#one curious and the other ever-changing for eternity

[elians-terrarium]

the joy of fandoms you join as a child: you never really leave them

[sh1-n0bu]

i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

[boypied]

MY ETERNAL SUNSHINE.

pairings: tim laughlin (skippy) x top!male reader

summary: skippy wants to prove that he is your boy and yours only. so he decides that he will give you the greatest sex that you will ever know.

requested by: anonymous / me

word count: 1,863

warnings: smut, passionate love making, fingering, cum facial, dirty talk, choking, slight praising, ass spanking, oral sex (r!receiving), nipple play.

"The president is going to issue an EO... whatever that is." he says in an excitable tone as he takes off his blazer that compliments his figure so well. You sit down on the small but comfy chair opposite him as you watch him in his flustered, frustrated state as you wipe your face slightly. "Executive Order," you say to him as you watch how he throws his blazer to the full sized couch. You put your cigarette down and gently tap your thigh. "Come here," you say in your low ruffly tone, Tim obeys you as usual and sits down on your lap, but doesn't stop his informative rant. "...and they're worried that Eisenhowar is trying to undermind that project." Tim says in a full breath, stopping for a moment to catch it.

Tim leans closer against your body, wrapping one arm around your neck. Your hand immediately darts up and begins undoing his top button, "by taking the lead on an anti communist crusade?" Your voice raises slightly as you ask him this pressing question about his rant, "I think so." Tim mutters out as he turns to face you, completely letting you manhandle him like a doll on his lap. "Senator McCarthy wants to ignore it, but Roy thinks that they -" before he can finish you butt in after the mention of Roy. "Roy?!" You say, trying to hide your jealous tone as your hand slips into his unbuttoned shirt and caressing his body softly. "You on a first name basis?" You say in a soft but domineering tone.

You gently pinch his nipple causing his to sharply groan and smirk slightly as he playfully pushes your shoulder, "Mr Comb thinks it's the smarter move to expose those who are behind the order" he says in a more professional tone. "Which will force Heisenhowar to do the right thing!" Tim says as his professionalism slips away, "Any idea on what the Executive Order is about?" You say wanting to get more information out of him because you're a very noisy man. "No... I'm sorry," Tim says softly to you as you continue caressing his chest. "What are you going to do with this information? ... share it with Senator Smith?" He asks you with a curious look, coating his face.

"Only if I have to." You reply truthfully to him as your eyes travel up from his exposed chest to meet his soft eyes. "I try to protect the Senator from his own worse impulses," you say to him with an honest look on your face as your eyes meet with his as you face each other. You lean up and grip the back of Tim's head, getting closer to him and placing a big kiss against his forehead and pulling away, watching his slightly flustered face. You help him adjust his black framed glasses. "I have to get dressed," you say to him as you begin to shuffle up until Tim gently places his hand on your stomach, pushing you down showing that he doesn't want you to move.

Tim's hand presses against you with more support, pushing you down a bit more while staring at you, "I wanna go to the party" he confesses to you in a tone that says he will be going. "The Cromwells? ... don't get me wrong, he'd cling onto you like a jellyfish-" before you can even finish what you were going to say Tim cuts you off like you did to him not long before "then take me" he says while his tone has some underlying annoyance. I take a deep breath that turns into a sigh, "You're not even dressed for it and you don't have a date." You say honestly to him trying not to crush his wishes to hard, "I'll be with you!" Tim says his tone becoming more excited as his fingers gently play with your earlobe.

Your hand gently caresses his face, and your eyes change slightly into more caring, "this is the real world..skippy," you say to him, bursting his bubble. Skippy leans closer to you, closing the inches between your face, his breath hitting your face as he begins speaking, "I'm your boy.. right?" He asks you in a soft manner. Skippy begins to manoeuvre off your lap, hovering above you slightly as he slowly travels down your body onto his knees on the floor "well well well." You say in a seductive whisper as you watch him get down on his knees. "..and your boy wants to go to the party," Skippy adds in as his eyes never leave yours. "How much does he want to go?" You ask him as both your eyes stare into eachothers hungry orbs.

Skippy leans down, his face in between your legs as he pulls your cock out of the slit at the front of your pants, his eyes widen in shock. Skippy's seen your cock a handful of times before it's even been buried in his ass countless times but it always takes his breath away the moment he sees it for the first time after a while. He nibbles at his lip softly as his eyes dart up from your cock to meet with your perfect eyes looking down at him, he doesn't break the sexual eye fucking as he leans forward and takes your tip in his mouth, Skippy swirls his tongue around your pre-cum coated tip.

"That's a good boy." You groan out in a breathy moan as your hands grip the scruff of hair at the back of his head forcing the rest of your cock down his slick wet throat. He choked slightly, but it doesn't take long for him to get use to the feeling of your cock being buried where it belongs. The sensational feeling of pleasure runs through his body anytime you take control and your dominance drips off of you. Your hands grip either side of Skippy's head, a small smirk forming on his lips as you begin to slowly fuck his throat, bucking your hips up and down. He moans in pleasure, and his eyes ever so slightly flutter back as you begin to speed up.

After a while of Skippy choking, moaning and spluttering all over your cock you pull your cock away from his mouth, hearing him let out a deep breath and also a small "awh" noise as he misses the contact. Skippy gets up and strips off naked, revealing his hairy chest and hot toned body that you love all so much. You stand up and pull down your plaid boxers as your cock springs freely, you gently sway your cock side to side adding some comedy into this deep sexual tension moment. You softly bite your lip as Tim climbs against the chair, his arms going back to open up his juicy asscheeks revealing his soft bubble gum pink hole to you.

You bite your lip, and a huge smirk grows on your face. You have no choice but to dive straight in. You get in the same position he was in as he was sucking your cock, your tongue coming into contact with his hole that is pulsating and begging for attention. Your soft tongue pushes past his muscle ring and into his warm hole, your tongue dips in and out feeling the way his walls clench around your tongue wanting you more and more. You don't eat him out for to long as you can tell how desperate he his for your cock.

You pull away and watch how his small hole clenches around nothing and how it glistens against the light. You smirk as Skippy flips himself round, slouching down against the chair pulling his legs up giving you the perfect opportunity to slide your cock right in and you didn't want to waste that opportunity. You lean your knees either side of his body and down against the pillowy couch chair, you rub your glisteningly wet tip against his hole and slowly but surely pushing yourself inside him.

Skippy's mouth makes an 'O' shape as he takes the entirety of your cock and everything you have to give him. You lean down, your face now inches away from his as you feel his hot breath against your face. Both faces painted with blush as you slowly pull out just to immediately thrust back into his clenched tight hole. He holds his legs open for you, allowing you to freely destroy him. "Good boy!" You groan out in agonising pleasure as his asshole's grip on you is to die for, "I'm your boy, I'm your good boy!" Skippy whimpers out as with each thrust his rock hard cock bounces.

"Y/N!" I gasps out in pleasure as Skippy's hands grip onto your shoulders pulling you closer to him, both your naked bodies pressed against eachother as you thrust into him. You piston fuck him which he loves when you do it, the feeling of his walls closing around you as he nears his release as he jerks himself off faster and faster. You pull away slightly and you wrap your hand around his neck, tighten slightly. As you choke him in a loving manner his walls clench around you until with one final pump of his hand around his own cock he shoots his own load all over his hairy chest.

"DADDY!" Skippy moans out in an agonising amount of pleasure, causing his eyes to roll back and his body to shudder. You fuck him through his entire orgasm. You buck your hips into him a couple more times until you pull out, "I wanna shoot it on your face" you say as you're out of breath. You smirk as Skippy is down on his knees, his own cum dripping off his chest as he smirks up at you. You pump your cock quicker in your hand looking at his face, you begin to feel overstimulated causing you to shoot your load all over Skippy's face.

"F-FUCK!" You groan out in pleasure as you begin to shoot your thick ropes of cum all over his face, painting it white with your semen. You throw your head back as you pump the last shot of cum out onto his face, you drop down to your knees to come eye level with Skippy. Your eyes meet with his once again, as you both chuckle slightly and breath heavily. "My boy" You whisper to him as you wipe some of his cum from his chest and bring it up to your mouth tasting him.

You suck on your thumb, tasting every single essence of him you watch Skippy do the same with the facial you just gave him. "So party time now" Tim says excitedly as he stands up and practically runs off into the bedroom and then into the connected unsuite. You follow along after him not wanting to miss out on shower time together, "Skippy! Wait up!" You shout out to him as you chase after him. You both end up having a make out session in the shower before the party that Skippy was dying to go to with you.

taglist ~ @starboye @mailmango @ghostking4m @kingchaospostsstuff @crispysoup318 @inhumanshadows @its-ares @gayaristocrat @cronasluvr @irlsamcarpenter @lucerothings1 @gaefaeyae @dqrkhold

[hyorijie]

Valentine's Day Special

Dead End ♡ | Alastor x F!Reader

Warnings

Alastor takes over your soul, deceitful dealings, mockery and satire, blackmail, Alastor always tests your patience, possessiveness, blatant teasing, Nsfw, masturbation (reader receives), wild sex, P in V, overstimulation, manipulation. Summary Your mere presence upsets the natural order of Hell, but there is one demon in particular whose chemistry breaks down every time you are near. Your desire for redemption is a rarity he can't ignore. And when he discovers something that leaves you with no escape, the game changes completely. Now you're the one on the ropes.

You've spent weeks in this cursed place.

Hell is not as you imagined it. There are no eternal flames or demons with tridents, but there is constant chaos, a violence that hangs in the air like smoke from an endless fire.

Everything here is aggression, instinct and unbridled ambition. Most disturbing, however, is the certainty of the others: everyone is convinced that you don't belong here.

"You shouldn't be here."

You've heard it from so many mouths that it's no longer a surprise. You are not a murderer, not a perverse psychopath, not a soul doomed by rage or sadism. In life you were… normal. No violent history, no sins that scream eternal justice. And yet, here you are.

But if there's anyone who doesn't believe in mistakes, it's Alastor.

From day one, you felt his attention. Not just any watchfulness, but something more… dangerous.

As if you were a new melody on a frequency that only he can pick up. His smile, always wide and polite, hides a disturbing intensity when he talks to you.

And he always asks the same question.

"How is it possible for you to be here?"

"Have you never enjoyed violence?"

"Haven't you ever felt the temptation to break something… or someone?"

The answers are always the same. No. Never. Never.

But in every question, in every encounter, you sense something strange about him. A doubt. A fascination that goes beyond simple curiosity. Because Alastor is not interested in meaningless things. And yet, with you… he insists.

Until tonight.

It's early morning in the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel. You're alone, or so you think, until the sound of an old gramophone bursts through the air. There is no music, just the crackle of the needle against the vinyl.

A spectral sound.

You startle as you feel the static wash over your back and quickly turn on your heels.

Alastor stands there, at the foot of the stairs, wrapped in shadows that seem to move with him, as if he were an extension of his being. His posture is relaxed, hands folded behind his back, smile intact, but there is something about him that feels different.

Less theatrical, more calculating.

— Ah… what a lovely coincidence. — his voice drifts through the air, vibrant and distorted, like the interference of an old radio. — Just the person I wanted to talk to.

A shiver runs down your spine. Not because you fear him, not exactly, but because the air feels thicker, as if the space between you has shrunk without him taking a single step.

— Ah, what a surprise…— his voice echoes with the distortion of the radio.— I knew you were interesting, my dear, but this….

He takes a step toward you. There is no hostility in his gesture, but something worse, certainty.

— Your brother.

Your body freezes.

— Ah… how curious. — he continues, slurring each word with venomous delight.— There seems to be a lot more reason for you to be here than you've been telling us, doesn't there?

You don't know which is more terrifying: the fact that he has discovered your secret… or the fact that, for the first time, he seems to be enjoying you more than Hell itself.

The silence between you is a living creature. It throbs with electrifying tension, creeps through the shadows and creeps into every corner of the lobby. And he, of course, savors it.

Alastor advances with the elegance of a predator in no hurry to attack, only to amuse himself. His gait is slow, leisurely, a circle around you. Each step echoes in the air like the beat of a macabre song.

— Ah, but don't be so stiff, my dear.— His voice vibrates with an insidious sweetness.— It's not as if I've said something damning…. is it?

He knows what he's doing. He's having fun with doubt, playing with implications, not giving clear answers. But you're not stupid.

—You follow me? — Your tone is firm, though you feel a knot tighten in your stomach.

He lets out a laugh of genuine delight. As if your question is the most hilarious thing he's heard in ages.

— Follow you? Oh, no, no, no, no…— He denies with an exaggerated shake of his head. — That would be terribly invasive! Outrageous, even! I just…got information.

His shadow creeps along the wall behind him, stretching like a wraith elongated by the dim light of the foyer. It's a subtle movement, but you notice it.

Your eyes follow it unwillingly. And Alastor smiles even more.

— You know, my dear… I've been wondering something curious for a long time. — His voice drops just a tone, just enough to become a conspiratorial murmur. — It's fascinating to see you wandering around this modest little hotel, always so quiet. Not a complaint, not a tear. Just existing.

He pauses, and when he speaks again, his tone takes on a tinge of false concern.

— But then, sometimes… you would disappear.

Your heart races.

— Where was our lovely little stranger going when she was going out so calmly?

He stops right next to you, bowing her head in an almost affectionate gesture. But you feel it, the way her energy bubbles around you, the way the light seems to weaken with his nearness.

— Imagine my surprise when, on one of those little escapades, I discovered that you were on a journey… — he clicks his fingers, as if searching for the right word. — …particular.

The air feels thick, charged with something more than electricity. Don't look away from him.

— Where did I go? — you ask, daring him to say it.

Alastor smiles, and his eyes sparkle with wild mischief.

— Oh, no, no, no, no… how rude of me to spoil the mystery. — His shadow on the wall moves again. Slowly. As if someone else is there.

You refuse to back away.

— Say it.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and puts a hand on his chest, as if moved by your insistence.

— Let's just say… I didn't expect to find you in such a… dangerous place.

A shiver runs down your spine.

— Oh, but don't worry — he continues, leaning slightly towards you. — I won't say anything at all, but…

Something in his tone chills your blood.

— The demons you've been meeting with? — his smile stretches, showing just a flash of sharp teeth. — …well, they seem as interested in you as I.

Shadows stir behind him, and for an instant, the wall ceases to be just a wall. Something there watches you. Something with the same red eyes as Alastor.

And then, he laughs. Low, soft, like a whisper that slips into your ear.

— Tell me something, my dear… —He bends down, barely, with his hands behind his back. — How does it feel to be here, in this small hotel, waiting for a salvation that will never come?

There are no answers.

— Oh, of course! I forgot. —He taps his forehead theatrically, as if he's just remembered something crucial. — You believe in redemption, don't you?

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the feeling of danger digs into your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

You look at his face, that gesture of eternal satisfaction imprinted on every inch of his being, and the sensation of danger sticks in your chest like a hook. You must not fall into his game.

— But what a peculiar case yours is…— Alastor continues, without needing you to answer. — A sinner without sin.

He begins to walk again, slow, measured. The sound of his shoes echoing against the floor is the only thing heard in the hall.

— A little soul who, as far as we know, never killed, never stole, never reveled in violence or evil. Almost… a saint.— His laughter fills the space again.

— But, then… what's someone like you doing in a place like this?

You don't move. You don't blink.

— A mistake from heaven? — Alastor tilts his head, as if the idea amuses him even more.— Well, well, that's what everyone says. But… there's a little problem with that theory.

It stops right in front of you.

— If heaven has condemned you, then heaven knew something we didn't.

A shiver runs down your spine.

No. He can't know.

He can't.

— Oh, but don't worry, my dear.— he murmurs, his eyes sparkling with unwholesome amusement.— because I already figured it out!

You can't help it. Your breath catches for a second. It's slight, minimal, but he notices. Of course he notices.

Alastor lets out a satisfied sigh and takes a few steps away, giving you space just to continue playing with the tension.

— You see… in one of my many nocturnal inquiries, I came across something very interesting.

The shadow on the wall writhes again, as if something in it had guffawed.

— It turns out that certain… drug-dealing demons have a very particular worker among their ranks.

No.

— A young sinner who, oddly enough, shares a certain resemblance to you.

No.

— Ah, but that's not the best part. — Alastor laughs again and snaps his fingers. —The funny thing is that his dearest sister is here, at the Hazbin Hotel, for the sole purpose of…..

He pauses, reveling in the suspense.

You have to control yourself. You can't react.

Alastor watches you with predatory attention, waiting for any hint of weakness.

— Now, my dear… — His voice drops to a venomous whisper — How does such a good and pure woman, supposedly destined for heaven, end up here… while her brother is in the clutches of some of the foulest and most dastardly demons in this place?

Your palms sweat. The air is heavy, suffocating. But you can't give in.

— I have no idea what you're talking about. —Your voice is firm. There's not a tremor in it.

Alastor blinks. And then, he smiles again.

— Oh, I love it! -He exclaims with mock excitement.— Liar and convincing! You know, if that's the way you were in your mortal life, maybe you did deserve to be here.

You take a deep breath, hold your posture steady, cross your arms, and stare at Alastor with impenetrable conviction.

— These are malicious formulations —you say, in a voice so convincing that you almost believe it yourself. —You don't have proof.

Alastor doesn't respond immediately. Instead, his smile widens, as if you are enjoying the taste of his every word. He watches you with infuriating intensity, like a man who has already solved the riddle and is just waiting for the others to catch up.

But you're not someone easy to corner.

— And what about you? -You ask, barely bowing your head.— A demon like you… with such a violent, horrible record….

You question seriously and firmly.

— What is someone like you doing in this hotel? -you continue, giving him no room for mockery. — Where redemption is the only purpose.

His expression doesn't change, but something in him tenses, just a little. A small discordant note in his perpetual melody of control.

It catches your attention.

—Are you seeking redemption too, Alastor? Or do you just get a kick out of watching us try?

Your ability to turn the tables is precise, surgical.

You know it, you feel it. But Alastor is not just any demon.

Instead of responding, he lets out a low, vibrating laugh, almost like a purr of static. Then, slowly, he tilts his head to one side, his eyes sparkling with even more intense interest.

— Oh, dear… — his voice is a venomous cooing- That's a fascinating question, but… do you know what's even more impresionant?

He comes a little closer, close enough for you to feel the overwhelming presence of his scent all around you.

— What deal did they offer you for your brother's freedom?

The ground seems to disappear beneath your feet.

You can't help it, your body tenses, your breath catches for a fatal instant.

Your eyes widen in disbelief.

How does he know?

How the hell does he know?

— Oh…— He whispers with insidious gentleness. — There it is

You don't need a mirror to know what it sees on your face. The first genuine trace of shock, the chink in the armor you had protected so well.

And Alastor, of course, loves it.

The way Alastor watches you, with that smile that doesn't falter for a second, with those red eyes that sparkle with almost childlike amusement, is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You must react.

—My brother…— you begin, keeping your voice steady, but making sure to add a note of vulnerability.— I cannot control his decisions.

Alastor tilts his head with exaggerated curiosity, as if he really believes you.

— But me, on the other hand…—vyou bite the inside of your cheek to reinforce your expression. —I do want to redeem myself.

Lie.

But it's such a well-constructed lie that it almost seems real.

You can't let Alastor discover the truth. That the original deal wasn't to save your brother from a deal, but to keep an eye on him and Charlie Morningstar.

You must not give him a clue.

Alastor remains silent for a few moments. Any onlooker might think he's considering your words, but you know that's false. He's not someone who just listens.

He analyzes, crumbles, savors every word, every gesture, every pause, finally, he smiles.

— Ah… how touching. —His tone is warm, melodic, but it has the edge of a razor blade. —You are truly lovely when you cling to hope such a fighter!

Your heart hammers in your chest. Did he believe you?

— And tell me, my dear…— Alastor steps forward, his presence flooding the space,— what would you say if I offered you a deal?

Your eyes narrow.

— A deal?

— Ah, yes. -He puts a hand to his chest, feigning absurd humility. —Let's just say… I could help you with your situation.

The words fall heavy on your shoulders.

That's the trap.

That's their play.

Your jaw tenses. No.

—I don't trust you.— Your response is immediate, forceful.

Alastor laughs. Not mockingly, but with an unsettling placidity.

— Oh? — His shadow twists on the wall again. —And why not? Am I not an exemplary citizen of this hotel?

— Your record speaks for itself.

His smile widens.

— You're right! My reputation is quite colorful. — he exclaims with absolute amusement.

— I won't make a deal with you. — you reply immediately.

— Ah, what a pity…—He sighs, theatrically. —I thought we'd make a fabulous team.

His tone is light, casual. But his expression… it looks nothing like someone who has been rejected.

Because he hasn't.

He's gotten information out of it.

Maybe not what he wanted, but something useful.

— You see, my dear… —Alastor leans slightly towards you, his voice descending to a softer, more intimate tone — I understand more than you think.

His smile doesn't move, but his eyes say something else.

— When you love your family, you'd do anything for them, don't you?

Your breath stops for a second, just a second.

But Alastor notices, and in his mind, the web continues to weave.

The air in the lobby becomes stifling.

Alastor no longer bothers with detours. There's no need to.

— Your precious brother is in a contract, I know…— he says, his tone almost kind, almost sympathetic. — But tell me, my dear … was it really against his will?

His question falls like an axe on your neck.

Your jaw tenses. An irrational impulse tells you to hit him, to shut him up, but you can't. You must not. You mustn't.

You grit your teeth, holding back the venom that wants to escape from your throat.

Damn you all.

The memory hits your mind mercilessly. Your brother. His eyes, sparkling with youthful excitement as he spoke of opportunities in Hell.

"Just a couple of jobs, nothing dangerous. They say they pay well. They say there are connections. They say I could get a better place here."

The words of those demons slipped with the smoothness of the sweetest poison.

Promises. Lies disguised as opportunities.

And then, reality.

The contracts, the blood seals, the curses that bound them for life. The traffic. The trafficking of souls.

The price your brother had paid was too high. And now, if you failed in this mission, he would be killed.

You bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you almost taste the blood.

But Alastor does not know this.

You take a deep breath, with absolute control over your expression. Your eyes, on the other hand, take on a calculated coldness, as if his question were irrelevant.

— I don't care what my brother did.— you say firmly.— I only know that I'm here for myself.

— Oh? -Alastor smiles, tilting his head.— Funny. You seemed more concerned about him before.

You feel the impulse to pull back, but you don't.

— My goal hasn't changed, I want to redeem myself.— you lie with impeccable fluidity.

Alastor squints, amused.

— You are very convincing, my dear…—His voice is a seductive whisper. — You really are, but… if you don't care what your brother has done, why does your heart beat so fast every time I mention him?

The blood freezes in your veins.

No.

You stand firm.

You take a deep breath and look at him sternly.

— I refuse to continue this conversation.

Alastor lets out a laugh, full of satisfaction.

— Oh, this is too hilarious! - His laughter reverberates through the hall, a cacophony of distorted mirth.

But you only think of one thing: If Alastor keeps digging, everything will fall apart.

You take a step, intending to leave the lobby. Or at least you try to.

Alastor doesn't allow it.

His hand wraps around your arm with a pressure that falls short of painful, but firm enough to remind you of something crucial: he won't let you go.

— Ah-ah-ah, my dear…— he croaks, slurring his words with amusement, — Our deal still stands!

Your body tenses immediately.

The grip is not violent, but the feeling of being trapped is worse than any blow.

Too hard. Too dangerous.

Your heart hammers against your chest as fury flares inside you.

Curse.

A thousand times curse.

Curse this place, curse Hell.

Curse all the demons that have turned your existence into a hell within Hell.

And above all, damn him.

The Radio Demon, with his eternal smile, with his melodious tone, with that mocking shadow writhing on the wall as if he enjoyed every second of it.

Your jaw clenches so hard it hurts.

But then… you reconsider.

Why?

Why is he offering you a deal?

Alastor doesn't give anything without getting something in return. And if he really believes what you've told him is true-that you're only here for your own redemption-then why so much interest?

Your gaze slides down the corridor, the exit you can no longer reach.

There is no escape, so you decide to change your strategy.

—Why? - Your voice is cold, but controlled. Alastor raises an eyebrow with apparent curiosity.

— Why what? - He replies.

— Why are you offering me a deal? -Your eyes are fixed on his, searching for the tiniest crack in that mask of eternal satisfaction.

He doesn't answer immediately, analyzing your answer for too long. However, you speak again.

— It's curious.— you murmur in a tone that is light, almost playful, but you do it on purpose.

— What is it, my dear? - Alastor blinks, still smiling.

—You're not one to make deals with just anyone.

His expression doesn't change. His hand is still on your arm. But you feel the tension, as if something in the atmosphere has changed direction.

— You're not someone who helps others for no reason.— you continue, leaning into him a little, just enough to play your own game.

You pause, enjoying the moment.

— You've never shown interest in anyone.

Alastor's smile remains intact, but his shadow on the wall twists strangely.

There.

You caught him.

You feel a spark of satisfaction in your chest. Not because you think you've won it, but because now you have something to play with.

— So tell me, Alastor...— Your voice is soft, curious, with an almost dangerous sweetness. — Why me?

You dare to smile, just a little.

— What makes you think I want a deal? Especially with a demon like you.

The shadow you've been staring at for so long is moving.

Not like before, not like a simple distortion on the wall.

Now, it manifests itself.

It is dark, meandering, as if spilling into reality itself. Its edges vibrate with a silent heartbeat, a formless presence, without a mouth, but with bright, piercing eyes.

You stare at it, frozen.

But before you can react, Alastor breaks the silence.

— Ah-ah-ah-ah... - His voice is still melodic, but there is something else now, frustration.

His fingers grip tighter on your arm. This time there is a small pain, uncomfortable, but it quickly disappears with the boiling rage inside you.

— Those details, my dear... —he leans in slightly, his shadow writhing at your feet— I will only give them to you if you tell me the whole truth.

Your lips open.

No.

Not even dead (for the second time).

Your other hand moves before you can think it, trying to pull his grip away with a sharp tug. Violent.

Alastor doesn't flinch.

— Oh, you really want to play like that? - His tone is almost amused, but the pressure in his grip increases just a little.

— Let go of me. - There is no pleading in your voice, only venom.

Alastor won't budge and neither will you.

It's a power play, a battle without retreat.

Both of you steady, both of you immobile, and between you, that throbbing shadow, watching with a latent hunger.

You look at it closely, you study it, and that shadow sees you in the same way, yet it disappears in an instant.

It doesn't slowly fade away, it doesn't dissolve into the gloom. It simply ceases to be there.

As if it never existed.

You blink, stunned, but you don't have time to react.

The pressure on your arm intensifies and, before you can launch another attempt to escape, Alastor pulls you towards him.

Your body lurches, the air ceases to exist between you.

Too close.

His face is inches from yours, his red eyes burning with unnatural intensity. The smile is still there, intact, but there's something about it that gives you goosebumps.

You can't move. You can't breathe.

You don't know if it's because of the tension of the situation or if there's something else, something hidden behind those bright eyes, something no one has ever lived to tell.

Because you don't know Alastor.

You really don't.

You remember the warnings, the whispers in the corridors of the hotel, the whispers of the demons who spoke of him as if he were a force of nature, an inevitable disaster.

Cruel. Sadistic. Unstoppable.

You remember how they mentioned his regretful disappearance, the mystery that shrouded his figure. And most importantly...

If Alastor catches you, no one can save you.

Your throat goes dry.

For the first time in a long time, you feel a slight fear.

You feel it in every heartbeat, in every second that Alastor's eyes pierce yours with an intensity that is pink with unbearable intensity. Your patience wears thin.

You notice it in the subtle change in his smile, in how his shadow seems to turn with an increasingly visible unease.

— Let's get on with our conversation, my dear... —he says, with that false politeness that only makes your skin crawl.

Your jaw tenses.

But he doesn't stop.

— Because, sure, there are many ways to look at this... — his tone is light, amused, but his grip remains firm — Maybe you're simply a sinner trying to make a desperate deal to help your dear brother... — he tilts his head, his smile barely broadening — but oh, what a problem! You can't make it that obvious, can you? That's why you play hard to get.

A shiver runs down your spine, there's nothing to say.

—Or...— he continues, stretching the word out with a hint of mockery, — maybe you're just a little rat snooping around this hotel, looking for information for those dealers he serves.

Your heart hammers hard. But then, Alastor smiles even wider. And says the third.

— Or... most likely...— he whispers, with a cruel softness, —you are here under threat. Someone has sent you. You want to know about me. My movements. My secrets. And more importantly...

Your eyes glow with something lethal.

— You want to know why I've disappeared for so many years.

The fear is immediate.

Your body reacts before your mind. A slight tremor in your hand, a flicker barely longer than normal, the air getting caught in your chest.

You have to get out of this.

You have to divert the conversation.

You have to do something.

— What do you want? - You don't say it forcefully, not defiantly.

It's a murmur, low, laden with little acceptance.

But Alastor hears it.

And for the first time, the shadow on the wall stops.

Alastor smiles in triumph .

Because now he knows.

Maybe not with certainty, maybe not with every detail, but one of his theories is true. And he's leaning toward one of the latter two. Or quite possibly both.

The fear on your face, the slight tremor in your hands, the way you avoided looking directly at him for an instant.

Charming.

His grip on your arm relaxes, but he doesn't let go. His shadow slips around you as if waiting for the command to do something.

— So, my dear... —his voice is a soft whisper, with an almost seductive venom — if we're going to talk business... what do you have to offer?

You freeze.

You knew it was coming to this, you knew it. And, still, it hits you hard.

Your mind works at full speed, searching for something, anything, a way out that doesn't involve giving away more information than necessary.

You find nothing.

Shit.

Your breathing barely hitches. You clench your fists, as if that might steady the subtle tremor that threatens to give you away.

You can't give in anymore, can't give him more than he's already taken.

So you lie, again.

—I have nothing of value to offer. —You say it fast, too fast.

Alastor cocks his head. His eyes glitter with mockery.

He knows it's a lie.

You need to pull yourself together. Now.

— Oh? — she sings, with false disappointment- What a pity. And here I thought I was a resourceful woman....

Her tone is playful, but you're challenging yourself.

If she's going to play like that, so will you.

—But if we're going to make a deal... —your voice is firm this time, holding her gaze with more control than you really feel—what do I get in return?

Silence.

— Oh-ho! How amazing...—he laughs, with that inhuman musicality that makes your skin crawl, — you seem to be more familiar with the deals than you lets on.

None of them respond. You can't give him any more than he's already deduced for himself.

Alastor takes a step closer.

You force yourself not to back down.

— Tell me then... what do you think you can get from me? — The question floats between you.

— If you really want a deal... — your voice is firm, without hesitation— tell me the terms. Or there will be absolutely nothing.

Alastor raises an eyebrow.

For a moment, he looks genuinely amused . As if the idea of someone talking to him like that would cause him a strange fascination.

— Why, how brave...—his tone is casual, but that dangerous musicality is still there, running through every word. —And what makes you think you can bargain with me, my dear?

You don't say it out loud, but you know it.

If I really saw you as mere prey, as someone worthless, you would have fallen by now.

You wouldn't be here, arguing with him.

You wouldn't be alive.

That means you have something. Some leverage, maybe not enough to win, but enough to keep you afloat.

— Oh, it's simple, honey. — his smile widens — I get what I want... which will only be known the moment I require it.

Your eyes narrowed.

— And me? you ask.

— You get an absolute favor. — he answers quickly.

— On equal terms?

— Exactly. — His tone is light, almost mocking. — Neither of us will be able to refuse when the time comes.

The thought chills your blood.

An absolute favor from Alastor.

It could mean your brother's salvation. But it also means that at any moment, he could ask for something unthinkable in return.

You analyze it. Minute after minute of cold calculation.

— Who delivers first? — you ask. But Alastor doesn't answer.

He just smiles.

And that tells you all you need to know. Your pulse pounds, but you reach out your hand.

It's a risk, but you take it.

Finally, you inhale deeply and reach out your hand, but Alastor pulls away before you can touch him.

You frown, puzzled, wrinkle your nose in disdain, losing what little patience you have left.

— So...when is that damn deal sealed? — you exclaim in a demanding voice.

— Soon, sweetheart...— you snap your fingers, — but first, we need... privacy.

Without apparent warning, Alastor snaps his fingers immediately, and darkness envelops you.

You don't have time to react, a scream forms in your throat, but it's too late. The shadows catch you, and in the blink of an eye, you disappear with it.

The darkness is absolute for an instant, suffocating, before your eyes adjust and a new reality unfolds before you. You find yourself in a room that defies all logic, a strange amalgam of decadent elegance and wild nature.

Antique crimson velvet furniture contrasts with vines snaking up the walls, and a canopy of dark leaves stretches into a swampy-looking forest.

The scent of damp earth mingles with a sweet, unfamiliar perfume, creating an atmosphere that is equal parts intoxicating and disturbing.

In the center of it all, like a predator in its lair, Alastor watches you.

— Welcome to my humble quarters, my dear.—he says, with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

You swallow, trying to keep your composure.

— Why did you bring me here? — you ask, your voice slightly shakier than you'd like. The place gives you a bad feeling, a visceral sense of danger running through your marrow.

It's the catlike feeling that characterizes it. He stops just inches from you, his gaze fixed on yours, intense and penetrating.

— Because, my dear...—he whispers, his voice a dangerous purr. —this is where important deals are forged.

A shiver runs down your spine. You know something isn't right, that the original proposal was just a facade.

— What are you talking about? —you demand, instinctively backing away.

— My real proposal, of course — Alastor replies, with a grim smile—. You see, I have certain... needs. And you, my dear, could be the key to satisfying them.

You're out of breath. You don't like any of this.

— I propose a new deal — he continues, ignoring your silence.— A more... intimate deal. You offer me one night of your time, and I, in return, will give you the opportunity to gain your absolute favor with no strings attached.

— One night? —You repeat, incredulously. —What do you mean by that?

Alastor tilts his head, his smile widening.

— I'll be direct, my dear. I want your body at my disposal... but on one condition.

You grimace in disgust.

— What kind of condition?

— I'll make you climax, with my hands only. No undue touching, if you manage to resist my attentions, if you manage to keep your composure and not give in to pleasure within a certain time... then, the absolute favor will be yours, without price or condition.

Your heart is pounding in your chest. It is madness, an absurd challenge.

— But... if I fail. —you say, your voice barely audible, — what if... if I climax before time runs out?

Alastor's smile turns predatory.

— Then, my dear... I will take your body and soul. Both will be mine. But absolute favor will stand.

Silence hangs over the room, heavy and unsettling. You analyze the proposal, weighing the risks and possible rewards. It's a terrible gamble, you know, but the promise of saving your brother impels you to consider the unthinkable.

— When... when would I have to make my decision?

— Now, sweetness. —Alastor replies, extending a hand toward you. — Time is short. Will you accept my deal?

You hesitate, aware of the trap hidden behind Alastor's smile. You are not naive; you have listened to his conditions carefully, and the idea of being cornered, with no escape, chills your blood. But, despite your fear, you refuse to give in completely.

— The deal must be closed when what you said is done.— you reply, your voice firm despite the trembling in your knees.— Whether you make me climax or not, I will not give you my hand until then.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your audacity. He nods slowly, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of anticipation and mockery. He lowers the hand he offered you a moment ago and, with a swift, unexpected movement, conjures his shadow magic.

Dark tendrils coil around your body, imprisoning you against your will, immobilizing your arms and legs. You try to struggle, but the shadows are strong, relentless.

Alastor approaches, the fire of possession burning in his eyes. There is no trace of playfulness in his expression anymore, only raw, predatory intensity. Without delay, he begins his provocation. There are no soft kisses or delicate caresses. Instead, you feel the sting of his bites on your neck, a pleasurable pain that makes you gasp involuntarily.

His claws tangle in your hair, squeezing hard, tugging at your scalp. A moan escapes your lips, an uncontrollable response to the stinging sensation. Apparently, that's a particularly sensitive area.

Alastor slides his free hand down to your breasts, where he squeezes firmly. The pain is sharp, almost unbearable, but mixed with a current of excitement that takes you by surprise. A louder, more desperate moan erupts from your throat.

He grunts in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him. You sense that his patience is wearing thin, that he is on the verge of losing control.

Alastor leans into you, his warm breath caressing your skin as he whispers words that are both possessive and provocative.

— You are mine, my dear. There is no escape from this— he says, each syllable infused with a burning desire that causes the heat between you to rise.

Your mind struggles to stay afloat, but his every word is like a fire fanning the flames in your body. At first, you had believed that you could resist him, that Alastor could not provoke any sensation in you. Now, however, you find yourself in a feverish state as he slips his hand under your dress, reaching for your pussy through the delicate fabric of your underwear.

With deliberate slowness, his finger finds the twitching bud in you, and a surprised moan escapes your lips.

— Is this what you meant? -you exclaim, disbelief mingling with uncontrollable excitement.

Alastor nods, his smile widening as he watches your body react to his touch. Again, he begins the assault, tracing small circles around your clitoris, stimulating your need with a mastery that leaves you breathless.

— Mmm... how about this? —he asks in a teasing tone.

You gasp, cocking your head to one side. The static emanating from Alastor only intensifies your feverish state, and you realize you are caught between desire and resistance.

Curses escape your lips, sweet moans that he visibly enjoys.

—No... I can't...— you murmur between gasps.

— Oh, but you really can. — he replies in a deep voice.— You just have to let yourself go.

His eyes flash with a mixture of defiance and hunger as he increases the speed of his movements. Now, two claws work at a murderous pace, stripping you of your underwear and leaving you exposed to his will. You feel on the verge of fainting, but your mind has not yet succumbed completely; you want to resist the delicious sensations that pervade everything.

— Alastor! — you cry out, feeling the line between pleasure and pain blur.— This is not fair...

— Life is never fair, my dear— he replies in an almost playful tone. But you have chosen this path.

As his fingers continue their provocative dance, you feel each touch become a wave of pleasure that threatens to sweep you away.

Your body trembles under his control; his every movement is like a spell that envelops you further in his grid.

You look into each other's eyes in a moment of clarity; you both know what is at stake here. The internal struggle intensifies as you struggle between desire and the need to stand firm in your decision. But Alastor's shadows seem to take hold of you, and in that crucial instant, you feel pleasure begin to gain ground over reason.

You whimper as Alastor modulates the speed of his fingers, first fast, then slow, and finally, fast again, bringing you to the brink again and again.

Alastor maintains a strained smile, and one of his shadows behind him stirs restlessly, twitching with an intensity that makes your hair stand on end.

He growls plagued with terrifying static as he senses the shadow moving too close to you, as if it has the very intentions of possessing something of your body.

As you are lost in the maelstrom of sensations, eyes closed and little moans escaping your lips, you feel him shallowly slide his fingers through your intimacy, soaking in your arousal.

A shiver runs down your spine as you realize the possessiveness in that gesture.

And again, he concentrates on stimulating your clitoris with violent intensity. The games are over. The pleasurable torture becomes a direct assault on your senses.

You feel your body tense, and Alastor senses it. He knows that you are very close to the edge, and with that information, he orders you, with a partially aggressive sentence

— Open your mouth.

Powerless, you obey. You open your lips and, before you can let out a piercing cry that announces your orgasm, Alastor thrusts his elongated tongue into your mouth, swallowing your moan in a wet, intense kiss.

You both moan in the midst of that whirlwind of sensations, as the aftershocks of climax shatter you.

Your body shudders, and a wave of pleasure washes over you.

A broad smile, full of delight, lights up Alastor's face as he pulls away from you, leaving a trickle of saliva still connecting his lips to yours.

You feel exhausted, vulnerable, but also strangely satisfied.

In the haze of your climax, in the confusion of overflowing sensations, you had completely forgotten that you had to resist, that your soul was at stake.

But Alastor takes care to remind you at once, with a sentence that leaves no doubt that now follows the best part, at least for him.

— Oh, dear, you almost forgot, didn't you?— He says with a hint of mockery in his voice, though his eyes shine with an intensity that warns you that this is much more than just a game.— Remember our deal, my possession. You belong to me now.

You feel a slight pang of frustration for having lost, for having let yourself be carried away by pleasure, but also a strange shame comes over you as you realize how much you had desired this contact.

Alastor, with studied casualness, informs you.

— It won't be easy to take me completely, I know... but I know you will succeed.— he whispers softly.

You try to reply, to protest the unfairness of the situation, but Alastor already has you against the ground, immobilized once again by his shadows. You are unable to move, unable to escape his hold.

You gasp as you feel him on top of you, imprisoning you with his weight. From that position, his body looks even more imposing, his presence completely overwhelming you. Your heart begins to race as you feel strands of his hair brush against your cheek, and finally, you look into his eyes.

Ironically, you now find him almost attractive. The spark of madness in his gaze, the predatory intensity that emanates from him, awaken a strange fascination in you.

You mentally beat yourself up for even considering the idea. How could you find attractive this being who had manipulated you and now claimed you as his own? In a muffled voice, feigned really, you tell Alastor to hurry up, trying to hide the growing excitement coursing through you.

— Get it over with already. — you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

Alastor, hearing your demand that he hurry up, lets out a chuckle that doesn't reach his eyes. You sense a slight feeling of helplessness growing in him, as if your apparent indifference is hurting him somehow.

He feels your response as a rejection, a denial of his power over you, and that is enough to alter his needy state. His eyes darken, and the atmosphere around you becomes charged with a palpable electricity.

Again, the fingers that brought you to climax return to your intimacy, slipping between your wet, throbbing lips.

— Look what a mess you've made, my darling. All this... just for me. — he says in a husky voice, almost devoid of his filter.

In the midst of provocation, you open your lips, almost exclaiming a sentence imploring for more or perhaps for mercy, but the words get caught in your throat when Alastor thrusts one of his claws inside you. It's not a delicate caress; it's a possessive invasion that steals your breath.

You squeeze Alastor's arm hard with one hand, your nails digging into his skin. With the other, you cling desperately to the creaking wood beneath your back, searching for an anchor point amidst the storm of sensations whipping through you.

—You like this, don't you? — Alastor asks, his voice a husky whisper that brushes against your ear. Admit it.

You try to resist, to deny him the satisfaction of hearing you give in, but the intensity of your touches overcomes you. A choked moan escapes your lips, an involuntary response to the relentless stimulation.

— No... shut up. — you murmur between gasps, trying to regain control.

— Shut me up? —Alastor mocks, intensifying his grip. —Why should I shut up when I'm enjoying your pleasure so much?

You feel how Alastor's claws move inside you, stretching and probing every nerve, exploring every sensitive corner. Pleasure mixes with pain, creating a dizzying sensation that makes you lose track of time and space.

— Please... — you beg, your voice barely audible.

He stops for a moment, his gaze fixed on yours.

— Please what, my dear? — He asks with a hungry smile, — Please make you feel even more pleasure? Please make me take you to the edge of madness?

You know you're on the edge of the abyss, that if you give in any more, you'll lose yourself completely in his game. But a part of you, a dark and twisted part, longs to fall.

You hide your face in Alastor's shoulder, trying to stifle the moans that threaten to give you away, as he continues his assault, deeper now, more relentless.

He has no mercy for you, but you know he is only preparing you for something else, something even more intense.

Yet, hearing you in such a way, so vulnerable, so close to the edge, leaves him without resistance. Your gasping breath, your trembling body, the slight quiver in your voice... all of it further ignites the fire that burns within him.

You beg, almost inaudibly, for this to end, not because of the pain, but because of the pleasure that begins to frighten you, because of the fear of losing control completely.

— Please... no more. — you whisper, clinging to his shoulder as if your life depended on it.

He shakes his head, without stopping his movement. You look up and watch Alastor's deer ears twist with every moan he emits, as if the very manifestation of his being is responding to your pleasure.

So, dizzy in the whirlwind of sensations, you move even closer to his ear and moan lasciviously, giving yourself over completely to the provocation.

Alastor squints as he feels a violent electricity run through him. That's when he pulls his fingers from you and, with a quick, almost animalistic movement, unbuttons his dress pants.

You are both still dressed; he has not removed your dress for the urgency of the moment, and neither was he going to remove his own clothes for the same reason. Impatience and primal desire dominate the scene.

His cock shoots out of his pants, throbbing and raging. You look at it, admiring and fearful at the same time, but before you can even have a say in what you see, Alastor lifts you off the ground.

He carries you over your arms in a vulnerable position, with your legs apart, wrapped around his waist. You feel him slowly slide inside you, preparing you for what is to come.

The initial stretch is uncomfortable, almost painful, but he allows you to get used to it for a few minutes, where you avoid looking at his face at all costs, embarrassed by your own surrender.

At once, he begins to move, with slow lunges at first, testing your limits. You desperately seek to hold on to something, but it is useless; the only support is Alastor himself, so you have no choice but to hold on to his shoulders, digging your nails into his sack as he thrusts deeper and deeper inside you.

You moan, writhe and curse as the demon seems possessed by your inner heat. Each thrust is a declaration of dominance, a reaffirmation of his control over you. Pleasure mixes with pain, excitement with fear, creating a sense of chaos that completely disorients you.

— Who is in control now? —Alastor whispers in your ear, his voice full of dark satisfaction.

You do not respond, intoxicated by the intensity of the act, completely lost in the whirlwind of sensations that consumes you. Your silence is a defiance, a silent rebellion that further ignites Alastor's desire.

In response, he thrusts deeply and rudely against you, at first in an effort to force you to respond, to submit completely to his will.

But when he hears the whimper that escapes your lips, a sound that mixes pleasure and pain, his animal instinct takes over completely. He gasps in response, a guttural sound emanating from deep within him, as if your tears are the fuel that feeds his inner fire.

You feel his cock press even deeper inside you, twisting with unrelenting fury.

But before you can even look at him, before you can try to regain some control, he begins to fuck you wildly, unleashed. Multiple fast, deep, messy lunges drive you over the edge, forcing you to scream out his name.

You cling even tighter to Alastor, hunched over him completely, digging your nails into his back in search of a foothold. You beg him, desperately, not to go so fast, to have some mercy.

— Please... Alastor... stop, stop, please —you whimper between sobs, begging for a breath.

But he responds with even more savagery, ignoring your pleas, possessed by the need to bring you to the breaking point.

— I can't...I don't want to. — he growls against your neck, his voice filled with an urgency that frightens you.— I want you...I need you.....

Tears of overstimulation well up in your eyes, mingling with the sweat that drenches your face. You moan and sob urgently, completely overcome by the intensity of the moment. Every thrust rips a scream from you, every rubbing makes you tremble with pleasure and pain.

You are on the verge of madness, on the verge of losing yourself completely.

— Alastor... Alastor! — you cry out, begging for an end that you know will not come soon.

In that moment of absolute vulnerability, you feel something change in Alastor. His fury transforms into desperate need, his savagery into total surrender.

And in that instant, he understands that, though he claims you as his own, he too is at the mercy of this desire.

Alastor, completely lost in the moment, unleashes dark, glowing magic from his body, chaotic energy pulsing around you. He hears you crying and begging, but he cannot and will not turn back. The point of no return has arrived; it is time to seal the deal completely.

The demon transforms. Red dials flare in his darkened eyes, his antlers lengthen, menacing, and a grotesque seam appears around his smile for a brief moment, revealing the madness that lurks behind his mask of civility.

— Now, sweetness, it's time to close the deal. — he exclaims with complete madness, each word echoing through the space. Give me your soul, your body, your devotion and your absolute loyalty.

He continues to thrust, his voice strained and tight from how wet you are, from the pleasure it brings him. The slippery echo of each movement reverberates through the room, creating an atmosphere of wildness and desperation.

You are simply lost, completely consumed by the sensations. At this moment, nothing else matters anymore.

Fuck those filthy pieces of shit that have your brother under threat. Fuck the plan to research everything about Alastor, his weaknesses and shit. 

The only thing you long for, the only thing you want with every fiber of your being, is to come together with him, with Alastor, to melt completely in this moment of madness and passion.

You nod, completely overpowered by the sensations. You gasp for air, struggling to breathe in the midst of the storm raging through you. You moan a long "yes" against Alastor's lips, without closing the distance completely, offering him a silent promise of total surrender.

He, satisfied to hear your acceptance, closes the deal. A cursed green aura washes over you in the midst of the final onslaught, a magical energy that binds your souls forever. You cling tightly to Alastor as he drags you into the last orgasm, a destructive and messy one that awakens in you an irrepressible urge to kiss him again.

He didn't expect such an action, and surprise runs through him like an electric shock. With that simple act, with that unexpected surrender, he cums inside you with a tense grunt, releasing all the contention he had built up.

And as the aftershocks of climax end, you both remain in that position, breathing hard, trying to regain your breath and control.

Sweat drenches their bodies, their hearts beat wildly, and silence closes over the room, charged with a palpable electricity.

Your soul is now Alastor's; You are bound to him for eternity. And right now, in the midst of confusion and exhaustion, it doesn't seem like a lousy transaction.

And as the haze of pleasure begins to dissipate, allowing sanity to slowly return to your mind, a stinging thought bursts into your consciousness: your brother.

Reality hits you as you remember the reasons you had ventured into this dangerous game with Alastor. The fear and uncertainty that had plagued you until now have vanished, replaced by a strange sense of resignation and... hope.

Now, you no longer feel that paralyzing anguish over your fate. Instead, you cling to the certainty that you have done everything possible for him, that he has sacrificed your own freedom to ensure his survival.

Yet a new restlessness begins to grow within you. Will he understand your sacrifice? Will he understand the magnitude of what you have done for him?

Oh, you hope, with every fiber of your being, that he will truly understand, that he will not judge you for the choices you have made, for the price you have paid.It was all for him, for your beloved brother, the only tie that bound you to your forgotten humanity.

Alastor slowly pulls away from you, watching you with an indecipherable expression. His eyes sparkle with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity, as if he is trying to unravel the secrets hidden deep within your soul.

— So...— he says with his characteristic smile, a smile that is now as familiar to you as it is unsettling. —Do you regret your decision?

You look into his eyes, determined not to show any sign of weakness. Even though your soul belongs to him, you refuse to give in completely to his dominion.

— No. —you answers in a firm voice, defying his gaze, — I regret nothing I have done for my brother.

Alastor smiles, pleased by your answer.

— How noble. — he says with a hint of mockery. But make no mistake, your sacrifice does not end here.— Now that your soul belongs to me, you have an eternity by my side.

— What more do you want from me? — you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

He comes closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

— I want you to stay by my side. — he whispers in your ear, his voice a dangerous purr. —I want you to be with me, to help me reach my goals. I want you to be my companion... in every sense of the word.

You feel a shiver run through your body. The idea of spending eternity at Alastor's side, bound to him by a magical bond, terrifies and fascinates you at the same time.

— And... what about my brother? — you ask, clinging to the hope that you can still help.

Alastor smiles, revealing the row of sharp teeth.

— Your brother will be safe, my dear. — he says in a voice that exudes confidence. —I promise.

You know you're trapped, that there's no escape from this deal. But you also know you have a chance to change things, to influence Alastor's plans, to protect those you care about.

So, with a sigh of resignation and a hint of hope, you take his face in your hands and kiss it, sealing your fate.

Maybe it wasn't so terrible to make a deal with him after all. You both won, he made sure of that detail.

He may have your soul now, but you still had absolute favor.

Yes, it was definitely a better deal than many you were offered all around Hell.

[harmoonix]

⚜️Eternal Flower⚜️

• Astrology Observations •

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀❀

⚜️ - Chiron square/opposition/conjunct North Node = Your path is healing one, this aspect can indicate frustrations that may disturb you from finding inner peace

⚜️ - Jupiter square/opposite/conjunct Saturn = They have a fight between freedom and responsibility, it can be very frustrating for them to choose one of those 2, they can feel locked up in their own world

⚜️ - Jupiter square/opposite Sun can make the native to miss great opportunities, in this case your ego can be very big with those aspects. Your ego can make you lose a lot of opportunities

⚜️ - Neptune trine/sextile/conjunct Moon are really great at listening to their intuition, you can have a powerful inner voice with this aspect

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

⚜️ - North Node in Aries/North Node in 1st house, please make yourself a favor and put yourself one the first place in your life, you'll see things change. You gotta live for yourself, everyone once in a while..

⚜️ - Lilith aspecting Jupiter are so crazy and wild when they are horny. With this aspect Jupiter expands your libido. Another session of breaking bed??

⚜️ - North Node in Libra/Leo you really need to love yourself dear, loving yourself can be complicated for some people but is not impossible

⚜️ - Lilith in Leo Degrees (5°, 17°. 29°) degrees can have have feline typo of face. Like cat eyes maybe? Maybe yellowish/tanned skin? Also wear orange and yellow it will help you

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀✾❀

⚜️ - Venus in the 9th house/Venus in Sagittarius/Venus in Sagittarius Degrees (9°, 21°) always remember me about hearing a tropical song party, they have that tropical flow 💃

⚜️ - Sun in the 9th house/Sun in Sagittarius/Sun in Sagittarius Degrees (9°, 21°) did ever happened for people to confuse your ethnicity or the country where you are from? Yeah with these placements can give this vibe

⚜️ - Taurus/Libra Moons they are my Romeo and Juliet and no can change that, they often have this vibe because of their romantic aura (Taurus about finding love in herself and Libra finding love in the others this is literally everything)

⚜️ - Pisces/Cancer Sun/Venus/Mercury = They are the people who can have the most cutest voices ever. They also have an adorable face

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

⚜️ - Moon - trine/sextile/conjunct Pluto = You can fall in love with them at the first sight. They are full of mystery and charm, is something like 'I love you since I first met you' with them

⚜️ - Pluto in the 1st/10th/11th house they literally attract envy everywhere they go. They are the reason why the haters can't sleep at night

⚜️ - Chiron in Aquarius/Chiron in the 11th house may find comfort in their friends. They can be really lonely people but with heart of gold

⚜️ - Lilith aspecting ascendant= misterious appearance, they are so full of mystery and secrets, people can be so curious of them

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

⚜️ - Sun - Mercury aspects have that cute/shy voice, they may talk softly and so calm in the same time, literally so charming

⚜️ - Libra/Leo Risings have that beautiful shinning hair, literally go girl spin your hair around. Rapunzel Vibes

⚜️ - Don't be afraid for challenges when you have Aries/Sagittarius placements with you. They can take it all and risk everything for the adrenaline

⚜️ - Venus - Mercury aspect in someone's chart can be the type of native who may like to write love poems/letters and even songs sometimes

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁

✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀᠁✾❀✾

💫 Good day to everyone reading my notes today… It's a great day to follow your dreams and to let every negative energy out of your body 💫

💫 Have a blessed day today 💫

- Yours truly, Harmoonix 💫

[sich-sehnen]

Preview

I know I haven't posted in a while, and I'm sorry. I played Call of Duty for the first time ever (MW3) and my god did I fall in love. Eternally Bound will continue, I promise just have patience with me while I work 141 out of my system (if they'll ever leave!!)

Here is a teaser for my very specific fic for the 141.

Notes- Southern Reader!!!!, poly!141, fat reader, obsessive!141, possessive!141, 141 fall first but reader falls harder, one night stand, etc etc. (I have been playing with the pregnancy tag because fuck my ovaries and the damned baby fever I've been battling but if no one wants it I'll just leave it for a personal fic.)

THIS IS NOT THE BEGIING! This is just a chunk out of chapter three just to get yall hooked ;)

There was nothing to do in that god forsaken town. Nothing but avoiding the curious stares of the townsfolk and gossip whispered behind polite hands. Anything worth doing was at least a forty-minute drive into the next city, but John had warned them to stay put for the time being. At least until Laswell gives them the green light. 

When they had found The Dusty Boot, an old western-style building located smack dab in the middle of everything, they thought they could at least drown their frustration and boredom with booze and pool. 

That foolish hope was quickly squashed once they walked in, the tables overflowing with drunkards swaying to the surprisingly good music. Simon was already irritated, his nerves slowly fraying with each inconvenience. Being forced off the field was less than ideal, his anger at the order still boiling beneath his scarred skin. So when they spotted the only pool table occupied, Simon was seething with quiet ire.  

The only table available to them, its sticky surface already furthering Simon’s sour mood, was perched right next to the aforementioned pool table. Drunken laughter grated on his ears, their crude comments and trash talk somehow louder than the classic rock song that played softly from the old jukebox in the corner. 

“Look at that,” Kyle mused as he sat down, his eyes already catching the figure still frantically tending to customers. 

The others looked in your direction, and he felt the air shift. Simon already had an idea of how they thought about you, their lingering gazes and heated comments only icing on the cake. Though Simon loathed the idea of sharing his boys with a stranger, he hated to admit you had piqued his interest as well. They wanted you, all four of them. Together. Whether you wanted that or not was up for them to find out. 

So they find themselves at the bar, under the scrutiny of their bird’s friend. She was pretty- blonde and flirty and whatnot- but she didn't hold a candle to the beauty that poured them the toughest drink he'd ever had. Simon had half a mind to respond to her blatant and pathetic attempts at stealing their attention with a very rude comment, but something in him didn���t want you to see him that way. He was scary enough as it was without his growl of frustration and annoyance running you away. 

“Vacation? Here?” Their bird asked incredulously. 

“Aye, we wanted a change of scenery. What better place than here?” 

The girls looked at each other in disbelief then burst out laughing. The hearty laugh that came from you struck something deep within Simon. It wasn't attractive or sexy to say the least, at least not like the blonde's. It was true. Genuine. You snort, and giggle, the full body laughter pulling tears to your eyes. 

Johnny is smiling, just watching you calm down and gently wipe the tears from your eyes. He paid no mind to the woman glued to your side. “What's so funny, bonnie?” 

You have completely forgone the responsibilities you had. He wanted to blame it on them, that they had stolen your attention from anyone else. Not the fact that there was no one lined up asking for drinks. 

“There ain't nothin’ to do here ‘sides fishin’, campin’, and gettin’ in each other's business.” 

Kyle cleared his throat as he fiddled with the shell of a peanut, his earnest gaze capturing your attention easily. “I take it you've been here a while.” 

That playful lightness in your eyes disappeared. Your expression was now somber-melancholy, as if the joyous emotions you wore for them were just for show. “I was born in this hell hole and I'll die in this hell hole.” 

“If you don't like it here, why don't you leave?” Simon couldn’t help the knee jerk reaction to Kyle’s innocent but inconsiderate question, his steel toed boot gently colliding with the other man’s shin. He ignored the surprised ‘what the fuck?’ in Kyle’s eyes and paid attention to the soft, understanding smile on their bird’s face.

Diana, as they learned, looked just as solemn as you. “Most people here can barely afford to pay their rent, much less leave.” 

They were quiet, the effect of the moonshine twisting his vision just enough that he turned down the beer Diana offered. Simon had his fair share of drinks, but the clear liquid still puddled on the counter hit him harder than anything.

For a while they watched as you went about your job, cleaning the counter, drying cups, and closing tabs. It was easy, the way you talked with the people of the town, your charisma addictive as much as it was contagious. 

Kyle snacked on peanuts and fried cheese curds. The little fried balls of cheese were now a favorite of Kyle's, if his constant praises were anything to go by. The man couldn't get enough of them while Simon's stomach churned just at the smell. As the night went on, they made small talk with you, catching your attention as often as they could. Simon, however, was content just watching you.

Johnny would ask you random questions about yourself while he and John simply watched you and their boys chat. It didn’t mean Simon didn’t commit every answer and reaction to memory, though. 

You danced along to the music, your hips swaying to the beat as you nodded your head to the song. You were mesmerizing, capturing the boy's attention hook, line, and sinker. For a moment, they just watched you, enjoying the sight of you in your element. But all good things come to an end. 

“Alright, closin’ time!” Diana yelled out to the crowd, who in turn groaned but stood to leave. “Y'all don't have to go home but'cha can't stay here!” 

“Sorry, boys,” Their bird says as you lean against the bartop. Even in a t-shirt Simon could see how soft you were, how heavy your tits looked. He wanted nothing more than to lie on top of you with his face buried between the mounds of flesh. 

John puts a twenty on the table as the four of them stand to leave, sliding the bill closer when you ignore it. “Take it, love.” 

“Technically,” You passed the bill back, and when John refuses to take it, you tuck it into his hand and fold yours on top. “I’m not supposed to take your money. It’s illegal.” 

“I’m payin’ for the service then.” 

Something about the grin that slowly stretched across your face had Simon’s blood heating. John’s low tone and purposeful sultry rasp didn’t help either. 

“That’s illegal too, ya’know.” 

John leaned across the bar, his face inches from yours. You looked like an absolute dream; face flushed from cheeks to ears, mouth slightly agape in shock. “How about I pay you to show me and my boys around town, hmm? I bet you know how to have a good time.” 

You were silent for a moment, still not taking your hand off of John’s. Simon honed in on every reaction you gave his captain, every hitch of your breath, your chest slightly heaving with each exhale. “I ain't takin’ your money.” You were breathless. Simon didn’t blame you. John knew how to work a person up; how to pull their strings with his mere presence. 

“Stubborn woman,” John mumbles, but it is far from insulting. 

“I’ll show you around.” You wore a timid smile, not entirely put off by the tension that thickened the air. “But I don’t need your money. Deal?”

“Deal.” 

[kichiyosh1]

"I made it with you in mind"

wanderer x reader

to think he'd end up finding joy in such a childish activity

✧: he ends up being mean at the beginning but he apologizes in his own special way, slight hurt/comfort but nothing major

(I'm back ig? idk :3)

He couldn't believe the absurdity to which you and the young archon were subjecting him to.

The sins committed by the former harbinger are things he won't refute or deny. Indeed such actions musn't go unpunished, but perhaps he's underestimated the extent of the dendro archon's mercy.

Mind explaining what all of this is supposed to be?" he knows, with just a single glance, he grasped what was about to unfold, he just couldn't believe it. There displayed before his very eyes, a colorful assortment of beads lay scattered across a wooden table.

"You've dabbled in arts and crafts before, haven't you? You could say I proposed the idea to Lord kusanali as a way to keep that evil little brain of yours occupied"

'What evil is there to be done in bracelet crafting of all things, huh?' he deadpanned while simultaneously picking up a bead, examining how it reflects the light that's passing through the crystalline windows.

He let out a scoff.

"Have you forgotten who I am? A being of celestial creation, lessened to do recreational activities such as these? how amusing." Pathetic was the word he was looking for. Seriously, do you really expect him to just sit down quietly and start passing beads on a string without complaint to how this is a hit on his pride? It'd be more fitting if you locked him up for all of eternity, but this, this was just mockery.

It was the warmth of your hand that snapped him out of his thoughts. Eyes widened before squinting, but he dared not move, curious to what it was you were doing. You had started to fasten a piece of string to his wrist, gentle with your touch, measuring it so that it'd fit securely, but not too tight to be uncomfortable.

"Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me?" The warmth of your touch was strangely starting to get to him. He swatted your hand away, any more of that and he wouldn't know how to react.

Both of you were now glaring at each other. "Is it that hard for you to accept someone's act of kindness? I'm just trying to help." You could've sworn there was a slight change in his eyes when you said that, but was quickly replaced by an irritated smirk on his face. "I don't recall ever asking for your help, go give it to someone who actually needs it." He waved you off before plopping himself down on one of the stools before suddenly picking out random beads and charms like he wasn't against the idea a moment ago.

With furrowed brows and your mouth left slightly agape by his rude behavior, your face settled on a frown. You were used to the wanderer's arrogance and unpleasant attitude towards people, but there are times where even you are left puzzled. You went out of your way to make sure the activities kusanali planned out wouldn't overwhelm him, she'd ask you if you were doing this out of pity for him. You firmly shook your head.

You simply cared for him, that's all there was to it, but it didn't seem like he reciprocated the motion. The last he's heard from you was a sigh, before the sound of your footsteps slowly leaving faded.

You haven't visited him since. I mean how could you? if he was going to act like a brat while you spent your time there then might as well steer clear out of his way. No, you weren't being petty, and even if you were, you most certainly had every right to be. You nodded to yourself, justifying your actions as wanderer just being an asshat and you being the more mature one in this situation.

It wasn't easy. There were times where you would cross paths when he was on break from his duties (and bracelet crafting), or times where he himself is actively seeking you out, and before he could even call out your name, you're already making a bee line towards the exit.

You sat yourself down, exhausted from all this running around. Another successful day of not coming into contact with the wanderer.

"Doesn't he have other businesses to attend to?" If he had time to be going around looking for you then surely he was slacking off, right?

"As far as I'm concerned, you are my business." Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"So how long do you plan on avoiding me?" he was standing behind you, face leaning down above your head as you met his gaze from your position on the bench.

You put on an air of annoyance before flicking his forehead, causing him to hiss and reel back from your attack as he rubbed the spot. "Hey! you deprive me of your company for days and now you dare assault my face? you-" you were already walking away, with the esteemed wanderer quickly following closely behind you.

"Hey", he reached for your hand, but you batted it away. It was definitely worth it to see the offended look on his face, but there was a small pang in your heart when you saw how his face faltered. "Who gave you permission to lay your hands on me? don't go acting all buddy buddy with me now." you crossed your arms, throwing back what he had said to you a few days ago.

"ah, you're upset with me about last time." You kept a stern look on your face, expecting for more, but if he failed to deliver then you'd have no trouble turning away from him again.

His mouth kept opening and closing similar to that of a goldfish, but no words came out. He looks conflicted. It took him a whole minute to sort out his thoughts, and with a deep sigh he spoke.

"The way I reacted, it was uncalled for. Like you said, you were only trying to help and I should have, I, it's just the way you held my hand, it made me feel weird." his gaze turned downcast feeling a little embarrassed by getting riled up by something so minor as physical contact.

you don't know that of course, you'd just assume he was really really ticklish in some areas

Would you mind closing your eyes for a moment? I promise It'll only take a second", the soft spoken tone he's taken on is foreign to you, but not unwelcome. You were hesitant but complied. And if he does anything funny you'll make sure to write a full on report about it to kusanali.

You could only feel how he softly held your hand, how he delicately glided his dainty finger in order to tie what you assumed was a,

a bracelet?

You opened your eyes and that's when he leaned in, his soft breath near your ear "It was supposed to be a surprise gift, but an apology gift works too." your face felt warm, and your hand did too (to which he was still holding). Was this the weird feeling he was talking about.

A moment after, you examined the accessory on your wrist.

and my was it beautiful.

The main colors of the bracelet were your favorite colors, accompanied by beautiful white pearl beads and crystal flowers and cute charms. Truly something you wouldn't expect the wanderer himself to make.

You released a small laugh, happiness spreading throughout your system. "Did you really make this?" You were starting to look too happy for his liking, but of course you always looked more beautiful with a smile on your face. He scoffed in order to hide the ever creeping happiness that was also starting to spread across his face.

"Is it that hard to believe? I had you in mind when I made it after all, so if you're going to complain about its design then the person used as reference is at fault." You were just about to complain to him about him complaining that you'd not dare complain about it when he added on.

"again, I'm sorry for disregarding your help. Whether I needed it or not, I wanted to make the bracelet solely on my own so that it'd be more meaningful of a gift to give to you." This time he held your gaze, determined and truthful about what he said.

It seems you had judged him wrong, well not entirely. True he had a unique character, but that's just what made him, him. You held his hand, and the colors from earlier are returning to both of your faces. You held it there before pointing to his wrist, "It's only right I make you one as well, right? that way we'll be matching." You then intertwined your fingers. He was gonna combust.

EXTRA:

"I didn't think wanderer would be that into bracelet making" Kusanali peaked from the corner of the room. He was deeply concentrating on what he was doing and she did not want to disturb. "A little peek into that mind of his wouldn't hurt". After using her skill, a flurry of thoughts from wanderer flood her mind.

'Is this too much? or maybe too little? is [y/n] a minimalist or a maximalist?'

'This reminds me of you, this one too, and this one.'

'This charm is cute, like you. Wait no you're most definitely more cuter'

'this bracelet should be honored to be worn by you'

'maybe i'll make you a necklace next'

'I hope you'll like it'

[lxkeee]

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

-PART NINE

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: Angst (for now)

Warnings: family trauma/lore

Notes: TSOTSC finally reached 20k words, yippee!

PART ONE | PART EIGHT | PART TEN | NAVIGATION

Azrael looked at the female angel beside him, noticing the lovestruck expression on the girl's face. He looked at her with a deadpanned expression, lips pressed together in a thin line.

Azrael's deep black eyes followed her line of sight, landing on a light blond haired short male angel with rosy spots on his cheeks, Lucifer. Azrael grimaced, watching as Lucifer talked with Michael, Lucifer's twin brother.

Azrael can hear a satisfied sigh left [Y/n]'s lips, Azrael still doesn't know why the girl is so lovestruck with the guy. Lucifer's curiosity is a looming threat, everyone in the high council of angels can feel it but they can't do anything about it as the said angel hasn't done anything yet.

Azrael sighs, grabbing the cloud pillow off the couch so he could sit beside her, the cushioned seat sinking as he sat down. He nudges her, catching her attention.

“I still don't understand what you see on that guy.” he deadpans at her and [Y/n] rolls her eyes at the taller male.

“Do you want me to take out my 50 slide presentation again on why I like him so much?” [Y/n] asked with a raised eyebrow and Azrael flinched, raising his hands in defeat.

“No, thank you.” He mumbled, shuddering as he remembers the time she presented those slides to him, which he still didn't understand why she liked the boy so much. He was zoned out during all of the presentation.

Azrael sighs, chest heavy and tight. He doesn't understand why. The thought of his best friend getting married to someone else hurt for some reason.

“Make sure you won't regret it, you're getting married to him soon.” He deadpans and [Y/n] just laughed, “I won't. He won't do anything to hurt me.” she said confidently.

Azrael rolls his eyes playfully, “You seem confident with that statement.”

[Y/n] scoffs playfully, “Because I know him.”

“Do you really know him?” Azrael retorts back, raising an eyebrow at her. [Y/n] flinches slightly, Azrael is right. She's still 25 years old and so is Lucifer, they're both very young. They still have lots to learn about each other.

It doesn't matter, Lucifer loves her and she loves him back. They have an entire eternity to know each other.

With a long exhale, she turned to look at Azrael, “Maybe I may not know him entirely but I will be able to.”

Azrael just sighs, shaking his head, “Whatever you say [n/n], but if he does something... Don't tell me I didn't tell you so.” he chuckled and [Y/n] rolls her eyes playfully at him, nudging Azrael playfully.

“Hey, I know him. He's my best friend and we've known each other the moment we existed.”

Azrael scoffs playfully at her words, “Who knows? People change.” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. [Y/n] avoided his gaze and turned to look back at Lucifer who seems to notice her.

Lucifer gave her a wink and a charming smile, sending her a kiss to her way causing for her to blush and giggle.

Azrael rolled his eyes at the scene.

“They do and I hope he changes to become a better version of himself.”

After getting married to Lucifer, life felt good. Lucifer treated her so well, bringing her flowers everyday, giving her affections in every chance he gets.

Everything was fine until God created the first ever humans, [Y/n] knows how much of a curious man Lucifer is, naturally, he went out to observe them.

It created cracks in their relationship.

Lucifer began to go home later than usual, occasionally forgetting to give her affections.

And their topics—his topics have now shifted to God's newly created creature, a woman named Lilith.

[Y/n] had to endure the pain and heartache as she listens to her husband talk so fondly about the woman, complimenting Lilith in every possible chance he gets.

But nevertheless, [Y/n] remained to have confidence in him. Choosing to trust him, he is her husband after all. They've been together for many eons, she knows him.

Does she?

No, she doesn't.

Especially on what she's currently witnessing, [Y/n] hid between a large tree in the garden of Eden. She had the urge to check up on Lucifer, her instinct was screaming for her to do so.

Her nails are buried in the bark of the tree, ichor flows out of her fingertips as she tries to prevent a sob from escaping her lips. The wooden sensation of the wood against her fingertips, the stinging pain of the scratched skin of the tips of her fingers is what she felt.

With the additional sensation of the aching feeling that came from where her heart lies.

Warmth slid down her cheeks, bringing her gold covered fingertips to feel her skin.

Tears, the tears never seem to stop running down her beautiful yet sorrowful face.

Her eyes locked on to her husband, Lucifer—who looked at Lilith with so much affection in his eyes as he held the woman's hand.

‘Why... Why is he looking at her like how he used to look at me...?’

[Y/n] asked herself repeatedly in her mind. Each word got louder and louder on her mind, and each time she did, pain became more apparent to her internal voice as she asked herself in anguish.

‘Move... I need to leave... Move [Y/n]!’ she cried to herself, her mind screaming for her to leave. To save herself from even more heartbreak.

Yet, she remained still. Eyes fixed on the two.

Her hands slapped over her mouth to prevent sobs from escaping her plump and soft lips, eyelashes fluttering and glistening with tears. Warm sunlight filtering through the strands of her eyelashes, making the redness around her eyes more prominent.

Dull [e/c] eyes blankly staring at the two—her husband and a different woman.

Despite its dullness, her eyes were filled with anguish.

Tired, dull, and swollen.

No longer bright, hopeful, and happy. It's now filled with sorrow, and unimaginable heartache. Something an angel like her shouldn't feel. Yet, Lucifer Morningstar made that possible.

[Y/n] watches as her husband caresses Lilith's face, so affectionately.

Something she didn't experience from him lately.

“You're so beautiful.”

She heard him mutter to Lilith with a voice that carried so much emotion, it was enough to shatter her heart to tiny million pieces.

Finally gathering enough strength, she finally released herself from where she stood. Finally allowing herself to move, flying away swiftly and discreetly.

A single feather was what was left of where she once stood.

She arrived at her shared home with Lucifer, quickly locking herself inside their bedroom.

Her body slouches against the door as she slowly slides down to the floor.

Painful sobs left her lips, shoulders shaking as she buried her face into her hands.

‘No, no, no, no, no... I must be seeing things... Lucifer can't just fall in love with someone that easy...’ she laughs to herself, voice cracking and trembling as she did so.

Shaking her head as she desperately tries to make herself believe her own words.

“This must be a misunderstanding, that's right... I'll ask him when... When he comes back...”

She says to herself, voice lowering to almost a whisper.

‘That is... If he comes home...’

She thought sadly, supporting her shoulder on to her knees, burying her face into her arms. Strands of her hair falling off to the side of her face,  framing the heartbreaking picture of the face that belongs to a heartbroken angel.

‘He can't just... Leave me like that... He can't just break our vows.’

She thought to herself, her hands rubbing her sides for comfort.

She only has herself to comfort herself, her husband isn't here after all.

“When he comes back, the two of us will have a proper and mature conversation... I hope.” she says to herself weakly, picking herself up from the floor. Knees tremble from the weight of her emotions, chest filled with pain and heartache. She can barely breathe, she wonders if she was still breathing.

She felt like a walking corpse.

Wiping her eyes with the sleeves of her dress, the soft material of her dress providing comfort to her swollen and aching eyes.

She dragged herself across the room, finally approaching the full length mirror just by their closet.

She can see how much of a mess she is. Eye bags underneath her eyes, tear streaks evident on her cheeks, her hair a mess. Pale skin and chapped lips from severe dehydration from how much she cried.

‘Is that me...?’ She asked herself, finally processing what she's seeing, finally coming to the realization that the figure in the mirror is her own reflection.

She can barely recognize herself, she doesn't look like that. She doesn't remember looking so tired and so... Sad and pathetic.

‘This wouldn't do, I don't want Lucifer to see me like this..’ she thought to herself sadly, the face of Lilith flashing in her mind.

Lilith, the first ever human woman. Of course, someone as beautiful as her would be someone Lucifer would fancy.

[Y/n] couldn't help but compare herself to the woman. Lilith has bright and blemish pale skin, hers were a sickly kind of pale.

Lilith has bright and hopeful eyes, hers are dull and sad.

Lilith has a beautiful and blemish free face, hers are tired and dark bags are underneath her eyes.

[Y/n] shakes her head, getting rid of the negative thoughts that filled her mind.

“Stop that, Lucifer loved you just the way you are.” she says to herself, yet doubt was evident in her voice.

‘Loved. That's right, he probably doesn't love me anymore.’

She shakes her head once more, ‘Stop that, he hasn't told us that yet... So I shouldn't say something like that...’

‘I'll just clean myself first, make myself presentable. In case he ever comes home.’

She says to herself, dragging herself to the bathroom to freshen up.

He never came home that day.

She lies on their shared bed, coming to that realization as the clock finally hit one in the morning. The bed was cold and lonely, the warmth that was usually beside her isn't present.

Closing her eyes, allowing the tears to glide down her pale cheeks, the tears staining the pillowcase of her pillow.

Past memories flash on her mind, memories of where Lucifer and her were still happy and in love.

“You are my best friend, the love of my life... I am so lucky to be called yours.” Lucifer says to her, kissing her forehead.

They were still teens in love, young and stupid but in love.

“You are so cheesy, stop saying cheesy things you're making me flustered.” she giggles as he twirls her around, bits of the clouds around them fluttering due to their movements.

Lucifer giggles, dipping her effortlessly and presses his forehead against his, “But it's my job to make you flustered, darling.”

She giggles, pink dusting her cheeks, “I love you, Lucifer.”

“I love you too, darling.”

She cried herself to sleep that night.

She sat on the couch of their living room, the early sunlight filtering through the large windows of their home, giving their home some warmth. The warmth makes her forget the coldness of her skin and the numbness of her heart.

Her head whipped to the sound of the door being opened, lo and behold, her husband finally came home.

Her eyebrows furrowed, eye twitching. She was aching to snap at him but she took a deep breath and calmed herself down.

“Lucifer, where have you been?” she asked softly, voice cracking and trembling in each syllable.

Lucifer flinches, jumping slightly from surprise. He was surprised to hear his wife's voice. He didn't expect her to be awake so early in the morning.

He gave her a nervous smile, “Darling, why are you awake so early?” he asked, [Y/n] just continuously tapped her feet against the marble tiles.

“Enough of that, I know you have been spending time with that human.” she says softly and Lucifer's eyes widened, avoiding his wife's eyes because of guilt.

“It's part of my job, love—”

“Stop lying to me, Lucifer Morningstar.” she snaps, eyes glaring at him, “I didn't know telling her that she's beautiful is part of the job? Might I also include... Caressing her face? Was that part of the job? Tell me, Lucifer...”

“Are you tired of me...?” she asked softly, and Lucifer's eyes saddened.

“No, no, no... I can never be tired of you...” he says softly, he's unsure if he's lying to himself or not. But he desperately tries to believe that he's not tired of her. Yes, he still loves her... Right?

He doesn't know the answer to that.

“Then why...?! Why are you spending the majority of your time with her?!” she screamed, her voice filled with anguish as she grips her hair. She swore she ripped some strands but she's too much in pain to care.

Lucifer's eyes widened, surprised by her outburst.

“Because I'm trying to make her feel better because Adam hasn't been good to her and I hope you can find it in your heart to care for her just a little.” he says softly, remembering the things Lilith told him, how Adam was mean to her.

[Y/n]'s eye twitch, the nerve. Why would she care about her?

“Why would I care about her?!” she asked angrily, and Lucifer frowned, “Because I care about her.” he says honestly, annoyance evident in his voice.

“Morning, noon, and night I care about her, yet you cannot spare a single sympathy for her.”

[Y/n] was taken aback, the first time sensing such hostility from him. Her husband defending another woman when all she ever asked from him is his time, some time for her.

“I'm just asking why you're spending so much time with her! I am your wife, Lucifer... I need you too!” She exclaimed, her voice cracking in anguish, “You're barely home anymore and it's getting unbearably lonely in our house, I missed you so, so much... Please.. I need you.”

“For heaven's sake, [Y/n]... Lilith just existed and she's scared and confused and Adam is also not treating her right! She needs someone.” He sighs, blue eyes looking at tired [e/c] ones, he would've asked for her forgiveness for his tone, but he was blind with the sense of duty towards Lilith. He couldn't think straight. Neither of them can.

“So stop being selfish, I'll come back when you have cleared your head, okay...?” he says softly yet a tinge of sharpness in his voice, turning around to leave, his heels clicking against the marbled tiles in each step he took.

The sound of the door clicking as he closed it brought her back to reality.

Her legs gave out as she fell into the cold hard marble floor, kneeling like heaven's first ever sinner. Her sin? Falling in love with heaven's most beautiful angel.

Blinking, she tries to process what just happened.

She and Lucifer just had their very first fight, and she doesn't know how to process it.

‘Azrael was right, I really don't know him at all.’

She thought to herself sadly, wiping her tears with her wrist before a broken sob escaped her lips once more.

She was left alone crying to herself in an empty, cold, and lonely house.

Days passed by, both Lucifer and [Y/n] were ignoring each other, unsure how to approach the other.

[Y/n] remained unmoving in their bed, all alone and cold. It's been so long since she last took care of herself.

“I feel so tired and weak... Heaven's... I feel like I'm about to pass out.” she murmured weakly, turning around to look at the empty spot of her shared bed with Lucifer, to see the said man to be nowhere in sight. He hasn't been home for a few days now.

‘I am so tired... Maybe I should rest for a bit...’ she thought, her eyesight blurring from the lack of sleep, she kept waiting for Lucifer's return but the man was nowhere in sight.

She sighs sadly, her eyes drooping without notice.

She passed out.

She doesn't know how long she was asleep but the moment she woke up she was in Azrael's house, the man told her that she was asleep for days.

And also told her about the fall of both Lucifer and Lilith.

She still couldn't wrap her head around it, refusing to believe it.

Azrael sighs, taking a seat at the edge of the bed of where she was lying down.

“It's true, he and Lilith gave the apple to Eve... I'm afraid work is going to get much harder now that evil exists.” he spoke softly, eyes saddened as he looked at the downcast female.

He's wondering if this is the right time to tell her...

“And another thing... [Y/n]...?” he calls out softly to her, she looks at him with not a single light on her eyes.

“What is it...?”

“You're pregnant.” he says softly, [y/n]'s eyes widened.

“What...?”

[Y/n] gasped loudly as she sat up on the bed, her head whipping around to look at her surroundings.

She's back in her room, weren't she in hell before?

Her breathing was uneven, placing a hand over her chest to calm her fast beating heart.

‘Why now...? Why did the memory have to come back now...?’

Tears were cascading down her cheeks, pitiful sobs leaving her lips.

“Mom...?” a soft male voice calls out, the door to the room opening, the head of Xavier peeking through the small opening.

The boy's eyes widened when he saw his mother crying on her bed.

“MOM...?! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?! ARE YOU HURT SOMEWHERE?!” he asked, immediately rushing to his mother's side, kneeling beside the bed.

[Y/n] shakes her head slowly, “I'm alright, I just got a bad dream...” she admitted softly, small hiccups leaving her lips.

Xavier's [e/c] eyes softened, grabbing a clean handkerchief from his breast pocket that he hasn't used yet, using it to wipe his mother's tears away.

“Do you wanna talk about it...?” he asked softly, his hands gently dabbing the soft cloth on [y/n]'s face, making sure to dry her tear stricken face.

“A little bit...” she says softly, smiling gently towards her son. Her eyes saddened even more, Xavier really looked like Lucifer.

“That's alright, don't pressure yourself mom.” Xavier spoke softly, standing up so he could sit at the side of the bed, leaning down to give a kiss on his mother's forehead.

She nodded and took a deep breath, “I dreamt... About your father.” she says softly and avoids her son's eyes.

Xavier's eyes widened, his shoulders dropping but decided not to speak and allowed his mother to talk.

“I dreamt of the past, how happy me and him were used to and now... I don't even know anymore.” she laughs bitterly.

Xavier's hand clenched slightly before relaxing, “It's not your fault mom...”

“I know.”

Xavier sighs softly, “Mom...?” he calls out softly to her, [Y/n] hummed.

“I think we need to talk about him now, it's a long overdue topic.” he says softly to her and she flinches but sighs.

He's right, she's been avoiding this topic for so many eons. It's time to talk about it.

She sighs softly, “You're right... I think we should.” and Xavier smiled, proud of her. He always has been.

[Y/n] remained seated on her bed, thumbs playing with each other. Xavier has already left to do his usual routine around the house.

Their conversation about Lucifer has already ended, she told him everything about what happened. Told him why she loves him so much and what he did to hurt her.

She told him how she and Lucifer were together for how many years before marrying each other, she told him the things that he did that made her love him.

And she just can't let go of her feelings for someone that she loved for so many eons. It's not that easy.

Even after all these years, she can't forget.

[Y/n] sighs softly, her hair cascading down to her face, framing the shape of her face perfectly. She turned her head to the side to look at the window, she could see the large backyard forest-like garden.

Knock, knock, knock.

Her head whipped in the direction of the knock, she turned to look at the door to see Michael standing and leaning against the door frame lazily.

Her eyes widened ever so slightly, “Michael... What are you doing here??” she asked softly and Michael sighed as he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“I came as I heard what happened, are you alright?” he asked worriedly, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. [Y/n] smiled and nodded, “Yes,I feel slightly a lot better now.”

Michael smiled though, his eyes still held a tinge of worry in them. He sighs, “[Y/n]... Do you want to stop this mission and let someone else do it?” he asked her softly and [Y/n]'s eyes widened.

“I am perfectly capable of doing this, Michael... Don't worry too much about me.” she says softly and Michael sighs once more.

“I'm just worried for you, everyone is.” he says sternly and [Y/n] frowns, “I know but I can assure you that I'm fine with doing this...”

Michael sighs once more, clearly already used to her stubbornness.

“If you say so,” he says softly before looking back at her once more, “—but if it's suddenly too much for you, don't hesitate to tell me okay?” he says sternly to her.

[Y/n] giggles softly, a small smile on her face, “Yes,I'll keep that in mind.”

Michael smiled and gave her a single nod, “You better.”

Michael's eyes widened, snapping his fingers as he seems to remember something, [Y/n] tilted her head at him, confused.

“I just remembered, Gabriel said she was gonna visit later.” he says deadpanning and [Y/n]'s lips tightened into a flat line, she gave Michael a deadpan, “Yay... I can't wait.” she says unenthusiastically.

Michael laughed softly and ruffled her hair, “I'm sure it wouldn't be too bad.”

“She's gonna lecture me again about how men are shit.” she says deadpanning at him as she remembers the times Gabriel kept on lecturing her about how Lucifer was just a man.

“That is so real, love that for her.” Michael says, nodding.

“Michael, you're a man.” [Y/n] says with a small smile while shaking her head with her eyes closed.

“Am I?”

[Y/n] turned to look at Michael... Who's now a woman now. She deadpanned at him, “Really?” She asked sarcastically with a small smile, Michael laughed out loud. His laughs reverberated around the room.

“I think I look gorgeous as one.” he says sassily, flipping his long blond hair behind his back.

[Y/n] giggled and Michael smiled, proud to make her happy.

“You're so silly, try wearing a maid dress next time.” she suggested playfully at him, giving him a wink.

“Don't push your luck.” he says deadpanning at her and she just laughs, holding her hands up in defeat, “Okay, okay... I won't.” she says in-between giggles.

He smiled and ruffled her hair, “Alright, alright... You seem to be feeling much better now,” he says standing up, giving her a small smile, “—I'll head out first, I still have some work that are needed to be finished.” he says with a long sigh.

[Y/n] giggles, “Alright then... Don't push yourself too much okay?” she says softly, her eyes looking at Michael with worry.

“I won't.” he says and she deadpans at him, “I know you're lying.”

“Shush.”

“I'll see you later, [N/n].” he says with a smile, [Y/n] smiled at him, “I'll see you later, Michael.”

“It's Michelle.” he says sassily once more, flipping his long blond hair dramatically making [Y/n] cackle, “Right... Michelle.. lmao.. I'll see you later, Michelle.” she says in-between snickers.

“Laterz girlfriend~” Michael says sassily as he left, transforming back to his male form as he did so.

[Y/n] was left alone in her room, but this time... She was laughing thanks to Michael.

© LXKE 2024; please do not steal, translate, or repost my works as your own.

TAGLIST I:

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[diejager]

Bittersweet Devotion pt.2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Cw: angst, heartbreak, mention of cheating, mention of death, no happy ending, apology, tell me if I missed any. wc: 9.3k

Previous

Your universe, Earth-XXX, was a parallel one to Earth-616 in some sense. You had a Peter Parker, a Gwen Stacy and a Mary Jane Watson, it had everything down to the death of Ben Parker and the devastation it brought to your friend. It was the same year as Spider-Man 616’s world, it had the same political standing and same history. Your world, like many others, was a near carbon copy of 616, down to the smallest things; but like others in the spiderverse, you had differences. Some were minor changes in the course of its canon story, others were major changes in the characters and the era.

You - like Miguel, Miles, Jess, Hobart (he liked going by Hobie), Patrick and Patriv - were one of those major deviations in the original canon. You didn’t exist - or so you thought - in Peter B. or Peter’s universe even though you lived in the same year. The reason might be that in the reality, the sum of all potential universes that paralleled each other, created the multiverse - the Spiderverse. 

The concept of it seemed strangely unlimited, the infinite possibilities to a different ending or a different start for its world. The multiverse was, in some sense, as old as time, a culmination of everything made imaginable by man. Found in ancient texts - the Puranas, ancient Hindu mythology - that expressed the infinite number of universes with their gods and principles. Whereas Persian literature - tales - touched the idea of learning about alternate universes that were similar, yet distinctly different from theirs. 

Misconstrued by many, the strangeness of it was deemed a danger, the unknown possibilities were feared by people of older age, but venerated in the past as it was in the present for the unfathomable possibilities. It exists in fiction, where they borrowed the idea of many worlds within a reality from myths, legends and religion. Heaven, Hell, Olympus and Valhalla were all reflections of a familiar world, a material realm for the blessed, the sinful, the gods, and the worthy. The similarities sometimes frightened you, how close the people were to knowing of the reality you all lived in. The tangibility of crossing worlds and bringing about chaos to every string, every realm, every material form of the multiverse. 

They, after all, were real, Hell as much as Heaven in your universe. Gods from every religion, either monotheistic or polytheistic, some you’d personally seen are Thor and Loki, brother and sons of Odin the Allfather, and the God of Thunder and Mischief respectively. Another was a big crocodile lady, Ammit, from what you’d heard from the all-knowing Dr. Strange. From God to Norse and Egyptian gods, from angels and demons, and from humans to mutants, your plane of existence was as wide as it could go without drifting off the edge and causing a mass domino effect within the multiverse.

You were curious, naturally so for a scientist, exploring the worlds that felt familiar to you but you hadn’t truly grasped -  different, yet similar. You hadn’t given a second thought to exploring yours. After all, why explore yours when your horizon was as broad as you imagined it, unperturbed by any limits when it came to the multiverse? The eternal and unlimited growing number of realms in your expanding reality.

Perhaps that was the reason why you hadn’t known your universe had its own Miguel O’Hara. You rarely came back for anything, you had everything you’ve ever wanted in Nueva York, Earth-928. You have friends who could truly understand you, people who stood beside you when you fought, youngsters who looked up to you for mentoring and a dream- or it was a dream. Dreams, not dissimilar to wishes, were hopeful, naive in a way, they came and went. Some dreams would come true, while others fell, like the fallen stars that crossed the night sky.

Yours simply happened to be a fallen one, one not meant to happen and become greater. You let it go after he dropped you, after he turned his back and let his mouth run unperturbed. He brought her up, someone he swore he would remember but left in the past. A new chance to become something, to become whole again, and Miguel took it. He wanted to start anew, fresh with someone he never met, you wanted the same; you both had what you wished for, until he put his foot down, cutting the thin web that connected both your lives.

It broke your heart. Months of patience and anxiously stepping around each other, nervous about breaking the trust freshly built between you both, lost in a few weeks. You were brittle, heart fractured and threatening to fall further apart if someone was any crueller to you. The smallest glare, the tiniest scoff or the weakest remark would send you reeling into the abyss of heartbreak and the throes of anguish. Yet somehow, you found yourself being led away by a copy of the Miguel you loved. 

He mumbled apologies as he held you tightly, his arm over your shoulder as he cradled you under his umbrella, hastily urging you to follow his guidance. If it were any other person, you would’ve been wary, cautious of any strangers that touched you so closely and chaperoned you so quickly; but this was Miguel, a man you trusted and that you still trusted wherever he came from. Earth-XXX’s Miguel O’Hara was still similar to the one you knew, someone you could trust. You did.

He led you to his flat, someplace near Alchemax’s building in Manhattan, a safe neighbourhood for the richer citizens of Manhattan. A cozy place of neutral tones and muted colours, yet warm as he welcomed you - a stranger as of yet - into his home. He had machinery strewn around, reports stacked on his coffee table and smaller things he had been tinkering about decorating his home. As a geneticist, he liked to play with machinery, having drawn his designs and models, built his creations from scratch and worked from the base programming to make something better. At least Miguel from Earth-928 did, and it seemed this one did as well. 

You stood in his shower, where he left you in a frenzy to bring you dry clothes, drying out your hair with the towel he motioned you to use. You doubted that he had anything your size, his broad shoulders and his towering height, nothing he had in his draws - and the boxes he stowed away in his closet - would fit you. They would drag down your ankle and sit low on your collar. Granted, you were soaked down to your socks and had no temporary clothes to cover yourself with during your stay. 

You had stripped from your soaked clothes and patted down your wet skin, shivering from the cold that clung to your bones even after Miguel had increased the heater in the small confines of the bathroom. It was small but big enough to move around and stretch your arms comfortably. You hadn’t felt the cold until he brought you to his bathroom, the numbness of the past months weighing heavily on your shoulders and the bleeding of your heart made everything seem so meaningless. The colours draining from the world around you, a once bright New York turned grey, the monochrome tones of black and white mixing and interlacing to form even more boring shades. 

The vibrancy and life you once saw around you dulled and died suddenly, like the winters brought by Demeter’s devastation and sadness when her daughter was taken from her, stolen from the berth of flowers she liked frolicking about. How Demeter doomed the world to see her pain, to feel how she felt in the moments her daughter had to return to her husband than stay with Demeter. You felt laden by your faults and his actions. Doubtful of your relationship, of what led you both to such an ending. Had you been clearer or more forthcoming about your emotions, or had you confronted him for his behaviour, would you still be in his arms? 

Were you at fault for missing something you had relied on as comfort and safety? Could you be blamed for his reaction to your meddling in his affairs in the Society? Could you blame him for dropping those words on you? After all, being reminded or compared to a past lover was anything but gentle, the gut-wrenching envy and betrayal you felt flash through you was nearly drowning. It made you feel lacking, to be reminded of his old flame, the one he was about to marry and the person he seemed to love before all. Could you even compare to what she was; what she did? (Dina had cheated on him, you knew that, but he was truly happy in their moments of pleasure and domesticity. They were a family until she died.)

You were drowning in your self-made sorrow when his voice called you, grounding you to the room. Standing before a door, naked and shivering, arms wrapping the damp towel around your shoulders. He called again, cracking the door open to pass you the - his - clothes he thought would fit you. He coughed as you took your temporary wear, your cool fingers brushing his warm ones. It was a sudden and jerking contact, you pulled back jerkingly, a shamble of an apology and a thank you flew from your tongue. His chuckle was a reassurance in the complete quietness of the flat, his low voice reminding you of better times. 

The sweater hung loosely around you, dipping down your collar to expose your shoulder. It was warm, the cotton used to make it still soft after being stored away and the soothing scent of spice and pine deeply integrated into the fibres. The pants were stretched around your hips, the tight fabric thin and flexible under stress, hidden under the long shirt. The legs, however, swayed loosely around your limbs, too big for your calves, but tight enough to hug your thighs. He had certainly made sure to bring you clothes that would fit your frame. You hadn’t attempted to smell his pants, you thought it would’ve been too intrusive and disgusting to do so if only to smell a remnant of Miguel on his as you did on the sweater. 

Miguel was waiting for you in the kitchen, his back turned to you as you ambled towards him. His shoulders loose and back relaxed in the presence of a stranger made you appreciate how good-natured he was in most universes you’d been to. He turned his head, gesturing you to sit on the chair facing him on the island as he returned to something he was making while you changed. 

“I hope you don’t mind hot chocolate,” he started, voice light and hopeful as he turned to you, cup in each hand as he moved to stare at you. “I’m not one for tea.” He slid the warm mug into your hand, eyes watching your expression as he slowly sipped on the hot beverage. 

His eyes squinted slightly when your lips curled upwards, a smile hidden by the steaming mug. You cupped the mug, feeling the warmth of the freshly brewed drink, the steam rising in soft curls and melting in the cooler atmosphere. Tentatively, you brought the rim to your lips, slowly tilting the cup. The powerful taste of chocolate hit you strongly, the sweet and dark liquid melting the tension in your muscles until you could curl over the table with an appreciative sigh. 

“Thank you…” you knew his name, wanting to call him, but his reaction would be unwanted, the shock, fear and suspicion that would fill his beautiful, brown eyes. So you slurred your words, dragging out your voice until he could tell you his name himself.

“Miguel. Miguel O’Hara, ” he nodded, cocking his head upwards, pointing at you with his chin. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Hey every time I want to call you.” His lips broke into a cheeky smile, teasing you when he saw that you’d comfortably melted into the drink and his island chair. He wanted to ease the tense atmosphere from before into something much calmer, to help the accumulated tension in your shoulders to fall like the rain that clouded the streets of New York.

You let out a hoarse chuckle, your throat still fresh from crying, and told him your name, trying to stabilise your shaking tone. His cheeky smirk tugged at your heartstrings, you hadn’t seen Miguel laugh or smile this freely in months. You missed it. The casual banter you shared and the on-and-off insults you’d hurl at one another, all good-natured insults meant to rile him. 

“Thank you, Miguel,” you nearly choked when you uttered his name, the wound still so fresh and bleeding it slip from your tongue easily. It brought up so many memories, both painful and joyful. Your eyes glazed over, tears threatening to fall once again, to paint your cheeks with agony that you - him, or perhaps both of you - had brought on yourself. “Thank you…”

Miguel hummed sympathetically, eyes staring down at his drink, deep in thought. Perhaps he was thinking of a way to invite you to share your problems, to tell him why you broke down on the street in stormy weather. Or maybe he was thinking of the fastest way to kick you out, to get rid of the mess you became. The silence, however, was reassuring, calming the nerves that followed the eerie calmness of Miguel’s den or the loud, hectic atmosphere of the Society. His warm, worrying gaze grounded you, the softness behind his concerned stare was heartwarmingly nostalgic.

“Difficult breakup?” His words seemed hesitant, unsure of his conclusion to the cause of your appearance. Unknowingly, he had struck gold, pinning down the right problem in your life with a few observations. Of course, he was observant and aware of his surroundings, why else was he so willing to bring you into his home? 

“How’d ya know?”

His sigh was telling, the deep, concerned and tired breath was only used when he knew that you wouldn’t tell him what ailed you, like the groan of a disappointed, yet worried father. 

“Because I know how it feels,” he says slowly, pensive over his words, picking them carefully to not damage you further than your ex had. He knew the pain of a harsh breakup, the pain and sorrow that followed, like a dark cloud that hovered over you whenever you were awake. 

“Why?” You croaked.

“Why?” he parroted, frowning at your question.

“Why did you invite me in? I’m a- a stranger to you, you don’t even know me. What if I’d been acting to mug you or potentially kill and steal from you? What’d you do then, Miguel?”

“I know the risks, but you didn’t, didn’t you? And wouldn’t, you don’t look like the person to harm another.”

You scoffed at his words. Didn’t and wouldn’t didn’t mean you would not do it later after gaining his trust, to stab him in the back after he helped you and nursed you. The simple, naïve idea that you didn’t look like a violent person was mind-blowing, it was stupid. How could he know if you didn’t mean harm later on? Like how Miguel never meant to harm you - he loved you - and yet in the end, he had. 

“That’s naïve,” you muttered, eyes closed as you drank the cooling beverage, the sugary drink trickling down your throat. 

“I’m confident in my ability to read people.”

He did seem confident in his ability, the straight back and the strong gaze in his eyes showed; and, maybe because you knew from experience that Miguel was observant and careful, he hadn’t gotten where he was by simply trusting people and following the herd. He tested and made mistakes, he learned from them each time and found a way to use it to his advantage. The Miguel you saw in every universe was similar in some ways, their good nature, their cunningness, their bravery and their intelligence. All aspects known to characterize Miguel O’Hara in all universes he existed in. 

You conceded to his will, head bowed and shoulders slack. You breathed shallowly, swallowing the lump in your throat:

“Yeah, what gave it away?”

You thought it would be the last of him you’d see in your life, you wished it wouldn’t, that you’d see him over and over, to feel what the Miguel from your universe had to give, but you knew it was wishful thinking, a wish thrown to the stars. Logically, he had no reason to call or text you after exchanging numbers days prior. He promised to call you, and he made you promise to call him if anything ever resurfaced, be it pain, anger, heartbreak or hate. You, instinctively, believed his word. 

You hated yourself for falling so easily to another Miguel, how you bent to his words and the sweet promises he uttered that night. There was no sign that he would keep his word, that he would see you again after your breakdown, except for his words and your belief in him. Then it wasn’t misplaced, all the trust and belief you had, since he called you, asking to meet up at a cafe. Miguel had set up a place and time for you when you replied with a croak, still feeling down. He had whispered reassuring words to you, urging you to meet him - he explicitly told you he’d feel offended to be stood up - and spend some time outside. The air was fresh and cool for an autumnal month, it wasn’t too cold that you were forced to wear a thick jacket, but it wasn’t warm enough for you to go out in a simple shirt. 

You were hesitant to take him up on his offer, knowing how easily you could rebound. You’d crash into Miguel’s open arms, searching for the love and affection he fed you like a lovesick puppy, but, then again, Earth-XXX’s Miguel was similar, yet different from his variant. It would be a lie if you told yourself you didn’t miss him, the soft smiles, the gentle touches and the affectionate words. You had spent so much time as his right-hand Spider that it felt odd not seeing him the following morning. It was a routine you’d formed: waking up in his bed, kissing him good morning, getting to work together and eating together. Everything you’d done in the past years was with Miguel from Earth-928 the routine, the rigidity, it was grounding, it was the only semblance of normalcy in the world you lived in.

Now, you had to face the possibility that you were too broken to see another Miguel, to hold a casual conversation and form coherent and normal sentences. The purposefully slow steps you took to the cafe picked after having a moment outside the glass front were telling in itself. You swallowed the little amount of saliva in your throat to soothe its dryness and walked through the doors of the quaint establishment. It was painted in calm, brown tones, rustic in design with a warmth that rivalled the comfort of your bed. It lifted a bit of the tension you had, shoulders slumping slightly as your eyes searched for a familiar mop of brown hair.

Laying against the brown sofa, he stared out of the wide window from his booth. The warm, morning lights caressed his cheeks, lighting up the sharp edges of his jaw and nose. He was sculpted in perfection, like the youthful beauty of Adonis, crafted with the meticulous and attention-catching hands of an artist that created what was thought to be a god’s beauty. You could spend your days watching him, catching every little detail of Miguel’s face under the changing lighting, but you were standing near the entrance and he was waiting for you. His words echoed in your mind: “Don’t forget about next week, I miss seeing you.”

His eyes flickered to you, blinking as he turned to you, flashing a smile. You returned the sentiment, a shaky smile lifting the corners of your lips. You sat across from him, eyes wandering the cafe to stare at anything but him, lest you wouldn’t be able to stop the rush of emotions that would light your face in a flush. He uttered your name, greeting you in a friendly manner. You nodded back, muttering his name, pushing down the wince whenever you said it. 

“Chocolate.”

The still-warm cup stared at you, light steam wafting over the reflective liquid. It was full, unlike Miguel’s cup, and drank down to the middle of the container. 

“Thank you.”

He probably wouldn’t let you repay him for the hot chocolate he bought you, the smile he gave you told you as much when your eyes flickered between his and your cup. The hot chocolate was a reminder of your night in his flat, where he lent you his shoulder to cry and his ears to listen. Embarrassment seemed to flash whenever you recalled the memory, how vulnerable you were to him, your walls broken down and your heart open. Though, Miguel didn’t seem to mind your fragility, giving you as much time as you needed. 

“How are you? I wanted to give you a few days to think before meeting again, I thought you might’ve needed the time alone.”

You nodded lamely, fingers curling around the warm porcelain, back slumped into the booth to hide from his knowing eyes. He was right, you had needed the time alone to clean yourself up, scour through your memories and tend to whatever mess you made of yourself. You were thankful. The last few days had brought revelations, how - both of - you had ignored the signs of a rupture in the relationship and continued to push on, like crossing a crumbling bridge. 

“‘M doing better. How- and how are you?”

He smiled at your attempt, you were trying on your own after a few - forced - encouraging words from Miguel. Maybe you’d learn to live with the pain, coexisting with the numbness that filled you until it dulled to a point where it would be barely acknowledged by you or anyone in your vicinity - where it wasn’t painted on your face with bright colours. Or the pursuit to forget it, pushing it into the farthest corner of your mind and heart, painting over the crack with glue. As long as you wouldn’t drown in your sorrows, ending up playing with dangerous substances to stay afloat while your mind sunk deeper into addiction and denial. 

He wouldn’t let you get that far, Miguel understood you and he lived through it as you did. Although his was a more violent breakup - she had cheated on him, his explosive reaction was natural - than yours, he hadn’t relied on anything but self-meditation and a lot of thinking. Like a friend - you were one by his standards, he’d invited you to his flat, you’d seen his organized chaos and ranted about your life while he comforted you with his shoulder and a cup of hot chocolate - he would stay by your side, hoping his support would be enough to help you.

“Great so far.”

His grin - somehow - grew even larger, enthusiasm gleaming in his eyes. 

Oftentimes, Miguel would be the one to call you, your phone ringing in the afternoon of the day prior with his soothing voice on the other end of the line. He spoke easily, finding the time to invite you out for the simplest reason, to talk, to make a drink, to have fun, and - your favourite by far - to see you. His initiative had you trying to double your efforts to heal, reaching outside of your boundaries and texting Miguel whenever you had a moment to yourself. You felt guilty that he was always the one to plan these outings, so you promised yourself that you’d become a better friend than you currently were. You even remembered his teasing tone when you called him for the first time:

”Aye, finally. I thought you’d never call me, chica. I felt neglected, thought you had forgotten about me for a second there.”

It started with the first coffee date, bickering about who would pay, pushing your card before the other while still seated at your table, frowning stubbornly and throwing promises about letting the other pay next time. Either way, Miguel rarely let you pay, coming atop as the winner of your little fight with his strength and height (you couldn’t exactly put all your force into your push, it could break bone and bruise the skin.).

Then it would be random meetings on the streets that would lead you to a random bench at the park, basking in the other’s presence, retelling your day and him nitpicking anything he could with a ridiculously criticising frown. He was playing, you knew he was. You did the same after you’d gotten more comfortable talking to him, it became easier to see him as a different - as his own - person. A few hits on the shoulder left and right, but it was mostly laughter at ridiculous expressions made to emphasize your disdain for a certain event.

The months that followed were a blur to you. Rather than going to a cafe or the park, you went to restaurants and crashed at one of your flats, yours if he wanted to play games and lounge about with food and drinks, and his if you wanted to watch movies (he had the best television you’d ever seen, such high definition and speed.) and tinker away at his inventions and theories. He was certainly happy that his new friend was another scholar in the field of genes and engineering (you were mostly into engineering than genes, but you knew a few things that you’d found interesting.). You could both gush - scientifically - about the possibility of gene splicing and lab-generated mutations in humans, like the mutant superheroes. 

You’d taken some liberties and went drinking, meeting at the same bar biweekly to relax after a few hard days at work. It served to loosen your nerves until either of you felt comfortable to chat up a storm about the most random subject. It’d been about the odd dent on the rim of his glass; then it’d be about how the sky was grey this week, there weren’t any warm, yellow rays blaring down on you when you went out; or it’d be about the distasteful cut of a man’s moustache. Drinking loosened your tongues, some words were said and some sentiments were shared, but none were truly taken seriously knowing you were tipsy - nearing drunk - those nights.

Every time you saw Miguel, you felt like you were rediscovering a part of yourself as well as him, the thing that made him so distinct and loveable. Miguel was expressive and honest, he slowly and gently let you down from whatever high you were, the pillar you needed to stand again after falling. He was so much different. It used to pain you how much they looked alike, but character-wise, they were like the two sides of a coin. It made you appreciate the delicate intricacies that made the multiverse.

You won’t - can’t - deny that you’ve grown fond of this Miguel as you did with the other one, but you couldn’t let yourself love him. He didn’t deserve someone broken and hashed into many lives: the masks you wore, the things you did, the secrets you hid, and the things you could do. He didn’t deserve someone who could bring him to his death; dying simply because he was connected to Spider-Woman; beaten simply because he knew Spider-Woman; kidnapped simply because they deemed him useful as leverage. All things that could go wrong haunt you. Miguel was human, he wasn’t a Spider, he wasn’t a superhero, and he wasn’t a vigilante. He was Miguel O’Hara, the geneticist working at Alchemax, with a brilliant mind and a kind heart. 

You cherished every part of him. That’s why you can’t let your heart lead, dedicate how you’d react to Miguel after the months you spent together. He was so close, yet so far; he was touchable, you could hold him, kiss him and hug him, but he was unattainable, you couldn’t tell him how much you loved him. You watched him with hidden love, showing your affection as platonic, a friend watching another. You had hardened yourself to your heart’s cries, for loving Miguel was a dangerous game-

“I- what?” you gawked at Miguel, wide eyes and mouth agape. You were shocked at the words that left his mouth, his soft, wet lips moving as he repeated the words.

“I love you.”

His cheeks were flushed, burning a soft red, it trailed to his ears and nape. His open collar - his jacket hung on the back of his chair and his shirt clung below his collar, a skin-tight shirt that hugged his sculpted chest sinfully, it hid little to the seeing eyes of the crowd and your drunk self. His sudden words had all but sobered you, shaking you into clear lucidity of his confession.

“You… love me?”

He blinked dumbly at you for a second, as if taking the time to absorb what he told you and what you repeated. Miguel was tipsy, not drunk. He smiled and nodded, a bashfully affectionate grin on his beautiful lips.

“Yes, is it so hard to believe, chica?”

He often called you chica, you thought it was a friendly term of endearment between friends (truthfully and regretfully, you knew little of Spanish, even with being in a committed relationship with an Irish-Mexican.). You just realised it was his pet name for you. All this time, he had given you his heart, and yet, you had denied him of yours. He was more playful and less burdened by life, it made him more teasing and smiling. The term chica somewhat made sense, a cuter and more playful way of calling someone you loved than the deep-meaning ones like mi cielo and mi vida, a play of words like a small secret between you. This secret hid behind names given between friends, a well-kept one, close to his chest but gifted to you. 

It might’ve once been - started - as friends, but it grew and festered in his heart until he found the time to express himself, to tell you how he truly felt for you - how he grew to care for you. He deemed this moment fine, bordering tipsy and nearing drunk, he’d be open, brutally honest but still aware of the words that left him. He wasn’t a lightweight anyway. 

You wanted to tell him you also loved him, but you couldn’t do it, mouth slightly open and eyes glazed with heartbreak, you simply stared at him in hesitancy. You opened your mouth once to reply and closed it, open and close, again and again until all you could do was stare at him. How were you supposed to answer him after the bomb he dropped? 

”Yes! I love you too!”

”Oh, Miguel, I love you too.”

”I- I love you as well.”

There were so many ways to express your feelings to the man who confessed, but none seemed to convey the true emotions that lay in your heart. You wanted to tell him you learned to love again thanks to him, that the time spent with him had made you open your eyes to the beauty that you were blinded by the pain and you slowly grew to care for - love - him as much as you did with Spider-Man 2099. He had the same smile, the same mind, the same heart, but he was more innocent, less burdened by disaster and happier. 

So you simply nodded. It made his smirk grow.

“Aye- would it be better if I called you ‘mi tesoro’ instead? It’s more straightforward, no?”

Even now, his words were light and playful, his tone affectionate as he leaned closer to you. You could see the mischievous glint in his warm, chocolate eyes (you thought that was why he liked serving you hot chocolate, it reminded you of his eyes.) and the curve of his lips as they moved to form words. You were transfixed by his beauty, mesmerised by the comforting hues and the sharpness of his cheeks, missing how close he was to you. 

“Or maybe-”

Softness caressed your lips, a plush, warm feeling that made you flush. He was kissing you, those pretty lips on yours. Your breath stuttered and you froze, but it didn’t stop Miguel’s initiative, a hand cradled your nape, holding you in place as he pushed himself closer to you. He moved against you, tongue slipping from his mouth and tentatively laving over your bottom lip, asking for something. 

He was so warm, so caring. You could just close your eyes and follow his lead - you did. He pushed harder, yet the kiss stayed soft and passionate, he lightly nipped your lip and soothed the stinging with his warm tongue, beckoning you to open your mouth for him. Your lips parted, opening up for Miguel to dive in, muscle meeting yours halfway and curling over yours. He still cradled your head, fingers running through your loose hair and tilting your head backwards, giving him more space to show you how much he loved you. Your arms, somehow, found themselves wrapped around his neck, pulling him as close to you as he was pushing himself against you. 

His kiss was loving, his hold was careful and his touch heartwarming. You almost regretted having to pull away, but you had to breathe, your lungs starving for air after having been devoured by Miguel’s adoring kiss. The moment you opened your eyes (you didn’t know you had closed them while you kissed), his smile greeted you, a lovesick one bubbling with unending joy. You almost choked from how it fit so well on him. 

“That’s- that’s one way…” you spoke between breaths, chest swelling with every erratic pant, matching his similarly worn-out breathing.

That was all he needed from you. Your kiss was enough for him to know you loved him the same, a patient and gentle love he was willing to give you. Your heart pulsed strongly, lips curving and eyes squinting, you pushed yourself closer to his heat, his all-encompassing warmth that wrapped around you when you wanted to feel safe and loved. Your world couldn’t be any brighter, like the vibrant colours of blooming flowers when Persephone was given to her mother, where the snow melted and colours washed over the lands once more, painting the blank white and dead grey in joyous tones. It glowed brightly and warmed you like the summers that followed the melting ice, the clear, blue skies of Olympus and as freeing as the soaring hawks and skipping elks.

Letting go was far harder than loving. To let the person who you let in leave felt emptying, it left a gaping hole in his heart. Where it was once calm, struck a raging storm of rejection and regret, crashing waves the size of Poseidon’s rage and violent storms the strength of Zeus’ retribution. It hurt watching you walk beside a variant of himself, a happier and lighter version of him without his mutations or duty. You were the Spider-Woman of your universe so there wouldn’t be a second one unless there was a catastrophic canon divergence. 

He hadn’t followed you at first, respecting your wishes of being left alone. He had to give you that much, at least, after those months spent beside his ignorant ass. He hadn’t seen it until it was too late, lost under the weight of his duty and fears that he’d forgotten he had people who cared, who felt, who loved. It was too late, it was always too late with him. If he couldn’t fix his first mistake, who’s to say he could fix this? He couldn’t save his first daughter or his second’s universe because it was falling apart. He couldn’t save anyone because he hadn’t realised his mistake in interfering in canon events, and he lost you because he couldn’t stop his vitriol, his violent temperament that had pushed you away. He always took things for granted until they were lost to him. 

Was it two or three weeks before he decided to check up on you? He didn’t know anymore, the weeks blurred until he finally amassed the courage to go against everyone’s words. Through the flat hologram of his orange screen, he watched you lament on your own, body curled into itself and shoulders shaking. Your sobs were heart-wrenching to watch while he had no means of contacting you; you would’ve reacted more strongly and aggressively if he’d contacted you after leaving. 

So he watched.

You stared vacantly from your window and left only for the bare necessities or to act as Spider-Woman. Crime never slept so you couldn’t stop even in your time of need. You swung from building to building so gracefully that Miguel was hypnotised by your grace. He watched these moments as a reminder of the missions he took by your side, webbing and catching anomalies all across the multiverse with fearsome speed and accuracy. You both had made a fearsome team, but that time was over, it was a memory long forgotten. 

So he watched.

Your flat was cold and empty, the space filled with spectres of memories, the cool rooms vacant of life that used to fill them with warmth and happiness. It was saddening from his perspective - the observer, the watcher and the reader of your story - of your time spent alone. He wanted to tell you that you weren’t alone, that he was watching you from afar, a silent protector that would only act if you were in imminent danger - as long as it wasn’t part of the canon. 

So he watched-

Besides you was Miguel - not him, another one - and he looked much too comfortable by your side for his liking. His variant seemed much too close for a friend, moving from sitting before you to beside you, arm slung over your shoulders and leaning back and, sometimes, towards you at a breath’s distance. He turned green with envy, a vicious monster brewing inside his body with the threat of bursting out, clawing at his chest. The other was too close to you for his liking. 

He watched as his variant bought you drinks - always, however long and loud you’d complained and fought, he never let you pay in the end - and paid for your dates. He abhorred it. How happy you looked with the other him. How calm and satisfied your smile was. How close his variant was to you. He wished he was at the other’s place, taking his rightful place beside you. He would kiss you, smother you in love and give you whatever you wanted, whether it be a hug, a kiss or his time, he would’ve given them to you. He wouldn’t dance around the edge of your affection and his love like he was doing, like a man unsure of his feelings and anxious to act on it. 

He thought the other Miguel was a coward - though he knew he wasn’t. He wanted to blame his variant and find fault for anything he did, but they were still the same person. He was Miguel O’Hara as much as he was. He wanted, but couldn’t, especially after seeing how both loved you the same, having a similar type. They were so much alike that he could’ve replaced his variant, yet so vastly different in other manners that he would’ve stood out. His history, his trauma, his curse, the other had none of them. He was normal while he was Spider-Man, a stronger, more brutal version of Spider-Man. 

Granted, he loved you with every fibre of his being, but he had never showered you with as much love and affection as the other, having his character muddled through long hours of work and long-lasting tragedy. You were another of his tragedies, where he found love again and lost it by his own making. He would have left too if the Society didn’t depend on him, leaning towards him for support and help in protecting the multiverse. It was something he couldn’t sacrifice for his whims.

So he kept watching and let his heart crack and envy fester.

He watched you grow even closer to him, shoulders and hands occasionally touching, making you jump and blush. He watched you move from simple coffee dates to full-blown restaurants and bar dates, drinking and eating at your leisure - something he could’ve never provided you. He watched you wobble around when you were drunk, your arm over his shoulder and his around your waist, supporting your drunk weight. He watched you kiss, the other pressing your bodies together and you reciprocating the loving embrace you had once given to him. 

He felt like crying. He was crying, silent tears rolling down his sharp cheeks in slow, thundering waves of his heartbreak. He clung to the desk, claws unintentionally popping out and bending the metal under his fist. The sound ripped through the silent room like the image that ripped through his heart. He was alone in his grief, shoulders slumping and arms shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He had locked the door, barricading it with a busy, do not disturb sign, warning the others that he was occupied and wouldn’t be reached unless there was an emergency. 

“Miguel…”

He’d forgotten Lyla was here - she was everywhere and nowhere at the same time, with your help he had given Lyla an upgrade in her system that gave her access to every Spider that had the watch. She had access to every file in the database and his secrets. Lyla was loyal to him as much as she was to you, respecting your words with a promise of her own to leave you alone. That, however, didn’t mean that she wasn’t privy to his pains, watching him while his eyes were stuck to your universe’s screen, giving him some comforting words that were meant to lift his spirit. It never worked but the intention was there. 

He couldn’t look at her, still facing the hologram of you kissing. He felt the surge of too many emotions to be able to think clearly, his self-control tethering on a thin line of fragile web. If he turned, he would explode on Lyla, giving her the brunt of his suffering even though she didn’t deserve it, she felt and laughed as much as any other human. He remembered programming in emotion with you, laughing about how much she would be as teasing and annoying as you. Lyla was another gift to him by you, so it would hurt him more. 

“Miguel-”

“Don’t- Do not say another word.”

For a man in tears and pain, his voice was curt and stoic, playing the leading figure he’d taken for so long. It betrayed his shaky figure, fingers crushing the metal loudly and shoulders jerking with ever-wrenching choked sob. His world was crumbling around him, rippling and cracking from the seams and folding into itself. The control of his state was failing miserably as he kept staring at your mirthful smile after the kiss. It tore him apart knowing he pushed you further away and into the arms of another. It hurt him deeply. 

Through everything, he heard Lyla whisper a small sorry before she popped out of existence, her small holographic body vanishing along with her orange light. Gone was her familiar light, gone was the nostalgic memory of programming her, and along her, was the support of another person. He was truly alone in this moment, to fall on his knees and let himself drown under the weight of everything. 

If your love was a tangible thing, he would’ve cradled it between his warm palms, holding it tightly to his chest to feel the soothing effects you had on him. Like a balm to burns, you cooled the searing pains that the world inflicted upon him, the warm blanket that covered him when he needed rest and the pillar that held him when he fell. He’d lost something he couldn’t gain a second time, clutching his head in his misery, drowning and howling.

It felt surreal until it wasn’t until it all sunk in. He truly couldn’t grasp the utter loss and betrayal he felt. The realisation that he truly lost you to none other than himself. The irony of it all slashed deeper, how he drove you closer to another him by his own doing, making you love a Miguel with more gentleness, more kindness and time than him, Miguel O’Hara, the Spider-Man from Nueva York, Earth-928. Everything he had was lost in time, his spiralling thoughts of loss and misery clouded his vision, bringing tears forward in bigger waves. 

Was he doomed to lose everything he cared about? Was he bound to love and lose? Why couldn’t he have a happy ending like everyone else? Was it because he was different? Perhaps it was, there were other O’Hara Spider-Man, but none were mutated like him, a product of self-infliction and sabotage - none had their DNA spliced and mixed with a spider’s. He was simply too different from the others, they were lean but still had a strong musculature, muscles tightened to create more strength and defence; none were big and broad as he was, with rough edges and mean streaks. They were nice and happy, faced losses of their own, but always came out on top (there were some minor - sometimes major - variants of Spider-Man here and there, but they all had some similarities in their stories of becoming.). He saw the devastation and grasped onto the thinnest silver lining he could find, holding onto it to stay afloat while others thrived where they were. 

Maybe it was truly because of him. He was realistic - near cynic -  he couldn’t see things optimistically, life had made him that way. The silver lining he saw in things was small, nearly extinguished by his near-pessimistic way of life. Did that have an impact as well? It most likely did, at least partly. Fate had given him a bad hand in things, he couldn’t be completely blamed for how things turned - or so he thought, hoped. A man wasn’t only the result of what he’d done, but also of what he was given. When push comes to shove, Miguel acted in a way he thought meant well for him and the others even if it didn’t seem like the right decision at first. He rarely doubted his actions while he did them, only after, could he let himself face the consequences of what he’d done. Miguel simply didn’t have the pleasure of waiting. He needed to act when it was called.

If he had waited, if he had been patient and sought out others for support, if he had spent time thinking before acting, would he still have his little girl beside him? Would he still have you in his arms? If he had shown you more affection, would you have still loved him?

Did you still love him?

Miguel didn’t know what he was doing. Standing before your apartment door in civilian clothing and a bouquet of twelve, beautiful white tulips - the meaning not lost to him. It was an attempt at apologizing for his mistakes, a desperate one led by heartache. He brushed his hair back, trying to look as kept as he could in his situation: dark bags and sickly skin, tense muscles and sore back. This was a daring move from him, it would end up catastrophic if the Miguel from your universe saw him at your front door; but he checked, making sure his variant was elsewhere before opening a portal to your place. 

He hadn’t moved in a while, listening to you move around your flat, the sound of your soft steps shuffling from behind the door, a wall between you and him, reminding him that he wouldn’t be able to cross it unless you welcomed him. He held the bouquet in one hand and knocked with the other, his knuckles hitting the wood softly and hesitantly. There was a pause between every knock, drawn by his nerves and the anxiety that gripped him. 

You moved and closed in on the sound at the door. He saw your shadow dance under the small gap on the floor and pause. You knew. You knew it was him even without peeking through the peephole, your spider-sense aiding you in recognizing the unknown. Although your hand rested reluctantly at the knob - perhaps still too raw from your break as he was - you opened the door for him, figure small and apprehensive. 

“Miguel,” you muttered his name, greeting him with a slow nod. You stepped back and opened the door wider for him, he took it as a good sign that you let him in rather than shut the door in his face.

He nodded back, saying your name. He took a step forward, foot breaking the barrier to your flat. The second one ensured he was fully invited, both feet strongly rooted on your side of the door. He wanted to make himself smaller, to appease you, but he knew you wouldn’t have liked that. He squirmed under your stare, a mix of curiosity and concern. 

He nearly sighed audibly when you gestured at him to sit and he moved to the sofa he remembered sleeping on with you, cuddling under a warm blanket while you watched a movie. He knew your home by heart like you knew his, the memory washed over him with melancholy. You sat on the armchair to his left, your back to the kitchen. He swallowed thickly and handed you the bouquet, freshly cut tulips glistening with pearly drops under your lights. 

Your shoulders shook as you leaned in to take the bouquet, jolting back when your fingers grazed him. Feeling your skin felt invigorating, it breathed back life into him, even slightly. You thanked him with a slow nod, seemingly unsure of what to make of it. Was it a gift? Was it an apology? Was it a farewell sign? He figured your mind was running in circles trying to understand the meaning of the pretty bouquet he handed you. You were always an overthinker, but your mind worked brutally well. That’s something he always appreciated about you. 

“I-” Miguel started, seemingly stopped by something that he couldn’t get out of his throat. Maybe a ball of dread or needles of anxiety, but it held him from giving you the words he spent nights thinking over, to give you the message he built from the deepest crevice of his heart. “I’m sorry, (Name).”

You stared at him, understanding that he needed a moment of silence to truly convey his feelings. You hadn’t uttered a word since he first started, expression neutral, not betraying whatever brewing storm you locked inside of you. He was grateful, truly. 

“I know- I know it doesn’t mean much now, but I’m really, really sorry, mi vida.”

He sensed you tense, the muscles of your back contracting and rippling under your shirt. Every unseen fibre moving was bare to him, he could see and feel better than most, if not, everyone else. 

“I acted out of anger and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t mean you deserved that- never. I just, my mutation makes me more animalistic, more… aggressive than the other, and I hurt you. You didn’t deserve any of that and I can’t always blame it on my mutations. I should’ve been able to control myself. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you in those ways.”

He lowered his gaze to his hands, the calloused pads of his fingers rubbing his palm, trying to coax himself into relaxation. Although your breathing softened, a calm breeze in an atmosphere thick with tension, he didn’t dare look up and see the face you were making. 

“I was a bad boyfriend and a horrible friend. I’m- I’m not asking you to forgive me, I don’t want you to forgive me, but- I just needed to tell you how much I regret hurting you. I want to apologise, I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to fix this.” He breathed deeply, collecting every ounce of confidence and honesty to brave your reaction. “I’m sorry, mi cielo.” 

He shuddered, body rippling with his pained breath. He hadn’t realised how painful it would be to face you with his fears and confession, with the threat of abandonment and rejection fresh in his mind. He was a man of pride and strength, rarely facing anything with trepidation and hesitance. 

“I’m really sorry, mi cielo. I’m so, so sorry.”

He sat in silence, letting it hang over him like the blade of a guillotine, silent and brunt. Perceiving the flash of the sharp blade before it fell on his neck, sentencing him to a quick downfall with a long, lasting agony that would sting his neck as long as it would hurt his heart. The French used it for executions, the thing that spelled people’s end. At its height, it was used as an apparatus to behead traitors or people who were deemed dangerous to the people of the new republic. Down the blame went and off the head popped, like it would happen to Miguel if he wasn’t prepared for it. He truly didn’t know whether he had prepared for his rejection, for the death of his heart, to watch the flickering sparks of his flame wither out.

“I’m sorry too, Miguel-”

The rope strained, knots twisting and rippling in the tightness of the pull. It shook, whipping in the air as it straightened completely, held closely by the hand of the executioner. The wind blew but it was sturdy, withstanding the violent gales that slammed against the body of it.

“-it means a lot that you came here to apologise- ”

The crowd was filled with silence, the emptiness of the area a mock of a ghost town. Abandoned to be sentenced to death without anyone to witness. They deemed him not fit for their acknowledgment before his death, before the sparks of his life extinguished. His fate wasn’t worth their time, unlike the poorest criminals who stole for money, unlike the richest pigs who fed from the poor with their silver spoons and golden crowns, unlike the cruellest killers who gutted and left men, women and children to bleed out, and unlike the guiltless innocents cursed for something they hadn’t committed. 

“-but, I can’t.”

The rope was let loose, its tail flying and whipping in the air as the blade descended with its weight. The wood chafed against its support beams, yet it flew gracefully and rapidly, singing the doom of its prisoner. The blade gleamed under the moon’s bright light, the silver whispers of peace and sleep deaf to his ears.

“I can’t love you anymore.”

It cracked down on him, his life flashing before him as it cut into him. Severing his control over his body, putting out the dying embers of hope. He clung to desperation in his last moments, wishing to relive the moments of happiness, bright oblivion and cherished love. 

He wished that he could’ve seen your shadowed figure hidden in the darkness, tears lining your cheeks as you watched him take his last breath. The only person who came to see him leave, the one who he would’ve burned the world for. In the end, after everything he’d done, you still gave him a small moment of your time to witness his fall, you deemed him worthy of such an act. You offered him your kindness. 

My extensive tag list of extremely patient people pt1.:

@iseizeyourmom @raynerainyday @etherealton @sciencethot @coffee-obsessed-freak @thesecretwriter @beepboopcowboy@bontensh0e @aikoiya @allysunny @fandoms-run-my-life @brittney69 @aranachan @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @konniebon @starlightaura @redwolfxx @aniya7 @alicefallsintotherabbithole @bvbdudette @wwwelilovesyou @wwwellacom @akiras-key @bobafettbutifhewasgay @opiplover @rinieloliver @uniquecroissant @yas-v @xrusitax @blkmystery @darherwings @ariparri @notivie @vr00m-vr00m @battinsonwhore05 @irishbl0ss0mz @mivanda @saint-chlorine @livelaughluvmen @battinsonwhore05 @notivie @lililouvre @giasjourneyblog @ykyouluvme @skullywullypully

[tales-of-wocdes]

Community announcement

Hello all!

This is a new type of post! No need to worry, it is nothing bad. I simply realized something... There is a lot of people here, and that offers up something that was not possible before! Since, I am fairly certain that the community contains people with talents that I do not posses :D

Namely, I am asking for help with something I have been playing around with! Or perhaps it is a community contest? I fear I am not offering any real reward for this at the moment, aside from promising to credit the person in whatever manner they wish in the demo and here on the blog. So perhaps it is me asking for help. Assuming there is any interest in this :D It's not that serious.

This is still far away, and will likely be related to C4, but I thought I should ask early enough. Still, I will put details below the line to avoid spoilers for those who are not curious what this is about.

--------------------

Ok, I have an idea for a lullaby, likely the first lullaby MC ever remembers hearing. This is likely for C4, so it will be a long while.

I have an idea for it, and an inspiration.

Idea: The lullaby is a legend about the so called Eternal Wanderer, basically the Wocdes version of the Sandman. Expect he does not throw sand. Instead he walks the earth, pulling his flying ship, made of magic and dreams, after him at nighttime. The ship travels through the skies after him, bringing the children good dreams wherever he goes.

The inspiration: The idea of the wanderer pulling a flying ship is directly from this music video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--tFFz44zvc

Honestly, I prefer the live version for the music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ciLVx51IZjM

But that one does not have the old man pulling the boat. The rest of the idea is as described above and has nothing to do with the song :D

The problem: I can barely write normal text on my good days :D How am I supposed to write a song? Therefore I thought to ask for help!

You can get an idea from below from the few provided lines for what I am trying to go for.

What I have so far: I will put here a few lines I actually like from what I have so far.

I rather like this one bit:

He remembers a time from ages untold, when the stars were young and life did unfold.

Then towards the end of the song something like this:

Yet the wanderer himself, as ever remains, but a ghost in the fog, forever the same.

So I am aiming for some level of rhyming, but I want it to also make some sense, so one can be sacrificed for the other.

RULES/REQUESTS:

The premise is a lullaby and one meant to put children to sleep in a non-creepy manner! And the basic idea is as described above.

You are however free to play around with the idea of the "Eternal Wanderer" as the one who brings children dreams.

In my mind, it is currently a man, but if something else works better, I am not opposed. Or any other changes, but it should be a lullaby :D

Since someone will surely ask: I would say, max 400 (ish) words at most, including any repetition like chorus. Can be considerably shorter.

Please if you are interested, do not copy the song from anywhere, and do not get me into trouble.

If interested, please use the email for ideas/submissions: talesofwocdes@gmail.com

Questions can be asked in the tumblr asks so that everyone can see them :D

Schedule: Not set in stone, let's say I will start looking into this towards the end of May!

Let me know if people are interested in this sort of stuff :D

[huntersrequiem-if]

Hunter's Requiem

demo [HERE] 44k (22/01/2025)| forum [HERE] |

dark fantasy, horror (?), romance

CW: violence, gore

You are a minor deity of the Hunt, known by your followers as The Hunter, used by the other Higher Beings as The Hound. The All-Seeing Sun had given you countless tasks over your existence.

Yet one day, while on a mission sent out by him, you were summoned and judged for treason. The punishment left you mangled; your magic ripped off.

Cast away, you went into a deep sleep to recover.

After centuries you awoke to find your name spoken in whispers in the darkest nights. The Traitor. The world has changed, yet you still have true believers who await your awakening.

Will you be successful in your revenge? Will you be able to topple the gods or will you try to live in peace?

Features:

Play as male, female, nonbinary.

Your choices will affect the fate of your followers.

Befriend, romance or even antagonize a wide cast of characters.

Have a loyal shadowy companion by your side.

Astaroth [M]

"And to think I hated you. Now I can’t imagine living a single day without you.”

Your “other half”, attached to your psyche. He is content to stay in the backseat and offer comments. Tall and lean with gray skin. His face is sharp and angular, eyes with black sclera and white iris. Long black straight hair parted only by his antlers. His hands are black, tipped with long claws. The gradient loses color the closer it gets to his elbow. When he grins at you, you see beast-like teeth glinting in the light.

The Beloved Moon [F]

"That was the worst mistake I ever made. Please, I will do anything you want for you to forgive me.”

Moon has a curious interest in you. Since the moment she saw you, she had sought any chance to talk with you.

A short woman with deep blue skin and freckles that shine like stars. Her skin is shifting between deep blue and purple. She has a round face with full lips and a button nose. Round eyes with black sclera and bright blue iris stare at you with curiosity. Her long curly hair is white with pale blue streaks. Massive white feathered wings cover her back, sometimes used to cover her body like a cloak. Her smile might be gentle but the sharp fangs showed less so.

The Eternal Night [NB]

“I have turned a blind eye to the world far too long. I will no longer allow anything to happen to you.”

The Eternal Night is a distant person. Even more towards the other gods, yet for you they show a kinder side. They are tall and slender. Their sharp face is softened by full lips and expressive eyes. They have dark grey skin paired with stark white hair, that reaches their chin. The wavy strands frame their face nicely. Their eyes-- black sclera with crimson iris—are often covered by their mask. Massive black wings sprout from their back, and then the light catches the feathers right they look more blue than dark.

Santana [F/M]

"Why is it that every time I look at you I feel that I have known you for lifetimes? Why does my soul yearn for you?"

A priest you met in your past, a rather interesting person with a stubborn brand of kindness.

Tawny skin sprinkled with freckles. Golden hair is kept in a braid, far away from their face, yet a few strands escape and frame their heart-shaped face. Expressive eyes look at you, their blue gaze shining brightly.

They stand at an average height, donning the white and golden robes of the priests of Sun. Over that, they wear a chainmail.

You thought you lost them to the sands of time.

??? [F/M]

“Do you have any idea how long I prayed to see you, to hear your voice?”

Every day, they're slipping farther, their grip on the edge of the chasm growing fragile. Can you drag them back or will you shove them off?

permission to tag @interact-if for promotion?

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

could you do rouge x reader where the reader is immune to their mutation

𓆩 ALL I WANTED 𓆪

Synopsis; Rouge had always been afraid of touching people. The fear was instinctive, a barrier she couldn't explain but never dared to break. Until she met you. For the first time, she felt the warmth of human connection, and everything changed.

Pairing ── Anna Marie x Inmune! Reader.

Content. MDNI ⚠︎ ── fluff, excessive affection, fear of death, fear of using powers, emotional vulnerability, and themes of trust and healing.

A/N ── English is not my first language — Spanish — I like Rouge sometimes. She’s an interesting and complex character, but she doesn’t always win me over completely. Plus, it still hurts what she did to poor Gambit. That man didn’t deserve so much suffering!

Rouge had always lived under the weight of a fear that seemed inseparable from her being, like a persistent shadow that followed her wherever she went. A subtle but constant fear: the fear of hurting, of destroying, of being a threat to anyone who dared to come close. That anguish was her curse, an invisible barrier that isolated her even in places where acceptance was promised, like Xavier’s school. There, where others sought refuge, she found an echo of the same: confusion, terror, and a sense of being trapped in her own body, a prison of skin and power that kept her apart from everything she desired.

Few had dared to cross that abyss. Magneto and Mystique were perhaps the only exceptions, but even those relationships were marked by distance, by the impossibility of going beyond words. Her power, a blessing in battle, was a curse for the heart. She avoided any deeper bond herself, knowing the danger was too great. Until you came along.

She couldn’t quite say who you were: a new student, a curious passerby who accidentally touched her, someone looking for something more at the Institute. But the truth is, that first touch changed everything. It was an instant, barely a whisper between lives, but in that moment, something inside Rouge broke and rebuilt itself. She expected pain, fear, harm, as always. But it didn’t happen. There were no screams, no suffering, no dark certainty of having taken more than she could give back. Instead, there was something she had never felt before: warmth, relief, a spark of connection she didn’t dare believe was real.

When she looked at you, her eyes were filled with disbelief. And before she could stop herself, she hugged you. Tightly, desperately, with an intensity only someone who had been alone for too long could understand. In that embrace, the world stopped being a cold and distant place. For the first time, she felt what it was like to be touched without fear, without danger. The moment was eternal and, at the same time, fleeting. As she pulled away, her words barely formed an awkward apology, her voice breaking with emotion. But you didn’t move away. You didn’t run. You stayed, with a calmness that seemed to disarm her, and you smiled as if everything was okay. And for her, in that moment, it was.

As the days went by, Rouge began to seek you out. At first, timidly, as if afraid to scare away what you had started to build. But little by little, her desire to see you became something she couldn’t deny. Spending time with you was unlike anything she had ever experienced. You weren’t like the others. You didn’t see her power as a lurking monster but as a part of her, one that didn’t define who she was.

One day, her heart racing, she gathered her courage and asked, “Would you like to walk with me after class?” It seemed like a simple, almost insignificant gesture, but for Rouge, it was a huge step toward something she had never believed possible. And you, with that same calm smile, said yes.

Afternoons together became a ritual. You walked through the Institute’s gardens, sometimes in silence, other times laughing about trivial things. The barriers Rouge had built over the years began to crumble, piece by piece, with each conversation, with each glance. In your company, the weight of her fear lightened. It was as if, finally, she could breathe without fearing she would suffocate those around her.

The little things became treasures for Rouge: studying together in the library, sharing a joke during a boring class, or even the simulated battles where, for a moment, she allowed herself to feel free. With you, strategies and movements were no longer an exercise in survival but a game, a dance where she didn’t have to think about the risks of her power. She could laugh, make mistakes, try again. And when everything was over, there was always that hug—warm and genuine—that seemed to heal parts of her she didn’t even know were wounded.

And the nights… The nights were her favorite refuge. Lying on the floor of your room, with the lights off and a movie playing softly in the background, Rouge found a kind of peace she had never known. The shared laughter, the feigned scares during horror scenes, the whispered conversations that seemed to last all night. Sometimes, without realizing it, the two of you would fall asleep, curled up together, as if the entire world disappeared in that small space. For Rouge, those moments were magic. They were family. They were home.

Over time, Rouge began to understand something that had always seemed impossible: that her life could be more than fear and loneliness. With you, she had found a friendship that didn’t need labels, a bond that asked for nothing in return but authenticity. And on that journey together, through the little and big things, Rouge discovered something even more important: that she was capable of loving and being loved. That, in the end, her power wasn’t what defined who she was, but her ability to open up, to trust, to embrace the light you offered her.

Rouge had always walked alone, used to keeping a cautious distance from others. It was her way of protecting them—and protecting herself from the pain of losing them. But now, with that small spark of connection she had found in you, everything was beginning to change, though the fear still lingered in the shadows, like an old friend she couldn’t quite say goodbye to.

There were days when you joined the group training sessions. Scott led the simulations with his characteristic discipline, Jean adjusted the scenarios with telepathic precision, and Logan, always on the sidelines, observed with a mix of apathy and concern, as if he were waiting for something to go wrong. But you were always there, with that calm, contagious presence that even managed to soften Logan’s sharp remarks.

Rouge remembered one moment in particular—a cold afternoon in the simulation room. The exercise was simple: form teams and complete a mission under pressure. You and Rouge moved together, slipping through the shadows as you dodged virtual obstacles. “Watch your left,” you murmured softly, and even though you knew she had it under control, you couldn’t help but warn her. At the end of the exercise, when Logan made his usual sarcastic comment about teamwork, you just laughed. Rouge, however, found herself staring at your hands, wondering how it was possible for you to be so close without fear.

There were quiet mornings in the Institute’s dining hall, when the sunlight was just beginning to filter through the windows. You insisted on keeping her company, even when she said it wasn’t necessary. Gambit would often pass by with his coffee, tossing a flirtatious comment at Rouge before Kitty reprimanded him with a laugh. Bobby, always playful, would throw ice balls to start spontaneous battles. But you and Rouge would usually sit in a corner, away from the commotion, sharing pieces of toast and quiet conversations. Sometimes, you didn’t even talk. You would hand her a packet of butter, or she’d offer you her last strawberry—small gestures that meant more than any words could express.

One afternoon in the garden, you both ran into Ororo. She was planting new flowers in the greenhouse, a mix of roses and lilies that seemed to glow under her careful touch. “Nature always finds a way to grow,” Ororo said, more to herself than to either of you. Rouge watched her with a strange sense of admiration. For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine that she too could bloom, even if slowly, even if the thorns of her power would always be there. When she turned to look at you, she saw you were already watching her, as though you understood what was on her mind. You didn’t need to say anything. The warmth in your gaze was enough.

And then there were the small adventures around the mansion. Like that time Kitty dragged both of you to a movie night, convincing even Kurt to join, who appeared in the middle of the room with his signature “Bamf” and a mischievous grin. While the others argued about which movie to watch, you and Rouge simply sat together on the couch, sharing a blanket that seemed far too big for the two of you. At some point, as laughter filled the room, you felt her head rest against your shoulder. It was a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but for Rouge, it meant everything. It was her way of saying she trusted you, that she was beginning to find her place.

Yet the fear never truly disappeared. One night, after an intense training session, Rouge was quieter than usual. Logan had made a stern comment about how dangerous it was to let one’s guard down, and even though you tried to console her, she seemed lost in her thoughts. That same night, she dreamed something terrible happened to you. In her nightmare, she saw you touch her, only to fall lifeless, just like others before you. She woke with a strangled gasp, her heart pounding in her chest. She spent hours sitting at the edge of her bed, hands trembling, thinking about how easily she could lose you—how danger always seemed to follow her. The next day, when she saw you, she couldn’t help but avoid your gaze. She feared ruining what you had, feared being the cause of your pain.

But you didn’t give up on her. One afternoon, while Rouge was sitting under a tree, scribbling something in a notebook she wouldn’t let anyone see, you approached her with a calm smile and sat beside her. At first, you didn’t say anything—just pulled out a small book and began to read aloud in a soft voice. The cadence of your words filled the air, creating a haven of calm that slowly began to ease her tension. When you finished, you closed the book gently and turned to her. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, you know?” you finally said, your voice a whisper that broke through the barriers Rouge always kept in place. She didn’t respond, but inside, something loosened.

One rainy afternoon, Jean found the two of you in the library. You were teaching Rouge a card trick you’d learned from Gambit, while Rouge tried (without much success) to stifle her laughter. Jean paused in the doorway, silently watching you for a moment before walking away. That night, Jean spoke to Professor Xavier, moved by how Rouge—who had always kept everyone at a distance—was beginning to open up.

Over time, Rouge started to let you into her world more and more. Of course, there were bad days—moments when the fear returned with full force, reminding her how fragile her happiness could be. But then you were there, with a look, a gesture, a word that brought her back to calm. One night, as the two of you stargazed on the mansion’s rooftop, she turned to you and whispered, “I don’t know how you do it… but thank you.” And even though you hadn’t expected a response, you knew those words were Rouge’s way of saying everything she couldn’t express.

For the first time in her life, Rouge didn’t just see shadows. Now, there was light between them. And you were the reason.

[cloverapple]

hey! ik u said u weren't posting anything else but after reading your post I'm SO CURIOUS

1) where are u shifting to and whos your s/o

2) does your DR feel just as real as this reality??

3) does your method ever fail or do u rly shift all the time

4) tips for someone who's been trying for 2 years? 😭 🙏

Hello! Alright let me try to answer these coherently lol:

I think I mentioned this in the post, but I called it my “Witch DR” for a while! Until I simply accepted that it’s my other reality. It is based off a piece of media from this reality, that’s been AU’d beyond recognition, but I choose peace instead of engaging with the source material after having shifted there. Other people can do it, and that’s fine, but for me personally, it’s freaky. I don’t have an s/o! (Yet)

YES. And I cannot stress this enough. Some very real things you will experience in your DR include:

• Walking into a room and forgetting why you went in there in the first place. • That weird, cold stomach dropping feeling when you’re suddenly falling, driving down a steep hill • Your drink or coffee being too hot and burning your tongue! • STEPPING ON LEGO. I have one DR bestie who loves them but doesn’t understand the basic concept of putting things back in their place once you’re done. His apartment is like a minefield. • Existential crises. I guarantee you that you will have a moment where you’re at a party in your other reality, drink in hand, sweating, the loud music giving you a mild headache, with people screaming all around, feeling your stomach lurch with anxiety, and think “holy shit I’m alive right now.” • Wind will blow debris into your eyes. • I n s o m n i a. Unless you script/ assume in your DR that you always have a good night’s rest and nothing changes that, there will be nights of tossing and turning before accepting that you’re gonna feel like shit in the morning. • Photopsia (I had to google this lmao). It’s that weird glitter and light you see in your vision when the gel in your eye moves around.

3. It doesn’t fail, but at this point I think it has more to do with my assumptions and beliefs about myself that inevitably control the outcome of whatever happens. I believe I shift on command, so I’ll shift on command. There have been days where I’m so exhausted and want nothing more than to sleep, so I’ll start my method and quit halfway because I just want rest.

4. I don’t think there’s anything more I can say that I didn’t already say in that post. But please know that no matter how long you’ve been on your shifting journey for, you will get that time back and more when you start shifting consistently and travel to other realities. What is 2 years, 3 years, 4, 5 or 6 to an eternity of bliss?

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Currently Watching - January

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 31.01.2025

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

gif-requests are open, but you'll need to have some patience🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in January with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. Eternal Butler 🇹🇼 (5/12)

I really don't like this one that much. Why am I still here? The plot is hiding, the acting is playing catch with the writing. Some emotions are shining through and yet this feels very muh bland.

2. Futtara Doshaburi 🇯🇵 (4/7)

My intention was to talk about what a nice social study this show is. How the lack of sex can make you feel this insecure and lost and that the missing communication is not helping. I wanted to talk about how much Nakarai is longing for some physical touch, some love, not just sex and how this situation is slowly eating him up. And then there was the preview and my mind went "oh." Just "oh". See you next week.

3. I'll Turn Back This Time 🇨🇳 (2/6)

Okay, just time travel this time. Cut the step brothers. I enjoyed this episode and Shen Nan building a connection with Gu Shi Wen. I still don't understand the time travel and the changes that been made because of it, but I hope we get a little more information in the future.

4. Ossan's Love Thailand 🇹🇭 (4/12)

What in the Luigi is happening here? This series is really challenging me. The only thing I kinda like is Mix's acting and the soundtrack. The OST is so funny. The show? Not so much. It is really difficult to watch. Just not my humor.

5. Sangmin Dinneaw 🇹🇭 (5/8)

This series is such a rollercoaster. One moment they are sweet and innocent and the other second they are eating each other! And everyone beside the main couple is just pure chaos. I watch it only half, because I can't watch most of the cringe scenes. And now I am kinda curious what Sangmin's secret is.

6. Study Group 🇰🇷 (4/10)

I like the study group. They are all such characters. And I really enjoy the fight-scenes. So the study group is finally complete and now they are fighting evil bastards? I guess. And I am here for it. But I am so sorry Cha WooMin. Ever since Weak Hero Class 1 I can't like you. You hurt me too much! And now you're a villain again? Damn!

7. ThamePo Heart That Skips A Beat 🇹🇭 (8/13)

Oh you mother of all slow burn! This is pure torture for them and for us! And I love every bits of it! So we finally get Jun telling his intentions (I was right, yeah!) and Thame showed again why he is the greenest flags of them all! He is such a fair player and a loyal friend, who wouldn't sacrifice one or the other, but wants Po to make the decision. Only Jun already knew that Po already likes Thame (and like everyone else knows too). I didn't like the fact that Jun told Thame and Po about their mutual crush, but without him, let's be honest, they would still just stare at each other. And yes, I was screaming at my screen "Just kiss already", but this is such a delightful torture of a slow burn! Really delicious! And we got some hand holding. But Thame... your idea putting Po's hand in your pocket and nobody will know is just dumb. But they hold hands! AHHHHH! And next week... AHHHHHH!

8. The Heart Killers 🇹🇭 (10/12)

Joong really delivered in this episode. His single tears were so good. Fadel breaking down and allowing Style to comfort him, to protect him, to love every side of him was indeed beautiful. The series is not good, but this episode was quite good. But Mama being the bad guy here. Who was surprised? Be honest.

9. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (25/36)

Yes, I kept watching. Well, this will take me a while to finish, I fear.

10. Your Sky 🇹🇭 (11/12)

The question for me this episode was: Why do you think Rak can't have a happy family and someone who cares about him with Fah? Why do you think he needs a woman for that? The father really annoyed me with his I don't want to talk about it attitude. He is just worried? He wouldn't be worried if Fah was a woman. I understand where they were coming from with this plot line, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. What I still love about this series is the communication, especially between the mains. And that Rak didn't sacrifice his relationship in the end, but he stood by his man and so did Fah. I love them!

Finished in January

Series

Miseinen: Mijukuna Oretachi wa Bukiyo ni Shinkochu 🇯🇵

Somewhere along the way I lost interest. I don't like the trope of noble idiocy and that kinda ruins my wish to continue the series. And while it might fit into the narrative, I still don't like it. And so I didn't like the ending. Well, the ending itself was okay and it felt real. Coming out to the friends and family would have not fit the plot. I liked that about the series. Overall a strong start, a mediocre middle and a weaker ending. I give it a 7 out of 10.

See Your Love 🇹🇼

I went into this without any expectations. And damn, I am so happy I could binge this one. I loved it! They are so cute. The height difference is adorable! The story might came a little bit short, but but the characters and their developments and relationships made this series really enjoyable. I love how enthusiastic Yang Zixiang learned sign language. You could see, that this was important for him. The depiction of disability was good and well performed. The side-couple is the only thing that was not for me. I give it a strong 9,5 out of 10.

Fourever You Project 🇹🇭

I just binged this one. I started for Johan and North and I stayed for them. And for the others beside Hill and Ter. I adore Pond. I loved him in 180 Degree Longitude Passes Through Us. But this series was not for him. He and Earth have no chemistry together. Perhaps I don't like the typecast of Earth. Most of the times his characters annoy me and he isn't allowed to play an adult. And with Pond there was no spark on my screen. Other with Maxky and Bas. Their characters were goo. The chemistry was good. Their story was good and not that cliche-loaded as HillTer's was. I want to know what is going on with the other two, Tonfah and Arthit. The plot was a college bl. Plain, good ol' college bl. Nothing more nothing less. I admit I skipped most of Hill and Ter's scenes after Johan and North got the lead. I give it a 7 out of 10.

Movie

Short Film

Dropped in January

Looking forward to in January

The Boy Next World - Trailer (Jan 5th)

Ossan's Love - Trailer (Jan 6th)

Call Me by No-Name (Jan 10th)

Impression of Youth (Jan 15th)

The Paradise Of Thornes - Trailer (Jan 22nd)

[vivmaek]

Hi! I hope you’re doing good! Do all aspects and placements in someone’s chart make up their appearance? I’ve heard that it does, and I’ve heard that it doesn’t. Just curious to know :)

THE NATAL CHARTS RELATION TO PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Hi, I love this question! I can see arguments for both sides, but in my opinion I think all placements within someones chart make up appearance. I say this because our emotions and inner psychology directly affect physical appearance. And the same can be said for our physical environments. Here are some examples:

Gemini Saturn in the 12th House - Prone to getting bags under the eyes due to poor sleep. Struggles with anxiety and poor appetite.

Venus in the 2nd House - Having the resources to maintain ones appearance. Having access to high quality food, clothing, makeup, and skincare.

Neptune in the 8th House - Prone to drug usage, and is especially susceptible to the negative side effects. These types look spaced out and detached even if they have never used substances. They've probably been asked, "Are you high?" even if dead sober.

12th house stellium - Looks mysterious, even when you get to know them. No one ever truly knows a 12th house stellium. My life long friend constantly reveals details about her life that change the way I view her. And I never really know what she is up to, even when we were in each others daily lives. She travels more than any young person I know, yet remains humble and wise. 12th house stelliums are the ultimate mystiques, and this is an incredibly attractive quality.

1st House stellium - Their distinct personality overpowers whatever their physical appearance may be. Usually people attach traits onto others based on their physical appearance, but the reverse happens for 1st house stelliums. It is almost like they're cartoon characters, its like their personality and sense of character was developed before their physical form even came into existence. Their physical appearance suits who they are so well, I don't know how else to describe it.

Pluto in the 6th house - There are periods in which people with this placement will be overworked.

Scorpio Uranus in the 12th House - The wild card. Their subconscious state shifts drastically and changes unexpectedly, and this most definitely affects the ways in which they present themselves to the world.

Scorpio Mars in the 5th House - People with this placement are baddies. Cool af and might partake in some dangerous hobbies.

Chart ruler in the 4th House - Nostalgia frames the ways in which these people present themselves. Might have a timeless look about them.

Virgo Mercury in the 8th House - Could partake in hygienic practices that are diligent and maybe strange.

Cancer Saturn in the 5th House - Handyman vibes. Down to earth in their self expression.

Sun in the 3rd House - Seemingly youthful, the eternal student.

Strong 11th House placements - Their appearance is somehow associated with whatever group they belong to. This could be church, clubs, sports teams, humanitarian efforts. (For instance, Tom Cruise has his Jupiter in the 11th house and you can't look at him without thinking about Scientology.)

Strong 7th House placements - Tend to take on traits adapted from their relationships. They mirror people.

Uranus in the 9th House - Might end up living amongst a culture that differs from the one they grew up in. This will affect the ways in which people perceive their appearance.

Saturn Square Pluto - 😐 <- this face

Mercury Trine Pluto - 🤨 <- this face

Mars aspecting Uranus - Prone to accidents, bodily injury, scars.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

Reincarnation

"So, reincarnation."

"Yes?"

"How does it work?"

"No idea."

"…What do you mean, no idea?"

"Not my area. People die, then they get reborn. I only handle the first part."

"But I have been other people?"

"Your soul has been other people. You've only ever been yourself."

"So can you tell who my soul has been?"

"Nope."

"Hmm. So when I die and get reincarnated, you won't be able to find me?"

"Oh. No. Wait, did you want me to??"

"…Stop looking at me like that."

"That's very romantic, beloved."

"I was just, I was only curious."

"You won't have to worry about it anyway."

"What? Wait, why?"

"Um. No reason. Nothing. Forget I said that."

"Rioooo."

"…sacred mystery?"

"You cannot say that every time you don't want to answer a question. Real answer, please."

"…Not everyone is reincarnated."

"Now we're getting somewhere. So what happens to them?"

"That actually is a sacred mystery, Ags."

"Fine. Who chooses whether they're reincarnated or not?"

"Same answer."

"Mmhmm. Why do you look so guilty about it? Is that also a sacred mystery?”

"I don't look guilty."

"My sweet, you are a terrible liar. Is it possible that you've got some say in the matter?"

"…maybe…"

"And you don't want me to be reincarnated because you would lose me? Something like that?"

"…are you going to call me creepy?”

“Maybe—wait, does that bother you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Oh! Well, in that case, definitely. I stopped because I thought that one wasn’t landing.”

“…Agatha.”

“You’re over here making choices about my afterlife. I can call you creepy.”

“…does it really bother you?”

“Would it change anything?”

“…”

“Creeeepy.”

“Beloved, can you, for once in your life, pretend you are capable of taking anything seriously?”

“Well, what if I said, with all seriousness, that I wanted to be reincarnated?”

“…don’t say that.”

“So you want me to be serious, but also only say what you want to hear?”

“…Yes?”

“Tell me what happens if I’m not reincarnated, then.”

“I can’t, it’s a—“

“Yeah, yeah. Sacred mystery. Will you be there?”

“Yes.”

“…Good enough, then. I’ll take it—Whoa! Uh, hi, that was fast, did you want somethin—Rio, wait, I like this dress, don’t—“

“AgathaAgathaIloveyou.”

“Right, yes, I’m glad, but let’s calm dow—“

“Love, stop talking.”

Sometime much later

“Never mind. I’ve changed my mind. I want to be reincarnated.”

“…please tell me that is you not taking anything seriously again.”

“Could be.”

“Agatha…”

“An eternity of this, huh? …honestly, sounds pretty nice.”

“…”

“…did you just grow a tree? Just now?”

“I got excited. And I assume you don’t want to…”

“Again?? Noooo, no, I’m good. It’s a beautiful tree.”

“Ags, I really love you.”

“I know.”

“…”

“Heh. Love you.”

“Mm. Forever and ever.”

“…creepy.”