#so we'll see what approach it takes with this

[salemoleander]

Chaos vs. Patronage: How Life Series winners grapple with skill disparity

As the Life Series has gone on and matured into more noticeable patterns, some winners have pivoted to a mentorship/support role to their chosen 'champion'/ a favored player.

Scott spent Limited Life as a duo with Martyn, and then joined a high-skill group in Secret Life that ultimately saw him sacrifice himself trying to get Gem the win. Pearl spent Secret Life with her stated goal being one of her teammates winning, pivoting to support Scar at the end when they'd died. Now in Wild Life, she has outright stated her intent to support Impulse to get the win. (Scar supporting Jimmy in Wild Life may also fit this pattern; we'll get to that.)

In contrast, winners Grian and Martyn² are not sticking to that single-minded attempt to get a player to win, whatever it takes. They will express support for teammates winning, but generally do not take actions that would worsen their own chances of winning/surviving to help a teammate. They aren't playing "meta", which here means putting all their resources into one person.

These two categories of behavior ultimately reflect the Winners' approaches to answering the question of how to balance disparate skill levels in the series cast. (Second half of writing + footnotes under cut.)

Grian has spent game after game altering mechanics & playing with randomization to try to level the playing field without directly intervening against specific players.³ Martyn is invested enough in the narrative/story that making less-than-optimal decisions isn't hard for him or atypical (this is the player who beelines for the Nether every single season).

It seems like Scott and Pearl realized they're very strong players and are interested in nerfing themselves more actively... but they still don't want to throw the match. The compromise there is to put their effort & skill towards helping another player achieve victory.

A case could be argued that Scar is moreso the former group by nature (he's similar to Martyn in his penchant for making entertainingly bad decisions that render nerfing unecessary). However, after witnessing multiple seasons of Scott & Pearl acting as mentors, seeing them compete head-to-head in the game he ultimately won, mentorship now seems like a normalized route to take once you're a winner.⁴

¹ Unsure if BigB in LimL counts? They were a duo, but Scott fomenting Martyn's win seems to be what kicked off Pearl's dedication to support another player.

² Cleo is a winner but they do not fit this analysis for a variety of reasons I don't want to get into. So I won't, bc this is a tumblr post & not an academic paper. Ignore that there are footnotes and an academic-ass title

³ Grian seeing Scott win: "Oh no I've created an unbalanced game. Ok lets randomly assign players together to try to balance things... why has RNG betrayed me?!" RNG does not stop betraying him btw. I have another post in draft about this but it's kind of nuts how dedicated Grian is to Not Rigging The Game Even A Little.

⁴ Incidentally imo this is what will force Grian in the next few games to either end the series, create dual winners/some other atypical win structure, or bust his ass trying to get a second win & break that taboo. Based on his game design so far, he can put up with a bit of interference, but ultimately will not abide "we all do schoolyard tradesies on who gets to win until everyone gets one".

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO THEIR INJURIES ( part iv. )

ଓ.° ・ wriothesley ･ neuvillette. genshin impact. repost. ・ ・ ・ pt i. pt ii. pt iii.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ wriothesley

wriothesley is far too familiar with getting injured on the job. it's nothing new, not really-- what's work if he doesn't get a little roughened up, anyway? it's certainly not a big deal ( to him, at least ).

he'll admit that some days are worse than others, but he's got too much to do, too much to protect. he can't afford to let anyone take him down. so all in all? he'll be fine. end of story.

you, on the other hand? he's not really sure. he's warned you from time to time that he's bound to run into trouble here and there; the fortress is not a place of innocence, after all, and you are both all too aware of that.

still, that doesn't stop you from mentally combusting every time he walks through the door, cuts and bruises all across his body. unfortunately, tonight is no different, even if his injury ( if anyone can even consider it to be one ) is a small cut on his cheek.

"jail. jail for a thousand years."

it's three in the morning, and yeah, he's a little sleep deprived, so he's not really sure if he heard you correctly. he blinks a few times, brows knit ever so slightly as he tries to register your words.

huh.

he's far more used to a lecture, but he'll take this instead.

"a thousand years?" he grins, though the amusement fades slightly as you use a washcloth to wipe the blood away. "that's a little cruel. seriously, do you think you could survive that long without seeing me?"

"guess we'll see."

he lets out a chuckle, though he sees through your annoyance. it may be a simple cut to him, but to you, it runs deeper and he knows that. he chooses to keep his silence instead of continuing the banter, only watching you carefully as you study him in search of other injuries you may have missed.

"i miss you when i'm gone for a thousand minutes." he leans in, closes that small distance between you two. "don't send me away." he murmurs. "i won't survive."

you don't say anything for a long while, a small sigh escaping through parted lips. it's his unique way of asking for forgiveness; of course you'll grant it. but you're just as stubborn as he is, so you don't quite give him the satisfaction or peace of mind that he expects.

you kiss him for a moment too short, then speak.

"how many hours is a thousand minutes?"

❀ ﾟ. ༄ neuvillette

neuvillette is not accustomed to the woes of human emotion. it is a fickle thing, he muses, and the nature of one's heart is a complexity he wishes to understand with ease. he tries, but there are so many variables and constants that even the ludex of fontaine cannot grasp it.

he is, admittedly, always a little doubtful of himself when it comes to such interactions. he is careful in his approach-- certainly not wary, but careful in the means of not causing offense. he is learning with time, after all, and though he has learned much through experience and through you, there is much he still remains naive to.

but this-- this, he understands : the silence that weighs heavy in the air, the lack of words so often spoken when you are together, the way your eyes won't meet his. your gaze is focused elsewhere as you throw all concentration into putting away the antiseptic and spare bandages, carefully organizing the supply kit in the most optimal manner in case of emergency. he is not sure how long you spend rearranging it, but surely it is a means of distraction to distance yourself from your feelings.

"thank you." neuvillette speaks up after a long while, notices how you pause at his gratitude. your body tenses up for the slightest moment, but you are quick to force yourself to relax.

"you're welcome."

he is unsure of how to proceed at this point. it is not often that he gets injured; such occasion is truly rare, but it is not something always in his control. he understands you are worried. he understands that you are afraid, that you might be angry. he wishes to speak, but when he hears that little sniffle, he freezes.

"please, look at me."

you listen. when he looks at you, there is something strange that stirs in his heart-- something so softly devastating at the sight of your sorrow. he hesitates, wonders if he will do the right thing to comfort you.

his hand cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that trails down your face. there is the gentle curve of the lips-- a subtle reassurance, quiet in its nature, but deeply resonant.

"do not waste your tears on me." he tells you, gentle. "i'm alright. so long as the tides continue to turn, i will be here."

he presses a kiss to your forehead, smile growing ever so faintly as your tears continue to fall. it is something that cannot be helped; he knows this more than anyone, this weeping dragon. he pulls you into his arms, and until the tears are no longer shed, he will not let you go.

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (6) - Call Your Mom

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

Spotify playlist

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

Word count: 7.5k

-Throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason-

People around you were already dressed in warm clothing, wearing jackets and coats and warming up with coffee or tea or another hot beverage. Anyone who could spare the time seemed to stick around inside coffee shops or bars or any place that could offer any semblance of heat and cover from the morning cold. Compared to them you were fairly lightly dressed wearing only a thin long-sleeved shirt and jeans, you've kind of gotten used to the cold so this didn't bother you.

You still didn't order anything, instead you were just watching people going up to the baristas to take their orders and sitting down or just leaving for work or school or wherever. All the while, you were stuck here, with your suitcase next to you, and luckily it was for a rather pleasant reason. And the said pleasant reason just caught your eye as she walked right through the door.

Jenna came in with a man accompanying her. You did remember seeing him once when she needed to do an interview for her most recent movie, but since it was a busy day shooting you never got the chance meet him, but you definitely recognized him and you knew he was Enrique, her stylist. Almost instinctually you stood up which got her attention, because yeah, you stood out in the crowd for more than one reason. Your heart soared as Jenna, with a bright smile on her face pretty much ran up to you much to the amusement of her stylist.

She wrapped her arms around you and hugged you tightly. You could feel the slight shivering of her body and it wasn’t caused by the cold as she was properly dressed. In fact the soft material of her long and warm  coat kind of tickled you. No, you knew what the reason for hers shivering was and you felt it too “Hey,” she whispered softly in your ear, as if she just needed an excuse to have her lips close to your skin.

“We'll see each other again, you know,” you assured her, knowing that was the thing making her feel uncertain and worried about the future. You haven't really been a part of this industry for long and she was much more aware of how things worked, how easy it was to never see someone again. On the other hand, you had a living example of a man that kept in touch with plenty of his co-stars so if Hugh could do it so could you. And you would absolutely do it for Jenna.

“I know,” she said, but you could feel her relaxing as the man she came with approached with a fond smile on his face. How much did he know?

The fond smile turned into a teasing grin. “Well I'll be damned, I knew you were eager to see her, but I didn't know you were this eager! If I knew, I wouldn't have kept you at that shop earlier,” Enrique laughed, and you had to grin when you saw Jenna blushing. Jenna blushing was perhaps one of your favorite sights to see.

“Don't tell her that!” Jenna complained as she separated from you and turned to look at her stylist, which also helped her hide the blush from you, but you just patted her on the back.

“Come on, it's adorable,” you said with a bit of a teasing grin on your face. Did you feel slightly bad for teasing her with Enrique? Maybe, but she was just too adorable when she got embarrassed.  You turned to Enrique and offered him your hand. “I don't think we're properly met, nice to meet you I am Y/N,” you said and were honestly surprised when he, instead of shaking your hand, pulled you in for a quick hug.

“Jenna’s been telling me a lot about you, so let's skip the formalities,” accepting this meeting was probably the best decision you could have made because you were hearing so much about what Jenna's been doing behind your back that even missing the plane would be worth it.

You turned to Jenna with the most obvious shit-eating grin on your face. “Is that so?” you nudged her lightly as she suddenly found her feet to be very interesting.

“Let's just order something already,” she mumbled and sat down before you could pull her chair out. Well, you figured that was what you got for teasing her as much as you did.

The three of you made your orders, classics really, tea and coffee, you and Jenna ordered tea and Enrique ordered coffee, an espresso to be precise.

“So, should I get to know you or just let the two of you hang out while I play the third wheel?” Enrique asked and now it was your turn to be embarrassed because this time he was teasing both of you. The truth was this meeting was entirely so you could meet Enrique, and say goodbye to Jenna, but she told you Enrique was curious and this was a good opportunity in her mind. So, you both knew you’d mostly be talking to Enrique this morning.

You ignored the embarrassment and looked him in the eye. “Ask away,” you grinned a bit, hiding the slight nervousness about what he could ask you. There weren’t many things he couldn’t hear from Jenna, and some of those really weren’t something you wanted to talk about.

Jenna groaned and lowered her head on top of the table and hid it behind her hands, but Enrique had his goal and he would accomplish it.

He was having too much fun with this though, and the growing grin on his face was enough of a proof of that. “So, Jenna told me a lot about you, like a lot a lot, but she hasn't told me anything about your previous role.”

You actually felt relief that he asked about that and not something else.

“Enrique, come on!” Jenna clearly didn't want to put you on the spot but you really had nothing to be put on the spot for. You could easily tell them about Logan.

“It’s okay, Jen,” you smiled at her and she seemed relieved, but also curious now. Why didn’t she just ask? “I was in Logan with Hugh Jackman, I played Laura, the X-23,” you just shrugged, kind of enjoying the shocked looks on their faces.

“Wait you were in the Logan?” Enrique asked and then turned to Jenna who was slightly confused, she recognized Hugh’s name, of course, but she wasn’t familiar with Logan. “The big superhero movie, the end of the X-Men, and Hugh Jackman's last time playing Wolverine. It was a big hit back in 2017, hell, for some it’s the best superhero movie ever made,” Enrique explained for you and you saw Jenna remembering the movie you both just told her about.

And that's when it clicked for her. “I remember hearing about it, and my brothers were crazy about it,” she turned to you kind of annoyed “You told me you didn't have a lot of speaking lines.”

You raised your hands in defense. “I didn't! I spent over an hour and a half not saying a single line and even when I start speaking it wasn’t often,” you laughed and it really was like that. Laura was silent for almost the entirety of the movie, to the point of her finally talking being one of the movie’s funniest scenes. You weren't sure anymore but you were fairly certain you didn't speak for the first ninety seven minutes of the movie and then you went into a Spanish rant. Those were good times, and a very fun day on the set.

“Unbelievable,” Jenna shook her head but you could see the smile on her face giving away that she wasn't as annoyed as she was pretending to be.

“Damn that explains the action scenes you told me about,” Enrique told Jenna and then pointed at you “She was doing crazy things in that movie,” he then turned back to you “Was that a stunt double or did you actually do it?”

“No stunt double, I did it all, from jumping on top of the car to jumping over Hugh to fight scenes,” of course all of it was made possible with the ropes and the equipment and all the other things that make superhuman stuff look like the way it does. You remembered just how fun it was to do those stunts, you were a kid, excited to have Wolverine claws and act with Hugh and Patrick. Acting in Logan actually got you into martial arts because you had to take some classes and then you just continued.

Sometimes, you thought that was both a blessing and a curse.

Not that you blamed being on Logan for what happened and what's happening to you because you were absolutely certain that one way or another you would find yourself in martial arts. It would only be a matter of time.

“Guess I know what movie to watch when I get home,” Jenna still seemed annoyed that you didn't tell her any of this before and you just laughed.

~X~

About two hours later the three of you came to the airport and this was it, this was the moment you would go your separate ways. Her and Enrique were going back to California and you were going back to Denver. Jenna didn't want it to happen, she honestly just wanted to spend more time with you, to actually watch Logan with you and not just on her own or with someone from her family. She wanted to see your first movie with you. You were checking your ID and well you looked cute as you lightly chewed on your bottom lip. Were you as nervous as she was about separating? She hoped you were, she wanted to believe that, while she couldn't be sure if you liked her back, you weren't immune to her.

So, and ignoring Enrique’s teasing grin and everything he would be saying to her when they get on the plane, she stepped in front of you and put her hand on you own pushing it down so you would look away from your ID and look at her. “So, I've been thinking. I don't really want to watch Logan alone,” she should have been more direct about it.

You nodded, completely misunderstanding. “Oh, yeah, that's fine. I know superhero movies aren't your thing,” you missed the point you oblivious adorable dumbass.

“That's not what she wants, Y/N,” Enrique laughed and she couldn’t help it, she turned around and stuck her tongue out at him, which just made him laugh harder.

Jenna rolled her eyes at the antics of her stylist and dear friend. “What I meant is, how about you come by my place when you get the time? You know, meet my family and we can watch it together, because I really want to see you,” in more ways than one, she wanted to see you in that movie and she wanted to see you in person, and she wanted so much more from all of this between the two of you.

Jenna wanted you to meet her family, she wanted them to love you as much as she did, and she wanted to watch you get close to them. And maybe if you didn't have any other plans maybe you would come and visit during the holidays, depending on how your own family would react to that.

In her overthinking mind she already pictured meeting your own parents, wondering if you looked more like your mother or your father, or if you were just a combination of the two, and hopefully making a good impression on them. Maybe your parents could come with you one day and meet her parents and siblings and things would go from there.

It was way too fast, way too naïve, she knew that, but there was just something in your eyes that told her she wasn't rushing. That it could very well be the future between you, because that's how softly you were looking at her.

She watched as you swallowed hard and cleared your throat as if fighting something, some emotion that she couldn't exactly put her finger on and then you nodded. “Yeah,” your voice cracked, and you cleared your throat once more. “Yeah, I'd love that,” you said and she didn't understand why you got nervous, but she could tell it wasn't because of meeting her family or spending time with her. It was something else, something you weren't ready to share with her yet, and just perhaps it was related to where you were about to go all those weeks ago.

She’d keep those thoughts to herself for now. “I need to catch a plane, we’ll talk over the phone, OK?” she reached up, cupped your cheek and brushed her thumb across it. “Y/N,” she whispered your name as softly as she possibly could and rose up to her toes as you leaned down. Yet, at the last moment, she just changed her mind and instead of kissing you on the lips she just kissed your cheek. “Have a safe flight, and text me when you get home,” it was actually incredibly endearing how you just froze at the kiss even after she kissed you on the lips in that unscripted scene.

“Of course,” you stammered, and Jenna reluctantly pulled away from you while doing everything in her power to ignore how Enrique was looking at her

“Bye,” she waved back at you and left because missing a plane wouldn't be the best decision she could make right now. Even if she wished she could stay with you or just take you along.

~X~

Hugh was going to have a blast with this. You actually went and did the same thing he did! You fell in love with your co-star on your first role as an adult! Well that was one way to restart the career.

The apartment building you lived in was, for the lack of better term, pretty old but with sturdy and thick walls. Unlike those damn walls that allowed Mikey to figure out your and Jenna’s late-night hang-outs. But it was fairly close to the industrial areas so it was cheap as fuck and probably didn’t have the cleanest air, but you were honestly fine with that. It's been your home since you were about sixteen and a half years old.

You could move out, but given that you were restarting your career and that the gym you were working for wasn't that far away from here you just felt no need to do so. Besides it was a safe neighborhood, and as much as there were some other issues with it you never had to worry about Barbara getting mugged or anything close to that happening, when she visited you.

In fact, the only person threatening the security of your apartment was probably already inside it.

You climbed up the stairs because there was no elevator in the building and just as you suspected the doors were unlocked. “Best friend turned burglar says what?” you yelled from the doors. Cheers for thick walls, you could yell all you wanted.

“What?” Barbara predictably responded and peeked into the hall from the living room with a frying pan in her hand.

“What were you about to do with that?” you asked, more amused than anything and placed the suitcase down by the doors.

“Well, I didn't know if it was you or someone I didn't want to see, which is, you know, anyone but you,” she pouted and rubbed the bottom of the pan. “This baby was going to protect me,” you approached her and swiftly stole the pan right off her hands.

“This baby?” you asked with a smirk that you knew annoyed the hell out of Barbara.

“Not fair, I wasn't ready,” she huffed and tilted her chin up feigning the anger.

The poorly concealed grin gave her away.

“Ha! Like you ever are,” you took the pan back to the kitchen and went to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. “You know you could have just locked the doors,” you told her.

“Yeah, but then you would have to unlock your own door and that just doesn't feel welcoming after coming back home after two months,” her logic was flawed but she believed it wholeheartedly.

“That is exactly the scenario someone wants when they know their apartment should be empty!” you pulled out your phone from your pocket and quickly sent a message to Jenna saying you were back home and safe and sound and then for good measure you just snapped a picture of Barbara and sent it to Jenna.

“And this is the nuisance I found at home. Can you believe my luck? I wouldn't be surprised if she actually spent the two months at my apartment because that's just the way she is,” you were recording a voice message for Jenna just so Barbara would know for sure you were saying that about her.

“Lies! All lies! Y/N loves having me around,” Barbara denied and you kind of forgot to stop recording.

“You do know having someone around also means being there with them, and not in another state while you crash as their apartment, right?” you asked, dryly and if you weren’t used to Barbara being like this your eye would have probably started twitching by now.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say babe,” she laughed, and you just sighed and shook your head at that and run your fingers through your hair. It never crossed your mind just how much of the conversation Jenna would actually get. You intended just the first bit to be sent, but you unknowingly ended the message right after Barbara called you ‘babe’.

“I'm so lucky to have you as a best friend,” you didn't even bother going to the kitchen and instead just walked around the apartment, noting all the chores that would need to get done. There really was no point in going to the kitchen, as there was probably nothing there. Knowing Barbara, even if she did bring something along, she ate it out of nervousness, so the kitchen was barren and free from any source of nourishment.

“You absolutely are,” Barbara wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for an one-armed hug. “I missed you, bestie!”

“It's good to see you too, Barb,” you eventually relented and admitted that you did miss her too. It has been two months and over the years you got annoyingly used to having Barbara in your life. “So, want to grab an early lunch, I'm starving,” you suggested without really having any specific food you were craving at the moment.

“Skipped breakfast?” she half asked half stated and you just shrugged. You had a piece of toast or something this morning. And you had a cup of tea. Could that be considered a breakfast? Well, you figured it depended on who you asked.

“Please tell me you ate well while you were filming,” Barbara had this stern look on her face and you actually smiled at that.

“I did actually. Well Jenna got me into a habit of having a breakfast with her, so I couldn't exactly skip it,” you were smiling because the memories of those days were pleasant but also because you knew knowing that would make Barbara happy.

She knew you sometimes struggled to take care of yourself. You’d just forget a meal or push yourself too hard. The loss of your parents did that to you. “I’m really going to thank that girl for doing something I couldn't,” Barbara said and pulled you into a hug, a proper one this time. “Keep doing that, alright, Y/N? Or I'll have to just steal your phone and call your girl and make her scold you.”

“You are never unlocking my phone,” you laughed at the empty threat, but the idea of getting Jenna involved in your issues truly bothered you.

“Yeah, sure, you know you have the most cliche password imaginable,” she poked you on the shoulder as the two of you have slowly made your way back out of the apartment, this time locking it.

“So, what is it?” you challenged her.

“It's my birthday!” she said with so much confidence you just burst out laughing, as she stood there, all proud and with her hands on her hips.

“I don't even know when your birthday is off the top of my head!” You were lying, you both knew it, but she asked for it! Your password actually wasn't her birthday, but you admired the guts to say it so confidently.

Barbara laughed and began going down the stairs. “Yes, you do know it, and I know you do. And if I tell you what your password is you're just going to change it, so no you're not getting that out of me,” all the while she kept being a few steps ahead of you and almost bouncing her feet excited to have you back once more.

You faked a sigh and looked up toward the ceiling. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Hopefully take me out for a nice meal and pay for it,” she supplied and you figured that would work, and you knew just the place you could take her to.

~X~

Perhaps the most important person in your life, even more important than Barbara, was Hugh. And he made sure to reciprocate that almost family-like relationship. It came easy to both of you, he adopted his children, and you were an orphan for a few years now so the idea of a family bond that wasn't defined by blood wasn't strange to either of you. You've never called him ‘dad’ and he never called you his child but that was the kind of bond you had. You kept turning to him ever since you met him on Logan, and having him in your life was something you were incredibly thankful for.

And getting back into the industry and realizing how hectic and busy everything was just made Hugh’s dedication to keeping in touch with you and always checking up on you stand out even more.

Even though it happened almost four years ago the memory of your panic attacks and everything you did back then was still fresh in your mind.

~X~

‘Worthless piece of shit! You couldn’t do anything!’ those were the only thoughts going through your mind as you pounded the punching back again and again not even caring enough to put on gloves or anything that would protect your knuckles. You just kept punching and punching until your hands hurt and then some more.

The heavy chains you locked the door with when you entered the gym dropped onto the floor and the doors opened behind you but you just kept punching letting all the frustration out.

“Y/N! Hey, wait! Stop, just stop it!” Hugh grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you back and you didn’t know what stopped you from twisting around and slamming your fist into him.

“Hugh, let me go!” you yelled, demanding, close to breaking as your voice cracked and you still tried to reach for the bag and keep hitting it as if that would change anything about what happened.

“This won't help anyone,” he lowered his tone almost to a whisper, but you heard the pain in his voice loud and clear. “Listen to me, Y/N, this won't help anyone. Not your parents and especially not you,” he managed to pull you back just enough to get between you and the bag and just hugged you. And you finally unclenched your fists, the stinging sensation being almost too much as your hands trembled and drops of blood ran down your fingers. You absolutely messed up your knuckles but that was the least of the pain you felt.

“I can't change anything!” you gasped, burying your face in his chest and clutching at the collar of his shirt. “I'm not- I can't!” you were spiraling out of control, you couldn’t focus, you couldn’t breathe. You felt like you were choking, like you were being pulled under the water and just couldn't come up for air. The chains that kept the doors of the gym locked felt light compared to all the chains holding you down at the moment

“Let it out, I’m right here,” he whispered, patting you on the back. “We'll figure out a way, don't lose hope yet,” he tried to be strong for you, but you just broke right then and there and you wailed sobbing and crying on the verge of a panic attack that only his presence seemed to postpone. You lost count of just how many times Hugh pulled you back right from the brink of despair, but not even he could have prevented everything.

Or maybe he could have, if you approached him and told him what you intended to do.

~X~

The only reason you could help Jenna back when she had her own panic attack was because of how many times you went through them yourself. Sometimes on your own, sometimes with Hugh there to help you, sometimes with Barbara there to watch helplessly because how could she not be helpless? She was the same age as you and just lacked the experience to be able to do anything about it.

A knock on your door brought you out of your thoughts and you hoped to your feet, happy to see Hugh again after probably close to four months. Sure, you kept in touch, you texted and you talked over the phone, but it's still been a long time since you've seen each other face to face.

You opened the door and immediately got swept into a warm, strong hug, one you happily returned. “Looking good kid! I'm proud of you!” Hugh patted you on the shoulders and actually ruffled your hair. You would normally get annoyed by that, but you were just happy to see him and grinned, inviting him in and leading him to the living room where you already had some snacks and drinks ready.

“Right back at you! It's good to see you again, Hugh, though you really shouldn't have knocked. From the looks of it no one that comes in here knocks,” you laughed, although you were seriously considering not even locking the doors when you leave the place. After all, there was basically nothing worth taking, the only things worth anything really were your laptop and phone, and you often carried them with you. But other than those two things you just had a full equipped kitchen, a simple bedroom and living area and not a single piece of furniture in here cost a lot or was worth the trouble of taking it all the way down the stairs.

Funny how money not helping when it mattered made it seem worthless now that you once more had plenty of it.

“Talk! I want to hear everything about filming Scream,” Hugh looked ecstatic over the news that you were once again back in the industry, and you knew why. Well, there were plenty of reasons, first of all he thought you were one hell of a talented actress, seeing as he had the chance to work with you when you were just a kid, but perhaps more importantly he believed that going back to acting would pull you away from underground fights.

Maybe it would. After all Jenna did stop you.

Maybe you could hope that was your ticket out of that world.

“You are going to laugh about this, but I kind of did the same thing you did. I fell in love on the set,” you admitted though you felt extreme embarrassment over saying it out loud.

Like you predicted, Hugh laughed like a lunatic, and you were actually happy to hear him laughing like that. It's been way too long since you managed to pull that kind of laugh out of him. “Jenna, right? That's what you said her name is?” and of course he knew exactly who you were talking about and you just nodded.

“She's just incredible,” you paused, searching for the right words, as if any word could properly describe her. “She’s perfect. I have no words- she is-“ you were just saying things hoping your words would eventually form a proper sentence. “You know, you have to meet her! She's the kindest, most wonderful, and honest, and genuine person I have met in a long, long time,” in the end you managed to put what you thought and felt into words.

Hugh had this gentle smile on his face as he looked at you. “You got it that bad, huh? I'm happy for you, Y/N.”

“Say, you mentioned the movie you wanted to tell me about,” you knew you were changing the subject, too embarrassed to talk about Jenna. You honestly weren’t exactly eager to get that talk from Hugh even though you probably needed one right about now.

Hugh’s smile morphed into a grin that told you he knew exactly what you were doing but he went along with it. “Alright hear me out, you and I in a movie, playing father and daughter. How about that?”

You actually laughed at that. “Isn't that the same thing we did like seven years ago?” that was exactly the relationship you had in Logan and well if you could act with Hugh once again you would absolutely take the chance, but it was funny that you would be cast in a father daughter relationship again. That is if you accept it and then try to get the role and then you get cast in the role.

“I know, but I think you’ll like this one,” he set the script on the table and pushed it toward you so that's how it happened you accepted the script and set it aside to read tonight. The rest of the day you and Hugh spent on catching up on everything that happened over the past few months.

~X~

The late November rain didn’t surprise you much, even if Denver was really sunny. You were just about to fall asleep on your sofa, honestly feeling kind of numb. What day was it anyway? It’s been a few days since Barbara left to see her parents for Thanksgiving, so you’ve been on your own since whenever that happen. Your phone buzzed a few times in your pocket. You were tempted to ignore it, but it might be for the role you auditioned for, the one Hugh mentioned. Work would probably get your mind off things, but it wasn’t work.

It was better. Much better than work.

You smiled when you saw it was a message from Jenna, on Instagram. You opened it and saw it was a couple of photos, one of just Jenna, giving you a thumbs up while holding a piece of icy wind cake and text on the photo saying ‘You’ve got competition.’ You chuckled, figuring her mom made the cake, the second photo was of her family all posing for a family photo and having a Thanksgiving dinner. Damn, so it actually was Thanksgiving tonight.

21:54 Jenna Ortega: Happy Thanksgiving, Y/N! Thanks for the recipe by the way, my family loves it. ❤️❤️

You smiled, she looked really happy in the photos. And her family was huge, she told you, of course, but hearing and seeing a photo were two entirely different things. You still focused on her, on that brilliant, happy smile.

21:56 Y/N L/N: Thanks, Jen, happy Thanksgiving to you too. Save me a piece of cake?

You set the phone aside and figured you could at least drink something, only to remember your fridge was mostly empty at the moment. You really needed to go and get groceries. At least there was some strawberry juice in the fridge and some improvised pasta. Damn, you actually had to make an improvised pasta dish, of all the known recipes you ended up making some improvised abomination. Oh well, at least it was tasty.

22:03 Jenna Ortega: Come and get it Chef. Any chance you could give me a tiny sneak peak into your own dinner?

Well, now that was a tough task to complete. Still, it actually brought a smile to your face. It was almost funny how something as simple as texting Jenna made you feel so much better.

22:05 Y/N L/N: Sure

You snapped a photo of a glass of strawberry juice and sent it to her.

22:06 Jenna Ortega: Come on! Don’t tease me 🥺

You actually laughed at that, you could imagine to look of disappointment on her face.

22:06 Y/N L/N: I’m not, I didn’t make anything, I kinda forgot about Thanksgiving.

You noticed Jenna saw the message and set the phone aside when she didn’t respond. She hadn’t seen her family in roughly two months, hell, she had her eighteenth birthday away from them, so you figured she wanted to spend time with them.

But just as you got up to read the script Hugh left you once more, your phone began ringing and you raised an eyebrow seeing it was Jenna. You picked up and sat back down on the sofa. “L/N Delivery, how may I help you?” you said as professionally as you could with a grin on your face and heard Jenna inhaling sharply before laughing.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said through laughter.

“Yeah, and you love it,” you said confidently making Jenna pause.

For a moment you feared you overstepped some boundary. “I do, don’t I?” she said a bit out of breath and just for a moment she even sounded playful, and you nearly choked on the sip of strawberry juice you just took. “Anyway, how come you forgot?” she quickly changed the subject.

“I lost track of dates, and no one reminded me,” you told a half-truth, you knew it was this week, but you did lose track of the days and dates. “How are you? Are you having fun with your family?”

You could almost hear her nodding and smiled, the chatter of the people in the background wasn’t nearly as loud as you expected, so she probably stepped aside. “It feels so good to be with my family again, I missed them all,” you guessed she glanced back at her family. “I had to do the dished today, and let me tell you, there was a lot,” she wasn’t even complaining, she actually sounded happy.

“Reeree, come on! Talk on your phone later!” you heard a female voice shouting and guessed Jenna was the one being called.

“It’s important!” Jenna yelled back and you felt the warmth engulfing you at that.

“Hey, we can talk later, go have fun,” you told her softly, knowing by now that she just called you to check up on you.

Jenna paused and you waited patiently as she made the decision. “When are you going to come here?” she asked.

“In a week,” you told her, while you and Jenna knew you’d visit her and meet her family, which was, to be honest, a bit frightening, you didn’t know when you would be able to come until a few hours ago, you just didn’t get the chance to tell Jenna about it. It was still only Thursday, so you didn’t think you needed to rush to tell her.

“Okay, I’ll see you then. Are you sure you don’t want to keep talking with me?” she still offered.

“I want you to have a good time and make up for being away from your family,” you assured her. You would never, in your most fever-induced dreams, tell her you didn’t want to talk to her, but you knew how much she missed her family, and you didn’t want to take away from her time with them tonight.

“Okay, sleep well,” she told you slowly, as if giving you one last chance to ask her to keep talking to you, but you remained committed to the decision that you made.

As much as you wished to keep talking to her, you knew you had to let her be with her family. “You too,” you were worried about her insomnia, and you could only hope she could fall asleep and not have troubles with it while she was back home.

Somewhat shaken out of your stupor by Jenna’s call and texts you opened the fridge again. Still, just as you were about to figure out how to celebrate Thanksgiving given the lack of food and drink in your fridge, your door slammed open and the first thing that hit you was the smell of homemade food. “Barbara if that's you I swear I'm going to kick your ass!” you yelled because there was no way a burglar just broke into your house that loudly and was smelling like food.

“Jokes on you my ass was already kicked by the bus I had to sit in! They didn't have the heating on my! My ass is ice!” yup, definitely Barbara. “Turn the heating on, Y/N, or I'll freeze to death and you'll be to blame,” she was actually shivering so off you went to turn the heating on and then you just stared at her, blinking, not sure if you should believe your eyes and ears and nose or just the logic that she should be with her family right now.

“Don't look at me like that I got tired of talking sports with my family. What? Did I say talking? I meant listening about it!” she pointed a finger at you, but then changed her mind and hugged herself to warm up. “And your sorry ass didn't even turn the heating on until I came here, so you should thank me for not freezing yourself. So, win-win for both of us!” she just sat down and dropped the bag filled with food next to her. And this was your life right now.

And you wouldn't trade it for anything, except maybe adding Jenna and Hugh to this as well.

But you figured this was pretty much perfect as it was.

“You're the best, Barb,” you whispered, desperately hoping she didn't hear you.

“I heard that! Say it again so I can record it and keep it to cheer me up I will play it on repeat, I will put it as my ringtone, I will keep it as the soundtrack of my life 24/7, now repeat what you said so I can forever remind you of it,” sometimes you wondered which one of you was an actress because damn did Barbara have a knack for being dramatic.

“I will never say it again,” you denied her the opportunity to have that kind of proof against you. Your pride would not survive it.

“Oh, come on, you know you think that! I know you do think I'm the best,” she kept pushing but you remained firm in your conviction not to ever again repeat those words to her, or well not forever, more like until she put her phone down.

With a pout she did put her phone down and you glanced at it seeing the recording was still on and you just winked at her. You were not about to say it.

“Spoil sport,” she turned the recording off and tossed the phone aside and you glanced at it seeing that the app was definitely closed so you walked up to her because you could never be too careful with her, leaned in from behind and whispering in her ear

“You're the best, Barb,” and instead of being thankful as every friend should be she just went and glared at you because you denied her of the right to record those words.

~X~

Several nights later you woke up in cold sweat as you usually did near the start of December. You set up, breathing heavily and barely holding back a scream of frustration as that same nightmare that plagued you over and over again every time the anniversary of their deaths came close plagued you once more tonight.

You looked outside the window. It was dark, completely dark outside and you knew you wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, and not even knowing what time it was you just slipped out of the bed, put on your coat and boots and just ran down the stairs into the street. It was empty, without even the drunks going back to their homes from another night of drinking, so it must have been really late, or really early but from the looks of it the Sun wasn't going to come up anytime soon.

You just began running, you ran like you were being chased by the nightmare that woke you up. You ran through the snow, the chances of slipping and falling not even crossing your mind for one moment. You were running toward the gym, knowing you could unlock and use it even this late at night. So, you rushed down the streets until you finally reached the doors and looked under the rug for the key. As usual it was there so with shaky fingers you unlocked it and step stepped inside hoping you could work out and exhaust yourself, thus working through all the emotions and tension within you. As if you were drawn to it, you went for the punching bag and you touched it like it was your oldest friend, as if the mere touch against the cold punching bag would start calming you down. For a moment it did, it did calm you down long enough to put the gloves on and then you began punching the bag as strong and fast as you could.

‘Do it, unplug them’ the decision that you made still haunted you. Those four simple words still ruined you almost four years after you spoke them to the doctor. And it wasn’t just those words, it was the fact that every single time you thought back to those words you were left wondering if you made that decision too early. You wondered if you could have pushed yourself just for a bit longer.

You weren't sure for how long you kept hitting the bag, you just knew the intensity and the speed of your punches kept decreasing gradually, until you just felt your like your hands were made of iron and you dropped them to your sides unable to keep going.

And then you just sat down, leaning your back against the wall and looking at the bag. It just wasn't enough, you got exhausted, sure, but it wasn't enough. It couldn't put your mind off it. It just wasn't good enough to be a stress relief.

You stayed like that for some time, just rewinding those events in your head until the doors opened and you saw Davis, the owner of the gym and the man who sent you the message about the event as he called it, walking in.

“Morning kid, figured you would pop up sooner or later,” he said dismissively while picking up the gloves you tossed at your side.

The laugh you let out was hollow. “Am I that predictable? I could have quit since I didn't show up last time,” you mattered but you both knew the truth and more importantly you knew he would say it.

“Why should I bother? I know how you are, I know you can't quit it. You skipped one fight, sure, but from the looks of it you'll be back for the next one, won't you, Y/N?” you hated that he was right. You hated that you thought you had the chance to quit, that you could find another solution only to run back right into this one.

“Yeah, when's the next one?” you asked, hating yourself even more for continuing this cycle.

There was a satisfied smirk on his face, and normally you would be annoyed with that, but the realization that you didn’t have the strength to quit underground fighting shattered your will to complain. “Tonight, actually. Same old place,” it was settles. There was no need to pick you up from somewhere there wasn’t a need to do anything but tell you when to show up and unlike last time there wasn't anyone there to stop you.

Jenna wasn't here to stop you.

So, tonight you will go and fight your stress and regrets away.

And if the guilt eats you up from the inside, then so be it.

How come you never thought of Jenna’s dad being a cop? Or how Jenna and her family finding out would affect your friendship?

In the desire to escape from the past you damn near ruined your future.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part

[arcane-ish]

What's the point of Commander Caitlyn?

I've been thinking about the Commander Caitlyn arc. Namely, why does it exist?

Don't get me wrong, I'm not attached enough to Caitlyn to object to it on a "Cait shouldn't do that" or "that's too harsh for Caitlyn and Vi to get over this as a couple".

There's no League lore reason for why it has to exist. And if they just wanted to fulfill the theme of the season of everybody becoming what they don't want to be, I feel like they could have gone for some other external reason for example to force Caitlyn to take over as sherrif to protect Vi or to have a better handle on Ambessa.

So why was that not enough.

The most obvious thing would be for the show to want to make a deeper point about fascism. But I'm kind of deeply unconvinced that that is the case and that the show's politics are that deep. The way the show approaches politics has always struck me more as aesthetic and referential rather than being like a deep, meaty exploration of the topic.

So me theory is that this is actually about Jinx.

The show wanted to split Vi and Cait up, so Vi and Jinx could interact for a bit without Cait playing a role (since Cait is such a major cause of tension and jealousy). And for that there needed to be a split and for that split to be pretty complete (as Vi is very puppy dog over Cait, so it needed to be drastic).

Maybe we'll even get a little "Jinx proves her maturity by starting to understand how much Vi cares about Caitlyn, even if she doesn't approve":

That said, I have to rant for a bit

This scene makes no sense to me.

I can buy into the whole conflict about shooting the kid. I can get into Cait being so angry and offended that Vi is comparing her to Jinx that she hits her with the butt of her rifle.

But this line. What exactly is Caitlyn complaining about here? What actions of Vi's would constitute being like the other, bad, animal Zaunites?

Just that she got into Caitlyn's way? Even though that was sorta what Caitlyn specifically asked her to do originally? Because Cait sees it as Vi choosing "her people" over Piltover? Why would that even be a terrible thing in Cait's moral system?

I feel like that scene would have worked much better with a "I can't stand the sight of you anymore" line as a way to follow up the sort of slide into darkness Cait has been experiencing. Don't get me wrong, it's a line that works well for calling back to other lines and for breaking up Caitlyn and Vi as this is likely something that deeply resonates with Vi.

But I'm just not convinced that that is a line that makes a ton of sense for Cait to say here.

(but I'm willing to be convinced otherwise, so hit me with your best explanation that is more than just "Cait is messed up and saying dumb stuff")

[loveesiren]

Doing It All For Us (Pt. 12)

Masterlist

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Summary: Rafe and Y/n leave the Bahamas and have a chance to enjoy themselves.

Warnings: Language, fluff, smut

Word Count: 2.8k+

You wake up to Rafe peppering kisses to your swollen belly. "Goodmorning, angel," He whispers against your skin. "Did you sleep okay?"

"Mmmm, don't wanna get up." You whine. Rafe's bed was so comfy. The warm air that drifted in through the patio doors added to your comfort and you were suddenly sad this wasn't a real vacation to the Bahamas.

"I know baby, I'm sorry. I promise we'll come back here soon."

"Honeymoon?" You ask.

Rafe looks up at you, smile wide on his face. "Honeymoon." He confirms. "But first," He says as he climbs back up your body, letting his lips hover over yours. "I owe you a ring, my dear fiancee."

You smile, taking his face between your hands as your guide his lips to yours, savoring every second of the kiss with your fiance. You'd never get tired of saying that. Atleast until you got to call him your husband.

You lazily got ready, putting on some basic make up, some shorts, and one of Rafe's t-shirts. He carried your stuff to the truck and you made your way downstairs. You ate cereal while you watched Rafe, Ward, and the escorts load up the gold on to the truck.

You sat in between Ward and Rafe as you drove to the airport. Rafe had his arm lazily slung around your shoulder as he leaned his head against yours.

Suddenly, a bunch of kids were running out in front of the trucks causing you all to stop.

"What the hell is this?" Ward asked.

"Oh, God, it's just some kids," Rafe said. "Move! Get out of the way!" He began yelling out the window.

Something didn't feel right. This was a trap.

"It's a trap!" One of the escorts yelled. You turned around to see men approaching your vehicle.

"We gotta go!" You yell.

Ward pulls out around the other trucks and takes off through an alley. "Where are we going?! Find where we are!" He yells at Rafe.

"Alright, alright, alright!" Rafe responds, looking at his phone. "This road goes to the same place just keep going."

"What the fuck was that?!" You ask as you tried to steady your breathing. You didn't realize you were clinging to Rafe's shirt until he pulled you into him. He wrapped protective arms around you as he looked out the window for a sign of anyone following you.

"Stay on this road, it will take us directly to the airport." Rafe says.

"Oh, what the fuck..." You mutter as you see the barrels and workers blocking the road ahead.

"Are you kidding me?" Ward says. "Get the gun, Rafe."

Rafe reaches for the glove box, pulling the gun out and tucking it in the back of his waist band. You swallow. You still hated guns but you'd been around them much more recently. Rafe gives you an apologetic look and you just nod, letting him know you trust him.

The people that approach the truck pull a gun on Ward and a knife on Rafe. Noticing you're pregnant, the man pulls you out of the car too, pushing you forward with Ward so he can keep the gun on both of you.

"Please don't hurt her!" Rafe begs, keeping his eyes on you.

"Shut up!" The woman spits at Rafe. "Move these to the side of the road."

Ward and Rafe begin moving the barrels and are forced on the ground. "You too, Princess!" He yells at you.

"I-I can't lay on my stomach," You say, keeping your hands up.

"On your knees then!"

You glance over at Rafe. You could see him trying to swallow his anger. You pleaded with your eyes for him not to try anything stupid.

"Go, go!" You hear the man yell.

You turn around and your jaw drops as you see Sarah and John B running to the truck.

"Sarah?" Ward yells. "Sarah, baby, you're alive!" He was standing up now. "You're alive, baby, I can't believe it! I love you!"

You see John B raise his gun as Ward moves closer to him and Sarah. Before he could pull the trigger, Rafe fires his gun. You watch as the bullet hits Sarah in the stomach.

The man hits Ward in the head with his gun, causing him to fall to the ground before he turns the gun on you. The woman had a gun pointed at Rafe now and you couldn't help the tears of fear that fell from your eyes.

John B and Sarah drove off with the gold and the two people holding you captive got in their own truck and drove off as your escorts made their way down the road.

Rafe ran to you, wrapping you tightly in his arms. "Are you okay?" He whispered against your hair. You nod in response, trying to muffle your sobs against his chest. "It's okay, baby girl, I got you."

"Fuck, I'm sorry Y/N-" Ward began. He was quickly cut off by Rafe shaking his head. Now wasn't the time.

-

You were taken back to the police station while they tried to locate the gold. You clung tightly to Rafe as Ward gushed about seeing Sarah. "It was her, right? It was her?"

"It was her, yeah..." Rafe responded.

"She's alive," Ward smiles. "I don't know what the hell you were doing though, shooting a gun right at her. You're just lucky you didn't hit her."

"I did. I did hit her."

"You shot Sarah?!"

"I was trying to shoot John B, okay? It was an accident. She stepped in the way. I did not mean to shoot her."

"Okay, okay, okay. I'm sorry." Ward says.

"But I don't care that I did."

You look up at Rafe as the words leave his lips. "Rafe, that is your sister!" Ward scolds him.

"Sister? The one who stole from us? The one who had her boyfriend pointing a gun at us, dad!" Rafe shot back.

An officer came in and handed Ward his phone, showing him a picture of Sarah and John B. You tune them out as you keep your gaze on Rafe. He turns to look at you and you can see a darkness in his eyes. Something was wrong and it made you nervous.

-

Ward had gotten two hotel rooms while the police looked for the gold. You sat on the bed and flipped on the tv while Rafe paced around the room.

"Rafe, what's going on?" You ask. You could tell shit was starting to get to him.

"I'm not okay..." He finally said. Sitting down on the edge of the bed and running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know how much more of this shit I can take...I feel like I'm losing my mind."

"Rafey..." You say softly, crawling over to him and climbing in his lap. He accepts you needily, pulling you close as he sniffles into your shoulder. He keeps one arm wrapped around you and brings his other palm to your swelling belly. You can feel his shoulders relax as he he breathes in your scent and feels his child growing inside of you.

"I want to be okay...for you and Wolf..."

"You will be, my love. Once we get the gold back...We'll get a place of our own..." You speak softly, raking your fingers through his shaggy hair as he leans into you. "We can paint Wolfie's room together...what color do you think he'll like?" You ask, trying to soothe your fiance.

"Purple..." He mumbles into your neck. "With dinosaurs."

You chuckle. "Of course he'll have dinosaurs."

You bit back tears as you held your sweet boy in your arms. You knew he was struggling and you wished so badly you could take that pain from him. You just wanted to marry Rafe, have your son, and live a normal life. But now you were tangled in this huge mess. Rafe was falling apart, you were almost six months pregnant. Ward was no help to his son. Sarah and her Pogue boyfriend were just toxic. You needed to step up and save your family.

You laid down with Rafe, running your long nails through his hair as you listened to the hotel TV play in the background. The sun began to set and Rafe drifted off to sleep.

You carefully took his arms off of you and crawled out of bed. You tried your best to be quiet as you made your way out of the room and headed towards Ward's room. You were surprised to find Ward already on his way to your room.

"Where's Rafe?" He questioned.

"He's asleep. He's not doing well..."

"What do you mean?"

"This shit is getting to him. What he's done...to Peterkin...to Sarah...All this...chaos." You say, gesturing at nothing. "He's not okay, Ward. And I really need him to be okay. Wolf needs him to be okay."

Ward sighed and looked down, offering a small nod. "You're right," He says, placing his hands on his hips. "You're right. Listen...I just got the call. We got the gold back. When we get home and I sort out all the little details, I'm going to set you and Rafe up with a fourth of it-"

"A third." You demanded.

"Y/n, I-"

"You wouldn't have it if it wasn't for Rafe. All the trauma falls on him. He's going to need therapy. We're going to need a house for our baby."

"But your dad-"

"I'll talk to my dad. What's important is that Rafe is okay and ready to be a father to his son. Your grandson."

Ward thinks for a second before nodding. You were calling the shots. You always did.

"By the way..." You added. "Rafe proposed."

Ward's eyes went wide as he turned to look at you. "You guys are-"

"Inlove. Pregnant. Killers. The least we can do is tie the knot and be a real family. I love your son. He's perfect. You've always been too focused on Sarah to realize that Rafe always has your back. But now he's going to be my husband and Wolf's father you'll have to fend for yourself. We need him now. We're his family. Wolfie comes first."

You could see Ward's eyes begin to water as he registered your words. You were right. You were completely right. Rafe always had his father's back. But now Rafe was going to be a father himself and he was going to put you and Wolf over everything. Including his own dad.

Ward nodded, biting back tears. "I'm going to make sure everything is set for our flight tomorrow. I'll see you two in the morning, okay?"

You nod your head as Ward walks past you. You move to go back to your room.

"And Y/n," Ward turns back to look at you.

You look over to meet his gaze.

"Wolf always comes first." He offers a small smile. "Rafe is going to be a great father."

You smile, placing a hand on your swollen belly. "Yeah, he really is." You agree before pushing the door open and heading back into your room to join Rafe in bed.

-

The flight home was a blessing. No nausea, no vomiting. You rested peacefully in Rafe's lap. When you arrived back in the OBX you and Rafe opted to go to your house. You wanted to be holed up in your room with your fiance for a few days.

"I'm gonna shower. Join me?" You asked, cheeky smile plastered on your face as you stripped out of your clothes.

Rafe bit his lip as he admired your naked body, perfectly tan and swelling with his child. "Go start it, I'll be in in just a minute, yeah?"

You giggle and run off to the bathroom.

Rafe leans over and grabs his phone, opening up the group text that lacked your number.

I proposed to Y/n

He pressed send and chewed on his thumb as he waited for a reply from your friends. He listened as the shower turned on and you stepped inside, overly excited to join you.

Courtney: WHAT?!

Kelce: When????

Topper: Holy shit

Rafe read the messages and began typing.

A lot to explain. A lot I need help with. Didn't even give her a ring yet. Court, help me pick one out?

C: Duh!! Meet me on the mainland tomorrow at 3. Top, Kelce, distract Y/n?

T & K: On it.

Rafe smiled, excited that your friends were so ready to help. He tossed his phone to the side before hopping up and running to the bathroom to join you.

"Aphrodite..." He cooed as he stepped into the shower and wrapped his arms around you, cupping your belly and leaning his face into your neck. "So perfect..."

You smiled, reaching back to lace your fingers through his hair. You felt so close to him as you placed your other hand over his on your belly. You needed him closer though.

"How are you feeling, my love?" You ask him. He hums happily into your hair as he rocks you back and forth. You smile, finding peace in knowing that, for right now, he's okay.

"Wanna make love to you..." He mumbles.

You bite your lip at his words, knowing you're about to get the gentle side of Rafe. As much as you loved him fucking you into oblivion, you also loved how slow and gentle he was when he really wanted to show you how much you meant to him.

He helped to clean you, getting all the spots you couldn't reach with your growing belly. You took your time washing him too, just enjoying the feeling of his naked body against yours.

When you finished your shower, Rafe stepped out and grabbed you your towel, wrapping you up in it and helping you dry off.

He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to your bed. He laid you down gently and hovered over you. He was hard, precum already dripping from his tip as he scanned your clean body. "So fucking beautiful..." He mumbled, placing soft kisses across your chest. "Never seen such a beautiful creature in my life..."

You hummed at his words, silently begging for him to touch you.

"How can I make you feel good, mama?" He asked, the vibration of his voice against your skin was intoxicating.

"Touch me, Rafe..."

Rafe smiled, bringing a soft thumb to your clit and circling slowly. You felt his index finger run up your entrance, collecting the juices that flowed so effortlessly out of your body.

He leaned his forehead against yours as he continued to thumb your clit. "So wet, my pretty girl..."

You could feel the twist in your stomach begin to form as he brushed over your throbbing clit.

"Ra-"

Rafe pulled his hand away, watching you almost come undone underneath him.

You whimpered at the sudden loss of connection. "Rafe, please..."

"Don't worry, baby girl. I'm going to make you cum. Just want you to cum on my dick, yeah?"

You nod your head, squeezing your eyes shut. "Need you, Rafe...please...please..." You beg.

"Awh, baby..." He whispers, running a thumb over the soft skin of your cheek bone. "You need me to make you feel good, huh?"

You knew this was feeding his ego but you didn't care. It was true. Your core was aching. You needed him inside you. "Hurts Rafey...please...need you...daddy..."

He groans at that. He was weak when you called him that.

"Anything you want, my angel..." He whispers, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close to him and slowly pushing his cock inside you.

Your jaw falls open at the sensation of him stretching you out. You would never get used to his size.

"Feel okay, baby?" He asks.

"Mhmm," You moan.

Rafe begins to move slowly, pulling out of you and pushing back in. He moved so slow that you could feel everything, every inch of his skin filling you and your walls were already fluttering around him.

"You are ecstasy..." He whispers, thrusting into you slowly again. "Never felt so amazing...so in love...handcrafted by God herself...I'm so lucky....so in love....so...so...in love...."

You could feel tears escaping from your eyes at his words. He made love to you with so much emotion, so much love. He made you feel like you were the only two that existed, floating through time and space as one.

You didn't realize you were crying now, letting out a whimper into his shoulder.

He wrapped a hand around your thigh and brought your leg up, thrusting a little harder to hit you just right. "That's it baby...cum for me, my beautiful girl..."

You cried loudly as you released around his cock, the sensation was almost overwhelming. Rafe stayed buried inside you as you squirted on his stomach. His absolute favorite thing. Sending him into his own orgasm, you could feel his warmth filling you up and the sensation calmed you.

You finally met Rafe's eyes and you noticed the slight tears forming there.

"Why are you crying baby?" He asked you, forehead pressed to yours as he smiled at you.

"I-I just love-love you so fucking m-much..." You whimpered. The feelings you had for this man were so overwhelming you couldn't help but cry.

He reached a hand up and cupped your face as a tear fell from his eye too. "My pretty girl..." He whispered, pressing a kiss to your nose. "The moon, the stars, the planets, the heavens...you outshine all of them. You are the most divine creation. I'm not worthy to even be in your presence."

"Rafe-"

"Shhh...Aphrodite. Sleep my love."

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! :)

@outerbankspov @torturedtypewritersdept

[sevs-corner]

"You Make It Feel Like Christmas" but its you and Phillip Graves doing a duet

Imagine you taking on the same country twang Gwen Stefani has and with Graves as, obviously, Blake Shelton himself.

Imagine that, in the MW2 setting, you successfully accomplish the mission in getting El Sin Nombre

Graves doesn't betray the team and you guys party at Alejandro's case of operations instead

After a long ass work week, you wanted to let loose and party it out with your comrades

Including gettin closer with the man you had a crush on- Phillip Graves, commander and CEO of the PMC "Shadow Company"

Your team (Tf 141) knew of your lingering feelings for the guy, and Soap suggested a wonderful idea at your most vulnerable moment

aka, when you're at the brink of being full out drunk and inebriated but still conscious of what you were doing

Speaking on the other hand? Well, let's just say that they call you Lily Loose Lips for a reason

Ghost smirked at the idea, wanting to see this unfold so he urged you as well, to go along with-

"Sudsy bright ideas."

You didn't quite catch on to his british humor really

Thus, with a bottle in hand, you approached the commander who was busying himself with his crew and some of the Los Vaqueros boys

"Allo lads!" you slurred out, waving with one bottle in hand while the other caught yourself onto a chair (poor Rudy)

"Corporal! What brings ya' here?" Graves giddily wraps an arm around your shoulders as you both swayed to the hum of the radio

"Got something for ya!"

Thinking you were handing the bottle to him, he left his hands out, only for his head to tilt in confusion as you gave the bottle to Alejandro (who cheered with crew as he poured them a new one)

You pulled out- from somewhere (he'd rather not know)- a mic and placed it in his awaiting hands

Pulling out another mic and a speaker of your own, you tested it with a "juan, dos, tres" making the Los Vaqueros and Shadow Company cackle

"Whats this for?" He asks, only for him to be shushed with a finger to his lips, by your truly

"OI! TURN THAT RADIO DOWN!!"

*cue sudden stop*

"ME AND COMMANDA GRAVES WILL BE SINGIN' A WESTERN CLASSIC FOR YALL TONIGHT~!"

"corporal!" he tries getting out of your chokehold but you surprisingly had quite the grip on him, "i DONT sing!"

but you ignored him, continuing on with your intro before playing the song

"since by september its already christmas at my country," you rubbed your cheeks with Graves who rolled his eyes, "we'll be singin a mighty fine west country song!"

"that dont make sense at all!" he complains while you, this time, rolled your eyes and shrugged

"my brother in christ," you turned to stare at him dead in the eye, "no one will fucking know what im saying."

"language barrier- fair point."

"Get on wit' it already!" you hear Soap shout and you reply back with an irritated 'aye!'

"so heres!" you let Graves go and toss him your phone, where the lyrics to "You Make It Feel Like Christmas" was displayed

And he all but huffed, thinking that you were underestimating him that he didn't know this song

so he tossed your phone to the side as he plays the song, turning to you to he starts the song

Swaying his hips to the starting verse making yours eyes shine and do the same

As soon as you start your part, you went up to him and twirl him around, making him gasp in shock as he expected to twirl you, hence makin him trip and the others laugh

Though, coming into the chorus, you intertwined hands and stared at each others eyes- as if you were confessing the lyrics to him

(and him to you)

As he watches you sing your solo parts, he could only stare in awe at how- beatiful and carefree at the moment

Hair flowing from your twist and turns, arms and legs moving in tandem, eyes sparkling as if the stars were reflecting off it, cheeks bright, plump and, red.. and bless his heart, your bright cherry and drunken lips--

And this continues as you both laugh and twirl each other around, dancing as if you were in a hoedown and a ballroom

with one trying to out dip the other, and by the time you guys were just heaving

the songs ends with you in his arms, chest to chest, alcohol smelt in each other breaths, and at this moment, under the twilight and stars-- you could only see him and his bright blue eyes

"you're quite a looker commander," you whisper out, hoping he would hear and he smirks

"well you're the most beautiful thing i've ever laid my eyes on corporal."

you feel his warm breath cover your ear, making you shudder and he pulls you even closer than before- whispering...

"I think christmas came early for me this year."

Brainrotting for Graves content right now actuallY (ilysm hes my number 2 after soap ahuhuhu)

[fogwitchoftheevermore]

I'm slowly making my way through a new project- editing the entirety of the album PUNCH by Autoheart to the Life Series.

I was originally planning to post all of the edits in order of the songs on the album, but I instead made the Lent one first and am too excited to keep it in my drafts any longer while I work on the first four songs of the album (especially since we're coming up on finals seasons and the amount of time I'll have to work on these is gonna plummet so fast). So instead, I'll be posting them as I make them and make a masterpost of them all in order at the end.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this! I'm really proud of it and a lot of work went into it.

[la-galaxie-langblr]

today on random languages my brain is going 👀 at is biblical hebrew and biblical greek

[tankgotstuckinthecircusgate]

i know that when carlo suddenly decided that he needs to marry guy made a whole list in his head n like had a deadlines n shit. like it was some kind of a task he needed to do

[essektheylyss]

I meant to write more than I did but I got through a 500 word scene and submitted two short stories so I am calling that a win and going the fuck to sleep.

[blindrapture]

it feels so weird. so so weird.

to write new rapture logs. and not post them here immediately.

but you've gotta wait, my curious public. :)

you've gotta wait.

for rapture.

rapture is coming.

it's coming.

may 21st is when it begins.

perhaps for the last time, this time.

may 21st.

god, it feels good to be back.

[orcelito]

I rly do love when ppl talk about the angst I've written in ITNL and Sentido & I'm just sitting here like. Man I'm glad it hit u. But holy shit u got a storm comin

[17yearslatewithlattes]

Ah man, I hate asylum episodes.

Human cruelty gets to me way more than monsters. And asylums have uh. No shortage of the former!

Plus you rarely escape without horrifying dehumanizing depictions of mental illness so. Good fun all round

[your-internet-bf]

It's been a while since you've seen a doctor, and you're nervous as you follow the nurse back to my office. What's there to be nervous about, this is just a little checkup, right? You notice the nurse's manicured burgundy nails as she knocks sharply on the door. She turns to you, smiling prettily, and says, "the doctor will see you now."

You push open the door and enter quite a large room. The nurse follows, closing the door behind you. In the center is the examination table, off to the right is a small crowd of young adults, appearing to be made up of men and women, and on the left is me, seated at my desk. "Welcome," I say, standing and extending one hand. My voice is deep, warm, and smooth, and you fumble for a moment, blushing a little, before you remember to shake my hand. Your hand is dwarfed in mine, my strong fingers encircling you, and a thought flashes unbidden through your mind - what would those fingers feel like inside you? - but, come on now, that's really not appropriate...

"I have a few students with me, as you can see. Is that alright?"

"Well, yes, of course!" Why shouldn't it be?

"Excellent. Now, I'm pioneering this new full-body examination method - it's really quite extraordinary, the maladies I can detect this way - but be warned, it is, shall we say, unorthodox. Is that alright?"

Just for a moment, you see something in my eyes, something behind the genial smile and gentle, reassuring tone. Just for a moment, you feel like some specimen, some piece of meat, pinned down under the lights with nowhere to go... but just for a moment. Surely, nothing bad can happen, and I'm a doctor, aren't I? You can trust me. So you swallow your fear, and you acquiesce.

"Excellent! Let's have a seat on the table, if you don't mind, and we'll make a start. Nurse V, if you would..."

As you sit on the table, the clinical, sterile seating a little cold against your skin, the pretty nurse steps behind the table, facing you, waiting for something. From your right, I approach, and you feel again just how much larger than you I am as my broad shoulders block out one of the ceiling lights. With all these people watching you, it takes all you have not to squeeze your legs together, just a little bit.

We begin with a quick examination of your face - "you have beautiful eyes, you know," I purr into one ear. I place one hand on the side of your neck and tilt your head; god, you've been reading too much, haven't you, the way you want these strong, expert fingers to close around your throat.

"Now, open your mouth for me, please." You oblige, and I cup your chin and slide my thumb into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. Your eyebrows jump in surprise, and you look at me questioningly.

I smile again, still inside you. "Unorthodox, remember? Now, close your mouth and try to swallow." From behind, the nurse strokes your cheek with the back of one hand, and you feel a sudden ache between your legs. You close your lips around my thumb and swallow. It tastes... clean, mostly, as one might expect from a doctor, but you can taste the sweat underneath.

"Very good, one more time for me."

You swallow again, and you feel me slide my thumb over the surface of your tongue, pressing down, swirling in circles.

"And, one more time... yes, that's it, good job, very good job."

The praise for this degrading task is more than you can bear, and you squeeze your thighs together. Fuck, it's humiliating, everyone just saw you do that... All these eyes on you, the beautiful nurse behind you, this big, strong doctor with these big, strong hands and that big fucking bulge... but no, this is just a checkup, nothing is going to happen, right?

While you were thinking, I dried my hand off and had begun speaking.

"I'm - I'm sorry?"

"No worries. I was saying, can you remove your top, please? We need to examine your heart and your breathing."

You stare at me. "Remove my - "

"Yes, remove your top. The fewer barriers between me and you, the less interference with my examination." My face is quite serious, almost bored - this really must be routine. You look back at the nurse, and she smiles slightly and nods. So you undress, your nipples betraying you, standing at attention. You blush as the crowd of students looks at you intently. The nurse lays one warm hand on your shoulder, slender fingers gripping you reassuringly, and your eyes are drawn once more to those burgundy nails.

I step in close, and you feel my breath warm on your chest. "Now, observe the stiffness in the patient's nipples - this is to be expected, given the cool air, and it's certainly nothing to be ashamed of," I say, smiling. I press my stethoscope up over your heart, the metal cold on your skin, and your mind is betrayed by the pounding of your heart. My eyes flick up to meet yours, and I grin, predatorily, and once again you feel like a piece of meat beneath the lights.

I examine your breasts, starting with your left. Enclosed in my big, strong hands, I squeeze and push, prod and pull, ostensibly feeling for any abnormalities, but the way my fingers brush over your nipples, the intensity with which I sink them into your soft breasts, heaving now as your breath comes faster... My practiced tongue rasps over one nipple and a tiny moan escapes your lips as you try desperately to hide how much you're enjoying this; try desperately, and fail.

Abruptly, I pull back. "Excellent! All seems well here." I rest one hand on your other shoulder and turn to the students. "Note the pleasure response during this section of the examination, and I hope you were paying attention to the oral technique."

I turn back to you, my eyes dancing as they meet yours. "Fully undress, if you would. The inspection must continue."

Your hands tremble as you slide your clothes down off your waist, and the nurse aids you, her lovely hands stroking along your thighs and calves as she does.

"And spread for us, please."

Obediently, your thighs open, exposing your cunt, your needy, aching wetness, to all.

"Note the beauty of the patient's sex, here. The shape of the folds," I murmur, tracing one finger along your sensitive lips, "the balanced ratio of the clitoris to the vulva overall," sliding two fingers on either side of your clit, squeezing gently between them, "the appropriate pleasure response in - "

You lose what I say as I plunge two fingers inside you, powerful and dextrous, knuckles slipping past your tightness easily. It feels so fucking good to finally have something inside you, after all this aching and teasing, and god, so many people are watching, they're all watching your pussy spread and toyed with by this big, strong, handsome older man, and now the nurse's slender fingers are across your throat and her lips are on your forehead, and she tells you that you're doing so well for me, you've been so good...

My fingers press up inside you, finding your g spot, and with my thumb rubbing on your clit, I start melting you. Waves of pleasure course through your body, you gasp, moan, whimper, and with your eyes closed you can't tell whose lips are so soft on yours, but it feels so fucking good, and all those people are watching and it makes you want it more, your back arching, chest heaving, melting under the attention, and finally, mercifully, you cum, contracting around my fingers, squeezing your thighs together, trembling, shaking, gasping for air. You hear me say something, but you're so overwhelmed with pleasure that all you can make out from my speech is "very, very good".

The hand withdraws from your throat, and I gently, gently, extricate my fingers, and settle my hand atop one thigh, fingers slick with your desire.

The nurse whispers affirmation in your ear as I address the class. "Stimulation in this manner, of the two most sensitive sex stimuli, brings the most consistent and powerful orgasms to those possessing these organs." I stroke the inside of your thigh reassuringly, before turning to you.

"The final part of this examination is seeing how well you handle penetration. I'm going to need your unequivocal verbal consent before proceeding."

The nurse leans in and whispers into your ear, "might I suggest 'please, sir, will you fuck me?'" You'd blush harder if you could.

You swallow, nervously, and there's a twisting in your gut as you say it. "Please," you begin, voice cracking. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"Yes, that is sufficient. I must say, though," I warn, unzipping my jeans, "that I am quite large." I slap my cock down on your tummy, and the sheer weight of it shocks you. You've seen size like this in porn, sure, but fuck, you've never touched something like this. When you tear your gaze away from my cock, I'm grinning down at you, predatory again. "You can back out at any time, you know." My voice is low, teasing, challenging. "Should we continue?"

You nod shakily, and spread your legs a little wider.

One hand on your raised knee, one hand guiding my cock, I push against you. For a moment you realize the exam had to be done in this order; if you weren't so fucking wet, there's no chance you'd be able to take me. But all thoughts are blasted out of your mind as I push harder and slide in.

It's so fucking thick that you can't help but groan. You've never felt so full, so strained inside, being pushed in every direction; you're not built for this, maybe there's just too much, your body is rejecting me - and then I push again, another few inches, and you slam your head back against the padded table, a long, drawn-out "fuuuuuck" wrenched from your lips. You feel my strong hands brace at your hips, and with a final thrust, slamming your cervix up into your guts, moving your entire body, the ridges of my cock sliding deeper and deeper, sliding painfully, pleasurably past your walls, I'm inside you.

The nurse rests her hands on you again, and purrs in your ear, "you're doing so well for him, I know it's hard, it's so hard, but you're doing such a good job, pretty girl..."

Glacially, I pull out, allowing you a moment to rest, before thrusting in again, hands still at your waist. You sob once, loudly, and then you sink into it as I pick up a rhythm, deep, deep strokes inside you. You hear me grunting, whispering something, and I grow more frantic, impaling you a little harder, and through the wall of pleasure you hear me rumble, "nurse V, begin the overstimulation procedure."

"Certainly, doctor." She leans over you, lips fiercely meeting yours, and one of those slender hands reaches down to abuse your clit. An image of those burgundy nails on your cunt flashes through your mind as I continue pounding you, forcing you to spread for me, adjust to me, even as the nurse plays your clit like an instrument, and fuck, she's a virtuoso.

You sing a song of moans and voiceless curses under our combined mastery, knowing your audience is entranced, filled with a blazing, lusty pride. The deep bass of my voice, resonant in your skull, is saying something, but you cannot hear me; you're moaning, groaning, pleading, "yes, yes, oh my god yes" over and over...

The song swells to a crescendo and with two sudden strikes, two powerful thrusts into you, it ends with a thick, hot, sticky white wave of my approval inside you. You feel it pulse deep, deep inside, filling you, load after load delivered straight past your bruised, abused cervix.

You come back to reality with my cum spilling from between your legs, trailing thickly down onto the exam table. I zip up my jeans while the nurse helps dry you off, from all the sweat and saliva. She dabs caringly at your mouth, and you notice that the cloth is dyed the same shade as her lipstick.

"Now," I address the class, "I hope you were paying attention." I rest one hand on your aching, trembling thigh. How many times did you cum with me inside you? How long were all these people watching you writhe beneath me, begging, losing yourself in the pleasure? You have no fucking clue. "This patient has bravely volunteered for each of you to examine her, here and now, while she's available to us."

Your jaw drops. When did you agree to that? You would never - but you were begging, "yes, yes, yes" earlier, weren't you, while I was talking. You agreed. Everyone heard you say it.

"One at a time, please. And," I say to you, grinning wolfishly, "don't worry. I'll be watching the entire time."

[leilakisakabiri]

Miami Hot Lap (CL)

Summary: You're forced to do a Miami Hot Lap with your boyfriend.

Warning(s): Just fluff.

A/N: Ahh I love this concept!! Requests are open for Charles and Lando.

Word Count: 800+

Masterlist

Being invited to an F1 race through a brand seemed like a fun idea at first. You would get to see your boyfriend for the first time in weeks, watch the race in your hometown, and somehow still be able to call it work. It was a win-win situation.

That was until they approached you with a video idea.

"So since you're working with one of our sponsored brands for the weekend, a Miami native, and dating a driver, we thought it was only fair to ask you to do the Miami hot lap video." The F1 content manager explained.

"Miami hot lap?" You questioned, unfamiliar with what they wanted you to do.

"Yeah y'know just go for a few laps on the track with a driver. For you, it would be Charles of course." She assured.

You shook your head rapidly, shrinking back, "No thank you. I don't drive with Charles."

"But he's your boyfriend? Surely you've driven with him before?"

You sighed, "Yeah in a city, where he's forced to follow the speed limit, I would never be able to handle going that fast. He's too scary without restrictions."

She furrowed her eyebrows, opening her mouth to respond before she was cut off.

"Spreading lies about me again?"

You felt your lips upturn in a smile as he came up behind you, fingers entwining with yours as he kissed your cheek.

You turned to face him, attempting to be firm, "I love you, but I'm not driving with you." You repeated.

One hour later you found yourself being strapped into the passenger seat of his car, cursing yourself for giving in after he convinced you it wouldn't be that bad.

The camera sat on the dashboard, recording the both of you.

"Go slow," You warned, as he got the green light to pull away.

"We'll get no views then." He argued.

You started at him in disbelief, "Would you rather have more views on a video or have a girlfriend in one piece?"

It was quiet for a beat too long and you put your hand up, "You know what don't answer that. I don't want to know."

"So how do you like driving with me so far?" He asked once you made it past the first lap.

You nodded, "Not bad, right now I feel like we're going to get food."

He smirked, "Well in that case go on and get comfortable."

You eyed him skeptically but you decided to trust him, "Okaaay," you dragged out the word as you slouched a bit more in the seat, letting your body relax against the seat, going as far as to admire the view outside the window.

The peace only lasted for a second before Charles was slamming on the pedal, sending the car lurching forward at record speeds.

While he got a shot of adrenaline, you felt your stomach somersault as your body jolted backward.

“Charles. Charles!!” Your voice filled with panic, fingers grabbing onto the side of the car for dear life, eyes wide as you refused to take your eyes off the rapidly passing road in front of you.

He laughed at your reaction, only stopping once he realized how serious you were. He dropped a hand down to squeeze yours, reassuring you, “Relax I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The supposedly sweet action had the opposite effect, “Keep both your hands on the wheel!” You shrieked, sending him into another fit of laughter.

You put a hand to your forehead in shock and disbelief, "We're going to die."

You felt hysterical, and his shit-eating grin only irked you further.

"We're not going to die. I promise." He swore, trying to calm you down.

You shoved his shoulder, "Your promises mean nothing to me anymore Charles. We're going to die and it's all your fault." you deadpanned.

“Y/n amor I’m barely pushing 90 mph.” He revealed.

Your body froze, before finally losing some tension, “Oh."

You checked the meter seeing that he was telling the truth, "It feels a lot faster,” you argued, “Especially with the sharp turns," you elaborated.

He agreed with you but not before side-eyeing you, "Right."

"So should we go faster?" He proposed.

"Charles," You warned.

"Why so formal?"

You glanced at each other for a second and already knew what would happen from the unfiltered excitement in his eyes, "Hold on amour."

You watched in horror as the meter rapidly rose hitting up to 130mph, you mouthed a "help me" to the camera.

“I think I’m gonna throw up everywhere.” You groaned once the car had finally come to a halt.

Charles patted your head affectionately as you laid your head against your knees, “You’ll be ok.”

“No. I’m going to projectile vomit on this dashboard,” you warned, “I’m never driving with you again.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at your comment but didn't say anything, instead facing the camera.

"Well thanks for joining us today, if you want more videos like this-"

You lifted your head off your knees when you noticed he hadn't finished his sentence, finding him staring at you expectedly.

"Like and subscribe?" you questioned, voice hoarse.

"Exactly. See you guys later!" He waved bye to the camera and moved your head to lay on his lap so you could rest.

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱