#posts were getting like 2 or 3 likes maybe 8 on a good day

[robiinurheart33]

Losing my mind cause

I HIT 1 FOLLOWER??!?!?!

Jk we got to triple digits 100 followers babyeee!!!!

Absolutely crazy. Insane. Could not have done anything I do on this blog without you guys. Giving y’all all the love rn

[jadevine]

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

--

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

[allthegothihopgirls]

alfred, who writes in a journal every day unbeknownst to the bats.

alfred, who's journals aren't marked by a period of time, or his own age, instead by the names of those he looks after. when dick is first adopted, and he knows this change is permanent, he puchases a new journal, despite his existing one being only 2/3 full. this one has a simple 'richard' written with a gold accent on the cover, a change from the last 8, titled 'bruce'.

alfred, who somehow makes journaling more of a logbook, albeit still personal. he's writing about himself, sure. memories of old friends, his travels, stories he's heard, things he has experienced.

but he mainly writes of them, the things they do, how they act. their character quirks that they haven't even picked up on yet themselves. the things he wishes he could tell them as a parent, instead of butler. the things they should know about those who've come before them. the regrets he has, and changes he's making. how they've molded him into a new person.

alfred, who will take all this information to the grave. until then, they stay packed in their respective boxes, some dustier than others, in the back of his wardrobe in the manor.

the contents of those journals aren't specific to each kid. everyone's within those pages. in tim's there's a lot about jason, and damian's has a lot about bruce. nothing's overly invasive in them, and the furthest it strays from the truth is when sometimes alfred admits to believing a different set of events to whatever he's been told, and even then he's probably right.

jason, who receives his journals prematurely. there's only 2, there should have been more. it's painfully obvious the cutoff, how it wasn't supposed to end there, but still it did. he receives them post-resurrection, convinced he doesn't belong in the world. his memories of robin growing fogged and becoming twisted.

he reads them and he cries, maybe it's because he forgot how much good there was in those times, or maybe it's because that's the determining moment in his new life where he decides that he really deserves and wants to live, because his existence runs deeper than being the robin who died.

frankly it's quite jarring for jason, to read about himself from another's perspective. as much as i love the idea of him and alfred getting along the best out of all the kids, he definitely distances himself for a while to process everything. he slowly creeps back though.

no one else gets to read their share until alfred's gone, and when they do it goes unspoken, no one pries to know anything outside of their dedicated journals.

jason, after hesitance and much internal conflict, drops off his own on dick's nightstand one night. receiving them back, two weeks later, is a silent affair face-to-face.

tim, similarly, on no one's accord but his own, gives jason his, to keep. he says something about how he doesn't think they were ever about him, and they seemed much more like a sequel. he also apologises, and mentions how he almost felt like he was intruding on something. but he understands now, he doesn't clarify about what.

[mafiadad5]

cyber sex || Lee haechan

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ now playing- cyber sex: doja cat

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Audioguy!haechan x fem!reader

ִ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Genre/ warnings: smut, college au, 18+ mdni!, needy sub haechan/ soft dom reader, cyber sex, unprotected sex, praising, auralism, creampie ig?, oral (fem receiving), marking (if you squint), begging. Kinda nerdy looking haechan… Lmk if I miss anything.

ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ Wc- 8.2k

authors note- omg… lmk what you think guys. Part 2 maybe I have some ideas…👀. No proof read cus lol. I hope you enjoy! <3

══════════════════════════

One day your friend joked to you and told you about these corny little audio guys that were on sound cloud. You were captivated to say the least, and curiosity filled your brain so that night you found yourself on sound cloud searching. Most of them were very laughable like your friend suggested, but then you came across this one profile. 

"hcillusion119." You muttered out loud, biting your lip in curiosity as you clicked on the profile. 

The first thing you noticed was instead of one of those anime boy banner things, it was just black with his username splat in the center. Ok, so far so good. The next thing that you noticed was how the profile description were just the words: "just listen, you won't regret ;)" 

You giggled to yourself from how full of himself this guy was, so you decided to listen to an audio, expecting to laugh just like the other times, but this one was different. His voice wasn't what you had expected, it was whiny, but not in a high-pitched, irritating way. There was something desperate in the way he guided the listener through every step, an intensity that hooked you in. You had to admit, this was nothing like what you heard previously.

After the first audio you thought you would be done with it, but it kept creeping on your mind, causing you to go back to the one you were most familiar with, but after a while you started exploring his other audios and soon found yourself subscribed. No one knew you were into this, and you were too embarrassed to even play his audios if anyone was in the same proximity as you, this was your little secret— he was your little secret.

"Hey guys. We're gonna be doing something a bit different today, so just sit back and listen to me, okay?"

You sat there quietly, your body relaxing as his smooth voice seeped into your ears. It felt like he was speaking directly to you, and you couldn't help but nod along as if he could see you.

"I just want to start off by saying that we've reached 20k followers up here. I'm very grateful for all of you guys and I'll make sure to put out great content. That being said, to show my gratitude I will be hosting a little giveaway, or I guess it's like that. I want to pick one of you to have a private call with me on insta. Crazy huh? Only the best for you guys. To enter, all you have to do is comment on this post what you like about my content...and please, don't be weird... joking haha. The winner will get a private message tomorrow at 8pm. Good luck."

An embarrassing smile painted your smile as you typed out your comment on the post. You knew you probably weren't gonna win, and honestly you weren't even sure you could handle it if you did win, but something in you burned at the thought of what could happen—what it would be like to hear his voice in real time, just for you.

It was impossible to focus on anything else the next day, you even made an anonymous insta account just incase you won. The time went agonizingly slow, you honestly thought you couldn't wait any longer, but finally it was time. 

You sat on your bed after a long day of class and work, checking your notification center obsessively, heart racing with both hope and dread.

8:05 came, then 8:10, and still nothing. By 8:15 you were ready to give up, the little spark of  hope you had starting to flicker out. Just as you were about to close the app, your phone buzzed, a bright orange message appearing at the top of your screen.

hcillusion119- hey, sorry for the late text, I'll make it up to you when we call, but I want to let you know that you won.

Your eyes widened as you stared at the notification, your heart leaping into your throat. No way. It had to be too good to be true. You fumbled with your phone, nearly dropping it as you jumped up in shock. After pacing around your room for a solid five minutes, trying to wrap your mind around it, you finally opened the message.

unknown825: omg tysm TT

hcillusion119: no, thank you :) 

hcillusion119: will you plz choose a date and time?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you considered your options, a thousand scenarios racing through your mind. You could cancel, let someone else, someone braver, take the opportunity. Instead, you found yourself typing.

unknown825: umm, well are you available tonight at 10?

There. You've done it, now there was no turning back.

hcillusion119: yea im available tonight. you're not very patient are you lol? what's your insta so I can call?

unknown825: I just like to get things done. my insta's the same as my user on here.

hcillusion119: ok, did you get my dm?

unknown825: yes, I'll talk to you then.

You barely registered your response before throwing your phone onto the bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your heart was pounding so hard you could hear it. This was real. It was actually happening. You had less than two hours before the call, and the weight of it started to settle on you. What if you said something dumb? What if your voice shook? What if you just... froze?

The minutes went by slowly, agonizingly. You checked the time over and over, becoming more and more nervous with each glance.

9:45... almost time. You laid down in bed, trying to calm your racing thoughts, your phone clutched tightly in your hand. 

9:59.

You took a deep breath, staring at the screen as you scrolled through Instagram, pretending to distract yourself, but your heart was in your throat.Any moment now, your phone would light up, and you'd hear his voice—this time just for you.

Incoming call from hcillusion119

You took a deep breath, letting it ring for a moment before picking up, the silence so intense you could almost hear a pin drop.

Then his voice broke through.

"Hey."

A chill ran down your spine, sharper than you'd expected. Hearing his voice in your ears felt different this time—more personal, more intimate.

"Hi."

Your voice came out low, almost shy. You sat the phone on your stomach, unsure of what to do with your hands. The awkward smile on your face wasn't helping you feel any less flustered.

"How are you doing today?" he asked, his tone casual but warm.

"I'm good, exhausted. What about you?"

"I'm good too," he replied. "tired as well."

"Why are you tired?" You responded. 

"Well, I just moved... like yesterday, so."

"Oh, cool. Where did you move to?"

"I can't tell you that." he said with a teasing edge to his voice.

"Oh, right... I guess I understand."

The conversation wasn't flowing like you'd imagined. It was awkward. You questioned why you were so nervous in the first place. 

"What's your name?" His voice dropped lower and softer, catching you off guard.

"I can't tell you." you mimicked, trying to match his playful tone.

"Ahh, I see what you're doing. Well unknown825, why are you so tired?"

"I had school and work, so I'm pretty worn down."

"School?" He sounded curious, his tone lighter.

"Yeah, I'm in college. You're not like... an old man right?"

He laughed, the sound soft and genuine.

"No, I'm in college too."

"Oh cool."

Silence fell between you again, the awkward kind that made your heart race for no reason. You didn't want to keep bombarding him with boring questions, but you also didn't want the conversation to just end. Still, you felt that sinking feeling that maybe you should've canceled after all.

"So, what's your favorite audio?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Stress Relief."

"Ah, who would've thought?" He chuckled, his voice dropping an octave. "So you like to be talked through it, huh?"

You hummed in response, turning onto your stomach as you clutched the phone. 

"Do you like being talked through it?" You asked, your tone slightly teasing.

The line went quiet, and for a second, you wondered if you pushed too far, but then you heard him lick his lips, a small noise you wouldn't have caught if you hadn't been listening so intently. 

"Yeah, I do." he admitted, voice deeper now. "Can't help it when I hear a pretty voice like yours."

Your cheeks flushed as a smile crept across your face. "So what are you saying? You want me to talk you through it?"

"I never said that." he interrupted quickly. "Besides, you wouldn't be able to handle it, Miss Stress Relief."

He laughed softly.

"No, you're the one who wouldn't be able to handle it." You shot back, your voice in a mocking tone.

"Are you trying to challenge me?" His tone shifted, there was an edge to it now.

You hummed again, licking your lips before replying. "I never said that,"

You could feel the tension building, the invisible line between the two of you tightening with each word exchanged. You were both teasing each other.

"but I know you want me to." you continued, voice low. "If you asked nicely... maybe I would."

Silence. 

The only thing you could hear was his breathing—slow, but heavy. Even that sounded beautiful, like every part of him was designed to captivate you. You waited, the pressure coiling tighter in the pit of your stomach. Then his voice came again, softer this time.

"Talk me through it."

But there was a command in his tone.

"I said nicely."

There was a pause, and you could almost picture him struggling with the request before he spoke again.

"Ca—Can you please talk me through it?"

"That's more like it." You whispered, smirking. "See what happens when you listen? Now... are your pants down? If they aren't, pull them down."

You waited, hearing the soft rustle of fabric on the other end. He was listening, and the thought made your pulse quicken. Thrill ran through your body, you had never done anything like this before.

"What do you want me to do next?" His voice was quieter now, the assertiveness from before completely gone.

"I want you to touch yourself, but not too fast, okay?"

You paused, waiting for his breathing to change—waiting for him to obey.

"Are you doing it?"

"Yeah." he breathed out, almost as if the word escaped him unintentionally.

"Good. Now, I want you to keep going, but don't finish until I tell you to. Can you handle that?"

There was a pause, his breath quickening. 

"I can handle it." he replied, though his voice wavered just a bit.

"We'll see."

You could feel the heat radiating through the connection, charging the atmosphere around you. His breathing was heavier now, more ragged, each inhalation betraying just how hard he was trying to please you. 

"Tell me how it feels." you encouraged, your voice silky and low. 

"It feels... so good." he stammered, his words interrupted by tiny gasps. "I want you. I want to feel you. I want you here with me." He spoke again.

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulnerability in his tone. The yearning in his voice made you only think about  him—how he sounded, how he felt.

"Touch yourself harder, let me hear you." You whispered. 

He followed your command, his voice becoming strained and desperate Each moan a mix of pleasure with restraint, and you could practically visualize—lost in passion, chasing the edge of that sweet release.

"Are you going faster?" You asked, your heart pounding with anticipation.

"No...  I- I won't until you tell me to." he responded, voice trembling, you could hear the struggle in his words.

"You're such a good boy. You can go faster." You could feel a rush of satisfaction at how he gave himself over to you.

"Fuck." He let out in a breathy moan. You could hear his hand moving faster, driving you to insanity knowing how desperate he was for you.

"Just like that." you murmured. "You want it, don't you?"

He gasped softly, almost pleadingly. "Yes, I want it so bad."

Before you could speak again, he interrupted. "I don't know how much longer I can hold back." His voice full with need.

"You can handle it, right? Well.. that's what you told me." You reminded him, your tone teasing. "Were you lying to me?

"No, but—"  You could hear the struggle in his voice, the way his breaths quickened as he fought against the sensation. 

"Please." A groan reached your ears, confirming your suspicion. "Please, I need—" His voice was whiny, but it was obvious he was trying to keep it in.

"Need what?" you interrupted, a smile on your face. "Permission?" 

"Yes." He responded immediately, his breath rigid. 

"You're close, aren't you?" you teased. "Beg for it. Use that voice and tell me how much you want it."

His breathing became frantic as he pleaded. "I want to cum so badly, please. I can't hold back anymore. I'll do anything you want... just please, let me finish."

You hummed softly, his voice seeping into your ears. His voice was a mix of desperation, coming out in broken gasps. 

"Please... I'm begging you." The urgency in his tone echoed through your mind making you give in.

"Finish for me." You said softly. 

The sound that escaped him was pure ecstasy. His voice melting into a series of gasps and whimpers— loud and desperate, sent shivers through you. 

You wanted to be there, to feel him come undone against you. 

"You did so well." 

"Thank you." he murmured softly, trying to catch his breath, coming down from his high. 

"Well... it's pretty late, I should get going." You spoke. 

"Yeah cool, I understand. Have a good night." He responded, still sounding a bit winded. 

"You too."

And with that you hung up, turning off your phone completely before closing your eyes, drifting to sleep as you thought about what just happened. 

══════════════════════════

A week had passed and you still couldn't shake that night. You didn't know whether to feel disappointed or proud of the night you had with a complete stranger on the internet. It was truly something you had never done before.

Walking into class you noticed an unfamiliar face talking to your professor as you walked to your seat. He was cute, you can admit that, but his sudden appearance already irritated you. You groaned as you saw your professor point your way, and the stranger started walking toward you. Currently you're working on a project that requires a partner. Luckily, you ended up working alone due to the odd number of students, but you could tell that was going to change as he walked towards you.

 Your eyes immediately dropped to your phone, hoping if you pretended not to see him, maybe he would just walk past, but of course you're not that lucky. 

"Hey, I'm Haechan." His voice pulled you from your thoughts. "The professor told me to partner with you for the project."

Your heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. His voice—it was familiar, uncomfortably familiar. You felt a strange chill creep up your spine, but you quickly brushed it off. It couldn't be him, right?

"Hi, I'm Y/n." You replied, your voice coming out more clipped than you intended.

His eyes squinted ever so slightly as he looked at you in silence for a moment.

"Do you know what you're doing, or am I gonna have to teach you?" You didn't mean to speak harshly, but your words came out sharper than expected.

"I know what I'm doing." He answered, his voice low as he took a seat beside you.

You swear your blood ran cold every time you heard him speak. You listened to your fav audio guys voice a lot, you couldn't lie and say that it wasn't almost the same. It made you feel a little weirded out, only making you think of the night even more every time he spoke, but you just tried to ignore it and focus.

"So, we need to do a few things by the end of next week." You spoke. 

He nodded but remained silent, his eyes locked on you in a way that made you feel exposed. His lips parted slightly as he continued to stare. 

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the tension. "I don't like strangers coming in my house, can I come over yours to work when we don't have class?"

"Yes, that works. Can I have your phone so I can give you my number? You know, to keep in touch." He asked.

You nodded in agreement, taking your phone and opening the phone app, handing it to him.

You looked away for one second, expecting him to quickly type in his number, but instead, you saw him swipe across the screen, heading straight for your Instagram.

"What are you doing?" You asked, irritation in your voice as you snatched your phone from him. 

"I was tryna give you my insta like I said." He answered defensively, voice cracking slightly as he stared at you offensively.

"You said number." You replied, narrowing your eyes.

"Well I meant insta." He responded hastily, putting out his hand demandingly. 

"Who do you think you are?" You snapped. "You're going to give me your number, it's way more practical." You handed him the phone again, this time watching him like a hawk as he slowly typed in his number, his eyes darting up at you now and then with that same suspicious glint. 

"See how easy it is when you listen." You grinned, Haechan looking at you with glistening, suspicious eyes as you started typing on your computer.

"Why do you have SoundCloud and Spotify?" He asked suddenly, staring at your phone screen.

"What?" You hummed, not breaking contact from your computer. 

"Why do you have SoundCloud AND Spotify. You only need one music app, right?" He asked, emphasizing his words sassily.

You turned to him, rolling your eyes, exasperated. "Why are YOU so noisy." 

At this point you were clearly irritated and just wanted to get your work done, alone.

"Do you have something to hide?" He asked, leaning a bit closer, his eyes gleaming mischievously as he stared up at you.

You looked into his annoyed before sighing and turning back to your computer.

"I just listen to unreleased music up there, happy?"  He hummed in response, not entirely convinced, but he let it go, turning his attention back to his phone.

"Are you busy tonight? I need to come over so we can discuss a new plan and get started." You didn't break any contact from your computer, typing steadily.

"You're not very patient are you?" He chuckled, scrolling through his phone. 

"I just like to get things done." You responded. 

He looked up from his phone, eyebrow raised as he stared at you suspiciously, as if he heard that line before.

"Yeah, that's fine. Come over at 6pm, I'll text you the address." He answered, looking down at his phone again.

"Ok, now get off your phone and give me your email so we can start working." You said.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes but complied, turning off his phone as he rattled off his email address.

══════════════════════════

You stood at his apartment door, annoyed as no one came to let you in. You turned around, getting ready to leave. The day had already been stressful, and now you were almost at boiling anger.

"Where are you going?"

His voice stopped you in your tracks. You didn't want to turn around, didn't want to acknowledge him—everything in you screamed to leave, but something about his voice pulled you back.

Slowly, you turned to face him, your gaze locking onto his. Haechan stood in the doorway, his frame leaning casually against the doorframe, eyebrows raised as if he hadn't just kept you waiting. 

"What took you so long?" You walked toward him, your tone sharp as you fought to keep your composure.

"I was jerking off." He said sarcastically, a cocky smirk landing on his face as you looked at him with annoyance and disgust.

"Ah!" He yelped suddenly, launching himself toward you in mock attack, his hands making an exaggerated gesture as if he was going to grab you.

"Stop that was disgusting Haechan, what the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?" You asked, voice in obvious irritation. 

He rolled his eyes, moving out the way so you could walk in. "Learn to take a joke." 

Even though you had just got there he was already getting on your nerves. 

You walked into his studio apartment, even though it was small, he made it look quite spacious and comfortable. His room was quite dark, purple and blue led lights surrounding his desk that sat next to his messily made bed, the atmosphere felt almost... intimate.

"It's so dark and scary in here." You joked trying to shake off your earlier discomfort, setting down your belongings and taking a seat on his bed.

Haechan said nothing, his face unreadable as he sat down in his desk chair, spinning it slightly to face you.

"So, why do you have a big microphone and a gaming headset?" you asked, pointing to the equipment scattered across his desk.

He looked at you, his expression unreadable but his jaw tightening. "What do you mean?"

"I mean... why the big setup?  You recording something? Streaming? Or... something else?"

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his gaze darting to the microphone and then to the floor. "I just like good audio." He muttered defensively.

"Good audio for what?"

For a moment, he said nothing, only licking his lips as if buying time. 

"Huh?" You spoke in a mocking tone, raising your eyebrows as you looked at him. "You can't answer?"

"God, why are you so noisy geez." He spoke defensively,  getting up from his chair and snatching the cord from the computer, grabbing the microphone, throwing it in a drawer with more force than necessary.

"Oh, so when you ask questions I'm supposed to just answer, but when I ask you it's different?" You stood up, crossing your arms as you glared at him.

"Yes." He crossed his arms too, mimicking you with a smug expression.

"Do you have something to hide Haechan?" You asked softly, inching closer to him, his sparkling eyes looking into yours as you moved closer.

"Ha, no." He chuckled lightly, though it came out shaky, his shoulders stiffening as he backed up against the desk, knocking into it with a soft thud.

 "Shit." He whispered, turning around quickly, scrambling to pick up all the items that fell, growing startled as he turned back around to see you standing in front of him.

"Why are you so nervous Haechan?" You murmured faintly, your voice drifting into his ears, making his mind race.

"I'm- I'm not" His voice cracked, betraying him as he forced out a chuckle, but it died quickly.

"You sure about that?" you whispered, leaning in just a bit more, your eyes locked on his. You could practically feel his pulse as it quickened at the base of his neck.

His eyes flickered down to your lips before darting back up.

"You act like you're so tough, like you got everything figured out, but here you are, all jumpy and flustered." You teased.

Haechan let out a slow breath, his hands grabbing the edge of his desk, trying to hold himself up. "You think you know me?" His voice was low, barely more than a growl as he tried to regain control of the situation.

You smirked, backing up just a little, giving him space to breathe. "I'm starting to get the picture."

He stood there, silent for a moment, watching you with wary eyes. The tension between you was heavy, but before either of you could say anything more, his phone buzzed on the desk.

He glanced at the screen, then back at you, something unreadable passing over his face. "You gonna stay and work, or you leaving?"

"Let's just get this done." You said, taking a deep breath, breaking eye contact as you turned toward the bed.  

The room felt different now, charged with something unsaid. You settled back onto the bed, pulling your laptop onto your lap, feeling Haechan's gaze on you. 

"Hurry up and pull out your laptop. I don't wanna be here all night." You spoke, turning to him.

His tongue grazed the inside of his mouth as he looked at you with irritated eyes. "Ok." 

══════════════════════════

It had been over a month since you and Haechan have become friends, and you could say that he was bearable now— ok, you were kinda in love with him. How could you not be? His witty personalty, his face, his voice it was hard to not fall for him, especially when you saw him everyday. You and him were always together, hanging out mostly everyday, even after the project, so it wasn't a surprise when you got a text from him. 

hey, can you come over im boreddd? 

yeah 

doors unlocked, just come in.

ok

"Welcome home." He joked as you walked in. 

You smiled, setting down your stuff at the door, removing your shoes to join him on the bed. He was wearing his signature outfit, a black shirt and gray sweatpants—thick frames sitting on his face, his black hair messily in a middle part.

"So what do you want to do?" He asked, turning to you.

"I don't know Haechan you invited me over." You responded, scrolling on your phone. 

"Let's just watch a movie." He said.

You nodded in response, prompting him to get up to grab some snacks. 

Your eyes scanned the room, stopping at his computer. Soundcloud was wide open, the screen pretty much screaming for your attention, and there you saw a familiar banner. 

"What chips do you want." He asked, looking over to you, noticing you staring at the computer. You broke contact with the computer, looking at him, still a little taken aback. 

"Uh, it- it doesn't matter." You said, looking back at the computer subconsciously. His eyes joined yours, staring at the computer screen then back into yours. 

"Oh oops, is it too bright?" He asked, walking over to his desk and exiting out of the tab, turning down the computer brightness. 

"Yea thanks." You giggled, turning back to look at your phone. 

Your head flooded a thousand thoughts. 

Ok, you could be overreacting and he could just be a pervert like you and you both happened to listen to the same guy, or it could be something he just stumbled across, but everything lined up so perfectly. 

You turned the phone away from him, turning down your brightness as you opened Soundcloud. You went straight to his profile and the banner was obviously the same, no denying that, but you looked around the account for more hints. You couldn't find anything else, it's not like you could ask him anyways, right? 

You were about to give up, but you took another good look at the profile, his banner catching your attention. You sat examining the username that was in the center 'hcillusion119." What could that mean? 

"Hey Haechan."

"What?" He turned to look at you. 

"If you had to choose a number what would it be? Make it in the hundreds." 

"I don't know, maybe one hundred and nineteen."

Your eyes widened as you stared at your phone. No way...

"What are your initials again?" You asked, looking at your phone.

"LDH, Why?" He asked.

"Huh, where did the D come from?" You turned to him with questioning eyes. 

"That's my real name Y/n. My other initials are LHC, Why are you asking?" He answered with a snarky tone. 

You sat staring at him for a second, the user name replaying over and over again in your mind. That was it— the hc stood for Haechan. Of course he would choose a name like that: 'Haechan Illusion 119', it was right in front of your face. 

"I have to go to the bathroom, take a second to get back normal because you're acting weird." He said, interrupting your thoughts.

You turned to him nodding, going back on your phone like there wasn't a care in the world. You sat there waiting patiently for the bathroom door to shut and lock, waiting a few seconds before sprinting up, taking a seat in his computer chair. 

Thankfully, he didn't lock the computer, so you could easily access everything. You turned the brightness up and quickly typed in the website, before you even typed in the whole word it came up. You clicked on it, and there it was— that banner, those audios, and a 'edit' button. 

Your eyes widened, you always had a feeling that it was him, especially when you heard his voice, but something was telling you that it was too good to be true— this explained everything. 

The microphone, why he was persistently trying to get into your insta, why he asked about Soundcloud on your phone, everything was piecing together. You quickly typed instagram on the search bar, praying that it was logged in, and thank goodness it was. You went straight to his dms, a whole bunch of randoms of course, but then you saw it: 'unknown825'. You sat still for a second, staring at your username, clicking on it. You laughed to yourself quietly, you didn't know whether to feel relived, nervous, or...

"It's you, isn't it?" he said from behind you, startling you. 

You turned around, heart racing. "I- um-" You stuttered, locking eyes with him, still sitting in the chair as he drifted towards you.

"You know, the first day we met in class I had a feeling it was you, but I didn't wanna jump to conclusions— goodness you looked like you were about to fall apart every time I spoke though, how could I not get suspicious?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about Haechan." Your response came out a little less convincing than you thought. 

"I tried to get into your insta, but there was nothing. I looked on your computer, nothing as well. Soundcloud? logged out. God you're good at hiding this." He inched closer and closer to you, your breathing getting heavier with every step. 

"I couldn't just ask, expose what I do if it wasn't you. You thought the same thing too right, wanted to ask, but you couldn't? You had nothing to lose regardless, but I took you for one of those kind of girls— the kind that acts all innocent in front of everyone, but has a deeper, dirtier secret that you're hiding." His voice was seductive, yet mocking as well, you cant say that it didn't hurt your ego a little to spoken to like a little slut who got caught doing something they weren't supposed to be doing. 

"What, the cat got your tongue? What happened to you being so dominant?" He teased, sitting on his bed next to the chair, grabbing the arm rest and turning you to face him. 

"You know, if you're wrong then you look like a fucking idiot." You scoffed.

You tried to make yourself sound as convincing and possible, tried to make the situation seem like it didn't bother you, but honestly you were a little uptight about it. It's all fun and games when it's on the phone and you could just block each other and not talk ever again, but in person it was so much more.

"There she is, the Y/n I know and love. You know, I've waited for this moment. The moment where you would finally be so fucking desperate to know if it was me, been waiting for you to go through my stuff. You wouldn't do it though, surprisingly, so I just gave you a little push." He smiled, placing his hand on your knee. 

You shoved his hand off of you. "What are you talking about, gave me a little push?" You asked, giving him questioning eyes.

"You think I would just keep Soundcloud wide open on my computer Y/n, be serious? I thought you were smarter than that." He smiled cockily, titling his head as you looked deeply into his eyes.

It was a setup. He set this whole thing up to catch you on purpose, and you fell right into his fucking trap. 

"You're despicable. You did it, you caught me... now what?" You asked, leaning back in the chair, crossing your arms.

He took a look at the computer that was behind you, pointing to it, prompting you to look. You can't lie and say that you and hcillusion119, well, Haechan didn't do this call thing often, and that's exactly what he was hinting at— the call that took place two days ago. 

"Remember what you said we would do if we were together, what you would do to me?" He asked, his sweet, desperate voice melting your brain like ice cream on a hot summer day. 

"No Haechan, I don't remember."

Of course, you remembered. How could you forget? Every late night conversation was carved into your mind. Each call felt like an escape, an intimate secret between just the two of you, leaving you aching for more. Now, the weight of his presence made it impossible to deny your own desires. You were curious...no, desperate to know if what you shared over the phone would be even more intoxicating in person.

"Let me remind you... please?" he whined, his voice tugging at something deep within you. He leaned down, his hand trembling slightly as he grabbed yours, guiding it to his cheek. The warmth of his skin sent shivers through your body, and without thinking, your thumb began to gently stroke his face.

His eyes closed as he leaned into your touch, his breath coming out in shaky sighs. "I'll be your good boy." he whispered, barely audible.

Your heart raced, the thrill of finally having him in front of you, not just a voice through a phone but real, and within reach. You could see the way his lips parted slightly, the rise and fall of his chest. It felt good to finally be close, to finally have him like this.

Without breaking eye contact, you slowly withdrew your hand from his cheek. His eyes snapping open, filled with need, searching your face as you got up from your seat. His gaze followed you, not wanting to  even be an inch away from you.

"Go to the headboard." You murmured softly.

Haechan reacted instantly, rushing to the head of the bed, pressing his back firmly against the headboard. He adjusted his glasses, his lips slightly parted, eyes locked onto yours.

You crawled onto the bed, your movements slow. His breath hitched as you came wanting more, needing you. You reached him, your body hovering just above his, your fingers grazing the side of his face again.

"Tell me," you whispered, leaning in close enough for your breath to ghost over his lips. "what did I say I was gonna do?"

His eyes sparkled, you could see him unraveling, caught in the web of everything you had both imagined during those late nights. You both knew that you imagined each other's faces on those calls after you met in person for the first time, and now it was all a reality. 

“You said... you'd make me beg." His voice was a trembling whisper

"So beg me." You whispered, your voice soft, lips brushing against his ear, sending a wave of heat through him.

You felt him tense under your fingertips. His eyes, wide and pleading, locked onto yours with a desperation that made your heart pound. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, voice small, almost a whimper.

You smiled at the sight of him completely undone in front of you. You slowly lifted his glasses up onto his forehead, pushing the messy strands of his hair away from his face. Your fingers lightly grazed his skin, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch.

"That's not how you ask." You teased, your voice low as you leaned in closer, just enough for your lips to brush his, but not meet fully.

He let out a shaky breath, his body trembling with need. "Please... Can I please kiss you Y/n? I need you," he breathed, his voice barely holding together. "I want your lips on mine so bad."

Your smile deepened as you leaned in, teasingly grazing your lips against his again, just barely. His lips parted, waiting for you to close the gap, but you pulled back, watching as frustration and longing flooded his expression. He swallowed hard, his eyes darkening with desire as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours.

"Please." He whispered.

You finally gave in, pressing your lips against his in a heated, passionate kiss. The moment your lips met, it was like something electric passed between you both. The kiss deepened as his lips moved urgently against yours, tongues tangling together as if you were both trying to consume each other, neither wanting to pull away. You melted into him, your body pressing closer.

The kiss broke only when you both needed air, both of you gasping as you parted. Haechan's lips were swollen, his breath shallow, his chest heaving as he stared at you, his eyes filled with lust.

"Can I touch you?" He whispered, his voice needy.

You nodded, your heart racing even faster as he shifted you higher in his lap, his hands trailing slowly, up your sides. His fingers caressed your skin through your clothes and you felt his breath hitch as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing your skin softly at first, then harder.

His lips moved down, sucking and biting gently at your skin, leaving marks. His hands explored your body, grabbing, squeezing, and pulling you closer, his touch growing more possessive with every second. His hips moved beneath you, the friction of his lap against you sending waves of heat pooling in your stomach. You gasped as he rocked you back and forth, grinding you against him.

Small, breathy moans escaped your lips as his mouth moved from your neck, traveling down to your collarbone, where he kissed and nipped at your skin, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips firmly and guiding your movements against him.

"Fuck... feels so good." He whimpered, his voice strained as he broke away from your skin, his head falling back against the headboard. His eyes were half lidded as he watched you move.

Your hands found their way into his hair, tugging lightly as he groaned, his body reacting to every touch, every movement. His grip on your waist tightened, and you felt him twitch beneath you as he pulled you even closer, his hips bucking up against you.

"God Y/n." He whispered breathlessly, lips finding yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, his tongue exploring your mouth as if he couldn't get enough of you.

He pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes. "I wanna taste you." He desperately spoke, looking at you with begging eyes.

Your fingers slid through his hair as you watched him, his breath quickening, his hands resting on your hips. He was desperate for your permission.

"I wanna taste you." He repeated. He was looking up at you, his lips parted, pleading. "Please Y/n... I'll make you feel so good, I promise."

You let out a soft hum, your fingers tracing along his jaw, watching as his body visibly tensed, waiting for your response. You could see the hunger in his eyes, the way he couldn't tear his gaze away from you. He was completely under your control, willing to do anything you asked.

"You'll do exactly what I want?" You whispered, your thumb grazing over his cheek as you leaned closer, teasing him with the lightest touch. He swallowed hard, nodding quickly.

"Yes—yes." He breathed, his voice barely holding together. His eyes were wide, shimmering with anticipation, his grip on your hips tightening, almost as if he were afraid you'd pull away. "Please, just let me. I'll make you feel so good Y/n, I swear."

Your lips curved into a small smile as you stroked the side of his head, leaning in just enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath. "Then go ahead baby. Make me feel good."

The moment the words left your mouth, his eyes lit up. Without wasting another second, he gently pushed you onto your back, his hands moving with urgency as he pulled down your pants and underwear in one motion.

He paused for a moment, his gaze locking onto you with awe, like he was seeing something he had dreamed about for far too long. His hands traced along your thighs, and you could feel the faint trembling in his fingers as he spread your legs, positioning himself between them. His eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of you, his lips parting slightly as he let out a soft exhale, his breath warm against your skin.

"You're... perfect." He murmured, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. He leaned in, his lips brushing your inner thigh, sending a jolt of pleasure up your spine. You could feel his desire, his need to please you.

Slowly, he began kissing his way up your thighs, his lips trailing delicately. Every kiss sent a spark of heat through your body, and you could feel your pulse quicken as he got closer and closer to where you wanted him most. His hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place as his breath fanned over your core.

"Fuck..." he groaned, his voice low. You could feel the restraint in his body as he tried to hold himself back. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you saw nothing but hunger in them.

"You're so beautiful Y/n." He whispered before lowering his head between your legs, finally giving you what you'd been waiting for.

The first touch of his tongue against you was slow, he was savoring the taste of you. He let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands held your thighs apart, his grip possessive but gentle as he worked his tongue in slow, sensual strokes.

"Oh my god." You moaned out, your hands tangling in his hair as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue moving with more urgency now. He flicked his tongue against your clit, earning a gasped out of you, your back arching off the bed as he sucked lightly, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Haechan groaned against you, the vibrations from his voice adding to the sensation, and you could feel his desperation growing with every second. He was completely lost in you, every lick, every suck more intense than the last. His hands slid up your thighs, holding you steady as he devoured you, his tongue moving faster, more eagerly.

Your breaths came out in shallow gasps, your body trembling beneath his touch, and you could feel the heat building in your core, your stomach tightening with every flick of his tongue.

"Haechan... fuck." You whimpered, your grip tightening in his hair as he continued to work his mouth against you.

"Please Y/n, I want you to come for me." He groaned against your skin, his voice filled with desire. His tongue moved faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "I need you."

You cried out, your entire body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you, your grip tightening in his hair as you rode out your high, legs shaking. Haechan didn't stop, his mouth still working against you, drawing out your orgasm. 

Finally, he pulled back, his lips swollen and glistening, his eyes filled with satisfaction as he looked up at you.

"Did I do good?" He asked softly, his voice still breathless, his eyes searching yours. 

"Mhm." You hummed, your fingers gently stroking his cheek brushing away a few strands of hair. "You did so good for me." 

He smiled in response, leaning in to take your lips into a kiss.

Somehow, it was more passionate than the last. You two devoured each other, tongues tangling, your body heating up as you felt Haechan grind against you, trying to feel some type of friction.

"Fuck, I need to feel you... can I please feel you Y/n?" He whispered, his breath tickling your earlobe.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes meeting his. "Do you think you deserve it?" You asked teasingly.

His eyes locked onto yours. "I do... please, let me feel you." He pleaded.

You couldn't resist the sincerity in his eyes. With a playful smirk, you gestured for him to adjust, his back pressing against the headboard as anticipation swirled between you.

"If you think you deserve it, then take off your pants." you instructed, your voice firm yet inviting.

His eyes widened like he was in a dream.  Without hesitation, he slid down his pants, exposing his readiness to you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Of course you're not wearing underwear." You laughed, crawling into his lap, his eyes filled with  excitement and shyness. 

"You're so fucking dirty." You whispered, threading your fingers through his hair, drawing a soft moan from him as you gave a gentle tug.

His glasses slipped to the bridge of his nose, but he seemed unconcerned, his attention solely on you. Any other time he would've voiced a rebuttal to your comment, but he needed you so bad he couldn't even find the words.

"Please." He murmured desperately.

Slowly, you adjusted yourself, guiding him to your entrance. Both of you moaned as you took him in, inch by inch, until he was fully in you.

He threw his head back against the headboard, overwhelmed by the sensation of your warmth surrounding him as you moved. "Fuck." he whimpered, his grip on your hips tightening.

"What, can you not handle it?" You teased.

"I—" He tried to speak before it was cut off by a small moan escaping as you pulled him deeper. "Can I move you?" He asked.

A soft nod was all he needed. His hands found your hips, guiding you, lifting you in a rhythm that soon had him whimpering your name, his movements becoming more desperate as your heat wrapped around him.

He had dreamed of this moment—the chance to feel you, and it was everything he'd imagined and more. "Fuck, feels so good." He whimpered.

His pace quickened, driven by your shared need, each whimper and sigh from you encouraging him to go deeper, faster.

"Fuck Haechan, you're so big." You moaned out, the words shooting straight to his pelvis. 

"Are you gonna be good for me and cum?" you whispered into his ear, your words sending a shiver of pleasure through his body.

"Yes, fuck, I'll be good for you." He moaned out, overwhelmed by the sensations pushing him closer to the edge. His glasses fogged with each heated breath.

His movements grew messy, each thrust sending him closer to the edge, you tightening around him.

"Fuck, gonna—cum.” He gasped, his body trembling beneath you.

"Cum for me, I'm almost there." You said, your stomach tightening as he hit your g-spot.

"Feels so good." He whimpered, the feeling of you clenching around him making him go almost insane. 

"Fuck— gotta pull out." He could barely get the words out, eyes squeezed shut, he felt dizzy. Even though his mouth said one thing, his hands kept moving you, keeping himself deep inside you.

"It's okay baby, fill me up." You moaned, the permission tipping him over the edge.

"Fuck I'm coming." He let out a choked whimper, finding his release, filling you full of his seed. His hands covered his mouth as he tried to hold in the cries that wanted to be let out. 

"Uncover your mouth."  You spoke, wanting to hear every precious sound he made, reaching your high shortly after. 

His hands fell away, gripping the sheets to ground himself. His moans turned into cries of pleasure as he twitched beneath you, riding out the last waves of pleasure together. 

"Shit." You said breathless, exhausted and satisfied, your head resting in the crook of his neck, your shared breath slowing to a gentle rhythm.

"Look at what you do to me." He muttered, obviously still winded.

"Look at what you do to me"  You said, gently cupping his face, smiling as you took in the mess you both became—his glasses fogged beyond use. 

He smiled lazily, resting his head on the head board as he let out a satisfied sigh, closing his eyes.

[moonstruckme]

i seen your post asking for thawing out ideas/requests and i love it so far you’re an amazing writer!! it’s only 2 parts and i’m obsessed haha – maybe reader or sirius falls or something on the ice (nothing serious ofc!) and remus panics a little as a way of thawing the tension between siri and rem? either sirius realizing remus cares about the reader and starting to trust him more or remus realizing he really cares about what happens to sirius/their duo!!

Thank you for your request gorgeous!!

collab with @ellecdc

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12

cw: modern au, chronic pain, brief and lightly implied past abuse

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 2k words

You’re only a few days out from flying to the Olympics when Sirius doesn’t show up to walk you to practice. You call him and wait around with Remus for a while, but eventually you decide to get in whatever training you can without him. It’s far from unheard of for Sirius to sleep through his alarm. 

Remus seems grateful for the extra time with you. He’s been laying it on a little thick since you’d reacted so drastically to his unintentional Peter-ism, praising you for everything from how you stretch to the simplest of jumps, and any criticisms are softened into measly recommendations. You’ve done your best to let him know that you’re not upset with him (you never were, honestly, how could he have known the effect those precise words would have on you?), and now things seem to be more or less normal between the two of you. 

You like Remus more by the day. When he’d first come to coach you and Sirius, you’d been happy to see him, but only because of what he represented. A fresh start, a guiding hand, the possibility of his greatness transmitting to your duo and making you better than you’d ever been. And all of those things have proven true, but as you’ve worked together and learned from each other you’ve grown to appreciate your miracle coach as a man, too. 

Remus is kind. He’s smart, and discerning, but he doesn’t boast about it, and he’s patient with you and Sirius when you can’t always keep up with his reasoning. He’s patient in general, though you know neither of you have made it easy for him and you’ve often wondered if you deserve it. He has a serious manner, but sometimes when you’re joking around with Sirius you’ll see him smiling, tongue pressing into his cheek like he’s trying to repress it. You can tell that, despite years in front of cameras and a well-earned self-assuredness, he’s shy about certain things. Like Sirius, he doesn’t always like to have his kindnesses acknowledged. But there’s a warmth about Remus. Not bright and dazzling, but a soft, steady warmth, like the flicker of a candle or the glow of the moon. 

You can see it now, the faint gleam of approval and something else in his eyes as you land your final jump in the routine on a solid ankle. His lips tilt up as though the accomplishment were his own. 

“That was lovely,” he says as you skate over for feedback. “Really, really good.” 

You beam at him, the praise lighting something in your chest. “But…”

Remus shakes his head. “No buts. I think you’ve got your part of the routine down completely.”

It’s impossible to contain your elation. You want to hug him and so you do, the toes of your skates pressed against the edge of the rink and your arms wound up around his shoulders. 

Remus seems surprised for a moment, but eventually his arms come around you too. Gentle, tentative. You don’t mind; you squeeze him extra hard to make up for it. 

“Now all we need is for Sirius to get the spiral,” Remus says. 

You laugh, your good mood unshakeable. You know Remus has questioned the wisdom of his decision to add the death spiral into your routine over the last few days. After several practices on and off the ice, you’ve made no progress on getting even an inch lower than you were, which isn’t enough to gain full points in competition. You know by now that it’s not because Sirius isn’t strong enough to crouch further down, or that he has his skates in the wrong position. He just won’t do it. It’s frustrating, but there’s nothing left for you or Remus to do. It’s like you under-rotating your jumps when you’d first started practicing; it’s a mental block, something he has to get past on his own.

“He’ll figure it out,” you tell Remus certainly. “Sirius does well under pressure. You’d be surprised what he can pull out at the last minute.” 

And speak of the devil. The door to the rink bangs shut, announcing Sirius’ entrance. He looks about as happy as he always does to be up before sunrise, worse because he’s clearly rushed out of bed to get here. His sweatshirt is on backwards and there’s a pillow crease on his cheek. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, slumping down onto the bench to put his skates on. 

“It’s okay.” You comb your fingers through his sleep-fluffed hair, moving some of the larger pieces away from his face. The look Remus is giving him borders upon fond. “As it turns out, I do much better when you’re not here.” 

“Always knew you would.” He brushes your hand away, using the hair tie on his wrist to pull his hair back into its usual haphazard bun. And as usual, you have to make a concerted effort not to watch how his biceps flex with the motion. 

“Let’s have you do a shortened warm-up today,” says Remus. “Ten minutes, alright?”

“No, I’m good.” Sirius stands, stretching his arms behind his back as he walks towards the ice. “We’ve missed enough time today, let’s get to it.” 

Remus frowns but doesn’t argue, and you know better than to try either. Sirius doesn’t seem grumpy, per se, but he’s never in his best mood when he first wakes up and he’s stubborn at the best of times. 

However half-asleep he may seem, Sirius is still resplendent on the ice. He skates with a lazy grace, the illusion breaking only when he has to tighten his form for jumps and turns. He never wobbles, never falters, every movement as easy and sure as if he’d been born with blades on his feet. 

The death spiral goes the same as it has been. Sirius makes it look like that’s the way it was always meant to be performed, but no matter his bravado any judge will know the difference. Still, you get your practice in with the general movement, and then he’s throwing you into your next spin, then jump after spin, spin after jump, the routine crescendoing in music, pacing, and difficulty. The world whirls around you, Sirius’ hand a home base that you grasp and let go of only to find again, the sounds of your skates on the ice their own rhythm conducted by muscle memory, complex and quickening and so consuming you almost wouldn’t notice Sirius’ had stopped if he didn’t cry out. 

You stop, breathless. Sirius is on his side. He’s no stranger to pain, but he doesn’t like it either, and it’s all twisted up in his face now. 

It takes you a beat to move. When you do Remus is already coming out onto the ice, the rubber soles of his shoes slipping until he goes down on his knees to slide the rest of the way to Sirius. 

“What is it?” you ask, though you think you know, your friend’s body curving and hands reaching for his skate. 

Sirius’ breaths are short and pained. “My ankle.” 

“Let me see.” Remus’ fingers are deft and sure as he undoes Sirius’ laces. Your own hand quivers slightly as Sirius sits up and you set it on his shoulder, hoping to anchor him even if you don’t feel very anchored yourself. He inhales sharply as the skate comes off. Remus shushes him, gentle fingers circling his ankle. “Shh, love, you’re alright.” 

“Does it feel broken?” you worry. 

Sirius is watching Remus prod at his ankle with a bemused sort of caution. “No,” he says. “I think maybe just twisted.”

“It could be a sprain,” Remus says. He’s rolled down the top of Sirius’ sock and is turning his ankle over carefully in his grasp. “Bruising might show up later.” 

“It’s fine.” Sirius sits up further, but when Remus doesn’t let go of his ankle he doesn’t pull away. “I just need to stretch it out and it’ll be good.” 

Remus’ eyes flicker up to his, and you see the kind sternness in them. “Whether it’s sprained or not, you can’t just skate it off. We’re done for today. Probably for tomorrow, too.” 

“Don’t be daft.” Sirius reaches for his skate. Remus moves it away. “We don’t have time for me to take a sabbatical.”

“Sirius,” you say, “practicing more won’t mean anything if you can’t compete.” 

Remus nods his agreement. “We’re not risking you injuring yourself no matter how close to comp we are,” he says. “We’re not.” He stands with Sirius’ skate in hand. 

“What’re you doing?” 

“I’m confiscating this,” Remus holds up Sirius’ skate, and you press your lips together to hide a smile, “until you’re cleared to skate again.” 

Sirius is appalled. “But—but it’s mine!” 

“Oh, don’t be a child, Pads.” 

Now you can’t suppress your snicker. Sirius lets out a shocked huff, elbowing you in the ribs. You can see the corner of his mouth twitching unwillingly. 

“Hey.” You pinch the back of his arm in retribution. “Do you want my help getting off the ice or not?” 

You end up finding ice for Sirius in the staff break room and sitting with him for a while as you hold it to his ankle. Remus stays, too, the three of you chatting about banal things that you enjoy immensely nonetheless. The car Sirius had nearly walked right out in front of in his rush to get here this morning, Remus’ mother and how she loves to bang around the house as soon as the sun is up, the new syrup flavor you’ve discovered at the coffee shop. Every sliver of information you can get about Remus feels precious, and though you sometimes feel like you know Sirius inside and out you never tire of hearing his stories either. He has such a fun, vibrant way of telling them, all big gestures and dramatic words, whereas Remus seems almost tentative when he talks about his life, smiling when you laugh along as though it hadn’t occurred to him that humor could be shared. 

When the hockey team shows up Sirius only lets James fret over him for a minute before he’s dragging him and his messed up ankle out the door, forcing you to hurry after so you can act as his crutch. You walk Sirius home, where he vows to stay and rest, before heading back to your own apartment. 

It’s only once you’re alone that your mind, unbidden, begins turning over the way Sirius and Remus had looked at each other today. You’d been too worried about your friend to think of anything else at the time, but there had been a moment, between Remus’ gentle handling of his ankle and his soft, kind placations, where Sirius’ expression had faltered. Surprise, vulnerability, and something else. Something that rings of familiarity, and yet you can’t place. 

It’s clear to you that the dynamic between your partner and your coach has shifted. That while you’ve been feeling closer to Remus’, Sirius has too, and they’ve passed some boundary you missed along the way. Maybe the chemistry between them was always obvious. They’d fought, antagonized each other, but some people enjoy that, don’t they? Maybe you’ve been naive to think that you’ve been working to get them amicable, when really they’ve had this unspoken tension tethering them to each other all along. 

The idea of Sirius and Remus together feels…strange. But that’s probably only because it’s so new to you. Sirius is your best friend, and you’d thought you and Remus were getting close, so it’s odd to imagine the two of them interlocked in this other dynamic together, separate from you. You can see how it might happen. They’re both very attractive, both headstrong in their own ways, and you’ve seen how they can soften for one another when the circumstances call for it. You think they could take care of each other. And you can take care of them both, though in a different way. You can support them, make things easy between the three of you, be a good friend. Nothing has to change in your dynamic with either of them, even if theirs with each other has shifted. 

You could be alright with that, you think. You can be happy for them. You will be.

[hazelfoureyes]

A Doe in Fall (part 5)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie

Part 5 Too Much

Actions famously speak louder than words, so what did you say, exactly, to Alastor with your actions that night? You were briefly rattled by what happened in the park but not for the obvious reasons. Despite everything, despite your fears, you found the situation deepening between you two when he suddenly invites to stay the night at his home. Perhaps he had fears of his own?

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, No smut! That’s next part because this part was already super fucking long 😭 , but we do flirt our asses off and get taken by the hand, crying, panic attacks, discussions of murder, dead bodies, you really have to stop smoking, deer, adorably nervous Alastor, this man owns more than one mug you fucking know it」

19 days later… 😩 please don’t kill me. 5000 words here, Another like 6000 words are posting this Thursday, also tumblr wouldn’t let me post this for like an hour , just gave me error messages, I had to copy and paste 4 times so there may be some errors in here so let me know if you find spelling or format issues🙏

When he came to, momentarily either unconscious or just incapacitated as his brain started up again, he was frantic for his glasses. He could hear the sounds of a brutal death, the crunch of anger, the squish of rage. 

His eyes focused now, slightly askew and smudged glasses helping him see you clearly. 

Leaning over the man, hands red and face twisted in a marriage of fear and wrath, you were bringing a large rock down on the man’s unrecognizable face over and over and over and—

You flinched when Alastor’s hands delicately slipped down your arms and peeled your fingers from the rock.

Full body shaking, “He was going to kill you!” You said it too loud, too fast. “He was going to—,” Your breath got caught in your throat, “He wanted to— He was trying to kill you, Alastor.”

Wet with mud and blood and the rain still left on the grass, you were pulled into Alastor’s lap. He tucked your head into the crook of his neck with a small wince and hugged you. “He was. He almost did.” Low and slow, his chest rumbled when he said it. “You did such a good job.”

You looked down at your hands, but he pulled your face back up to look at his, “Always surprising me in the best ways.”

You’d forgotten already, how when adrenaline wanes you’re left with terrible tremors and a suddenly clear head. Alastor almost died. You hadn’t thought at all when it happened. Everything had taken place so fast, faster than your brain could process.

You had seen Alastor stop struggling against the man, his body went still and your eyes were blinded with tears, there was a horrible sound that may have come from you, and then there was nothing. A flash of running Colors. Distant muddled sounds.

Maybe you saw someone grab a rock. 

You might have hit the man on the back of the head. 

You think he fell down and something didn’t stop moving against him. 

Perhaps you thought if you hit him enough you could make it have not happened at all. If you killed him fast enough, Alastor would have been fine and standing.

But you weren’t sure. You blinked and Alastor was touching you and underneath you was a pulp of a man’s face. 

Alastor’s heart was racking against his ribs. Arms tightening around you unconsciously as his eyes landed on the dead man.

He’d gotten too comfortable. He pushed too hard. He wanted too much. He was too much.

He felt himself spilling over and staining your hands metaphorically and now literally.

You didn’t feel anything. Not during. Now you felt too much.

Your mind was filled with an echoing chorus of, ‘He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost killed him. He almost died. He almost died. He almost died.” 

There was a strange fear that Alastor had died, and any second you’d blink again and be alone in the trees with two dead men. You twisted in his lap,  hands rocketing to Alastor’s face and gripping the sides of his head. You were staring into his eyes, panting.

“You can’t die. I’ll—,” tears poured down your face in streams not drops. Your throat closed around the words. Short and fast, your breath ran wild. Hands tingling, your lips felt like they were pricked with a hundred tiny needles. 

Alastor pushed down his own mess of emotions, “One deep breath in.” His hands settled on yours,  still on his face. He could feel the familiar stickiness of drying blood in his hair. “Keep breathing in.” You coughed, shaking your head no. “You can, I promise it. Would I lie to you?”

You laughed, managing to catch your breath for a moment, “Y-yes.” 

“Well, now you’re adding insult to injury.” He made a show of rubbing his neck. You smacked his chest lightly, breathing in twice in a row.

He held both of your hands in both of his, “Name a time I’ve ever lied.” He distracted you but wounded himself. He could name a time.

You tried to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re just a really good liar.” Your voice was hoarse. 

Alastor nodded, “That’s true, there’s actually nothing I can’t do well.”

Another laugh, a cry, “Stop it.”

His warm, clean hands wiped your tears. “You’re being aggressive again, sweetheart. You know I prefer soft spoken women.”

The laughter helped break the cycle of hyperventilating. As your breathing finally got to a manageable speed you felt exhaustion deep in your bones.

All at once the sensations became prominent. Your knees were red and muddy, your hands bloody, your left side and back wet. You were sticky and sore and cold. “Alastor,” his legs were framing you, yours now folded under yourself and digging into rocks, “I wanna go home.” You adjusted his glasses, “Together.” 

If he had a reason to say no, he ignored it. 

“I thought I was the messy one.” He washed your hands with the water cans and settled you into the passenger seat of his car. Alastor took care of filling the trunk and cleaning the ground before sliding into the driver's seat.

He turned to you, his face dirty and clothes worse. You looked down at yourself; knees a color of wine, and blue dress now dyed brown.

“I know you have to get rid of him. So, I won’t ask you to sleep over. Just,” you felt sleepy, mind asking you to let it catch up, “let me take care of you for a little bit. Okay?”

His hand slipped onto your leg, he wanted to make a joke about sex or murder hoping to make you laugh again. But it was obvious he needed to be quiet, so he just nodded.

Alastor left the car on a side street behind your building. The man whose name you never asked concealed under canvas and red oil tins.

Luckily everything was clean in your apartment. It was small, just one room and a bathroom. The other apartments you’d seen had communal toilets and showers so you were quite proud of your space. You’d made it yours, gifted trinkets here and there, walls decorated with hanging dried flowers you'd had thrown at your feet. A shrine to your abilities.

You peeled off his clothes, tossing them in the kitchen sink and wiping off as much dirt as you could with a damp rag. 

Clothing hanging over the radiator, you both got into the shower. Cold and wet now hot and soaking,  you took his hands and sat you both down in the tub while the water ran down. Taking your time, you gently scratched the blood and mud from his hair and let it all wash away.

When fully cleaned and dried off he slipped on the only bit of clothing he had left, a loose pair of boxer shorts. You had a slip, silky and soft, to comfort you. Your mother wore silk, and it always made you feel safe. The way the fabric slid around its self and others, never catching or bunching up, was something you always hoped to emulate; smooth and cool, but always in need of a little caution and care.

A small bed meant for one, but you offered it. When Alastor motioned for you to slide in too, you didn’t hesitate.

Nose to nose, the room was quickly heating up with the radiator's help. 

You hadn’t been in a bed with Alastor in nearly two months, not since that first time. His words stuck to you like embroidered messages lovingly stitched into a handkerchief you didn’t want to lose. So you kept your hands between your thighs, still and away, to make sure he had space to exist in your bed.

“You saved my life.” Alastor whispered, one of you finally bringing up the obvious.

A hummed acknowledgment, “That makes us even.” He saved you before, you did the same in turn. A little piece of you worried the contract was done and he’d disappear.

“No, my dear. I owe you so much more.” A kiss to your cheek.

A terrifying thought took hold of you. “Roll over.” He looked confused but did. You were always asking him to turn away, always trying to hide your face when you said things that scared you. You hooked your arms under his and held tightly. 

“If I wasn’t there, there’s no one to have told me. How long would I have waited,” another torrent of tears into his back you couldn’t keep in if you tried, “at the phone booth for you to call in the morning.”

You were crying like a child, uncontrolled and with your entire body. Pathetic. 

He had never had someone to worry about those details. Everyone truly close to him was dead. Until now, of course. 

Of course.

What a natural addition you provided to him. He thought it like that it was a long standing fact.

He hugged your arms tighter to his chest. 

A shiver of fear in the warm bed as you continued, “I want to be there. With you. Always.” You gathered your courage. Shields completely down, if just for a moment, “I know there was nothing right about tonight but,” you wiped your tears off his back with your palm, reabsorbing that pain before he could soak it in, “Please. Don’t shut me out now. I’ll go to hell tomorrow for you but please don’t damn me to picking up a newspaper and seeing your name in the headlines; Learning you died in block letters for a nickel. I wouldn’t survive it.”

You didn’t want to meet his eyes, worried rejection was waiting for you there, so you’d asked him to turn so you could hide. He picked up your hands and kissed your knuckles one by one. “Please don’t say things like that outloud. Things like ‘go to hell’ and ‘tomorrow’ so close together. The spirits can hear you.” A kiss to your palm, “And I wouldn’t dare shut you out.” He couldn’t. The very idea of going back to how he was before, alone and mumbling to the dead, made his heart race with his own panic. If you disappeared tomorrow he was scared to think what would happen to him. “Plus, I know you’d just find me anyway. You always do.”

Had you not been there, he would have still tried to kill the man. Waiting in an alley or for a walk home through an empty space. You weren’t at fault. He’d been hurt before, but this was by far the worst situation he had been in. But he would have been in it regardless of your participation. Alastor pressed his lips into your hand, smelling the soap you’d washed him with. 

You hadn’t hesitated. He had thought you would run, that he’d slip away into death and you’d book it to safety. Something he never planned to ask you to do, to kill someone, you’d done it for him when it was the most selfless option. Did he mean so much to you? He wanted to ask, but if you said anything other than an immediate yes he feared he would turn to a pillar of salt and crumble.

If you both could find the courage to just look at each other you’d have all your answers. But you couldn’t. The fear still too strong. So you changed the topic for a chance at an escape.

A small confession, to turn the conversation away from death. “After our dates, your cologne always lingers on my clothes. Sometimes I just fall asleep in them. When I wake up, my pillow smells like you.” Your body formed against his back, pressing as tightly as you could. How was that less embarrassing than everything else you’d said when it was arguably more pathetic?

He was quiet. You worried you’d pushed too far. Alastor worried he’d already hurt you too much.

“If you asked me,” he spoke slowly, hands resting on yours above his heart, a deep breath, “I’d stop.” He would. 

But, “I’d never ask that of you.” You said it so quickly, like blinking or yawning it happened without you needing to think about it. Alastor did something he felt he needed to do, you saw that look in his eyes before and understood this was Alastor at his truest. And the people he killed weren’t good people. He provided a service to New Orleans that no one appreciated.

He smiled against your palm, making sure you felt it, “Why are you so good to me?”

Without hesitation, Because I love you.

After a beat of silence, “Because you know where I live, obviously.”

A huff, “And where you work.” 

“And the park where I like to get fingered.”

Finally, his unburdened laugh, “I didn’t expect you to say that.” That sound of his joy bounced off the thin walls around you both. He rarely expected anything you said or did. It was part of your charm. Normally he could predict what people would say like reading a bad story, but you were something else. Effortlessly entertaining, was that a compliment? He was sure you’d say no and make that face you always did, something between a pout and a glare, between sad and angry. 

He had been asking genuinely. Why were you so good to him? Why so patient? Why care at all? 

“Can you sleep? Or do you need to go?” 

Alastor thought about it, if he left early enough he could still get home in time to empty the trunk. He hummed an affirmative, when he didn’t move you understood it was the former. He didn’t want to go. He needed more time. He needed to feel you nearby. An odd sense that if he pulled away now the thread holding you two together would pull him apart at the seams with the distance. 

You would think nightmares would plague you after killing someone in cold blood, but no. You practically killed Tommy, when you considered it thoroughly. And while this night was not a joy, you had defended yourself and Alastor. You didn’t feel bad. You didn’t regret it. You were just scared you did a bad job. That you’d get caught. 

The kind of dreams you had were different kinds of scary. Of Alastor always leaving a room when you entered, of falling off the stage and landing too far down, of waking up to feel Alastor cold beside you. 

When you did wake, your arms were still tight around him and he was warm. Your forehead rested between his shoulder blades. You didn’t feel different this time, you didn’t feel changed like after Tommy.

Alastor always had nightmares so he wasn’t surprised to have them in your bed. He dreamt he awoke on the ground, the man was gone but you were there broken into several pieces.

Had it been a dream though? 

After he dressed, you brushing his hair over a shared cup of coffee (you only had the single mug), you walked him to his car. The sun was nearly up and luckily no one else was. You had just wrapped a coat around your slip, not exactly acceptable clothing for being in public.

A shared kiss, small and chaste, Alastor’s mind elsewhere. He opened the door but stopped and turned back to you. It was always in these moments before you two parted that he felt the most frantic. 

“I know we love talking in circles and making jokes, but I have to ask you, bluntly. You killed a man. Are you alright?” When you only blinked, he quickly added, “It’s okay if you’re not.” His expression was pure worry, furrowed brows and flat mouth. “Nothing will change if you say you’re not.”

When you started to smile, Alastor thought he had lost his mind. The sun was rising behind you, making the shadows on your face slowly shift. He took a second to take in the scene. Ankles naked with sockless shoes. To your right was a trunk full of a dead man. And you just smiling like he’d made a joke. Which he explicitly said he wasn’t going to do.

“I don’t feel like I killed anyone.” You said it with a levity that made him glance around, wondering if you’d hit your head a little too hard earlier, “I feel like I stopped someone from killing you. Which feels,” you fought to suppress your smile from growing any further, “kinda good. Like I’m strong. I’m just scared I made a mistake and police will find out. I’m terrified we’ll be seperated. But I don’t feel bad.”

A normal man would be deeply concerned. You didn’t feel bad? For killing a man with a rock? Arguably one of the most brutal ways to murder a person. A normal man would worry he would be next.

Luckily for you both, Alastor was not a normal man. He stared at your face, trying to discern any hints of deceit there before he fell into the comfort of trust.

Your pinky came out, “I’m fine, and if I’m ever not, I will tell you. Promise.” His eyes left your face to stare at the tiny digit, “If I break the promise, you get to break the pinky.”

“Pinkies are useless, we should use a finger that matters.” He offered his index. You let yourself laugh, hooking your pointer finger with his.

Smile to smile, he exhaled his stress and slipped into his normal demeanor, “No worries, darling! No one will ever know what happened to him.” He leaned beside you and patted the trunk. “Leave it to me.”

Alastor drove away with the man, ready to disappear the body and try to sleep before work if possible. A nagging still sat in his stomach, a little pull that maybe you���d change your mind. 

He asked you the next morning, on your routine call, if he could stop by the theater when he finished with work that night. No reason in particular. He’d pull into the side street, and you could run out to see him.

When he arrived, you were in your stage outfit waiting to greet the crowd. Alastor smiled, “The prettiest bird I’ve ever seen!”

“A bird? Alastor just ‘pretty’ woulda been a fine compliment.” 

He offered an apology by way of kiss, soft hands coming to your cheek as he leaned against the door of his car. “I just wanted to see you. Steal a kiss before you stole some hearts. May I return tomorrow?”

Ah, that feeling again. Stupid school girl with her first crush, her first taste of love. “I wouldn’t complain.” 

That flow of conversation eased Alastor, things felt normal already. For you, they were. A small worry remained he may begin to act differently but the only difference was he seemed to be embracing you deeper. 

After your delivered kiss, you took the stage like a woman reborn. The warmth of the light felt like the sun. Pointed toes as you moved along the stage, hips loose and smile coy. 

As you looked around the backlit crowd you didn’t search for a good mark. The times you did play a man’s attention for Alastor were different, it felt like art when you lured men into Alastor’s claws.

A shake of your feathered fans, a very controlled lowering of your head, you let a hip rock out into view. A little flash of inner thigh. Then, your favorite part. One hand gripped your fans as you them with the aide of practiced fingers. Free hand undoing your still remarkably heavy and glittering bra and handing it behind the curtain.

Surprise reveal, a naked magic trick done behind distracting whirling feathers. Arms open, fans high, you waited for the applause to die down. Deep breaths were not possible, adrenaline and the weight of your costume keeping you from hiding the heaving of your chest. 

The whistles were your favorite. You couldn’t imagine Alastor whistling but you were sure it would be flawless in its ability to capture your attention. 

“Anyone wanna smoke? I don’t want to go into the alley alone.” You asked the room, several girls glancing your way and shaking their heads no as you hurried back in from your set.

“Just take the fire escape to the roof. That’s where we’ve been smoking since Mr. Brady said it was dangerous at night.” Florence was normally a perfect smoking partner, never talking too much. The name Brady made your stomach flip though, you had forgotten about him for a second. You’d managed to avoid him until Tommy’s bloody trail went cold, but you knew he still stalked around the jazz and music district.

A dancer laughed, “Nighttime has always been dangerous for women.”

Someone you didn’t see added, “Fuck, daytimes not safe either.” 

You climbed the creaky and seemingly forgotten-about fire escape to the roof. The breeze hit your face before your feet even left the metal railing. 

It was… a roof. Grey painted floors and brick sides. Nothing special, but you could see the bowl full of discarded cigarettes near the front of the building. You looked over the short wall that edged the front, you were able to see the pigeon shit covered marquee. What an unattractive view, the lights flashing out from beneath actual shit.

There was a metaphor there, you were sure. 

Looking around, there were a few wicker chairs hidden in the shadow of the street’s lights, thankfully upside down to keep them clean from the birds.

If more people used roofs instead of alleys Alastor would be out of luck. Tommy was difficult enough with a staircase, the fire escape would have been the nail in that coffin. 

It had been a lovely night, absolutely jarring compared to the night before. You leaned back in the chair, you knew you weren’t the best at saying what you meant. Especially when the words you offered could be used to hurt you. Words of affection and love, when true, were daggers given handle-first to someone else. 

So you hoped Alastor could guess how much he meant to you. You shouldn’t need to say it, right? Actions speak louder than words. You bludgeoned a man to death for what you had thought was a lost cause. It had seemed Alastor was already dead when you first brought down the rock. 

Diamonds are rocks, you considered. The most expensive costume the theater had was peacock feathered with shining crystals. You wanted to say you felt like a peacock, spirit large and wide and colorful. But those were males. Of course they were. The animal kingdom had males compete for mates with pretty colors and lovely songs. Now ladies pranced around in painted faces and short dresses. You didn’t feel pale or small like the ‘fairer sex’ peacock.

You felt like the swan. Vicious and beautiful, not out shone by anyone.

Well there was someone you’d allow to shine brighter. Someone you’d happily let take the lead. You’d thought letting a man walk in front of you was a sign of subservience. It hadn’t ever occurred to you that there could be respect in trusting someone else to go ahead. That the act of going first could be for protection and not power.

“Hey!”

You hurried to the fire escape, “yeah?”

“There’s a man asking for you. Tall guy named Frank?”

Frank?

Oh, Frank.

You’d forgotten about him. He’d left months ago. He was a whale, rich and generous. You took a moment to consider sitting down with him, smiling and laughing at his jokes, letting his hand settle on your thigh. It had been weeks since you entertained scamming anyone, and now you couldn’t even stomach the idea of faking interest in another man. Frank wasn’t one to scam, he just liked having a pretty lady on his arm to make him feel young and wanted, and in exchange you got into private parties and were gifted jewelry and clothing.

“Tell him I’m busy and send him off.” You hollered down. You could buy your own clothes. 

“Did he leave?” Alastor asked you the next morning, you leaning against the glass phone booth in the early morning light.

Your finger wrapped around the phone cord, “No of course not! They never do. I snuck out the back.”

There was a hum, “Well my dear, you’ve offered me a wonderful transition into my next question.” Alastor was sitting at his kitchen table, nervously turning his coffee cup around in circles, “Would you like to come over tomorrow night? I can pick you up after your show.”

Like a glacier drifting away from shore, you very slowly crouched down in the booth. “To your home?” 

“No, to Alabama.” He waited a beat, “Yes of course my home. I can show you what happens after I drive away.” A cheeky smile evident through his voice.

You pressed the phone receiver into your chest, teeth chewing on your bottom lip. What happens when he drives away? So…where the bodies go. But most importantly, the biggest part of this—where he lives. So much can be gleaned about someone from their home. A bookshelf alone could make or break an attraction. You brought the receiver back to your mouth. “Lovely! Sure thing— Alastor. Yes.” you almost added on an awkward nickname like daddy-o or mister man, like an idiot, because your brain was misfiring like you’d seen him in the sunlight again.

Ah, you could see his bed. 

Where he slept.

Did he ever dream of you?

What if it was terribly dirty? Could you still love him if he was a slob? 

“I’m quite far from downtown, pack an overnight bag, okay?” He stopped fidgeting with the mug. When the call ended he sat at the table for some time, staring around the kitchen. The home was large by city standards, but it was old. His mother’s charm was evident through every part. A finger scratched at the wooden table, heavy and solid. Why was his heart racing? 

He walked to the screened back door, looking from the weathered patio steps to the greenhouse. 

No one had ever been to his home. Ever. A teensy part of him was panicking. Was this a mistake? Was he going to fuck up the budding relationship? Throw off the peace of his safest place?

Budding. Okay that was ridiculous even for him. The kind of intimacy gained through murder did not allow any union to be called budding. He’d shared pieces of himself no other living soul knew of. Your image of him was possibly even more complete than his own mother had held, even though he tried to always be the most sincere with her. Even people he did care for and consider close friends had never knew where he lived. Never heard what kept him up at night. Never learned his distaste for a random lay.

Opening the screen door with a signature creak, the sound many southerners could call comforting, he walked to the greenhouse.

The newest part of the property, the glass walled structure was built shortly after his mother’s death. Double doors: locked. Just beyond the glass was a forest of plants and potted trees. They had no need for a greenhouse, but Alastor had a need for them.

He set about preparing his home for another occupant, a task that brought him such a shock of joy and anxiety he began to wonder who he was. New sheets on the bed, extra pillows set against his wooden headboard. Large glass jar in the backyard full of water and tea bags.

It was also unexpected he was thinking so much of his mother. In a perfect world she’d be there to greet you. Though if she was alive, he wouldn’t have been in that alley that night. He made a mental note to not mention his mother, at least not as much as he was remembering her as he walked around the two story home tidying.

Would he have met you if he wasn’t a killer? 

A flicker of fear was quickly extinguished by romance. Definitely. You both ran in the same scenes. He’d seen you before that night, he just never approached you. He hadn’t anticipated how much more you were than the facade you put on. Nothing about your sweet face said, ‘I have a high tolerance for murder.’

Alastor spent the day at work physically present but mentally pacing his living room. He nodded along to discussions of who was to be live on set next, smile never faltering as he worried if he had breakfast foods. He rarely ate breakfast, did you? How had he not thought to ask. Sloppy.

The only outward sign he was feeling any stress was the tapping of his finger on his desk, which he hadn’t even noticed until the stage manager commented.  

“Alastoooor,” her voice was high, like it seemed many women’s voices were recently. Was it a trend? “Impatient? Hot date with a young lady this evening?”

While she meant well, she always pried, always asked questions he didn’t appreciate. 

Alastor shook his head, smile strained. A perceptive person would have picked up on it, but Brenda was not perceptive.

“Oh.” A noticeable disappointment, “That’s boring.”

Actually on second thought maybe she didn’t mean well.

“I’ve had too much coffee, is all, Brenda.” He pulled his hand into his lap. “Was there anything you needed?” 

“No,” she pouted, much less endearing than you.

If he murdered purely for fun Debra would be dead before sunset. Unfortunately her only crime was being remarkably annoying.

Alastor waited behind the theater, where it was less likely any staff would see him. It was still important to avoid connecting the two of you together, at least at your workplace yet. 

He was quick to grab your bag for you.

“Not the trunk, please.” You said, it took him a second to catch the joke. He set it on the back seat after opening your door for you. You’d only been in his car a few times but he never failed to be a perfect gentleman. 

Your palms were sweating, when his hand rested on your leg while he drove you resisted the urge to hold it. Instead you slipped yours under his. Alastor asked you about your day, about work, about if Frank came back. Typically as soon as you left the theater you were in a cone of silence until your phone call with him the next day. It was kind of nice, having someone to speak to. Before meeting him there were times you worried you’d forget how to talk naturally, how to sound like yourself.

The glowing eyes of deer popped up from the side of the road, startling you. Eerie. You held your breath, would they run, stay still, or sprint into the road.

“Is it true their antlers can break car windshields?” You asked not breaking eye contact with a doe as you drove past.

Alastor nodded, “If a buck hits your car the wrong way, not even the car will make it out of the accident.”

“Are there a lot of bucks around?”

“Will be soon, as fall— wait why am I telling you this,” he laughed, “Miss Autumn Hind already knows what makes the bucks run wild.”

You shouldn’t be smiling, it was a dumb rut joke, but it felt like a compliment. 

The car lights passed over the home as he turned into the dirt driveway. Powder blue. It wasn’t a color you associated with Alastor. He was caramel, honey, midnight blue, red. His sometimes sinister smile didn’t look quite right against powder blue. But, for a home, it was lovely.

“Is someone home?” You saw a light on in an upstairs room.

Alastor reached behind you for your bag, “No, I leave it on when I’m gone. Gives the impression that the house isn’t empty.”

A minor bit of acting, Alastor opening the door and offering to bring your bag upstairs before a tour like a good host. His anxious energy was barely contained by that grin of his. For your part you played the appropriately impressed guest.

But deep down you were very impressed. An actual house. Your mother struggled to keep apartments rented. Alastor had a home. With stairs. That went to more home, not a neighbor. What a lovely thing. What did he do with all this space?

He could probably hide quite a few bodies in there.

Alastor opened his bedroom door and motioned for you to enter.

You took in every detail as shrewdly as you could. Two circular nightstands, a wide dresser with a few framed photos and a radio. One large window facing the yard, you could see the car outside from where you were standing. “Wow a man’s bedroom. I tend to avoid these.”

“What a coincidence, so do I. Bedrooms in general, really.” He placed your bag on the dresser, offering to unpack it for you. Your smile screwed up, shaking your head no. You couldn’t imagine Alastor folding your panties and setting them into a drawer. 

Well.

“Yes please.” You took a seat on the end of his bed, watching him tenderly empty the bag before beginning to put things away like you’d come home from a trip. “A bed big enough for two people. You didn’t tell me you were a fancy man. Ooh la la.”

Alastor laughed, “Your bed was quite comfortable.” He set your dress onto a hook attached to the closet door, hands running down the fabric to straighten out the wrinkles, “But I have a feeling that had more to do with you than anything else.”

The floor was clean, the rug beneath the bed a simple but pristine white. What an odd color for a rug.  

You truly did avoid men’s homes. The power dynamic shifts too much.

“Are all men so clean?”

“Oh god no. Have you really never been to a man’s home?” Without a moment of hesitancy his long fingers flattened out your underthings and neatly folded them. You could call it erotic, knowing what else his fingers could do.

A hum, you swayed side to side, “Too much risk. I don’t know where the knife drawer is, which locks stick, what windows open all the way.” 

He set the empty bag into a reading chair in the corner, “That sounds stressful.”

You shrugged, “My mother taught me to always have an escape. From situations, from rooms, from people. Not terrible advice.”

That was true, he thought. If the few women he killed had considered that, he would be less prolific. Women tended to be easier in some regards.

Alastor finally let himself look at you sitting on his bed. Were you wearing the black garters today? He liked those. He appreciated the red dress you’d worn.

Taking off his jacket and vest, he hung them up while his eyes kept returning to you. Your legs were crossed, thighs soft and pressed together. He remembered feeling them against his ears. A little cough to clear his throat and mind.

“Are you hungry?”

You werent, but you weren’t ready for sleep either, so you asked for some bread and butter. Alastor sat beside you at the table, watching you look around. It didn’t look like a killer's home. 

“Ya know, I was going to rob you. I had been wanting to talk to you, before that guy caught me off guard when I was smoking.” You said it easily. 

He smiled, “Oh, why’d you change your mind?”

“Well, you slit a man’s throat in front of me.”

“Tsk tsk, you give up too easily, my dear.”

Salted butter, soft bread. Simple. Happy. “You were so handsome-,”

“We’re?”

A snort of a laugh, rolling your eyes dramatically, “and you looked well off. I was searching the room for the lights reflecting off of your glasses all night.”

Alastor grimaced, fighting the well of his ego, and leaned on his elbows, “Is it too morbid to say I’m glad that man tried to kill you? I like this timeline more than being robbed and never seeing you again.”

“That’s very selfish. I would have enjoyed chasing you down and finessing your wallet off you.” You set the glass lid back over the butter dish, content with the snack. “Some men come back actually and confront me at the theater.”

He howled. The idea was ridiculous, “Seriously? Why not just tell the cops.”

“Men don’t like telling other men they got taken for a ride by a dame.”

Alastor stood, “What would you have done if you had robbed me and I marched into the theater demanding my cash back.” It took a second to realize he was being serious in wanting you to play along. 

You popped the last piece of bread into your mouth and stood too, “You rake!” A fake smack to his chest, “I booted you to the curb! You had more hands than an octopus!” 

Alastor tried to stay in character but his smile kept cracking through his serious face. “And my wallet? None of my hands can find it.” You took a few steps back, feigning shock at the accusation.

“Sir! You were so drunk I’m not surprised you lost it.” When Alastor closed the space between you with two wide steps and pulled you into his chest you giggled, hitting softly at him, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Trying to take advantage,” his hands wandered down your hips, making your voice catch in your throat, “of a good woman like me.”

His mouth came to your ear, “Well, miss, I think you owe me the opportunity to try again.”

You went stiff against him, the sudden turn of his voice into seduction taking you by surprise, “If you were a real mark, I’d punch you in the face for saying that.”

“But for me?” Breath against your neck.

Your hands slid up his chest and to his collar, pulling him down and into a kiss. His smile spread across your lips. 

His mouth stayed against your cheek as he pulled you into a hug, “Ready for bed?”

“Are you sleepy, hun?” You pulled away, a sincerely worried face. Two nights now you’d interrupted his normal routine.

Alastor’s eyes seemed to sparkle behind his glasses, head shaking, “No, not at all.” You felt the heat rise up your face. Wanting to avoid assumptions, you tried to temper your expectations.

His hand pulled you toward the stairs, you dragging your feet, “Did you want to show me around?”

“In the daylight.” He led you up the stairs and to the right.

“Oh okay….”, your mind was reeling, mouth dry. No dead body in sight. No blood. You hadn’t pressed him or asked for anything. Maybe he just wanted a good cuddle, or some kisses. You often enjoyed necking near the car before he would go home. Right. Let him lead.

You followed him, letting him guide you hand in hand back to his bedroom.

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar,@straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove@saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , @sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re , @asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp , @angelxx7 , @katgirl05 , @impulsivethoughtsat2am , @sugurubabe , @zzzykiek , @phamtasic

[morning-star-joy]

a stranger's heart without a home masterlist

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits slowburn Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Fic Summary: Sleeping with Joel Miller was supposed to be a one time thing. When the older brother of your closest friend showed up in Jackson, you hadn't expected him to stay more than a day. You'd both given into a brief moment of passion before he left, and that was the end of that. It didn't matter, you were never going to see him again. Then Joel returns a few months later, and screws up everything about the comforting life you had established in Jackson.

Fic Tags: One Night Stands, Rivals into Friends with Benefits, Emotional Slow Burn (really slow), Eventual Romance, Mutual Pining Idiots, Angst & Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Found Family (lots of Tommy & Reader and Dina & Reader friendships), Long Chapters

Fic Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader in her 30s, Joel 56) Themes of Grief/PTSD/Depression with mentions of death (family members, both Reader and Joel) that can be heavy at times, Specific Warnings in each Chapter

Status: Complete

ao3 link

official art by @cynibuns

tribute edit by @dundienominee

moodboard/graphic by @planet-marz1

Reader fanart by @mydzygro-art

masterlist (no longer posting on tumblr, check ao3 for new fics)

chapter 1: I am not the only traveler

chapter 2: the holidays linger like bad perfume

chapter 3: do I wanna know if this feeling flows both ways (18+ Smut)

chapter 4: there it is again, that funny feeling

chapter 5: break the silence; damn the dark, damn the light

chapter 6: and I'll never see you again if I can help it (18+ Smut)

chapter 7: look at us, you and I, back at it again (18+ Smut)

chapter 8: maybe I don't quite know what to say, but I'm here in your doorway

chapter 9: I thought that you’d be here by now (18+ Smut)

chapter 10: can the killer in me tame the fire in you?

chapter 11: this slope is treacherous, this path is reckless (18+ Smut)

chapter 12: you take what you get, and you turn it into honesty

chapter 13: burned out flames should never reignite, but I thought you might take me home (18+ Smut)

chapter 14: he built a fire just to keep me warm

chapter 15: speak to me until your history’s no mystery to me

chapter 16: and it feels good to be known so well (18+ Smut)

chapter 17: baby, it's Halloween, and we can be anything (18+ Smut)

chapter 18: yes, I'll admit that I'm a fool for you (18+ Smut)

chapter 19: either I'm careless or I wanna get caught (18+ Smut)

chapter 20: with your boots beneath my bed; forever is the sweetest con (18+ Smut)

epilogue (18+ Smut)

(listed in order of how they occur after the main fic)

morning after chapter 20

waking up to oral (18+ Smut)

painfully domestic (kisses to get their attention)

lingerie & breeding kink (18+ Smut)

(epilogue takes place here)

half-asleep, half-awake (Joel POV companion piece to main fic)

not much I need (nonsexual intimacy)

kissing scars

easy, plaid-shirt mornings (18+ Smut)

would it be enough if I could never give you peace? (Reader's anxiety)

a feeling so peculiar (seasonal depression)

chapter 13 sneak peek (Jealous!Joel's POV Date Scene)

chapter 13 scene (Jealous!Joel Smut after Date 18+)

chapter 13 cut endings (Angst af)

chapter 14 sneak peek (Reflection Joel's POV)

chapter 15 sneak peek (Totally Casual Drinks Between Friends)

chapter 16 sneak peek (Dina and Ellie Plan)

chapter 17 sneak peek (The Dance)

chapter 18 sneak peek (Joel Pines for You)

chapter 18 secret scene (Tommy finally fucking figures it out)

chapter 19 sneak peek (Tommy and Reader)

fic playlist

MC playlist

Taylor-coded MC playlist (for my fellow Swifties!)

Joel POV playlist

[multifandomgirl08]

Mini Verstappen Series Masterlist

Paring: Single Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

At the end of 2020, Max Verstappen gets the surprise of his life when he finds out that his ex-girlfriend had given birth to a son, his son. A year and a half later Max's longtime girlfriend of 8 months finds out about his son Nico.

This is an ongoing series. I'm always adding to it. The masterlist changes often.

I do take requests for this. If there is anything that you want to see happen in this series just message me in my ask box. All of my normal request rules apply.

Reader Face Claim: Hande Erçel

Total Published Word Count: 63,776 Words

Disclaimer: This work below is fictionalized ideas and stories involving real people but does not directly reflect their thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction, so enjoy it as such.

𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑂𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟

0.0. Prologue - [December 2020]

Max finds out that he has a son. And it changes his world.

0.1. Be Something You'll Love and Understand [December 2020] Outtakes

He knew that he should have called his mom yesterday but he was still wrapping his head around the idea of being a father.

0.5. The Moment You Smiled At Me - [November 2021]

The evening that started it all for Max and Reader.

1. Mini Verstappen - [July 2022]

You get a small surprise the first time you visit Max’s apartment.

1.5. Girlfriend? - [October 2022] Request

You meet Nico.

1.8. Caught - [June 4, 2023] 18+ Outtakes

Lando swears he knocked before walking into Max's hotel room, maybe he should have yelled before opening the door.

2. Change - [November 26, 2023 + January 2, 2024]

It’s the end of the F1 season. Some things are changing for the Verstappen's.

SMAU #1. The Secrets Out - [December 31, 2023 - January 1, 2024]

It’s the start of a new year. You and Max decide to tell the world about Nico.

3. A Lioness Protects Her Cub - [May 5 - 9, 16, 23, 2024] Request

Reporters are vultures and Max picks out a ring.

4. Day At The Karting Track - [June 15, 2024]

Nico starts karting. It opens a small can of worms.

4.5 The Engagement - [August 15 - 16, 2024]

He moved his hand over yours, moving the engagement ring that he placed on your finger, side to side.

SMAU #2. Through Max's Eyes - [March 8, July 30 - August 15, 2024]

Max’s Instagram posts about Y/N, and a small life update from the couple.

5. Something Bad, Something Good - [August 17 - 19, 2024] Request

Reader deals with the haters on Twitter, Nico calls Reader Mama. Max claps back at the haters on Instagram like the malewife that he strives to be.

5.5 Time to Move? - [August 25, September 15, 2024]

When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year. Maybe it was time to find a new place for all of you.

6. Race Day - [October 20, 2024] Request

Nico tags along with Max during a race day in Monza, well as much as he can.

6.1 Wedding Headcanon - [February 2, 2025]

Headcanons from Max and the Reader's wedding. Social Media posts from their honeymoon.

6.5. Give and Take (Kind of Love We Make) - [February 28, 2025] 18+ Request (The Morning After)

Max had a plan in his head for the evening. He had mapped out the track before, and intended to keep to his strategy until they got home.

6.7. To Constantly Be Away - [March 10, 2025]

Second race of the season and Max is already having a tough time with the car. Missing his family only makes it worse.

7. From Three to Four - [April 4, 2025]

Reader tells Max that your expecting, he doesn't have the best reaction at first.

8. Stones To Throw At My Creator - [July 2025]

He wasn't his father. He would never raise Nico like that.

SMAU #3. The Verstappens - [January 8, February 2, May 26, December 3, 2025]

Big things happen to Max and the reader in 2025. Moving, getting married, and a little surprise that neither of them were expecting.

8.7 Give Me Eyes To See - [December 7, 2025]

Nikita's first few days at home. Flashbacks to moments from the reader's pregnancy.

8.8 Nikita's First Christmas - [December 24-25, 2025]

Nico's first Christmas with his baby brother.

8.9 Ghost of Bittersweet Memories - [January 25, 2026]

A few of the drivers visit you and Max for the day, and you end up talking with Charles about a woman that he meets at an FIA event. (This is the conversation I referenced in Part 2 of Bittersweet.)

9. Glass Houses - [February 17, 22, 23, 2026]

When Raymond had called you about going and getting lunch, you should have known that something was going on.

9.5. All That I Can Give - [May 10, 2026]

Another Mother's Day and one of Nikita's firsts.

9.7. On Sleepless Roads, The Sleepless Go - [December 2-3, 2026]

It's the early hours of Nikita's first birthday, and you can't help but look back at the day you brought your son into the world.

SMAU #4. A Year in Moments - [February 10, May 28, August 2 & 27, October 22 & 31, 2026]

10. Redline - [May 25, 2027]

"I'm sorry, mijn leeuwin. I know you were excited to announce it to everyone."

10.5. Mommy and Me - [May 31 - June 6, 2027] Request

Late one evening after dinner Y/N brought up the idea to Max for her to take Nico out for the day.

11. X3 - [July 8-9, 2027]

“Hallo, kleine welp,” Max said.

11.5. She's Not Acid Nor Alkaline - [December 2027]

Max and Reader have a night away from the kids in Santorini for the 2027 FIA Prize Giving Gala.

SMAU #5. Welcoming Another Verstappen - [2027]

12. Hey, Little Sister - [March 27 - November 20, 2028]

SMAU #6. - [2028]

13. The End of An Era - [November 2030]

The days leading up to Max retiring from Formula 1. The Article announcing his retirement. And the last race of his F1 career.

14. Right On Track - [2036]

Checking in with the Verstsppens in 2036.

15. Letters From The Past - [November 17, 2038]

Max and Reader sit down to read the letters that Amelia (Nico's birth mom) wrote.

𝐸 𝒳 𝒯 𝑅 𝒜 𝒮

Pinterest Board

Playlist

Paring Evolution

Timeline

Dividers made by @cafekitsune | Banner made by me

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca, @princessria127 , @mysticalnightenthusiast , @green-thots , @leah-also-known-as-creatoronwp

[lady-ace]

Injustice Ghost

(Putting out an Halloween post because why not? By the way, there will be mentions of blood and death, since this will talk about Injustice Billy, and what happened to him.)

Captain Marvel was missing.

Of course, the superhero comunnity was after the answers to what happened, and only got to know some things.

1-This was probably Circe's doing, going by the way the runes they found.

2-It could be undone.

3-The captain switched places with someone- and that someone could have come from anywhere in the multiverse. So, alternative universes were not out of the table.

It was going to be a long week, but it will be worth it.

/ / /

After a long mission and even longer meeting about said mission, Barry was hungry, (Well, running for a long time with no food and super fast metabolism does that to someone) and so decided to eat something in the Watchtower's kitchen.

As it was night and some people decided to go straight to bed after mission, some lights were off. When Barry opened the door leading to the kitchen, he headed for the light switch.

..That is, until he saw something in the dark. The only thing lightning up the room being the faint lights the window provided.

The thing he saw looked.. small. Where it eyes should be, Barry could see right through.

“Hello?”

Barry asked, and received no answer. As the silence dragged on, he decided to flip the light switch he was reaching for earlier. Maybe it was nothing after all?

As the lights came to life, Barry saw the figure. No, the boy.

He was indeed small, maybe 8 to 9 years old. Skinny, too. The weirdest thing about him was that he simply didn't have eyes. Where his eyes should be, there were simply nothing, the borders of where the eyes were supposed to be were caked in blood. In fact, the boy himself seemed see-through, transparent.

The child, who was looking at the window previously, startled when the lights came on, looking at Barry directly before vanishing into thin air.

“Oookay. That happened. Good to know the watchtower's haunted.”

/ / /

Barry: “Did i tell you guys what i saw in the kitchen last night?”

GL (Hal): “No? What did you see?”

Barry: “I think i saw a spirit. No, i'm sure i saw a spirit. Or a ghost.”

GL, in a disbelieving tone: “Dude, what? Are you serious?”

Barry: “I swear. It was a child, and when i flipped the light on, it just looked up at me and vanished! Gone!”

Clark, who was more believing: “So, you're saying the watchtower's haunted? How would this ghost even get here?”

[Barry shrugs]

/ / /

Clark thinks he finally understands what Barry means when he comes face to face with the ghost himself.

This time, it was in the watchtower's recreation room.

Since a meeting was to start soon enough, Clark decided to be extra early, and waited patiently in the recreation room. Currently, he was the only one here, as Bruce was in the meeting room already, probably planning how it will go.

According to the jornal Clark was reading, today was a slow day, with only Central and Gotham being attacked by major villains today, what most likely will be brought up in the meeting.

A shuffling sound besides Clark had him looking up from the jornal, looking directly at something that he had heard about before.

“..You're the ghost Flash told me about, aren't you?”

He asked the spirit, who looked at him blankly.

“You.”

It said. It's voice had an echo quality to it, and was so impossibly quiet, almost a whisper.

“Me? What about me?”

Clark asked the boy, confused.

“Why?”

It questioned, instead of answering.

“Huh?”

The boy stepped closer, as if analyzing Clark's very being.

“Why?”

It repeated, louder and clearer this time. Clark was sure if this.. person (?) had eyebrows, he would be frowning.

“I'm sorry, i don't understand what you mean.”

Clark told the spirit, with an apologetic tone in his voice. It was more than clear this ghost was trying to tell him something, ask him something. And yet, it wasn't able to, or rather, couldn't bring itself to.

The ghost got even closer, one hand pointing to it's eyes.

“This. Why?”

It asked, it's voice filled with hurt, betrayal. Like Clark himself had done something unforgivable.

“..You're asking me why are your.. uh.. eyes that way?”

The ghost shook it's head 'no', and then used the finger that was pointing to it's 'eyes' to get some of the blood in it's face, and proceeded to walked even closer to Clark, now directly in front of him.

As Clark was about to ask something, the boy began floating. The spirit floated up, until it was eye level with him, and put the finger on the jornal Clark was holding, the bloody fingerprint being fixated on a specific news title.

“Multiple innocent lives unfortunately lost in sudden villain attack!”

These words now stood out against the other news coming from Gotham. Clark just read about this- Joker had escaped Arkham yet again, but this time, without anyone knowing, and had planted a bomb on park. Hidden from anyone's view, it went off, killing some people who were just enjoying the afternoon in the park that day.

“Were you one of Joker's victims, little one?”

Clark questioned in the soft tone he uses with scared children- since others in the league don't talk much with civillians after savings, the responsibility almost always falls either on his, Diana's or (surprisingly) Bruce's shoulders.

If this was the spirit of a child who's life was lost in a tragic accident like this, Clark would stop at nothing to give it rest. No one deserved to be stuck, especially since this ghost didn't seem all that happy.

..is what he thought, until the ghost shook it's head no, and then paused.

“Joker? But..”

It's voice was quieter again. It- no, he, looked like he realized something.

"..joker's dead. You..”

Before any questions could be asked, the ghost spoke up again.

���You aren't him, are you? I don't belong here. i don't want to be here. Go away!”

Was the last thing Clark heard the boy say, before he pushed him (or tried to, really, he phased right through him) and disappeared into nothingness, just like Barry had told him he had done before.

This isn't just a silly little fact told by friends to scare each other. The watchtower truly is haunted.

/ / /

(this will have a part 2, i just don't know when)

[willownwisp]

ree's leon valentine's day advent <3

hi everyone. <3 as the leon kennedy fluff truther, i'm making an advent for valentine's day because pookie deserves so much love! everyday, i'll be posting a fic ranging from nsfw/sfw fluff for babu leon, i'll be putting out the scenarios and snippets below if y'all are interested. author's note: i've been meaning to put this out like a week ago when i finally figured out the problem w my account as to why tumblr wasn't letting me reply to comments :( but sadly, college got me so head empty. anyway, i've already got 2 days worth of fics already finished so i hope y'all can give me a read. <3

FEBRUARY 8 𖹭 nice legs, daisy dukes. (vendetta!leon x fem!reader) Leon feels like a creep, fuck that. He definitely looks like a creep. Thirty-six year old in all of his 5'11 glory standing outside his girlfriend's college leant against his Ducati like a dick, carrying a box of those, instagrammable pastries you always like to look at. It doesn't hurt to be sweet. Not when you walk — run, at the sight of him in your preppy mini dress, highlighting those long, long legs. Nothing is sweeter, especially when it's wrapped around him.

FEBRUARY 9 𖹭 starry skies, blue eyes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Stars dot stygian skies, the night is young, the moon is high. Leon's heart soars with your every laughter. The way your eyes close and your nose scrunches. God he was so in love with you, he could forgive the fact that the tent should have been up hours ago before night. You swear you remember your knots from your wide-eyed Girl Scout days, and he swears these silly moments with you are what makes life bearable.

FEBRUARY 10 𖹭 cold woes. (re4r!leon x fem!reader) Leon S. Kennedy. The apple of his instructors' eyes (and yours), he's a top graduate in the Police Academy for fuck's sake. He's decimated hordes of zombies in his first day as a rookie cop. Endured military training in the middle of nowhere, he's saved the President's daughter. He doesn't get sick. Only that he does catch a cold at the expense of prioritizing you, his clumsy girlfriend, who forgot to wear a jacket on a camping trip, offering his warm clothes to you. He doesn't regret it, he likes taking care of you, but there's something adorable about your sheepish apologies as you wait on him. He could get used to being babied. FEBRUARY 11 𖹭 love on me. (di!leon x fem!reader) As much as Leon loves the sun, the beaches, the tropics. Oh what he would give to become a beach bum in his next life instead of being smacked by bioweapons day in, night out, and being a good bitch to good ol' U.S of A. Unfortunately, after the events of Alcatraz, maybe he's had enough of the sea for now. He gives himself a pat on the back, takes out a chunk of his savings to go to Japan because you've been eyeing it. You said you were interested in the food, culture, and sights. So why in the world were you dragging him to a love hotel? FEBRUARY 12 𖹭 fill up your cup. (re6!leon x fem!reader) He feels himself spiraling recently, turning to the bottle because a glass is never troubled by his woes. He breaks them of course, can't help it, seems like his life is doomed to him breaking in the end. Fragments of glass scatters on the floor, vodka spills on the floor splashes it around like his grief because his body can only take so much. You arrive as he tries to pick them up, attempts to pick himself up. You whisper assurance, he doesn't deserve it. The way you look at him ardently, the gentleness that is your existence. You empty out his pain, and fill it with love. FEBRUARY 13 𖹭 the thrill, the love. (damnation!leon x fem!reader) He wills his old Yamaha to go faster. Your dainty arms clinging to him, the softness of your touch as his speed breaks the sound barrier. What started as mere curiosity turns into rituals. Secrets that only the both of you know. He knocks on your door at midnight, drives you around town. He scolds you every time your arm breaks free, throwing them to the wind. You don't care, you love the thrill, you love him. Leon admits that there is something alluring to the thrill of the chase. Perhaps that's why he's spent his years chasing Ada, but with you it was different. FEBRUARY 14 𖹭 kiss it better. (di!leon x fem!reader) Leon is a man full of stories, his pain, his peace, his fears, his needs. There is more to him than just being a formidable weapon against bioterrorism. He never was a weapon, just a flesh and blood human, and in his mortality there are scars. Deep within him, and littered in his skin. You kiss the faded slash on his hand, he tells you how he'd got it from when Ashley Graham had tried to stab him under the influence of the plaga. You kiss it again, and what he doesn't tell you is the wave of warmth that washes his entire being, it tugs on his very soul. You kiss the scars because it's there, because it's him, and in his reverie, he thinks you truly are his person.

[op-sys-chaos]

@stealingyourbones mentioned in a post I just saw that Booster Gold could be used in a DPxDC fic related to Clockwork bc they’re both invoked in time travel stuff and omg yES I have ideas now

Feel free to use any/all of these, just tag me!

1. Booster Gold being in the present is good for the timeline, but he wants to go back to the future. Clockwork sends Danny to sabotage the time machine. Shenanigans ensue. The JL thinks Danny’s a villain until a massive attack happens, Booster Gold is very much crucial to saving the day, and afterwards Danny shows up with a perfectly intact time machine (he fixed all the damages he caused while they were fighting the villain) and goes “ok now you can go home! :)” and the JL is so confused. Dealer’s choice if they get an explanation and maybe even ask Phantom to join the JL or if Danny just vanishes, never to be seen again

2. Booster Gold wants to change something in the timeline. Clockwork needs it to stay the same. Danny and BG go back and forth trapping each other in various situations (maybe it’s comedic what they end up trapped in) until one of them gives up

3. BG and Danny actually know each other in the future. Knowing how OP Danny is and knowing he’s an active hero rn, BG keeps trying to get the JL to recruit Phantom. The JL keeps refusing (“that’s a KID Booster we can’t put a kid in the JL”) until like Vortex or someone shows up and wreaks havoc and the JL is floundering and barley hanging in there and Danny shows up and beats him in like two seconds flat. The JL just kinda goes “ok, maybe Booster had a point”

4. BG, being a time cop, and Danny, being Clockwork’s personal equivalent of a time cop, keep running into each other in various situations (usually bc Clockwork sends Danny to help BG whenever he’s in over his head). But they keep meeting out of order, not even realizing that Danny’s from the time BG ends up staying in until they run into each other on a normal, non-time related mission. Spider-man meme pointing at each other, “what are YOU doing here???”, “is there some time-related issue on top of this?”, JL confused why Booster and a random overpowered teen they just met today seem to know each other. (Their meeting in their normal time is after all the meeting out of order shenanigans. After that point, they stay together for time missions that Clockwork sends Danny to join BG on; he makes sure they meet in the right order this time.)

5. Booster and Clockwork hate each other. Danny is a big fan of BG. Shenanigans ensue

6. Danny and BG hate each other. Clockwork needs them to get along for the sake of the timeline. He keeps sending Danny to BG’s time cop missions. Will they ever make up?

7. Danny and BG are the same age and start dating. Clockwork sends them on fancy fun time travel dates

8. BG keeps running into this random kid in various places in the time stream. He only ever tells BG that “Clockwork sent me” and BG is getting more and more determined to find whoever Clockwork is and kick his ass for putting this poor precious kid in harm’s way. Hell, BG might just end up adopting this poor kid himself if that’s what it takes to save him… which is exactly what Clockwork wants

9. BG is incredibly surprised when his time mentor, Clockwork, reaches out and asks him to adopt a kid, Danny

10. BG and Clockwork are dating. Clockwork asks BG if he’s okay with adopting Danny

I can come up with more if y’all want! Please tag me if you use these I wanna see what you create :)

[atinystraynstay]

Guardian Angel - Jeon Wonwoo

Synopsis: Wonwoo is a mysterious individual. Not that he tried to be, but he always had his guard up. He didn't want to fall casualty to a world that could turn so cold. Can you be the one person that finds the secret passage into his world?

Pairing: College Student!Jeon Wonwoo x fem. reader

Genre: "I'm here for you" girl meets "I'm not good at opening up" boy

Inspired by @aaniag - thanks for tagging me in this post ♡ cannot wait to bring all of these into reality First Encounters Mini Series: #1: #2: #3: #4: Wonwoo #5: Jeonghan #6: #7: #8: Dino

Warnings: mentions alcohol consumption

Word Count: 3.7k

Being friends with Kim Mingyu came with a lot of perks. You always had an invite to the biggest parties on campus, knew someone who could walk you home when you had a bit too much to drink, and a constant study partner who would bring coffee to the study sessions.

On the outside, it is easy to assume you and Mingyu were a couple. And you knew one day, Mingyu would make a woman very happy. I mean, he was the poster child of what it means to be a Golden Retriever Boyfriend.

Yet, you have never been attracted to Mingyu like that. Of course, he treated you like royalty, but in some ways, he was showing you the way you deserved to be treated. Mingyu was always the one to give you dating and relationship advice, which was extremely helpful given he was able to give the male perspective. And vice versa, you were always there to hype up and encourage Mingyu to go after women he found attractive. Despite the confidence he exudes, he was a rather shy individual.

Your friendship with Mingyu was a prized possession in your life, and you never wanted to do something to risk. Even though you had a crush on his best friend, Jeon Wonwoo.

Unlike Mingyu, you knew next to nothing about Wonwoo. You often saw him every now and then when he was out with Mingyu, but the two of you never seemed to exchange words. There was just something about him that lured you in.

And you were hoping tonight would be the opportunity to change that.

For the past few weeks, you have been trying to gather intel on Wonwoo. Most of the time when you hung out with Mingyu, you asked about his best friend. It didn't take long for the giant man to put the puzzle pieces together. Instantly, Mingyu devised a plan to try to get his two favorite people together.

Midterms would be coming to an end on Friday, and he knew everyone would want to come out and celebrate. Rather than going to the bars, Mingyu suggested he hosted a house party filled with his closest friends. Both so everyone could be comfortable and enjoy themselves, but also so Wonwoo might open up more during the party. He wasn't the type of guy who preferred going out on the weekends. Often, his weekends were filled with either studying or playing video games. Mingyu was almost certain that a house party could get his introverted best friend to come out of his room.

After sending different outfit options to Mingyu, and each text was responded with "looks good," you decided on a black jeans and a black, long-sleeved crop top. You wore gold jewelry for the comparison, but also decided to wear your hair down for now. You did keep a white scrunchie around your wrist, in case you or someone else might need it throughout the night.

Your goal was to look presentable, but not too over the top. It was a house party, after all. Tonight would be a great opportuntiy not just to hang out with friends you haven't seen in a while, but also maybe know Wonwoo on a deeper level. While yes, you did like him, you were unsure of where his mind was at. Even Mingyu was clueless on Wonwoo's love life as it was a topic rarely they engaged in. Being friends with Wonwoo could always be the start.

With a bottle of vodka and a bottle of Berry Lemonade held by your hip, your free hand knocked on the door. You could already hear music and chatter coming from inside. Growing out of hopping from frat house to frat house, house parties were becoming more of your comfort zone. Maybe that's what it meant to be an upperclassman?

"Hi Barbie!" "Hi Ken!"

Mingyu quickly retrieved one of the bottles from you, making your load lighter. You could have managed carrying both, but that was Mingyu just being himself. He wrapped his free arm around you to pull you into a hug. "Woah, you're wearing perfume tonight? Must really want to impress someone."

Quickly, you pulled back from the embrace and slapped his chest. Your eyes narrowed on him before he broke out into a fit of laughter. Yeah, Mingyu definitely was not your boyfriend.

"You do look great though, y/n!" "Not half bad yourself, Gyu," you laughed.

The two of you ventured into the kitchen after closing the door. Mingyu's parties never got too crazy. He always knew who was invited, and it was always known nobody else unless an invite was extended by Mingyu himself or you asked if you could bring someone along with you. He just never liked the unpredictability of strangers entering his home. Wonwoo and him also despised the clean-up afterwards too when people didn't respect their home. That was one way to never get invited again.

Upon entering the kitchen, you were greeted with cheers. Both from the guys invested in the game of Flip Cup but also by the ones that noticed you. Seungkwan, Dino, and Hoshi were all grinning at you. Currently, it seemed like Seungcheol and Joshua were going head-to-head in a match with Dokyeom and Jeonghan waiting there turn. Vernon, Minghao, Jun, and Woozi were all spectating. All that was missing was Wonwoo.

Noticing you take a headcount, Mingyu grinned. He's gotten to know you all too well over the course of your friendship. "He's out back on the patio," he whispered into his ear.

He must have been able to escape with the guys distracted, and the bodies that filled the first floor of their college townhouse apartment.

"Y/n! Wanna take a shot?" Hoshi shouted to you. "Hell yeah."

A little liquid courage never hurt. Mingyu chuckled as he got to work preparing your mixed drinks for the two of you. Hoshi was eagerly pouring out shots for the 14 people. He must still think Wonwoo is in the room.

"Hey, where's Wonwoo?" DK finally asked once he finished his turn with flip cup. "Oh, I think he must have slipped outside," Mingyu quickly responded. "I can go check on him after," you offered.

It was not unusual for you to take on almost a 'mother' role. Like Mingyu, you liked being there for people. You liked when people felt uncomfortable around you or that you could help someone out, no matter how big the task might be.

"That's our eomma," Dino shouted.

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn't wipe the smile off your face. It did really feel good to be seen in positive light.

Mingyu placed your red solo cups in front of you. You smiled at the sight of your mixed drink, knowing that it would help the liquor slid down your throat. You weren't the biggest fan of vodka, but if you had something to chase? You were golden. Plus, you were now able to take your drink and able to slip away to find Wonwoo.

"Alright fuckers, some of us are seniors. Top dogs, but we always have our pack to support us. " Hoshi began. Oh boy.

Promptly, DK started barking which encouraged the rest of the boys to join in. Sometimes you question why you are friends with them, but you knew they were all irreplaceable.

"I just love you guys so much." Uh oh. Looks like Hoshi has already had a bit more to drink than the rest of the group. "Here's the last few months before we become boring."

The shot glasses dropped down to the table before meeting all of your lips. You cringed a bit at the feeling of straight vodka hitting your mouth but quickly swallowed. With your free hand, you were able to rid of the taste with the mixed drink which made you immediately relax. You sighed as you could already feel how warm your stomach felt from the liquor entering your system.

"Go get your boy," Mingyu teased you in a hushed tone. "HEY! Secrets makes frenemies and I want us all to be besties," Hoshi shouted as he caught you and Mingyu talking. "Relax, tiger. I'm just telling her where I think Wonwoo ran off to."

Hoshi seemed to relax before instantly distracted by the next game Jun proposed. Mingyu sighed, knowing he was going to be on Hoshi duty tonight. Again. You patted his shoulder comfortingly before slipping away to the porch.

Keeping your drink above your head, so you wouldn't accidentally spill or drop it on anyone or anything, you navigated through the crowd of people. For someone who liked to keep parties small, there was always a large turn out for Mr. Popular. You offered friendly smiles at familiar faces, as you kept your eyes locked on the back patio.

As the people around you began to dissipate, you saw a figure sitting on the steps of the back porch. It wasn't much of a porch really. Just a set of wooden steps with a deck, but it was like luxury to any college student. It also is why people favorited Mingyu's spot for partying on the weekends.

You were able to easily identify the person outside just based off the broad shoulders. It has been quite a few weeks since you last saw Mingyu, but you liked seeing how long his hair has gotten since then. You always thought he looked better with a bit of length to his haircut.

Gently, you slid the back patio door hoping not to startle him. He did, however, whip his head around to see who was responsible but then immediately relaxed when he saw it was you. While you two were not close yet, he recognized you. Wonwoo also knew just how important you were to Mingyu, so you were never seen as a threat. Quite frankly, he just didn't know how to approach you since the two of you had not had a proper conversation one-on-one.

"Oh hi, y/n," he called out gently. His voice was always calm in his deep tone. It was oe of the things you adored about Wonwoo. His voice was calm to you like the ocean, and you always seemed to cling onto every word he spoke.

"Hey Wonwoo," you said in your usual tone, not wanting to be perceived as a threat. "Mind if I join you?"

His eyes slightly widened as he heard you. Only the guys ever really approached Wonwoo, so it was a bit surprising that someone would want to accompany him.

"Oh um sure."

Wonwoo scooted over from where he was sitting, offering his spot for you. You smiled appreciatively before fully stepping into the patio. You closed the door behind you, both to respect Wonwoo's privacy and to keep the house warm. It was apparent that Wonwoo had wondered out here for a reason, so you wanted to respectful and show through your actions you were someone he could trust. You also were not wanting to hear Mingyu nagging at you for causing the electricity bill to rise in the month of March.

Slowly, you made your way over until you sat down next to him. You set your drink but the edge, so if you accidentally spilled, it could go into the grass rather than the cute boy beside you.

"Enjoying the party?" Wonwoo asked in a soft tone.

It wasn't monotone. It was his usual deep tone. But as he spoke, you noticed that his gaze was seemed to be locked on the moon above the two of you. It was still a bit chilly when the sun was hidden, but you were comfortable. The alcohol definitely aiding.

"Yeah, actually. Much better than being coped up studying," you joked.

"Yeah, I feel you," he sighed. You watched the way he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. It was such a little thing, something he probably doesn't even think about it. Yet, you found it to be the most adorable thing. "You're in the political science program, right?"

Your heart undeniably did a little flip knowing that he remembered that detail to you. Maybe Mingyu has held up his promise and talked to Wonwoo about you, not just saying he had to make you feel more at ease. You nodded your head as you looked over at hi. It was just a habit of yours. You didn't expect him to look over at you, but you wanted to show him that you were present in the moment and ready to listen to whatever he wanted to say. Or even if you two just sat here in silence for a little. There was just something screaming within you that you he needed you tonight.

You just had no idea that he knew anything about you given that you only were on first name basis.

"Yeah," you spoke softly, unable to wipe the gentle smile on your face. "And you're in the computer science program?"

Wonwoo nodded, smiling a bit as well. Wonwoo never was the guy he thought people took interest in. Honestly, every day, he feels just blessed to say he has some of the best friends who want to drag him out of his bedroom. Most people might not even notice his absence. And Wonwoo did that subconsciously, just as a defense mechanism. He has been on the receiving end of bullying and life's unfortunate events. He just found himself isolating more as a way to cope.

"If you don't mind me asking," you began, biting your lip. "Why are you out here by yourself? Is everything ok?" "I think?"

You couldn't help but frown at Wonwoo's response. You were too familiar with the uncertain feeling and knew how troubling it can be. While everyone faces their own difficulties in life, you never liked hearing that other people are struggling.

"I just," he began to open it up.

Now you were the surprised on. Never before would you expect to be Wonwoo's confidant, but you knew it was a job title of upmost importance. You just hoped your surprised expression was not portrayed on your face. If Wonwoo needed someone to vent to, you'd gladly step up.

He glanced at you to see if you were listening. Satisfied to see your eyes on him with a soft gaze, he let out a shaky breath. For the first time in a while, he felt like he was able to confide in someone. He knew the guys were always in his corner, but he ever wished to worry them too much. To some extent, Wonwoo prided himself in his own ability to take care of himself.

It was just that he's been struggling for some time.

"Everything is changing," he chuckled almost out of self-pity. "It's just been hitting me that all of this," he motioned to the party behind him. "Will not be here in a few months. Hell, not even in a few weeks since we all graduate soon. I know I should be in there partying it up, living in the present but I cannot help but think of how we all won't be together like this and it makes me sad."

It was almost like looking into the future as Wonwoo described his inner turmoil. You and Mingyu, and a few of the other guys, were still had another year or two left in college. However, Wonwoo and the other guys would be graduating this upcoming May.

"Do you know where the other guys have decided to go?" You asked in a quite tone. You hope you weren't upsetting him by your questions.

Wonwoo slowly nodded. "Yeah, I think Seungcheol and Jeonghan are moving to the city. Seungkwan has talked about moving in with them once he graduates next year. Joshua and Jun have jobs lined up in their hometowns, so they'll be moving out probably at the end of May. Hoshi? I have no clue. He hasn't even applied to any jobs yet. And Woozi and I have been applying to graduate schools. He's leaning towards business and I think I want to go in a more software engineering route."

"Have you heard back from any schools yet?"

Wonwoo couldn't fight the smile creeping on his face. He knew you cared deeply about Mingyu's friends, but he never thought he would be looped into that circle. He always kept his distance just because it was just convenient, it's what he knew. It also kept him safe in a world filled with chaos and unpredictability.

"Yeah, I actually heard from two schools, so I'm trying to decide. One of the schools is here."

He whispered the last part. It spoke volumes to you. The thought of Wonwoo staying here meant that you might be able to make things work with Wonwoo. That is, if he was opened to the idea of you dating.

"Like part of me wants to run away from here," he explained.

While you weren't quite at the same stage as life, you understood the need. It was part of the reason why you chose to go away for university whereas all your high school classmates chose more local programs. You wanted a change of scenery, a new beginning.

"So much has changed since freshman year. I'm definitely not the same person I was. I've had my challenges like losing my mom a year and a half ago," he explained. "And all those hard times happened while I was here, so I almost have a need to move and leave the pain behind.

His casual mentioning of his mother's passing brought back memories. You remember how all the guys rallied behind Wonwoo. Some of them even skipped final presentations and exams in order to be there for Wonwoo at the funeral. You knew it wasn't in your place to attend the funeral, but you cooked a warm cooked meal for all of them. It was Wonwoo's favorite dish. It at least wanted to do a nice gesture, so Wonwoo knew he wasn't alone. You still remember dropping the dish off with Mingyu with re-heating instructions.

To this day, he has no idea how that dish arrived. He just figured one of the guys ordered DoorDash.

While Mingyu begged you to stay, so you could give it to Wonwoo himself, you didn't want to overstep. You knew grief takes all shapes and forms, os you thought the best thing you could do was give the space for Wonwoo to feel his emotions.

Little did you know he's been harboring those emotions this whole time, almost two years later.

'But then part of me worries about the younger guys. I don't want them to feel abandoned. I don't want the group to fall apart once we all move, and it feels like if I stay here then I can keep us together even while the other guys go off."

"Almost like you are the glue that keeps them all together?" "Yeah, I guess that's the best way to explain it." "But Wonwoo, what keeps you together?"

He furrowed his eyebrows as he fully looked at you. What an odd question. And based on his reaction, you felt the need to elaborate.

"I mean, it's great that you always look out for everyone. You're a real nurturer," you explained.

Wonwoo has never been described in such light before. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep the blush from overtaking his cheeks. He shrugged though as if it was no big deal.

"But what are you doing to take care of yourself? I'm not asking you to make a decision now to either stay or go because going to grad school is a big decision. Congratulations, by the way. That's incredible!"

How could you always see the positive side of things? How hasn't life damaged your spirit like it has for him? How could you see good in him when he often failed to see it in himself?

"I know it's easy to feel like you need to harbor your own emotions because it's easy. But Wonwoo, that shit can break you."

Woah. Who would have thought y/n could swear.

"I'm always going to be here if you need me, you know. I'm not just Mingyu's friend, but I could like to consider us friends too, if that is something you'd like. I'm always here if you need a place to vent, especially if it's away from the guys. I know they can be…" you trailed off.

You didn't want to offend Wonwoo as that was his core group of friends. You were just a side character brought in every now and then.

"A lot," Wonwoo finished for you.

You both shared a laugh as you nodded, confirming to Wonwoo that was the word you were looking for. Silence fell over the two of you for a moment. All that could be heard was the sound of people laughing from within the house and the crickets chirping in the backyard. It was peaceful.

"You know, I've always wanted to say more than hello to you, y/n. Thank you for letting me vent. I wasn't expecting for it all to just spew out like that," he confessed.

Looking at him, you nodded a blush had fully taken over his cheeks but a wide smile remained on his lips. He looked too adorable. The moonlight was highlight his facial features which left you starstruck. He truly was built like a God.

You scooted closer so you could wrap your arms around Wonwoo. He tried his best not to let his body go tense. Wonwoo just wasn't accustomed to someone showing him affection in such a physical way. To be honest, he couldn't remember the last time he actually had a hug.

Slowly, his arms wrapped around you to pull you in closer. You didn't mind his hold on you was a bit tight. He clearly needed it. Your head rested on his shoulder, which allowed you to get a whiff of his cologne. Teakwood and oak. It made your heart fluttered.

But what really sealed the deal was feeling Wonwoo's head rest on top of yours gently.

"Always here for you, Wonwoo." "Promise?" He whispered. "I promise."

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters at a Cat Cafe

There's no way this could realistically happen, but let's set that aside and imagine Cosmere characters at a Cat Cafe.

1. Syl

Syl: [substantiated just enough to hold a little kitten in her arms] Syl: 🥹 Syl: T-This is the greatest day of my life... Kaladin: There, uh, was that time I spoke an oath... Syl: THIS IS BETTER

2. Design

Design: Well, would you look at that! Design: I thought these enormous boobs were mostly good for symmetry and being stared at, but apparently, they make an excellent kitten bed too! Kitten: [Snoozing happily] Design: ...Maybe I should make them bigger.

3. Charlie

Charlie: [sitting very tensely] Tress: Hey...was this a bad idea? You're human now, so... Charlie: N-No it's fine! I know they can't eat me! Charlie: ... Charlie: They want to, though. I can sense it. Charlie: (whispering) Their eyes... Tress: Maybe we should go!

4. TenSoon (in dog form)

TenSoon: [lying down with two cats sleeping on him] TenSoon: [thumping his tail gently as a kitten tries to catch it] TenSoon: Yes...this form has many advantages...

5. Nale

Has the experience that @cosmereplay has documented here: https://cosmereplay.tumblr.com/post/749152650136862720/thanks-to-priscellie-for-the-idea

6. Lightsong

Lightsong: ... Llarimar: You look contemplative, Your Grace. Lightsong: Yes...just looking around this place... Lightsong: All these cats being given food whenever they please, the floor littered with toys, a room full of people eager to give them whatever attention or treats or massages they may desire... Lightsong: It's just like to Court of the Gods, isn't it? Llarimar: I can see wisdom in that, Your Grace. Lightsong: Only I think these gods are rather more useful than we are! Llarimar: ... Lightsong: I can sense your disapproving stare from here, Scoot...

7. Kelsier

Ham: Huh! It says that this cat was found living on the streets as a kitten--they found it huddled in a cardboard box and were luckily able to capture it to get food and medical care. Ham: And now it's doing way better! That's sweet. Kelsier: We're adopting it. Ham: Uh...? Kelsier (already has the kitten in his arms): I said we're adopting it!

8. Breeze

Very fluffy cat: [Preparing to jump on Breeze's lap] Breeze: Psst! Shoo! I don't need your white fur on my suit! Very fluffy cat: [Hops up next to Breeze] Breeze: Shoo, I said! Breeze: Go! Scram! Very fluffy cat: [Sits down on Breeze's lap] Breeze: ... Breeze: It's like this EVERY time. Allrianne: The cats love you! Breeze: We have GOT to pick a different date spot!

9. Renarin

Cat: [looks at Renarin] Renarin: [looks at cat] Cat: [blinks slowly] Renarin: [blinks slowly back] Cat: [pats over and plops down on Renarin's lap] Rlain: Master of nonverbal communication much? Renarin (petting cat): I wish people were this easy!

10. Steris

Steris: [a large cat has curled up near her on the couch, not quite touching her. Steris is scratching the cat gently behind the ears] Steris: I like cats. Steris: They have a very precise understanding of how they'd like to be treated, and once you know those rules, you can get along famously. Wayne: Hey look! The employee told me that THIS cat likes to be petted like a bongo drum! Wayne: Look how happy he is! Pat pat pat pat pat pat pat! Steris: ... Steris: Some cats are stranger than others.

[ladykailitha]

Paper Hearts Part 8

Here we go! The end! This is not the last foray into this little 'verse however! There will be a sequel called Sweet Surrender. It will chronicle their first date, their first time (so it will be mature), and senior prom. Look for that starting next week.

Still not sure about WIP Wednesday tomorrow, but I'll keep you posted.

Steve gets to see one of the recipients of his pinks hearts, Eddie spirals a bit, and true love prevails. As it should.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

****

Steve was finally able to witness one of his anonymous hearts being received on Tuesday. Last week all the hearts had been shoved into people’s lockers, accidentally following the lead of Steve’s admirers. He strongly suspected Chrissy was the reason for that.

But in the three days leading up to Valentine’s day, the hearts were being passed out in classes. Something teachers strongly objected to but students loved.

He was in his geometry class, trying not scratch out his own eyeballs from the sheer monotony of all the numbers starting to blur together, when Chrissy and another junior cheerleader came into the class, but as it was merely quiet student time and that he wasn’t actively teaching, there was nothing the teacher could do but silently stew.

They started listing off the names of the students who had gotten pink hearts alphabetically. Steve wasn’t surprised when he got a small stack again. Most of them were from Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam. The first name was weird, but others seemed fairly normal. And of course, one from Kas.

He looked around and saw that some kids were snickering because they were getting to the later half of the alphabet and Joni Quincy. She was little fatter then her classmates but in no way overweight. But that didn’t stop people from mocking her. The fact that she braces didn’t help either.

“Joni Quincy!” Chrissy said, clearly.

The class got so quiet you could hear her sharp gasp.

“Are you sure it’s for me?” she asked shyly, like she was expecting to be pranked or tricked.

Chrissy shook her bright ponytail. She came over to the girl’s desk and handed her the heart. It was only the one, but Steve could tell it made all the difference. She smiled brightly and laughed.

“That’s sweet!” Nicole said over her shoulder. “Anonymous. But it’s still cool someone thought of you.”

The rest of the class went well until afterwards when one of the members of the football team grabbed out of her hand.

“You shouldn’t send notes yourself,” he sneered, holding it above her head so she couldn’t get back.

“I didn’t!” she cried.

Steve stood up and swiped it out of the dude’s hand. “Leave her alone. The point of the friendship hearts are for stuff like this. Knock it off.” He turned and glared at the teacher.

The teacher stared back at Steve for a moment and then sighed.

“Mr. Olsen, please refrain harassing your fellow students.”

The kid just shrugged and stormed out of the class. Steve handed it back to her.

“It is a sweet message,” he said with a smile.

-Joni

Braces may suck right now,

But the smile you’ll get in end

Will be worth it, so don’t hide your smile

A Former Braces Wearer

She returned his smile widely, showing off the braces. “It is. It was nice to get a heart.”

Steve just nodded and then gathered up his stuff to go. He could feel the warm glow in his chest expand as he watched her talk with one of the other girls in the class about the heart.

It felt good.

****

All week long, Eddie watched Steve get the pink hearts and brighten every time. They had a couple of classes together and he always lit up when the hearts arrived.

Sometimes, he would catch him looking disappointed, but by the end of the day that kilowatt smile would be back on.

He couldn’t figure out the cause. There never seemed to be a rhyme or reason for the change in mood.

So he asked one of the Hellfire Club members that had classes with Steve to see if she noticed a difference.

“Maybe it’s your special hearts,” she said with a grin.

Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, it’s not. Come on, at least take this seriously. Oh! Maybe he’s getting them from Nancy!”

“Why would he even want pink hearts from her?”Janice said cocking her head the side in confusion. “Like he was madly in love with the girl and it’s pretty damn clear that whatever went on that week in November, it really crushed the guy. I’d think he’d be disappointed getting one from her rather than not getting one from her until it appears later in the day.”

He frowned. But that had to be it. There was no way that Steve was interested in his hearts. Maybe he just liked the color change and that’s what it was. Because there was no way he was interested in the heart giver unless he thought that it was a girl’s name. Kas could be short for Kassie after all.

Janice grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “You are spiraling and it’s a little freaky, stop.”

Eddie head snapped, he had forgotten she was even there. He turned on his most charming smile. “You’re talking to the head freak, baby. Can’t get freakier than me.”

She rolled her eyes, not charmed in the slightest. “I know what you are, Edward Munson. Don’t you forget it.”

He kissed her cheek. “Never.”

As he walked off, a locker slammed and Janice jumped. She turned around to see Steve Harrington standing up from his locker.

He hadn’t been there when Eddie came up to her, she knew for a fact. Eddie wasn’t stupid enough to talk about someone when they were literally feet away. So he must have come later. Which meant the question was ‘how much did he hear?’

She really hoped the answer was none of it.

****

Steve had to go out and get a different book for all the all the hearts he had received. He still kept the ones from ‘Kas’ in his wallet. Those were his favorite.

He never was good at hiding his emotions, despite what his father had tried to drill into him over and over again. So when he would get pink hearts every period, he would be disappointed when the Kas hearts weren’t there.

Which was rude. He enjoyed all the hearts he got. He loved every little silly message, even from the ones Dustin said were clearly from a metal band.

He had fun taking the hearts with names he knew weren’t in the year book to Dustin, because he would explain the reference to him.

By Wednesday night, Steve had added three more Kas hearts to his wallet. All sweeter than the last.

He knew he was developing a crush on whoever this was.

Then Dustin finally figured it out the day before Valentine’s day.

“It’s probably a dude,” Dustin said with a grimace.

Steve tilted his head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dustin got out a large hard back book and flipped through it. He stopped on a page about half way through and handed it to him.

Steve sat on the kid’s bed with a thump. He must have read a dozen times before he looked up at him.

“But they’re friendship hearts,” he said. “Why would it matter if it’s a guy or not?”

Dustin sat on the bed next time him and gently took the book back. “Because you’re acting like you do when you have a crush.”

Steve blinked at him a moment. He frowned in thought. “You think so?”

He nodded.

“Oh.”

He thought about all the times he wished it was Eddie who was Kas and then it hit him. He wanted it to be Eddie, not because he had a crush on Kas, but because he had a crush on Eddie.

“And if I said I didn’t mind it?” he asked softly. “That it might be a boy?”

“Are you gay?” Dustin asked, rearing his head back in confusion.

Steve shook his head. “Both. I like both.”

Dustin frowned appreciatively. “Okay then.”

“Okay?” Steve wasn’t sure he was hearing this. He had always imagined that there would be more screaming involved.

“Okay,” he repeated. “You have a big heart, it makes sense that you’d like both.”

Steve gave him the biggest hug. “Thanks, Dusty.”

“Oh!” he said, pulling away after a moment. “I found out about that Dorks and Dweebs club you were talking about!”

Dustin glared at him. “It stands for Dungeons and Dragons. Something I’ve told you over and over again.”

Steve ruffled Dustin’s hair. “The club is called The Hellfire Club and they do accept freshmen.”

“They named themselves after that club in The X-men?” Dustin squealed. “That’s so cool.”

Steve blinked for a moment. Yeah, that made more sense then a bunch of high schoolers naming their club after a Satanic and gay club from the 1800s. Hey, he read. He had found a book on history of clubs in England at the local library, and thought they meant soccer. They had not.

Dustin bombarded him with questions about the club and Steve answered him the best he could. After all the kid figured out his Kas so it was the least he could for him.

****

Valentine’s came and Steve was the recipient of three red hearts. But as he searched through the pink hearts there was no Kas. The end of school came and he still hadn’t looked at the red hearts yet.

Eddie came up to his locker as he was shoving his books into it. “Hey, Stevie, why the long face?”

Steve sighed and closed the locker, turning around to sit on the floor. “I’ve been getting these pink hearts from a specific person all week and all last week and I didn’t get one today. So I guess I’m a little bummed by it.”

Eddie dropped his bag and sat down next to Steve. He drew his knees up and draped his arms over them, linking his thumbs together.

“Maybe they sent a red heart instead?” he said, bumping their shoulders together.

Steve shrugged. “They’ve been all pink hearts up until now, so...”

“What makes this one so special then?”

“I have a friend that is really big into D&D,” Steve murmured.

Eddie gasped and held his hands to his chest. “You, Steven Harrington, has friend who like’s D&D?”

“He’s more like a little brother to me,” he explained with a shrug, “he’ll start high school next year. But anyways, he’s been telling me all the references from pink hearts from the ones that wanted to be anonymous.”

“And there’s a D&D reference in there?” Eddie asked, looking over at him. He knew there was, but maybe Steve had been getting hearts from someone else in Hellfire or another secret D&D nerd he knew nothing about.

Steve nodded and pulled out his wallet. “It’s the same person that left the hearts on my door over the weekend.” He pulled out all ten hearts to Eddie’s awe.

“You kept all of them?” he whispered as he gently took them from him. Eddie fanned them out like a deck of cards and then tilted his head. “They’re out of order.”

Steve frowned as he watched Eddie successfully put them in order and a pattern emerged. The colors had shifted darker and darker with each day. Until the one he got yesterday was a really dark pink.

He looked down at the red hearts that he had set on the floor to pull out his wallet. He picked them up only to be snatched from by Eddie.

“Nicole Hawkins?” he said dismissively and tossed it over his shoulder. “She’s too boring.”

Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Lindsey Addams?” he said with a snort, tossing it after Nicole’s red heart. “Has a boyfriend and is only looking for someone she can use to make him jealous.”

Steve smiled. That one he knew. He was down on all the gossip, he just didn’t know Eddie was too.

He handed the final red heart to Steve and smiled. “There you go.”

Steve took the heart and his smile matched Eddie’s when it showed it was from Kas.

“You know,” he said softly. “I wanted them to be from you. He told me about Kas the Betrayer and how whoever was sending them was probably a guy. But I wanted them to be from you since I told you my secret.”

Eddie gulped. He hadn’t been expecting that. He had been shoring himself up that Steve would think it was a girl and he would walk away with a broken heart when he found out it wasn’t. But staring at this gentle boy with a big heart who just wanted to do something nice for the girls that wouldn’t get even so much as a single pink heart, he knew. He knew that there would be no walking away for either of them.

“They’re from me,” he admitted. “I fell so hard for you, Stevie. And I hoped that by gradually changing the colors of the hearts you see that I was gearing up to tell you I loved you.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. “Sorry I missed that.”

Eddie bumped their shoulders together again. “It’s all right, I got to see the cutest pout when you thought I hadn’t given you a heart today.”

“You’ll let me make it up to you?” Steve asked, raising his head.

“Take me out on a date and shower me with that patented Harrington charm,” Eddie said with a grin. “And we’ll call it even.”

Steve laughed. “Looks like I have plans for Valentine’s day after all.”

Eddie stood up and held his hand out to him. Steve took it and Eddie helped him to his feet.

“Sure do, big boy,” he said with a grin.

Steve laughed and let Eddie lead him out to the parking lot. It was nearly empty but that was perfect.

Eddie walked Steve to his car.

“I’ll pick you up at five, okay?” Steve whispered.

Eddie pursed his lips and nodded. He walked away, but as Steve got his in car, Eddie suddenly leapt into the air and whooped!

Steve shook his head and smiled fondly. He had started the month feeling sorry for himself and now he had a date with a sweet boy on Valentine’s day.

Life was already looking up.

****

Tag List:

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @spectrum-spectre

2- @slv-333 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson

3- @messrs-weasley @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv

4- @wonderland-girl143-blog @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @fullpoetrybread

7- @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @moonshadows-13

8- @skyewaytohell @swimmingbirdrunningrock @croatoan-like-its-hot @lolawonsstuff @lololol-1234

9- @dotdot-wierdlife @ravenfrog @dauntlessdiva @thelittleclare @steddieyourself

10- @dam28lh

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 8 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 (here) — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13

Husk awkwardly followed behind Alastor as he walked down the streets

After that night you approached him, he wanted to talked to you again, but you were away for some important matter. Frankly, he didn’t know what he was to do. Just run wild and claim territories? No, he can’t do that, it was disorderly and you wouldn’t like that. Maybe build his group of underlings again? But his reputation was gone, no one would follow him when his soul was the Radio Demon’s property. Nothing’s coming to mind…

That’s when Alastor gave him a judgmental look and had him follow. Niffty was quick to cover for Husk’s post and Lucifer offered his watchful eye. It was so smoothed that he felt planned, but he won’t question it

Husk wondered how you had Alastor to agree with the chance of letting him back into the collection. That day when he was gambling his soul away, Alastor offered everything but his soul because he knew it wasn’t his to get or bet on, it didn’t matter to Husk since he was desperate and you had never spoken to him anyways. So he assumed it was all fine

He should have known when Alastor appeared and offered him so much luxury even when being under the same owner was a big warning sign to leave and repent. The fact that he didn’t shows his ignorance and disrespect to you, the owner of his soul. So you casted him aside and let Alastor take him for torture

For years, he acted as a mere bartender, serving demons drinks and listening to them talk about their sorrows while he had no one to talk to about his. If he did, he would be dead. How he managed to not notice the Overlords’ obsessive trait towards you was beyond him. They were loyal and devoted to you and he was the opposite

This all felt like the carrot and stick. The carrot was all the benefits and support you provide for them, giving him a system to rely on. The stick was all the punishments and torment you give with just a few words and maybe just the thought of it with that closed eye expressionless face

Alastor came to a stop as through there was a wall in front of him, he turned to Husk and told him while he doesn’t believe Husk to be worthy to be in the collection again, he respects your decision and will carry them or at least help in whatever way possible

Overlords were given the task to take back some lands and Alastor himself had a few to claim, but now it was Husk’s duty to do it. A test, if you will, to see if he can complete tasks that the current Overlords are required to perform and worth their capabilities. Alastor was to judgment without personal feelings, favour and hatred

As much as Husk prides himself in his ability to read demons, he can’t ever dream of understand you or your plans. Like a fog surrounded you, he could see an outline, but when he thinks he has it, you were somewhere else in another form. An unsolvable mystery

“It’s never my intention to put you on a pedestal to have a chance at being redeemed.” Alastor scowled without looking at Husk, turning to the domain that was Husk’s test. “But, when My Liege wants to know, I will oblige in telling.” Husk got a shiver down his spine when he barely saw the smile on Alastor’s face, “Keep up with My Liege’s expectations, Husk.”

Husk straightened himself, getting out his fan of cards, “Yeah, yeah, no way am I passing up this chance.”

Alastor’s head tilted while his smile grew wider and wider by the second, voodoo symbols appearing one by one, “To escape my leash?”

Husk wonder if he should say this, but when you already knew, maybe Alastor does too or at least he would have suspected it. It wasn’t good to lie or hide. There was nothing to hide when Alastor was helping him, “Not my main plan, but why not. Sounds like a good bonus to be toe-to-toe with you.”

Alastor chuckled, “When you’re back among the collection, there’s much to learn.”

Husk doubled back, Alastor said ‘when’ not ‘if’, it felt like a premonition to show him hope for the future he wants. You hinted him at a chance of redemption and Alastor believes he can do it, he doesn’t care for Charlie’s redemption, if yours can do what you promised then it’s worth selling his soul to you again and swear his loyalty to. “Yeah, it won’t be like last time.”

You hummed as you stroll around town, waving and nodding to the Cannibals and Cannibettes that eagerly greeted you when you were nearby. Some children ran circles around you before continuing with wherever they were heading to. You enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere Cannibal Town has to offer all thanks to Rosie’s leadership

After you returned to Hell from your little meet-up with Trick, you found Alastor diligently giving Husk tasks to do. You do believe that their relationship wasn’t as hostile as before and that was good, hostility between your collections aren’t a good sight because one could end up dead

Though that didn’t mean you worry about the hostility the Vees spread around. Because, honestly speaking, they hardly pose a threat when the others were quite tight with each other. So you didn’t care about their little banners

Speaking of the Vees, interestingly, they have been dividing work when it came to taking back the lands and they were each struggling like the pathetic fools they were. That’s what it meant to rely on someone else and never develop your own power, a deadly mistake to commit, especially in Hell and particularly true to individuals that claim the name of ‘Overlord’

You shook your head, this was meant as a visit to Rosie and her darling subjects, you should be enjoying your time. It hasn’t been long but you have been staying in town for 3 days to allow the nighty feast continue for a while. They deserve it for all that they have done for Charlie and not to mention the rest of Hell

Exterminators were souls of Heaven and Heaven already has a lacking number of souls when compared to Hell. Yet why does Trick allow these souls to be devoured in your domain? Easy. Because they weren’t ever meant for Heaven. Why would such violent and dangerous souls be allowed through the gates of Heaven? Particularly someone like Lute

Both you and Trick started picking out souls that would be perfect for the extermination team after Adam suggested that and Sera approved it. It was an extremely fun progress, picking vengeful individuals and one with a hidden bloodlust, then mark them for Heaven. All it took was Trick’s ‘divine message or intervention’ and there you have an army of amateur exterminators

You think Vaggie got it easy with that ‘betrayal’, it got her to find true love with Charlie so it was a good end. If she had stayed, you think she’d be dying the second time for no reason but the amusement of the two bored entities. Well, one bored entity. You’re quite busy and content with your days in Hell

There were some cute teenagers that showed you feathers of exterminators that they have killed and feast upon, you gave them all a wicked grin and words of praise. Some older folks showed you battle moves that were taught to them to better prepare themselves for the war. Your smile just continue to widen the more they showed off what they have learned and accomplished

If you wanted, you just know Rosie will give you this unique army to go to any war. Even if it wasn’t for you, should they come under attack, who could stand against them when they defended exterminations and ate them? Who dares try?

You’ve give them all the gift of unbreakable rows of teeth, granting them the ability to even saw through bones. They expressed countlessly that they would have given you their souls if they didn’t to Rosie. Once, Rosie even offered their souls to you as a form of loyalty and devotion, but you declined and granted them the ability of ‘collected minds’

When moving as a town or at least a group, they will have each other’s back and never fall. It really does reimburse your image of this town being an ant colony. Truly fascinating that Rosie managed that well before you recruited her into your collection

You hummed, her move from the Gluttony Ring to Pride was a good idea. Else, you wouldn’t be able to have Rosie to yourself. Not that there would be an issue if you wanted Rosie into your collection and having to ‘fight’ for Rosie. But you didn’t want undue turmoil between you and the Sins

“Rosie, I have re—” You paused as you eyed the familiar and unexpected face sitting across from Rosie. “Well now, this is a surprise. What ever could be the reason you’re here, Velvette?”

The Social Media Demon immediately got up and bowed deeply, trying to reassure you that this was no planned meeting or anything of the like. She was just here to talk to Rosie and not make a scene. All the while, Rosie got up and offered you her seat while she sat in the middle one

You calmed the panicked demon down and said you knew and that it was fine. Though, you were curious as to why she wasn’t doing her work and here to just chat. When Velvette was hesitant to tell, Rosie suggested for Velvette to speak her mind because the final judgment wasn’t either of them to decide

So Velvette told you. The current situation of the Vees

It would appear, since the Overlords meeting was held, some disharmory have been going around between the Vees. Vox and Velvette wants Valentino to change his production focus since it wasn’t to your standards or liking. In turn, Valentino demands Vox stop with all the cameras. The three demons were picking each other eyes without caring for their own flaws and faults

Typical was what you would have thought. Yet…

The fact that Velvette is present right before your eyes proves something. So your patience and wait was well worth it

You listened with Rosie as Velvette spill all the drama between their group, not even hiding her own thoughts on the matter. Rosie was more expressive and attentive since it was gossip that she lives for, while you merely listened with your eyes closed and a small smile on your face knowingly, causally sipping from your cup

It’s to your satisfaction that Velvette doesn’t leave out her own concerns and worries. Not only on your colleagues, but on herself. As prideful and bratty as she put herself to be, she was surprisingly self-conscious too. A flaw demons wouldn’t like it revealed to others, especially to those more powerful since it is a weakness

But. To you, it was a worthy trait to have. The saying ‘Ignorance is bliss’, a lot of demons and sinners carry it around. They have no knowledge of a higher being in Hell, they think they know what’s at the top and stop there. There’s no improvement. There’s no change. There’s nothing to be done

Now when one knows, when one is aware of what’s around them. There are multiple opportunities and chances to advance in this little eternity of a realm. And Velvette is closer to it, just like how you pushed your other souls to that territory of recognition and growth

“I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what to do in this situation.” Velvette covered her face in her hands, slamming her elbows onto the table that made the cups cling from the impact. “I don’t want to be kicked out of the group. I don’t want to be out of the Collection.”

Rosie got up and comforted the distressed girl, “Now, now. You’re not in danger of leaving.” But she had to add, “Yet.” She stilled tried to cheer up Velvette as she tried listing, “It’s too early to tell.” She nudged the doll demon, “That’s why you came here for. Ain’t that right? Guidance and a pointer in the right direction.”

You hummed, setting down your cup and saucer on the table gently. “Hm, well. I can’t say I can give all that.” A smirk grew while your form changed as though there was a glitch in the system, you appeared as the young Overlord herself. “Everyone’s all a joke. I have better sh*t to do than to listen to an old windbag who is all so-called tough sh*t.”

Velvette’s hands fell from her face as she flinched back, looking into the mirror copy of herself. Even knowing that you were behind it, that smirk and the moment you opened your eyes to reflect her own, it all sent a chill down her spine. 

Rosie watched with amusement and a poorly covered o-shaped mouth, unable to stop the comment, “When some says their own words will come back to bite ya. I think this is the worse case imaginable.”

“I will do nothing less than what I please.” You continued to push as you got up from your seat. The scene changed to a familiar one. One of the same meeting room as the Overlords’ meeting. Only, Velvette’s position changed to be standing in Carmilla’s place. You in Velvette’s appearance smirked down at her from on top of the table, a cruelly taunting smirk on your face as you sang, “I’m the backbone of the Vees.”

“I was wrong…” Velvette muttered as she shrank down onto her knees.

The scene faded back to Rosie’s tea room, your appearance as Velvette dropped back to your usual one, eyes closed and all the neutral expression. You made your way to the exit of the room, Rosie quickly following behind while you spoke, “If you’re asking for confirmation that the Vees will stay in the collection, then here’s your answer; you three are still in for now. So you can go back to your two partners and bring the joyous news.”

Velvette clutched her hands into fist as grinded her teeth together.

“While I want nothing more than to support and advance my souls. Velvette, you remind me of those fading trends in the social media. Relevant for a moment, then the next, poof. Do anything to get back that shine, but it won’t work.” You spoke mercilessly, “Know your limit. Just because you broke down in front of me doesn’t mean I’ll fix you up. This is Hell and I am no saint. Show me weakness, little rag doll, and I’ll show you the fastest way to fall even lower than where you are right now.”

Rosie looked over at Velvette as she still kept up with a smile, but more apologetic and sympathetic.

“The alliance and help you want from Rosie is denied.” You cut to the chase, “Neither Cannibal Town or Rosie will be lending the Vees their support and aid in whatever endeavors you and your boys have planned.” You paused in your steps, “Because I will not allow it.”

Rosie bowed her head and curtsied, acknowledging the indirect command from you.

“I quit.” Velvette muttered.

Your head tilted at her words.

“I want to be independent from Vox and Valentino. I don’t want to share the Overlord title. I want one of my own.” Velvette got up as she spoke firmly and louder. “Master! Let me start anew! I’ll prove that I can carry the title on my own.”

“What brought the change of heart?”

“I ain’t sharing no rewards or punishments on behalf of them.” Velvette’s hand gripped onto her coat, remembering when her body was contorted into a bloody piece of meat ball. “I’m staying in this collection with my own Overlord title. I’ll do anything, even if I have to leave the Vees and start all over!”

A wide smile broke out on your face at her words. “Now that changes things~”

Note: Yay! This series is back~!! Big changes here. Oh, and for a few parts, there's not much Alastor moments. Just a little heads-up so people don't ask where's Alastor or when's Alastor's gonna appear.

Plus this series has it's own Masterlist like {Unwanted Soul}. So you can check it out and access parts easier.

Anyways, how's this one?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

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[obsessivelyloved]

This was requested on one of my nsfw blogs but I went insane and made it 3,000 words long. So I can post most of it here lol. Just know that in my heart, this takes place in Arkham. Also I'm super rusty so I apologize if anything feels off/wonky. The ending is abrupt here bc the rest of it/the ending is nsfw. I was up til 5am writing this and I'm not writing a sfw ending for this blog until after i get more sleep.

Anon asks: I’m a big sucker for Psych Au fics. Reader is a cis female doctor who treats Tord with kindness. He becomes obsessed with her. Refuses to talk to any other doctor. Tord is always on his best behavior for her which leads her to let her guard down. BIG MISTAKE

___________________________________________________________

“You dropped this.” 

The man stares at you wide eyed as you hand him his lighter. He stands, rigid. You give him a gentle smile and press it into his palm, your other hand curling around the back of his hand. 

“I know there’s no fluid in it, so you don’t have to worry about me taking it,” you say to him. You pat his hand and step away.

The man turns fully towards you and you’re able to read the name sewed onto his shirt. 

“I-” the man- Tord- swallows hard. He quickly pockets the lighter. “Thank you.” 

You give him another smile and walk past him. He seemed to be going the same way as you but he never caught up. Nor did you hear footsteps behind you. Once you reach the director’s office, he leaves your thoughts. You were determined to make a good first impression on your first day of the job. 

The man you met earlier had turned out to be your first patient. And oh boy, what a patient he was. Like you had promised yourself you weren’t going to judge any of these people but god damn. His file was thick. At least twenty papers were inside the manilla folder you had received from the head director’s office. Maybe even more. 

You’d never know if you kept standing outside the director’s office gawking at it. You take a deep breath. Going through it sitting down was probably a good idea. As you make your way to the breakroom, your grip on the folder is tight, trying your best to make sure you don’t drop it and reveal your patient's file. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t take you long to get to the breakroom. A few people were there but they paid you no mind. They sit, hunched over lunch or their own files. You sit and start to read. 

Løvik Tord

3 7 2 5 9

DOB: 1995

Age: 28

Hair: Dark brown with lighter brown roots

Eye: Silver

You end up skimming through this until you get to the bottom of the page. It wasn’t… pretty. 

CASE INFORMATION: 

Tord is a violent man. He is aggressive, manipulative, and has a short temper. Many doctors have tried working with him to no avail. He does not respond kindly to Dr.Casey (see page 5), Dr.Bonnie (see page 8), Dr.Roxy (see page 12), or Dr.Harley (see page 15). 

He is extremely aggressive towards Dr. Bruce (see page 20). 

You stop reading there, your chest feeling tight. You flip to page twenty. It’s not the last page like you had hoped. There were still…. Quite a bit in the file. 

Dr.Bruce has tried everything he can to help Tord. He has tried finding common ground with the patient. Has tried being lax and strict with Tord’s schedule. Has tried working with Tord and letting him sit outside. Tord had found every loophole and burned every bridge until Dr.Bruce stopped lenient treatments. Tord stabbed Dr.Bruce fifteen times before guards made their way into the room. 

It is unknown how and where he had gotten his hands on a sharp long blade. Tord was seen licking the blood of-

“Don’t worry if you can’t fix him. At this point, Doctor Markman hands his case off to fresh blood to showcase this place. No one expects you to be able to tame him.” 

You startle at the voice, goosebumps raised on your arms. “I’m sorry?” you ask with a polite smile. Anger clouded your fear. What the hell was this person talking about?

The doctor, Alice, her name tag reads, smiles at you. 

“Nearly everyone has tried working with him at this point,” she continues. “No one expects him to ever get better. He's here for murder, after all.” 

You give her a tight smile in return. “I’ll just have to see for myself.” 

Before she can keep going, you straighten up the papers and close the folder. 

“I appreciate the advice, but I must be going now,” you lie through your teeth. What bullshit! What kind of doctors run this place? 

You actually hadn’t needed to be anywhere for another thirty minutes but if this conversation continued you wouldn’t be able to hold your tongue. Everyone can be saved. With compassion and kindness and help, no one was beyond redemption. Or too far gone for help. 

You storm out of the breakroom and wander. 

“I was hoping I’d see you again.” 

Tord grins at you as he’s escorted in. His hands are cuffed and before he can sit down, the guard pats him down. 

It makes your stomach churn but you keep your face kind. 

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greet. You watch cautiously as he sits down in the plush chair. The guard leaves the room. 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

It’s silent enough to hear the clock as the two of you study each other. He seems to drink you in, eyes wandering up and down, seeming to take in everything. You’d do the same if you weren’t a professional. 

“You used to dye your hair?” 

Tord raises an eyebrow. He tilts his head a little, eyes focused solely on you. It unnerves you almost as much as his file had. No patient of yours had ever stared at you so intensely in the past….

After a moment, he answers. “Yes. I fancied black quite a bit.” He gestures towards his roots. “It’s been a while since Bruce got me more dye. No one else will.” 

“I could look into it,” you clasp your hands, jumping into this opportunity. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll talk to Doctor Marksman.” 

“And what do you want from me in return?”

“I’m sorry?” 

His gaze hardens. “What. do. You. want.” He grinds out, his body rigid in the chair. His hands were clenched.

Without thinking, puzzlement falls across your face. What did he mean? What did you want? For him to get better, obviously. 

“I want you to be at ease with your mental health,” you answer, still looking puzzled. “I don’t want anything else from this job but that. I’m not dangling hair dye in front of you in exchange. I want you to feel comfortable in your skin and at home here, Mr.Løvik.” 

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 

“Is that really what you want?” Tord asks, an emotion you can’t quite place in his voice. “To help me get better?” 

Whatever it may be, you smile at him. 

“Of course. I want nothing but to see you succeed and be happy here.” 

Things were easier after that first session. You always started off kindly, asking Tord how his day was going. If his favorite show or movie had aired on the television today.If his favorite food had been served that morning or afternoon. If he slept fine through the dreadful storm. 

(“I know I wasn’t,” you had laughed. “I tossed and turned, jumping at each sound all night.”

“I’m sure your boyfriend was quite displeased.”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “Well, no. I have a cat but no boyfriend. I was too busy getting my decree to ever really mingle like that. Though, my poor little man was also distraught at all the thunder last night. He yowled at my door until I let him into my room and he curled up on my bed. I’ll bring pictures next time.”) 

Too well for you and only you. Tord refused to talk to anyone but you. He would sit in silence or insult other doctors during his sessions. In one instance, he broke a new doctor’s nose. The poor guy had quit on the spot, cussing Tord and the whole place out as he was escorted to the medical section. 

You were tense the next few sessions but that violent man was nowhere to be found. He kept his cuffed hands right in front where you can see them at all times. He never lunged from you. In fact, barely ever moved in his chair. 

Tord was easygoing. Polite, charming, even. He took any medications he needed obediently and put up no fuss when you’d have him describe in later sessions how he was feeling and if he was feeling any negative side effects. 

He asked about your cat. About how your favorite show was going. If the movie you were looking forward to has come out yet. If your favorite restaurant down the street from your apartment was still closed for renovations. 

Eventually, enough time had passed that you relaxed. You stopped keeping your eyes trained on his hands. You stopped worrying yourself sick about his body language. You focused on his treatments and his mental health. 

If he was going to hurt me he would have done so by now, you thought to yourself after your latest session with Tord. He was doing so much better than he had been doing six months ago. It seemed as if you were really making a difference, helping him improve. 

It had been three months since he last fought another patient. Two months since he assaulted another doctor. And five months since he refused treatment of any kind. 

You step outside the building and take a deep breath. A dopey smile sticks to your face as you walk to your car. Becoming a doctor was the best choice you’ve ever made. Nothing was more rewarding than helping people. Not even this cloudy weather could bring you down. 

In fact, nothing tried to drag your mood down. There was no traffic on the way home. Some asshole hadn’t parked in your assigned parking spot again in the parking lot of your apartment. And your sweet cat hadn’t knocked his little box over again. 

You happily reheat your leftovers and watch tv for a while before you get ready for bed. Unfortunately, your mood does come crashing down. 

In the middle of the night, thunder wakes you. You jolt up, scrambling for your phone. Your hands come up empty. Shit, you think. I left it charging in the kitchen. Ugh. Oh well, you don’t need to look at your phone to see it is late and storming. 

Another loud sound booms through your apartment. Only this time, it sounds like a crash. 

“It’s just thunder,” you tell yourself. “Nothing to be afraid of.” You lay back down. Your eyes shut and you’re just about drifting to sleep when your door creeks open. 

You bolt up, knowing damn well that your cat can’t open doors and you freeze. 

Your heart races as your mind tries to process just who was in front of you. 

“Tord?” you whimper, hands shaking. But that can’t be. That was impossible. He was supposed to be sleeping soundly in his room with the soundproof headphones you got him. He didn’t like storms. The thunder reminded him too much of gunshots and made him restless. 

Useless information floods your brain. 

“I’m home, sweetheart,” he rasps. His grin is soft in the moonlight. He reaches over to flick on your bedroom light. 

He’s gentle he’s kind he’s sweet he’s-

He’s covered in blood.

Tord steps forward and you’re frozen in bed. His eyes are wild as they drink you in. There’s blood on his hands. In his hair. Splatters on his face. 

“Oh honey how I’ve dreamed of this,” he croons at the foot of your bed. “Your apartment is just as cute as you described.”