especially like this. "You want that, huh? Wanna suck on it?"

Nodding, you bite on the lip, sin written in the constellations Jeongguk's gazing at. "Wanna make you feel good, Koo."

If Jeongguk doesn't get his cock in your mouth within the next minute, he's pretty sure he'll die. Has wanted it for weeks. Months . Wants you in any capacity he can get you, granted, but there are few things in life better than a good blow job. Good pussy, is, admittedly one of those things, but he already knows you have that. Thinks your mouth must be just as good.

His hands drop to his belt. Metal clangs as he races to get it undone. You let him. Don't stop. Watch on with sated pleasure as he hurries. Undoes his buttons, and then his zipper is down, too. His Calvins are on display. There's a teeny tiny damp mark showing through; evidence of how badly he wants you. "We don't have long. Be quick, B. Gonna nut so fuckin' fast."

Smirking, there's something so painfully endearing about how needy Jeongguk is as he untucks himself from his boxers. Thick and firm, his cock is just as pretty as it always is whenever he's desperate for you. The little bead of precum pooling at his tip is begging for your tongue, the freckle on his shaft deserving of a pretty little kiss.

And then you pull back. Look at his pretty, needy face and raise a brow. Poor baby .

"Said I wanna make you feel good," you smirk. "Not that I will."

You get to your feet. Walk away. Giggle to yourself as Jeongguk fucking whines as quietly as he can. Needs that door closed. Needs you to know that this balling is gonna kill him off. Head thrown back, cock in his hand, he's gonna fucking die .

"B," he growls a little, faux sobs echoing from his throat.

"What?" You smile. He looks like a fucking state, desire taking hold of the way he's staring you out, chest heaving a little bit. And then, to add insult to injury, you remember to 'address him properly'. "Something wrong, Daddy ?"

His face bunches up. Regret embeds itself into the lines on his face. He whines. "You're so mean, Disco Ball."

He's cute. Really fucking cute.

It makes you feel bad.

And fuck, you want him.

Seeing him like this gets you all sorts of fucked up - but he deserves it.

He watches you cautiously as you walk a little closer.

You crouch between his legs this time, instead of getting down on your knees. Replace his hand with yours. Have missed how it feels to have him in your grip.

Eyes on his, you watch as his chest begins to beat a little fast. His lips are ajar. Eyes forlorn, he's desperate . His cock twitches in your hand, so you tighten your fingers. A hushed moan lets you know he likes this. Likes every fucking thing about it.

Licking your lips, you position yourself a little better. Glance down. Think it's a miracle you haven't given him head yet. Have never wanted to choke on a cock more - cause what are friends for, if not that?

"I'm not mean," you whisper. You drag your wet tongue across the tiny slit that is fucking oozing for you. It takes everything in you not to give into what you want. "I'm so nice to you, Koo."

You've got a point to prove, though. Ease your grip. Stand. Replace the now empty space in your hand with his chin between your thumb and index finger, grasping onto it as you tilt him upwards.

You hold your tongue out, encouraging him to do the same - and without even a second fucking thought, he does it.

Eyes wide, Jeongguk wants this. Want you. Wants your tongue on his.

And what Jeongguk wants?

Well, eventually , he always gets it.

Your tongue swipes against his; traces of his own precum sinking onto his tongue, masking the taste of you.

He wants more.

Wants you to do it again. Wants to taste you. Wants you to sit on his lap, tongue in his mouth. Wants to be too fucking busy with his lips to remember how to breathe.

And, like always, he will get it - just not now.

Eventually, yes.

Immediately, no.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me one day, B," he whines as you walk away from him again.

"Good," you smile, talking at full volume now. Playtime is over.

You do, however, take off your shirt, and let him watch. All he can see is your back, but even that drives him insane. He can't remember the last time he was this worked up without any indication of a release. He's been horny all fucking day.

Pulling a fresh shirt over your head, you're a little sad to see he's tucked himself away when you turn around again.

"Go get ready," you say fondly. "We don't have long."

Jeongguk is pouting. A crease between his brows, he looks hard done by.

" So mean."

His stroppy demeanour makes you laugh. It's so classically him. A Ggukism, if you ever did see one.

"That's what you get for making me call you Daddy," you say quietly. Find it funny how much of a baby he's being - and consider that maybe he's the one that is better suited to the nickname.

He whines again. Louder this time. You glance to the door. Make sure you're still without disturbance.

You want to call him baby.

Just because it works, and it's funny, and - fuck it - maybe it'd be nice.

But it would also be a step too far, you think.

"Shush," you say affectionately, not accenting your command with 'baby' like you really want to. Instead, you walk over to him and cover his mouth with your palm. "What if someone hears you whining, huh? I don't wanna have to tell your mum you've just been tasting your own cum in your brother's bedroom, do you?"

"You're so fucked up," he wails, feeling incredibly hard done by. He needs to learn how to resist you. Never wants to have to endure this again.

"We're so fucked up," you correct. "I wouldn't be so mean to anyone else - but you deserved it."

He can't even argue against it. He knows that this is a product of his own creation.

"Go, get yourself sorted out," you encourage him along. "We don't have long."

He nods. Sighs. Gets to his feet, and does his trousers back up. Is convinced he'll die before your trip to Busan finishes if this is the game you're playing.

Leaving you to get ready (and to let his raging boner die, even if he won't) Jeongguk returns within 15 minutes. He's nonchalant, as if what happened the last time he was in the room was simply a fragment of your own imagination.

You're sitting by the floor-length mirror (which is, of course, adorned in Lotte Giants memorabilia), doing your makeup. Hair claw-clipped now, Jeongguk is a little sad to see your space buns go, but understands why. You seem to be a little more demure than usual.

He nudges his knee against your back, gentle in how he touches you, your body swaying ever so slightly.

"Don't," you smile, pulling the liquid glitter away from your face. "I'll get it in my eye."

There's an innuendo to be made there, but Jeongguk knows better. Just smirks. Plonks himself down next to you; cross-legged, knees up, arms hugging around them. He looks like a condensed version of himself like this, sitting as close to you as he possibly can just so he can see himself in the mirror.

"Little disco ball," he says fondly, watching you dab the glitter onto the inner corners of your eyes. It's not something he often calls you these days, but there's something about hearing the name now that makes you smile.

"Strange, isn't it?" You muse. "This time last year I was just disco-ballin' in your club. Didn't even know your name."

He nods. Smiles. "And now you're in my brother's bedroom turning yourself into a disco ball."

"Funny little lives, we live," you muse fondly. How far you've both come. If it wasn't for the glitter, you don't think you'd recognise yourself.

"Would you have ever predicted it?" he asks. Knows he was intrigued by you from the very moment he first saw you. Has no idea what you thought of him. Wonders if you had 'what if' thoughts about him. Who he was. Who he could be. What you could become. "That you'd end up here?"

"Honestly? Sorta wanted to curl up and die after you found me in your living room."

The memories are a little hazy, but you still remember the look on Jeongguk's sleepy face in the early morning sun that was intruding on his living room at the time.

Jeongguk nods. Smiles. Remembers it far better than you do. "Yeah, wasn't your finest hour."

You turn to look at him, chin resting on your shoulder. There's a glow about you now that Jeongguk can't seem to get enough of. Wants to drink you in like purple starfuckers at 2am in the heat of full-capacity Dionysus nights.

"I mean, I don't know," you say with a small shrug. "How often do you become friends with your punters?"

"Not often," he admits. "How often do you become friends with your bartenders?"

You're coy as you smile. "Not often."

Not ever, actually.

Yeonjun doesn't count - you've never spent any time with him sober, even if you do always enjoy seeing him behind the bar. Even then, it doesn't compare to the way you seem to light up whenever Jeongguk is serving your drinks.

Jeongguk's the first. The only.

Taking the liquid glitter from your hands, Jeongguk scoots a little closer. Gets more product on the wand, and sets the tube down beside him. Pinches your chin between his index finger and thumb.

There's no opposition from you; just a silent acceptance of Jeongguk dictating your movements. Lips parting as he draws a little closer, there's apprehension to the way your eyes flicker between his own pair and his lips.

Jeongguk is pleased, but tries not to let it show. Fights his smile. Battles the inner voices telling him that kissing you would be a good idea.

Breath hitched as his dark eyes survey your face, you're regretful of the way your body responds to him. Friendship tainted by desire; a natural by-product of fucking someone you really care about, you think.

It's no secret that you adore each other, but doesn't everyone feel so fondly about their best friends?

He's slow as he dabs the end of the wand against your cheek, following around the curve of your eye socket. Jeongguk always thinks you look so pretty when you highlight yourself with glitter there. It catches the light so easily that he always notices it. Might have even been the first glitter of yours that he notices in the dreary lights of Dionysus, the hedonistic haze of neon lights and dark shadows creating the disco ball effect he likes so much.

"There," he says quietly as he finishes evening it out. "Pretty little star."

"Careful," you say back just as quietly. "You'll give me an ego."

"Just returning the favour," he jokes, screwing the wand back into the tube, his hands working quickly. "The Daddy thing really did a number on my ego this morning."

Rolling your sparkly eyes, you gently push him away.

"Fuck off, Jeon," you playfully reprimand him for mentioning it again, getting to your feet. Smoothing out your clothes as you check yourself over in the mirror, you're pleased to see that Jeongguk has applied your glitter just the way you like it. Dabbing it out slightly, your heart swells a little with how attentive he is.

Still sitting exactly where he was, Jeongguk strokes up the inside of your leg. It's all very innocent. Just touching you 'cause he likes the comfort that comes with it. You're in sheer tights, there's a softness to them that Jeongguk likes. He tries to forget the garter belt you were holding earlier. Doesn't think you'd wear it out for dinner with his parents.

He's right.

No matter how hot it might be working him up in public, you're not about to go and do it in front of his parents . You have some morals at least, even if Jeongguk does make you momentarily forget about them from time to time.

Reaching down, you scratch his hair a little, just behind his ear. Eyes closed, he leans into your touch like a little puppy dog. So docile and devoted. Cute.

"C'mon," you encourage him, but remain fixed in position. Head versus heart. Wanna stay right where you are in the cocoon of Jeongguk's family home with him, but know you have places to be. "Shouldn't keep your mum waiting."

He nods, head resting against your leg. Sighs. "Yeah. You're right. Let's go."

You offer him a hand up, of which he gladly takes. Checks himself over in the mirror. Is still wearing the outfit he drove in. Considered changing, but he's aware of the way the girls at the service station were ogling him earlier. Knows the outfit probably has something to do with it.

He doesn't mention the change of your outfit; the fact that you're wearing a white shirt too, now. It's tucked into a little black skirt, he's certain you're probably gonna wear those slightly worn out Converse of yours - and he intends on doing the exact same.

"C'mon, kids!" Jeongguk's mum calls up the corridor, echoing your thoughts about needing to leave.

It's nice, you think, to be grouped with Jeongguk in such a way. Makes you feel like this is the way it's always been. Doesn't matter if you're in your twenties, and Jeongguk's mum met you an hour ago. There's an acceptance of you; of your place in her son's life.

He glances over at you, scrunching his nose a little. Is a little awkward. Likes the idea of you being part of his life since childhood. Is sad it'll never be the case.

"You heard her. Let's go."

Ushering you back down the hallway, a hand on top of your shoulder, thumb rubbing the nape of your neck, there's a casual intimacy to the way Jeongguk always finds an excuse to touch you.

It's not scary, nor daunting in the way that you always deem intimacy to be, but it is something . Gets you feeling a little flustered. Has you wriggling out of his grip with a laugh, as if he was tickling you.

"Stop annoying the poor girl," his mother scolds fondly as you come into her line of vision, which just simply earns another protest from Jeongguk.

"She's the annoying one."

You scoff. "That's rich coming from you."

It's all in good humour, and his mother appreciates this. Likes seeing Jeongguk goof around, especially knowing how stressed he's been lately. Has barely called. Missed his father's birthday to study.

All she wants is for her children to live happy, fulfilled lives, and if there's one thing to be noted about Jeongguk's current demeanour, it's that he's undoubtedly happy.

Whether or not that has anything to do with you, she doesn't know - but she wasn't born yesterday. His desire to visit home is understandable after the pressure of his studies. He needs rest - and somehow, he factors you into that rest.

Of her two children, Jeongguk's always been the more introverted one. He needs his time to recharge. Would be the life and soul of the party at school, then come home and remain silent until dinner time.

For a few years, it bothered her. Thought that maybe Jeongguk was unhappy at home - but it was quite the opposite. It's his safe space.

And now he's bringing you into it.

"Is the room okay?" she asks you, knowing that the sheer amount of baseball memorabilia in Jeongmin's room is... a lot to take in. "Interior decoration was always more of Jeongguk's speciality. Had Jimin to give him pointers. Jeongmin... Well, he had an acquired taste... As you've probably already gathered."

Laughing a little, you nod. "It's grand. Thank you for letting me stay. I really appreciate it - and I grew up with a Lions-loving Dad. I'm used to it."

"Ohh," his mother winces, then addresses Jeongguk. "Keep this one away from Jeongmin."

You also turn behind you now, raising a brow. He's just rolling his eyes, a soft smile on his lips.

"Samsung Lions - and their fans - are the scum of the earth in Jeongmin's eyes," he explains, then looks over to his mum. "Is he coming to dinner? Do we need to sit them at opposite ends of the table?"

Shaking her head, she laughs. "No, he's got plans, apparently. I did tell him you were visiting, but you know what he's like."

Jeongguk just sort of accepts this answer. Nods. Shrugs his shoulders, as if it's to be expected. An air of disappointment clouds around Jeongguk, lips pursed, eyes stern.

He and his brother are cut from the same cloth, but have been sewn together with different stitches. For all their similarities, they have stark differences, too. This one has always been the most challenging for Jeongguk; how little his brother seems to care about maintaining a good relationship.

Jeongmin seems to think their status as brothers is enough to keep the bond strong. Doesn't seem to care about fostering an actual friendship with him.

It's part of the reason why Jeongguk is so reluctant to let go of friendships that no longer serve him. They're filling a void. He never wants to be the one who gives up. Doesn't wanna be the reason things fall apart.

"Alright," Jeongguk's mother smiles at you both. "Ready to go?"

It surprises you that she's the one driving to dinner instead of Jeongguk - but it makes sense, given the fact you and Jeongguk will stay in the area afterwards.

She insists that you sit up front, even if all forms of hierarchy would dictate that Jeongguk should be there instead. He doesn't complain. Sort of likes how you and his mum are ganging up on him like a little team.

When you arrive at the samgyeopsal place, his father is already waiting.

He's everything you expect him to be: funny, a little dramatic, and the spitting image of Jeongguk, just with a few more grey hairs and even deeper creases beneath his eyes. Introduces himself with as much gusto as a cartoon character; full of life and pleased to have another person to relay all of Minhyuk's misdemeanours to.

You learn more about the Busan Driving Range circuit than you ever could have predicted - specifically about Minhyuk, the legitimacy of his 'bargain' driver, and how Jeongguk's father is convinced he's been tampering with his balls.

Jeongguk chokes on his drink when his dad mentions that last point. Earns himself a talking to for thinking with such a dirty mind - but after a few drinks, his parents are giggling about it, too.

There's something incredibly easy about being around Jeongguk's parents. It's no wonder he's grown into the person he is.

You feel a little shy. Don't understand the in-jokes at first - but someone always explains them to you. Normally Jeongguk, but sometimes his mother. Never his father, 'cause he'll go on a twenty minute long tangent explaining the lore and the back story. They've learnt this the hard way.

Still, he's a dab hand when it comes to grilling the meat. Takes charge of it all. Plates his wife up first, always. You second, Jeongguk third, and then himself. Head of the house, he takes his place in the hierarchy seriously, but not at the expense of the ones he loves. Will make sure they're provided for first.

Jeongguk is much the same. In charge of refilling the soju and beer, he'll pour for his father first, then mother, then you. Puts the bottle down before he fills his own, which is when you step up and fill his glass. He'll nudge with you his knee beneath the table to make you wobble, but never enough to make you spill it.

Subscribing to drinking norms is something that you never really do with Jeongguk. He's a bartender, after all. Things are always a little unconventional. He's normally the one making you drinks and sorting himself out, too.

Something about this feels incredibly domesticated. Natural. Pleasant.

By the time dinner is done, Jeongguk's parents have to order a taxi. Had a little too much to drink- but you're bloody glad for it. Made it a lot easier for you.

"Your parents are fun," you beam, walking down the promenade of Gwangalli with Jeongguk. It's your favourite of all the busy beaches in the city, but you rarely ever get the chance to see it after dark. There'll be a drone show, soon. You've definitely never seen that. Can't wait for it.

"They sure are something," he laughs, a little embarrassed. They have big personalities, which he's glad of, but he knows they can be a bit much sometimes. "Dad drinks well, so we probably had a bit more than we should have done. Sorry."

Shaking your head, you don't mind in the slightest. Are at that giddy stage of drinking, where everything seems marvellous, and bad decisions cosplay as good choices.

"Are you forgetting how we met? I don't mind having one too many, Gguk."

"True," he agrees, checking the time on his phone. Still a good half an hour before the small show. It's just a free thing that the city council puts on every night, not a huge deal to him anymore, but he understands why people romanticise it. Knows that you have to see it.

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk checks the road before he crosses, dragging you along with him.

"Hm?" You squeak, taken by surprise. A little tipsy, your reflexes aren't as fast as usual, just like tipsy Jeongguk isn't as good at voicing his thought processes as sober Jeongguk usually is.

"Photos," he simply states, leading you into a small retail unit that houses only photo booths.

It's the standard set-up: wall partitions between self-timer camera units, and curtains instead of doors to the small spaces. Each booth has a different colour background, adding to their own individual charms. The walls of the entryway are lined in discarded pictures; friendship groups, couples, first dates, anniversaries, birthdays. Life events, big and small. Moments of time captured to last forever.

Accessories and props are abundant in the entry area - hats, glasses, wigs, signs. Your favourites are always the headbands. Kitty ears, normally, though sometimes you branch out into bunny ears if you're feeling fancy.

There are five booths in total along the back wall, but one in particular grabs your attention: the one advertising Sanrio-themed frames instead of the standard solid colour outline.

"Oh my god," you gasp, and then it's Jeongguk's turn to squeak with confusion. You point to it. Specifically, to the My Melody and Kuromi figures by the bottom of the ad. "It's us."

He smiles. Doesn't really understand your hyper fixation. Agrees nonetheless. "It is us."

The pair of you goof around, picking props. Jeongguk learns that you find him in any sort of animal ears absolutely hilarious, but the second he puts on a yacht captain's hat?

"Take that off right this second," you tell him, voice stern, eyes wide.

He's bemused. Snorts a little. Teeth on show, he's dangerously pretty. So handsome and yet such a little shit. "Why? Like it?"

You turn your nose up. "Hate it."

"I know you're lying," he laughs. Tilts it down. "Is this getting you all hot, B?"

"I'm leaving," you say, because it's so much easier than saying yes.

Something about him in a white shirt, with that hat? White with a navy peak, gold embroidery on the sides? God, you see why the old money girlies like boatmen so much. Decide that you're never getting on a boat with Jeongguk if you want to retain your sanity.

He takes it off. You don't even realise it, but you pout.

"You're so confusing, Byeol," he says as he playfully puts it on your head - and then he's feeling all fucked up too.

Something about a captain's hat. Just really does the trick.

You've both had too much to drink. There's no reason for you both to be getting flustered because of a stupid hat and yet -

"I don't think we should ever touch hats again," Jeongguk says very quickly.

But then you put a pair of kitty ears on and he starts questioning whether or not furries are actually kinda onto something.

He furrows his brows. Picks up a pair of ears. Bunny ones. Black. They're satin and a little too sexy, he thinks, but he's gotta see himself in them.

And when he does?

He kinda gets why girls dress up like cute animals for fancy dress parties. Doesn't wanna blow his own trumpet - but shit. He does look cute.

"Oh my god, YES," you exclaim when you clock his new attire, and quite literally drag him to the booth. He gets no say in the matter, and honestly doesn't care. Is having too much fun with you to take any of this seriously.

You pick the Sanrio framed booth, because of course you do. Jeongguk pops his card in the slot, and lets you click through on the options that you want - 4cut, vertical frame. The classic style. Your favourite.

Turning to Jeongguk, you tweak his glasses a little. Can't decide if they look better hiked up, or further down his perfectly sloped nose.

All Jeongguk can think about is your nose, and much he wants to nudge his up against yours.

And so he does just that.

Doesn't give a fuck.

The camera flashes.

You're caught, forevermore, in your state of Jeongguk-induced hypnosis. The pictures will survive beyond you. Will be stored in boxes to be looked at once, maybe twice by future generations.

One day, no one will know the name of you nor the boy you're with. They won't know how the scent of his aftershave lingers, nor the way your soft exhale of air sounds as you smile. Your present will be lost to history, this photograph? Your legacy.

Nothing will be known of you, and yet this picture alone will tell them everything they need to know.

"We're gonna waste shots," you whisper. The booth takes six photos, but you'll only be allowed to choose four for the printed picture at the end.

The more to choose from, the better.

"So?" Jeongguk smirks. Holds your neck just beneath your jaw. Strokes across your cheek with his thumb. Looks at you with sparkly eyes and a boyish smile that is just begging to be kissed. "Don't you wanna see what it looks like when we kiss?"

"It's intimate," you remind him.

"Maybe - but it's also fun," he reminds you.

The camera flashes again. That's two shots wasted, now.

If you let this carry on, it'll be three, and then one of them will have to be used in the final print.

And yet as Jeongguk nudges against your nose a little deeper, you let him.

When his lips ghost yours, you let him.

When his lips press down, you let him.

You'll let the third photo be taken, because you'll be too busy kissing him back to pay attention.

The fourth, too.

Lips on yours, Jeongguk kisses you in a way that he hasn't done before. It's delicate, and gentle, but his lips are strong. Intentional. There's no intrusion of tongue, no fervent need to get you moaning, even though it feels like you will regardless.

Your brain screams at you. Something about rules, and breaking them.

You ignore it.

'Cause all you can think about is the way this feels.

You don't think you've ever had a kiss like it.

And it's terrifying.

It's not until the fifth shot flashes that you both pull away; smiles smitten, eyes glossy. Both of you felt that. Ain't no way he couldn't have.

You think that maybe that's even more terrifying.

And so for the sixth shot?

Both of you pretend to throw up, disgust plaguing your giggly smiles and blushed cheeks.

There's distance between you, but as soon as the camera flashes, Jeongguk is pulling you back to his side again. It's just so that you're both ready to look through the pictures that are about to pop up on the little touchscreen. He's being helpful. Glances down at you, and has to stop himself from pressing a kiss into your hair.

Things are just so easy with you.

As soon as the pictures load, you're laughing. "We have to retake these."

"No, no, no," he swats your hand away, then taps on one of the photos, adding it to the preview frame. "My jaw looks really good in this one."

It's shot number four. Mid kiss. His hands on your cheeks, yours out of frame because they were on his waist. His jaw really does look fantastic - but it's sort of devastating when you realise just how happy he looks. He's smiling into the kiss. The most devastating thing of all?

So are you.

"How is that even us," you giggle. Seems so bizarre to see yourself like this.

"Gross isn't it," he smiles, adding more of the pictures to the frame, but you're the one correcting him now, tapping his hand to move him out of your way.

"We need them in order," you say. "A chain of events."

Eventually, the order is settled: the nudging of noses, the innocence of a kiss with the sin of Jeongguk's sharp jaw, the slightly startled look in both of your eyes as you'd pulled away, and then, of course, both of you pretending to vomit.

As they print, you pick out props for the next set of photos - Jeongguk in a pair of purple heart-shaped glasses and a Kuromi headband, you in that damn sailor's hat - and discuss which poses to actually do. This time round, it's all peace signs and finger hearts; goofy angles too close to the camera and a little laughter to set the tone.

"C'mon," Jeongguk says softly as you finish sliding the pictures into the thin plastic sleeves next to the booths. He normally doesn't bother with them. Likes that you seem to care about preserving the integrity of your memories. Hand outstretched, he encourages you to take it.

"Your bird," he says. "Said we'd do it in Busan."

The look you give him is coy, eyes a little sultry, lips a little pouty.

When you're silent, Jeongguk laughs. "Hold my hand, B."

"Getting a little date-like, don't you think?" You say of the night, but Jeongguk just shrugs.

"So? We'll just call it practise."

"Mhhm," he nods, shaking his hand a little because you still haven't held it. He's impatient. It's only as you take his hand that he begins talking again. "You don't wanna go back into the dating world unprepared. What if Mr Mechanical Engineer tries to hold your hand without you being ready for it?" He squeezes your hand, leading you out the door. "Let's get you used to it."

The mention of Seojoon makes you feel guilty. About him? About Jeongguk? You're not sure. It's something you need to figure out. Something you need to figure out fast .

And yet as Jeongguk holds both yours and his shoes in one hand, your hand firmly secured in the other, you choose not to think about it.

Just think of the sand, and how it will be a bitch to get out of your tights. It's sort of like your glitter, in a way.

But just like Jeongguk wouldn't trade your glitter for anything, you wouldn't trade this moment for anything either.

Neither of you say much. Just listen to the waves rolling in. Listen to other people's conversations. Listen to the whir of the drones as they start up and get into position. The show begins. Won't last longer than ten minutes. The silence is comfortable.

He holds your hand, and you move them to your lap in a bid to keep them warm.

Jeongguk isn't really feeling the cold. His heart is simply burning too brightly.

"I'm really glad you're here," he says as the show draws to a close.

"Me too," you whisper back fondly. "It must be nice to be home."

"Well, you know they say," he muses. "Home is where the heart is, and all that."

Been at home for months, B.

You breathe through your nose, exhaling a sincere smile. Could say a million things. Could say nothing at all. Could ask what he means, but you're taking it at face value. Genuinely think he's just happy to be home.

"We should visit more often," you suggest.

"I'd like that," he nods as he squeezes your hand. "You wanna go explore the night markets?"

Grinning, you get to your feet immediately. "Thought you'd never ask."

Jeongguk leads the way. Shows you his old haunts. Gets you hotteok from his favourite stand down by the promenade. Shows you the arcade machine he once spunked away 50,000 won on and didn't even win a prize. Shows you the initials he and Jimin caved into a pavement curb fourteen years ago. Took them hours. Both got blisters. Worth it though. They're embedded in the city, forevermore.

He takes you down memory lane, and you find it's your favourite street to visit with Jeongguk. You love his history; learning what shaped him. Who shaped him. Where.

Not once does Jeongguk let go of your hand.

Not down the markets, not along the beach, not in the taxi home, even when he doses off for a moment, head resting on your shoulder.

Not once. Not until you're both home, and he's saying goodnight outside of his brother's bedroom door. He's still toying with your fingers. Isn't even gonna suggest the idea of doing things you know you shouldn't.

Doesn't wanna taint the night.

In the morning, he'll blame all of his bad decisions on the alcohol. Will say he was tipsy, even though you stopped drinking hours ago.

He hugs you goodnight. Lingers a little too long. Too close. Nudges his nose against yours. Brushes his thumb against your cheek.

"This..." he whispers. "This is what it should be like."

His jaw tenses. He holds himself back from pressing his lips against yours like he so desperately wants to. Knows he's already said too much. Pulls himself away from you, to press a kiss against your forehead.

His lip ring is so hard, and his lips so soft, that it makes you feel all sorts of fucked up.

The most fucked up thing of all?

How badly you want his lips on yours.

But then he fucking walks away .

Closes his door. Shuts you out.

The evening had been so simple. So straightforward. Casual. Nothing confusing in the slightest. You were happy. So was he.

And yet as you lie in bed, all that rattles around in your head for hours on end is the question: what the fuck is happening to us?

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

#bd #bad decisions

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mattybstqrn · 7 months ago

Text

ᴾᵀ.¹ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 - 𝐙𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞

youtube

Female Reader x Zach Justice

warnings: cursing, sexual jokes made by Zach ofc, kissing, making out, hickies.

requested!

❝𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬.❞

Y/n Y/l/n is just a normal girl who so happens to be best friends with the Tara Yummy, a friend who became a famous YouTuber, they had been friends since they were in the eighth grade.

They had met when Y/n moved to where Tara lived (idk where that is) and went to the same middle school and high school.

The two had met through a friend and became the best of friends.

They still talk to this day.

Tara then decided to invite her best friend onto the podcast she was on, dropouts, with her co-hosts Zach Justice and Jared Bailey.

Zach had been looking for a new guest to have on the podcast and thought it'd be a good idea to invite her best friend.

Y/n immediately agreed and prepared herself by watching the podcast and paying attention to Tara's costars.

From what she had watched Zach seemed like a sarcastic asshole and Jared seemed like a sweetheart and Tara just seemed like Tara.

Y/n and Tara were very similar. They said and did similar things.

They both loved to party, drink, and talk, they both were in love with Sugar.

Y/n patiently waited for the days to pass till she could meet these guys and see her best friend.

After a few days passed she had finally reunited with her best friend after a few months.

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

The next day you woke up bright and early to get ready for your day. You took a shower, brushed your teeth, washed your hair, styled your hair, made some breakfast, and then waited for Tara.

She had decided to come pick you up from your house so you could spend some time together before you meet her friends.

You waited in your kitchen until you heard the doorbell room causing you to shoot up and out of your seat.

Running to the front door revealing Tara and Sugar.

"Hii!" you shriek in excitement to see the both of them, "Oh my god, hi! it's been forever!" Tara exclaims, placing Sugar down on the floor.

Tara pulls you into a tight hug, you immediately hug back squeezing her.

"I missed you so much!" Tara says with a huge grin.

"I missed you too, we need to hang more," as a smile makes its way onto your face.

"Yeah, we do," she nods, "But we have to go before we're late and Zach yells at us," she adds with a tight-lipped smile causing you to laugh.

"Let's go," you state grabbing your phone and purse before walking out the door with Sugar and Tara following after you.

You quickly look the door before you and Tara run over to her car and take off to Zach and Jared's house.

"So, how've you been?" you ask as Sugar sits on your lap causing you to pet his head, "I've good, a little busy, but now that I'm not we can hang out." she tells you.

"Actually, there's a party that I got invited to, you should come with me, it'll be like old times," she adds.

"I don't know..." you trail off.

"C'mon it'll be fun," she begs with a smile.

"Okay fine, how could I say no to a party?" you question, "What time is it?"

"9 o'clock" she responds.

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

After quite some time of driving to Zach and Jared's house and catching up with Tara. You guys finally arrived.

Tara rang the doorbell as you and Sugar walk around so he can use the bathroom.

Once he did, he slowly walked over to Tara with you trailing behind him with his leash in hand.

The door opens to reveal Zach Justice.

He was a lot taller than you excepted, way taller than Jake, Tara's ex-boyfriend, which you were not expecting, like at all.

Hotter in person too.

That was a teeny tinny detail that you didn't mention to Tara.

She had asked about your impression of the boys on camera, and you did not mention that to her, but you did tell her everything else.

"Hi, how are you?" you greet with a smile, looking up at his tall figure. "Pretty good," he nods, "How are you?" he asks, "Good," you nod in agreement, sensing an awkward tension.

"I-I'm Y/n," you breath out trying not to stutter. "Zach," he says sticking his hand out, "Yeah.. I know, I-I mean I watch the podcast and Tara's told me a lot about you," you correct yourself.

"Y/n's more of a hugger." Tara reminds him, "Right," he nods opening his arms for a hug.

You lean closer into him and pull him into a short hug, you could smell the cologne linger on is shirt.

You wondered if he put it on for you? you were probably looking into too much, but your teeny crush on him had grown and you were kind of hoping that was the case.

You two pull away, letting your eyes linger on each other's before he invites you in with a small smile.

You walk in with the two plus Sugar following close behind.

As Zach and Tara greet each other with a hug you glance around his huge house. It's pretty big, as you look around you see Jared.

The one you've heard so much about. "Hi," he greets with his signature smile, "Hi, Y/n," you say returning the smile, "It's nice to meet you," he tells you reaching for a hug.

"It's nice to meet you too," you smile into the hug. "Let me give you tour, yeah?" Jared offers, "Yeah sure," you nod with a smile.

Jared then starts giving you a tour, as you follow him around with Sugar. "And this is my room," he stops, you nod as you look around, "Very nice," you tell him.

Smiling at him, "Alyssa should be here any minute," you nod, following him downstairs to see Tara and Zach standing in the kitchen, just talking.

"Just so you know, Zach's jokes are gonna be..." Jared trails off stopping on the last step, "So I've heard," you tell him, remembering everything Tara warned you about.

"Just wanna say I'm sorry on his behalf in advance," he smiles, "It's okay, honestly, I not the type to take something small to heart," you tell him before walking into the kitchen.

Just as Jared told you to sit down the doorbell rang, Jared walks over to the front door opening it to reveal Alyssa.

Alyssa walks into the kitchen waving to everyone but mainly greeting you with a hug and a smile that you return.

You two start a small conversation, everyone was just talking have a good time until Zach announces, "Great, now we can start,"

Tara rolls her eyes walking into podcast room, "Y/n you sit in Tara's seat today," says Zach as he walks in.

You sit down in Tara's seat as everyone else sits in their original seats, minus Tara who sits beside you.

"Zach you might wanna help Y/n," Jared points out.

"Oh right," Zach replies standing up, walking about two steps over to you to help you with your headphones making sure they're good.

"Is that good?" he asks holding onto the headphones just in case you need any more help, you glance up at him and nod, "Yeah," staring deep into his eyes.

You awkwardly clear your throat once he pulls away taking his seat.

The cameras then start rolling and Zach starts talking, "What's up guys? welcome to episode ### of dropouts. This week we have Tara Yummy's childhood best friend, Y/n."

"Hi," you awkwardly say not knowing what to say. Zach then introduces the Patreon telling everyone to go subscribe.

"Little Alyssa you better play the intro music or I'm gonna snap your neck," Zach threatens Alyssa causing your eyes to widen.

Tara hums along to the intro music as you awkwardly bop your head, smiling at Tara as she dances.

"So, Y/n how long have you known Tara?" Zach asks getting straight to the point, "Since the eighth grade," you answer.

"Now why did you become friends?" he asks squinting his eyes, "Honestly just because of her personality," you tell him with a shrug.

"How did you become friends?" he questions, "Well, we had a mutual friend," going to continue but Tara buts in, "Who we are no longer friends with," Tara points out.

"May I ask why?"

"She was fake," you answer as Tara nods in agreement, "Luckily we met before we found that out," you add.

"But we basically met through her, and we really hit it off, we became really close and then when we later found out that this friend was fake, we continued to be friends,"

"Yeah, and now we're best friends," Tara smiles, "Yup." you smile back looking at her with adoration.

Zach then asked about this friend, you let Tara explain watched as she talked.

"The way that Y/n looks at Tara is like an old married couple just admiring her wife," Zach cuts in, "Y/n looks at everyone like that," Tara shrugs.

"Like what?" you question not knowing what they were talking about, "We talked about this before," Tara tells you.

"The way you look at... anyone, really, is just like so adorable, your eyes are just filled with like, love, you just have those eyes," Tara explains.

"I see it," Jared nods.

"Yeah, like whenever you're really focused on someone talking, you just look like you're in love," Tara explains.

"I love my friends," you shrug, "I know and that's why you have that look on your face right now," Tara smiles.

"You're telling me she looks at everyone like that?" Jared questions, "I guess so," you shrug.

"Well, no, it depends, she looks at most people like that but if she really, really likes you, like if she has a crush on you, she's gonna look at you like she's in love, but if you're just a friend or best friend, like me, she'll look at you like that,"

Jared nods and Zach speaks up, "Should we bring in a celebrity crush?"

"Uh, no." you immediately shake your head with a stern tone causing Tara to laugh, having an idea on who it is.

"Who is your celebrity crush?" Tara questions, "I'll tell you later," you tell her in a whisper as Tara lets out a laugh.

The podcast continues with questions, sexual jokes, and Zach just being Zach.

╰•★★ ------------------ ★★•╯

The podcast was going really good, Zach made a few sexual jokes, leaving you shocked, but you didn't mind them, you honestly thought they were hilarious.

So, you tried your best to respond and see if you could push Zach and piss him off or shock him.

"It's hot in here," Tara complains, fanning herself with her hand, before adding, "The sexual tension in here is really making me sweat,"

You send her a look already knowing what she's talking about.

Zach had been either very good at joking or he was definitely sending you signals, he was smirking, winking, making those jokes.

It made you a little delusional and think he was seriously flirting with you, but that was just his persona, so you knew it might've just meant nothing.

"Yeah, we should probably turn on the AC," Jared nods causing you to roll your eyes.

You turn back to Zach to try and see what he's thinking. You're very good at reading people and you figured you'd be able to read him, but he just flat out said it.

"I mean if you see sexual tension, maybe we could y'know," Zach says jerking his head in your direction, causing your eyes to widen in shock as he winks.

"Wow," you breath out, freezing at his words.

"You broke the poor girl," Jared tells Zach.

"I'm just suggesting," Zach shrugs, "Y/n!" Tara shouts getting your attention.

"Mhm?" you hum, "You okay?" Zach asks, "Yeah," you nod.

"Just..." you trail off trying to find the right words, "Disgusted?" "Annoyed?" Tara and Jared ask.

"Flabbergasted," you correct.

"Most people are," Zach nonchalantly shrugs.

"I see that..."

"You wanna see something else?" Zach questions glancing down at his pants, causing your eyes to once again widen.

"Should we leave?" Tara asks, "Yeah, that would be great." Zach deadpans, "Um, so yeah, anyways, Y/n?"

"Yes, Zach?"

"How you liking the pod so far?" Jared questions, "Um... it's good," you hesitantly reply, glancing at Zach.

"Got something else that's better," Zach butts in with a small smirk. "Zach!" Tara exclaims in disgust.

"C'mon man. She's never gonna want to come back," Jared tells Zach with a stern tone. "She'll be coming alright," Zach nods.

"Holy fuck man!" Jared shouts. "You're fucking disgusting," Tara mutters into the mic, holding it close.

"I know," Zach nods, taking a sip of his water.

"Y/nnnn" Zach sings into his mic, "Yes Zach?" you question completely out of it, as you think back to Zach's comments.

Visions of Zach hands wrapped around you run throughout your mind.

His hands lips travel down your neck, making you let out breathily moans of pain and pleasure.

He looks deep into your eyes before pulling you into a kiss.

You kiss back, breathing heavily as his hands travel from your waist down to your ass, squeezing it hard, causing you to gasp.

He kisses down your neck and all the way down to your stomach causing you to squirm under him as he slowly starts to take off your pants.

"You okay? breathing alright?" he questions, drawing you out of your thoughts.

You snap your head in his direction, realizing that your breathing was heavy. The thoughts in your head felt so real that you couldn't even breath.

"Need some CPR? I'd be more than happy to-" Zach adds getting interrupted by Tara, "No!" she shouts.

"I'm okay," you tell him.

But you did not mind getting CPR from Zach, it would fill part of the void that had appeared. You guys continued playing the game you were playing, smash or pass.

The podcast soon came to an end. You had gotten to know a little bit about Zach and Jared, and their sex life's and they got to know a whole lot about you and your sex life.

Your sex life wasn't like Tara's, you didn't hook up with numerous of guys, you just stood home. Waiting for the right guy, to find you.

Or for you to find them.

Y/n set the headphones onto the black pole thing, letting them rest before looking around the room. Tara ran off to the bathroom, leaving you and the guys plus Alyssa.

Alyssa excused herself as she got a phone call. Jared left you and Zach alone sensing that Zach wanted to talk?

"So..." you trail off.

"Did you like it? filming with us I mean." Zach questions.

"It was definitely... something.." you sigh with a shrug, "But I did like it," you add.

"Really?"

"Yeah, you're a funny guy," you compliment with a smile, "Thank you," he smirks, making you immediately regret complimenting him because you probably fueled his ego.

"Can I get you a drink or something?" he questions, "Sure," you nod, following him into the kitchen.

"What would you like?" Zach asks, "Uh, water's fine," you shrug and nod. Zach grabs you a water bottle from the fridge and hands it to you, letting his hand linger on yours.

You stare down at your hands, admiring them together, before awkwardly pulling away.

You clear your throat wanting to ask about the jokes he made, wondering if they were just jokes.

"Zach."

"Yeah?" he looks up.

"Did you mean anything by those jokes?" you ask.

Deep down when you walked through those doors and Zach first saw you, he thought you were the most gorgeous girl he had ever met, and he could not take his eyes off of you.

Zach made the jokes hoping you'd overthink and try to read between the lines, which you did.

He wanted to get to know you and you had already had a crush on him.

"Yeah I did." he nods with a small smile.

You look deep into his eyes trying to see if he's joking or lying, but you didn't see anything other than his smile, that melted your heart.

"And I want to get to know you,"

You let out a quiet sigh and nod, "I want that too,"

"So should be find out if you'll be coming back for more?" he smirks making your eyes widen in shock, but you decide to be bold and step forward.

You place both hands on the side of his face, dragging him down towards you. Your lips just centimeters away from each other's.

You draw him close and plant your lips on his. Zach reciprocates and moves his lips in sync with yours.

His hands move from his sides to squeezing your waist, to roughly squeezing your ass causing you to let out a soft moan.

Meanwhile your hands travel from his cheeks to his neck.

Zach hands cup underneath your ass, letting out a small grunt as he lifts you up with ease, you wrap your legs around his waist as you guys continue kissing.

He sits you down on the counter, fully making out with you.

"What about Tara or anyone else walking in?" you breath out, pulling away ever so slightly, "Shhh," he whispers, "Don't worry about that,"

Zach trails kisses down your neck until you hear a Tara yelling, causing you to jump back and almost hit your head on the counter.

"Y/n! we have to get going soon we have to get ready... for the party..." she stops as she walks in the kitchen to see you guys making out.

"Holy fuck." she mutters in shock and disgust before slapping a hand over her mouth.

"Tara it's not what it looks like," you assure her causing her to give you a 'seriously?' look causing you to add, "Okay it's exactly what it looks, just let me explain."

"We eat off of that counter!" she cries in disgust.

"Sorry?" you apologize with a questioning tone and expression.

"I'll leave you two to sucking each other's faces off," she awkwardly gestures with her hands, excusing herself before making her way out of the kitchen.

Zach shrugs and turns back to kiss you, but you pull away, shove him and hop off of the counter, "I'm sorry, Zach but I feel bad, I have to go explain and apologize,"

You try to walk out, you felt bad, you had just made out with your best friend's other best friend, and you knew Tara was very understandable, but you couldn't not apologize to her.

She's your best friend and you just kissed her best friend and now you feel like shit.

Zach stops you, spinning you towards him, "You can apologize later," he lifts you up, into his arms before throwing you over his shoulder.

"Zach!" you slap his back as he carries you up the stairs and to his room.

"Later," he tells you as he opens his room door.

He sets you down in his room before pulling you into another kiss. You kiss back, letting him take over which leads to him slamming your body onto the door.

You moan as his hands travel up your body, kissing his lips as he did. His lips trail down from yours and down to your neck, planting kiss everywhere.

"Zach," you moan as he sucks on your neck bringing a finger to your clit, teasing you causing your moans to become louder.

He smirks against your neck causing you to push him back in annoyance, "Stop teasing me," you groan, "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he brings you into a kiss.

Your hands travel up his chest, tugging on his shirt, he gets your meaning and rips it off. You smile staring down at his bare chest.

Rubbing your fingers over his chest before getting on your knees and teasing him through his pants. You kiss all over his chest, subtly placing your hand on his bulge.

He sucks in a breath at that causing you to smile to yourself. Zach realizes what you're doing and picks you up once again throwing you over his shoulder and slamming you onto his bed.

You look up at him with admiration and adoration, "Stop looking at me with those eyes," he says. You smile and bring him into a kiss.

Zach pulls away and lifts you up, you look at him, "Can I?" he asks, you playfully squint, "Yes," Zach helps you lift your shirt up and stares directly at your boobs.

You lean into him, giving him a passionate kiss as his hands move to your waist, he leans back letting you straddle his waist.

Kissing up his abs, stopping on his lips, you help him take his pants off, and he does the same. You throw your guys pants on the floor and start making love leaving everyone downstairs disgusted.

#tara yummy #zach justice #zach justice imagines #zach justice smut #zach justice x reader #jared bailey #dropouts podcast #Youtube

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