#they are a mystery of a time gone by here

[loufr6]

pick a card – what your future boyfriend will be like

hey loves! so many of you have asked me for love readings, and the ones I’ve done so far have gotten such positive feedback, so I thought… why not try my very first Pick a Card for you all?

take a moment to relax, clear your mind, and simply choose one of several piles or images that resonate with you the most. Each pile is linked to a unique tarot spread, and the cards in that pile will give you insights into your situation trust your intuition, let’s see what the cards have to say about your future boyfriend!

scroll down for your reading…

pile 1 – the dreamy but insecure romantic

cards: the star (reversed), the empress, the high priestess, the world

your future boyfriend has so much potential, but he tends to doubt himself a lot. the star reversed shows that he might have gone through some tough times that have shaken his confidence in love, but don’t worry—he’s healing. with the empress and the high priestess, he is deep, sensitive, and very in touch with his emotions. he admires someone who is emotionally intelligent and knows how to connect on a deeper level. the world suggests that this relationship will be whole and fulfilling, possibly involving travel or being from different backgrounds. it will feel complete and full of potential, but it might take some time for him to fully open up to you.

♡ where you might meet: through travel, online, or a creative/spiritual setting.

pile 2 – the mysterious intellectual

cards: the hermit, the hierophant (reversed), strength, the magician

this man is not the type to rush into things. the hermit shows he is introspective, wise, and prefers to take his time. he might even seem a little distant or reserved at first. the hierophant reversed suggests he might not follow the traditional path in love, and he could have an unconventional view of relationships. but here’s the beauty—strength and the magician show that once he’s ready, he’s incredibly powerful and determined. he’s someone who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to make things happen. he’s likely to be successful in his career and creative pursuits, and his quiet confidence will draw you in.

♡ where you might meet: at a place of learning or intellectual discussion, work, or a deep event that sparks curiosity.

pile 3 – the reformed bad boy with a golden heart

cards: the devil (reversed), the sun, judgment (reversed), death

this guy has been through a lot and is really learning how to let go of his past. the devil reversed tells me he’s breaking free from toxic cycles or habits. he might have a wild side, but he’s working on finding balance. the sun shows that when he’s in a good place, he is radiating positivity and love—he’ll light up your world. but he’s still navigating a few things. judgment reversed suggests that he’s a little hesitant about embracing the full change he needs to grow. still, death is here, and that’s a card of transformation. he’s on the verge of letting go of what no longer serves him and stepping into a much better future.

♡ where you might meet: during a period of change or a big life transformation for both of you.

pile 4 – the passionate but mysterious lover

cards: the lovers, the wheel of fortune, the moon, the chariot

this man is a mix of deep passion and mystery. the lovers shows that he’s someone who is very romantic and could be torn between a few paths in life, especially when it comes to love. it’s possible he has a lot of options but is waiting for the right one to come along. the wheel of fortune suggests that your connection will feel fated—as if it was meant to be. things might fall into place at just the right time, but he does have a secretive side (thanks to the moon). he might not always show you all of himself at first, but the chariot tells me that when he commits, he does it with everything he has.

♡ where you might meet: an unexpected situation, or perhaps when things in your life are shifting or changing.

which pile did you pick? does it resonate with you? let me know in the comments!

[ladykailitha]

Murder in the Heartland Part 1

Here it is, the most wonderfully insane idea I've ever come up with and I've had some whoppers (Steve in a mental institution and Vecna's Timeloop from Hell for example). This is still the wildest. Only that's a twist that's coming up way down the line. My wonderful discord peeps @forgottenkanji, @dreamercec, @bookworm0690 know all, but you'd have to join my discord to be in on the secret (there are other lurkers there who might know, but they might not *shrug*).

Summary: When a serial killer strikes Hawkins, the police zero in on Eddie Munson. But when the last would-be victim Robin Buckley says that it Jason Carver who was trying to kill her and not Eddie, the police are further put in their place by an anonymous tipper who did all the work they should have done instead of going after clearly innocent Eddie. So Eddie becomes a PI to find this anonymous tipper. Featuring Mystery Writer Steve, who will play into the later plot. ;)

You will see snippets of Steve as the story goes on, but it will be Eddie's story for about 2/3 of it. It is also set in canon time for reasons that will become clear as the story goes on.

~

Interviewer: I’m here with Steve Harrington who has put just put out his seven novel in the thrilling Joe Keery books, ‘The Hollow Promise’. How are you this morning?

Steve chuckled: I’m tired. I’m a writer, I spend all my nights writing and my days sleeping, so this is a little outside my normal waking hours.

Interviewer: Gosh I wish I could do that, but I chose to have a morning talk show instead. Won’t you tell the listeners about your latest book.”

Steve: It’s about a series of murders in a small town and our hero comes to town to investigate and finds a bigger mystery than he anticipated.

~

Eddie’s life went to hell the day Steve Harrington blew town. Not that he would find that out until years later. But then again people were more preoccupied with Robin Buckley swearing up and down that Jason Carver who had been trying to kill her and not Eddie than remember a kid being thrown out of his parents place for being gay so... yeah.

Well, okay, so his life had been hell a little bit before Steve blew town. But that wasn’t as interesting an opening as the day Steve blew town. So he still had a flare for the dramatic, sue him. After all it was that flare that made him become a private investigator in the first place.

When Chrissy Cunningham had been murdered just after Eddie dealt her Special K, that made him the prime suspect in her death.

Which, rude.

She had been dealing with some pretty fucked up shit. Like being queer in a small town levels of shit on top of her mom being constantly on about her weight and her boyfriend pressuring her wear a promise ring. In high school.

Then another student died. A boy on the basketball team, Patrick McKinney, who someone else claimed had bought steroids off Eddie. Which couldn’t have been true, not if it was performance enhancing drugs. He had offered to sell them to high schoolers when he first started dealing, but Rick assured him he already had someone for that.

Then another girl died. Someone Eddie hadn’t known. He knew of her. But she wasn’t even in any of his classes, in any of his senior years. She also didn’t do drugs. Hell, Molly Masters was a known Straight Edger. She wouldn’t have gone near Eddie unless she wanted to throw hands.

Which is why he was blamed for her death, actually. They insinuated that she had finally had enough of his drug dealing ways and had gone after him.

He even had an alibi for that one, not that it mattered. Playing in front of five random drunks and a stingy ass bartender wasn’t exactly as air tight as it could have been. Because as far as witnesses go, they were pretty shit.

Then Barb Holland died. And that was a kick in the teeth. He knew who she was but only in a tenuous ‘best friend of the girlfriend of the most popular boy in school’ kind of way. Eddie was starting to see the pattern, even if the cops didn’t.

Then the final one which ended in the death of Jason Carver, Chrissy’s boyfriend. Only Robin Buckley was still very much alive.

But for the those first three days, she was in a coma. So the police spun the narrative that Eddie had been trying to kill her when Jason had interrupted them; saving her life, but losing his in the process.

Until she woke up and blew the whole investigation out of the water.

“I’m telling you Jason Carver was trying to kill me,” she said for the tenth time to a motley crew of Hopper, Powell, and Callahan from her hospital bed.

“Now why would he go and do a thing like that for?” Powell huffed. “Jason was a good, upstanding young man. Captain of the basketball team. He loved Chrissy. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not for anything.”

Robin let out a long sigh of frustration and buried her head in her hands. She looked up at them, weighing her options before she finally snapped, “Because I’m a lesbian!”

They stared at her blankly.

“Apparently Chrissy was too and that’s why he killed her.”

“You telling me that Jason Carver, all American boy next door was a murderer killing queer kids?” Callahan huffed in disbelief. “There’s no way.”

“And I’m telling you it’s true,” Robin hissed. “Plus whoever saved my life and killed the rat bastard wasn’t Eddie Munson.” She crossed her arms over her chest and settled into the bed, grumpy.

Hopper pinched his nose. “Let’s say we follow this line of inquiry, why do you believe Eddie Munson wasn’t involved at all. You keep saying you never saw your rescuer’s face.”

She looked up at him like he was stupid. “Because the guy that took the bat to Jason’s head was wearing a short sleeve shirt.”

The cops all looked at each other in confusion.

Robin threw her arms up in the air. “No tattoos, assholes! Eddie very famously has bats on his...” she looked at her own arms for a second, “right forearm. And whoever this Jesus with a bat was, he didn’t have any tattoos on his arm.”

“Robin!” her mother admonished. Melissa Buckley was there to ensure that the police didn’t try and twist Robin’s words into saying something that wasn’t true.

Robin just shrugged, unrepentant. They were being assholes and someone should tell them to their faces.

“Well, shit!” Powell snapped, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. “If it wasn’t Eddie then who the fuck was it?”

Just then the door to Robin’s room burst open, startling all those inside. Officer Glenn Daniels came running up to Chief Hopper, a large envelope in his hands.

“Florence got this this morning,” Daniels said, panting for breath. “And we wanted to verify its authenticity before bringing it to you. So me and couple of the other officers looked into it.”

Hopper opened the envelope, his eyes growing wider the more and more he looked through it. “And how much it of is accurate?”

“All of it.”

“There is no way,” Hopper growled, slamming the envelope on Powell’s chest. “No evidence is that air tight. There must be some kind mistake or error in there somewhere.”

Powell took the envelope and looked down into it. His eyebrows shot up. “There are actual fucking writings by Carver in here. Where the hell did they find those?”

Daniels just shook his head. “Whoever found this shit was meticulous. There are no other fingerprints than Jason’s on anything. But there is a letter.”

Powell went searching through the envelope and pulled it out, handing it to the Chief, who read it, mumbling to himself.

“Well, as much as I would like to say the bastard is wrong,” Hopper said with a resigned sigh. “He’s not. Or she or whatever. They’re not wrong. The victims wouldn’t have gotten justice, not with them being queer. Jason would have been lauded a hero and paraded in the streets for taking out the trash.”

“‘To the police,” Powell read out loud. “I am sending you all the evidence you failed to collect when you were too busy trying to pin these murders on an innocent man. It didn’t take a lot to realize the true connection the victims had. I’m just sorry I was too late to save Molly Masters. She didn’t deserve to die in that horrible way.

“Once I figured out who it was, I knew that there would be no justice for these kids. Not when Jason Carver was who he was, and why he was killing his peers. So I quietly compiled all the evidence I could. His journals. His distinct lack of alibis for any of the murders. His emotional connection to the first victim, his girlfriend, Chrissy Cunningham.

“I’m just glad I was able to stop him from killing that final girl. But if she did die later, I hope Carver rots in the hell of his own making. No one deserves to die because of who they love.

“-Jason’s Executioner.”

“Well, that ain’t creepy as shit,” Callahan said sarcastically. “Well it’s not as though we could have used any of this evidence anyway.”

“And when is Eddie Munson being released?” Melissa huffed, pulling herself up to her nearly six feet of height.

Hopper blinked at her for a moment. “I’m not sure I understand the question, ma’am.”

“That boy is innocent!” Melissa said sternly. “And what? You’re going to just sweep this all under the rug and leave Jason Carver’s reputation intact?”

“That’s not what I said,” Hopper replied, low and dangerous. “And I don’t appreciate you putting words into my mouth.”

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down.

“He is innocent of the murders, yes,” he said, “but he still sold an underaged girl ketamine. And last time I checked that was still very much against the law.”

“I don’t believe you actually have proof of that,” Melissa said with a winning smile.

“He confessed,” Powell said in confusion. “We have it on record of him confessing to selling the drugs.” He put his hands on his hips. “There’s no way he’s not going away for the drugs.”

“Under duress,” Melissa said smugly. “Which any lawyer worth his salt will get tossed out in a heartbeat. You have nothing on the boy and you know it.”

Robin grinned up at her. “Isn’t she so cool? And she’s my mom!”

“Stop calling him a boy!” Callahan hissed. “He’s twenty! He knew full well what he was doing and I’m not going to stand here and let you pretend otherwise.”

Melissa scoffed, eyeing him up and down with a raised eyebrow. “I’d call your dog to heel there, Chief, we wouldn’t want me to scream police intimidation, now would we?”

“Don’t make me arrest you, Mel,” Hopper growled. “Again.”

Melissa grinned up at the chief. They had been on very opposite sides of the Vietnam War. Him having been in the army and her having been in the protests against the War. Hawks and Doves.

“And just what would be the charge this time, Chief?” she asked with a wink.

Hopper squeezed his eyes closed and then opened them slowly. He let out a long exasperated sigh. “Eddie Munson will be released without charges by the end of today.”

But before his underlings could protest he held up his hands. “It’s either release him and sweep under the rug that some rank amateur or we don’t release him and Melissa here goes to the press about how we put away an innocent man and get the national media up in our business.”

They stared at him for a moment before they grumbling agreed. Hopper bid the Buckleys goodbye and then led his officers out the room.

So how did Eddie know all this? He talked to Hopper, Daniels and the Buckleys and while some details varied they pretty much confirmed that how it went down and how Eddie got out on a ‘technicality’ as the cops were calling it.

When he stepped out into the fresh air outside of the jail with Wayne waiting for him, he took a deep breath and let it go.

“I don’t know how you can stand living in this hell hole,” he groused as he hopped into Wayne’s truck.

“Can’t afford to leave,” Wayne huffed and started the truck. “If I could scrape up the money to get out of here, I would and I’d take you with me.”

Eddie gave his uncle’s shoulder a squeeze. “Maybe I’ll be able to get a job and get enough money for both of us out.”

“If wishes were horses,” Wayne said ruefully as he pulled out into traffic. “I’m just glad you were released without charges.”

“You and me both, old man,” Eddie huffed. “I was sure I was going to be Reading, Pennsylvania, Short Line and B&O railroaded.”

“Good thing Melissa Buckley was there when they interrogated her daughter,” Wayne growled. “Or you might still be sitting in that cell.”

“I hope you sent her flowers,” Eddie said. “She certainly deserves it.”

“Delilahs and some of my grandma’s shortbread,” Wayne confirmed. “I even offered to help out any handwork they may need in the future too. And if I were you I’d offer your way around an engine too.”

Eddie saluted. “Aye, Aye!”

Wayne snorted. “If the way she tells it is true, some rookie wannabe detective is the one that provided the most damning evidence against that Carver kid.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Eddie said with a snort. “These backwater cops wouldn’t know their ass from their elbow.”

“Still it makes you wonder who it was...” Wayne said softly as they turned into the trailer park.

“It certainly does that,” Eddie agreed. “It certainly does that.”

~

I am ridiculously pleased with the railroad joke. It still makes me smile every time.

Tag List: TEN SLOTS OPEN

1- @itsall-taken @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @irregular-child @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[hyorijie]

Sorry, I fucked your wife. | Alastor x Reader

Warnings Infidelity, reader is married to a sinner on the rise , before Alastor's disappearance, P in v, Obscenity, overstimulation, Alastor is an idiot, sexual tension, possessiveness, Breeding kink, aftercare, Your husband and Alastor are friends (not for long). Summary Alastor has always been a demon of umpredictable whims, but this time... his interest has gone too far. A beautiful doe has completely captured his attention, there´s just one small catch: She´s married. Of corse, that would be a problem... if Alastor cared...

In the comfort of your home, you glided swiftly over the drink bar, most of the time you didn't drink, but right now the situation warranted it. Your husband had been gone for days and the loneliness consumed you like a slow and cruel disease.

The faint sound of music in the background relaxed your tense muscles a little, a sigh left your lips as you stroked one of your shoulders with the intention of releasing the accumulated tension.

Again you took a sip from the glass, the drink pierced your throat with a warm welcoming burn. Again, you were feeling hot, something very normal from wine.

Your gaze immediately went to the table, where rested that mysterious envelope that your husband had left on his desk, why had he left it that way?

You put the wine glass aside and the base of the glass clinked against the surface.

You walked a little disorientedly to the envelope, you saw that it was open. Curiously you reached out your hand gently until you reached the envelope, your fingers checked the embossing, while your eyes scanned the scarlet seal that stood out against the paper.

Before you could fully recognize the seal it bore, the sound of the door being knocked made you jump in place and let go of the envelope. The paper fell onto the desk and one of your hands went to your chest.

— Shit, who the fuck is that? — You growl to yourself squinting your eyes, cursing under your breath at whoever is behind the door.

With obvious annoyance, you walk towards the door, the moment you opened it, the heat seemed to shoot through your body from surprise.

— Greetings, my dear! May I have an audience with your husband at this time? — The voice that came from him was tainted with too much static, Alastor, your husband's partner was standing in front of you with a wide grin that almost forced you to return it.

You looked him up and down, hoping he wasn't real at this precise moment. But one of his eyebrows rose curiously.

You pulled yourself together immediately shaking your head.

— I'm afraid he won't be able to attend to the request, he's out.— you answered with a superhuman effort, praying to any deity that your voice wouldn't be slurred or cut off by the effect of the drink.

You took a discreet breath, trying to hold your ground as you watched Alastor, who was still smiling with that sly expression that got on your nerves.

— As I told you, he's not here. You'd better come back another time. — you repeated with a slight nod, hoping he'd take the hint and turn around.

But instead, the demon cocked his head to one side and let out a short chuckle, as if you had just told him a charming joke. Before you could react, he took a step forward and, with overflowing confidence, crossed the threshold of your house without waiting for an invitation.

— Oh, my dear, how inconsiderate it would be of me to make you spend the night alone in this storm out there. — he said in a falsely mournful tone.

You looked over your shoulder and, to your misfortune, the sky was still overflowing with disaster. You pursed your lips, holding back the urge to yell at him to get out immediately. However, Alastor was your husband's partner, and the last thing you wanted was to create unnecessary trouble.

With a restrained sigh, you closed the door behind him, turning around with your arms crossed.

— May I ask why you are still here if you already know my husband is not here? — you ask in a dry tone.

Alastor had already settled into one of the lounge seats, as casually as a cat would take over someone else's house. His eyes, lively and attentive, lingered on the glass of wine on the table.

— Well, let's just say I couldn't miss the opportunity to chat with you. After all, we're hardly ever alone. —he replied with a playful air. Then he narrowed his eyes with a spark of amusement.— Although… I dare say it's not the best night for a serious conversation.

A shiver of embarrassment ran down your spine.

— Don't imply nonsense. — you said quickly, in a tone that was meant to be firm, but sounded more like a weak defense.

Alastor let out a light laugh and leaned forward, resting an elbow on his knee.

— Oh, honey, don't take this the wrong way. We all have days like that. And if you're going to drink, what better than to do it in good company. — he said with his wide, impertinent grin.— Although, if I'm honest, I'm more of a whiskey man… but I wouldn't turn down a glass of wine if you'd be so kind as to share.

You pursed your lips, trying not to show your frustration. The last thing you wanted was to prolong his stay, but you couldn't be dismissive of someone so close to your husband either.

Resigned, you took the bottle and poured one more glass, pushing it to him with a light tap on the table.

—Here it is.

Alastor took it gracefully and raised it slightly in your direction.

— Here's to an interesting evening. — he gleamed with a glint of mischief in his eyes before lifting the wine to his lips.

You just watched, wondering, not for the first time, what the hell this Overlord was still doing in your house.

The bottle of wine was nearly empty.

You didn't know exactly at what point you stopped wishing Alastor would leave. Perhaps it was after the third glass, when the conversation stopped feeling invasive and began to feel… intriguing.

He spoke with a magnetic eloquence, with the ease of someone who had seen and understood more than he would ever admit. And you, with the warmth of the wine in your system, found yourself increasingly caught up in his words.

— It's amazing how little humans understand about true ancient magic.— Alastor commented, twirling his glass between his fingers with an almost lazy air.— Always wanting to pigeonhole it into books, rituals, symbols… but magic is not something that is locked into written rules. It's a living art, a contract between the one who invokes it and the one who responds.

Your eyes sparkled with interest. You had been trying for months to decipher certain fragments of forgotten spells, but the lack of results had begun to frustrate you.

— So, according to you, the key is not in the exact words, but in the intention behind them. — you said, leaning slightly towards him without realizing it.

Alastor looked you in the eye, as if amused to see you so absorbed.

— Exactly, my dear. It's like a conversation… only with entities that may or may not be in the mood to listen to you.

You let out a short, somewhat carefree laugh.

—And what do you suggest? That I sweeten their ears?

— Oh, some require it. Others, on the other hand, prefer a demonstration of power.— he shrugged.— But everyone, without exception, responds better to someone who knows what they want.

That last sentence left a chill on your skin, though you didn't know if it was because of his words or the way his eyes bore into yours with that brazen intensity.

You ignored him, or at least tried to, taking another sip from your glass.

— You speak as if you know from experience.

— Let's say I've had my encounters with the forbidden.— your tone became lower, more intimate. — But, my dear… What exactly do you want most?

Something about his question made you flinch. Not in the literal sense of magic, but in what he was suggesting with his velvety voice and indecipherable smile.

You tried to deflect the conversation, but then he changed the subject as lightly as he was moving his glass.

— Your husband has been gone quite a while, hasn't he?

You didn't expect that turn of phrase.

— What's that got to do with it?

— Nothing in particular… just that it must be difficult. — he cocked his head, looking at you with mock innocence.— Such a big home, so much silence. I'm surprised you haven't gone crazy with loneliness.

You pursed your lips, unwilling to acknowledge that he was right. Instead, you snorted with a sarcastic smile.

— You'd be surprised how well I get along with myself.

Alastor let out a laugh, one that rocked you without you expecting it.

— Oh, I'm sure you can entertain yourself very well, my dear. But even your own company can become… unsatisfying over time.

You choked slightly on the wine - had he meant it that way, or were you beginning to read too much into his words and that had another meaning?

You looked away, trying to concentrate on the bottle. It was almost empty, and in your head the atmosphere felt thicker, warmer.

But then something caught your attention.

Alastor was still perfectly composed. While you felt the heaviness in your eyelids, the slight tingle on your skin, he didn't seem the least bit affected.

You frowned.

— It hasn't had any effect on you at all, has it?

He blinked, feigning surprise.

— Me? Ah, my dear, wine doesn't have much impact on me. Not like it does on you.

He pointed to your empty glass with a lopsided smile, and you suddenly realized how vulnerable you might seem at that moment.

Your body was relaxed, maybe too relaxed. Your judgment, perhaps a little numb.

And Alastor, with his bright gaze and smirk, seemed fully aware of it.

Alastor set his glass down on the table with a casual motion, but his eyes never left you.

— It must be difficult.— he said, picking up the conversation as if he had never changed the subject.— Your husband, with all his ambition… making ever greater strides up the hierarchy of Hell.

You straightened up in your seat, leaning your elbows on the table as if that would help you keep your composure.

— It's what he always wanted.— you replied, trying to make your voice sound firm.

— Mmm, no doubt.— Alastor tilted his head, his smile barely perceptible. — He has determination. Firm convictions. He knows what he wants and will do what it takes to get it.

Anyone else would have taken those words as flattery. But you notice the tension in his voice.

You watch him more closely.

The way his lips seemed to twist slightly, as if he was pronouncing the words with more effort than necessary. If you knew him well, you would have said he was having trouble admitting it.

— He's loyal. — he added after a brief pause.— A valuable colleague.

You looked at him carefully.

— Yes… he's always been like that.— You smiled, a tinge of nostalgia in your voice. — He was a man of principle even when we were alive. He wasn't always this calculating strategist you know. He used to be… different.

— Different? — Alastor raised an eyebrow curiously.

— More… human. — you said, almost without thinking. — Passionate, but not just about power. He used to laugh more, used to care more about the little things. It wasn't just ambition. There was much more love in him.

Alastor let out a short, almost inaudible laugh. But something in his eyes darkened.

And then, without warning, he asked.

— Do you really love him?

The air left your lungs.

Alastor slowly sat up, setting his glass down on the table gently, as if the conversation wasn't about to cross a dangerous line. He took a couple of steps toward you, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his gaze locked on yours.

— After all this time… after all he's changed… do you still love him? — he insisted, his voice lower, more enveloping.

You opened your mouth, but the words got stuck in your chest. You didn't expect that question. You didn't expect him to ask it that way.

Your heart was pounding, you no longer knew whether from the wine or from Alastor's closeness.

He tilted his head slightly, waiting for an answer.

But you… you weren't sure what it was.

The silence that followed his question was dense, suffocating. But the burn of the wine in your system gave you enough courage to frown, feigning indignation, even as a part of you was still trying to process what you'd just heard.

— What kind of question is that? — you let out with a dry laugh, as if the very idea was ridiculous.— Of course I love him.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his expression barely changed, but his smile… faltered. Just for an instant.

— Yes? — He said in an almost casual tone. — Because you don't seem very convinced.

You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could, he tilted his head thoughtfully and continued in his usual silky voice.

— But now that you say it… I find it interesting. You say you love him, but when you talk about him, you mean how he used to be. Not how he is now.

Discomfort settled in your chest.

— That has nothing to do with it. — you quickly rebutted.

— No? — Alastor let out a small laugh, not taking his eyes off you.— I'd say it does. I'd say what you're feeling isn't love, my dear… it's nostalgia. Habit.

The way he said it, so confidently, as if he knew it better than you did, made you boil inside.

— And what the hell do you know about me? About my marriage? — you shot back harshly, standing up with a sharp movement.

Alastor didn't answer immediately. He just looked at you, as if evaluating every detail of your reaction.

And then, without warning, he moved one hand fluidly, sliding it down your side until it rested on your waist.

The contact was an unexpected jolt of electricity. Not just because of the boldness, but because of the ease with which he did it. As if he had always had the right.

You gasped in surprise, your muscles tensing, but before you could react, Alastor applied firm pressure and pulled you to him.

Your breath caught in your throat.

For the first time all night, you looked directly into his eyes.

And what you saw made something inside you curl into a dangerous mix of fear and anticipation.

Hunger.

Desire.

Possession.

A look you hadn't felt on you in a long time.

Your pulse hammered against your neck, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But Alastor didn't move, just held your waist securely, leaning in just barely, as if waiting, as if savoring the moment.

— Tell me I was wrong. — he whispered, his voice vibrating in the air between you.— Say it's not homesickness you feel.

His closeness burned you. His presence filled everything.

But worst of all…you didn't know how to respond.

The air felt thicker, charged with something you weren't sure you wanted to name.

Your throat went dry, and when you tried to respond, your words came out slow, hesitant, as if each syllable would need to be precisely measured to avoid crossing a dangerous line.

— I… that has nothing to do…— you began, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

But Alastor wouldn't let you continue.

— When was the last time? — His voice dropped to a low, velvety tone, vibrant with that characteristic static of his. — The last time you felt loved. That you felt wanted.

His grip on your waist remained firm, a pressure intense enough to remind you that you were trapped in his orbit.

— When was the last time you experienced something real? Something that would make you feel alive?

You gasped, not only at his words, but because his voice reverberated through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

No. You couldn't let it go on.

With both arms outstretched, you levered against his chest, trying to push him away from you. But it was like pushing against an immovable wall.

Alastor didn't even flinch.

Your frustration grew, and with it, anger.

— That doesn't concern you! — You snapped, glaring at him angrily.— Who the hell do you think you are to interrogate me like that? Your insolence is colossal!

But he just smiled.

Worse… he began to walk slowly forward.

And you, with no other choice, started backing away.

— You're not telling me because you don't even remember the answer, are you? — He continued, his every word pushing you further and further back.— Because you've spent so much time convincing yourself that you love a ghost from the past, you haven't even stopped to think about how you feel now.

— Stop it! — you demanded, but he didn't stop.

— Tell me… do you really think he still looks at you the way I do now?

His tone was a direct hit to your chest.

And then you felt it. The bar counter crashed against your back.

There was no more room to back up.

Alastor leaned in slightly, just enough so that his face was mere inches from yours, his smile now sharper.

— You know the answer. — he whispered, his fingers barely gliding over the fabric of your clothes, causing your skin to tingle again.— You just don't want to admit it.

Your breathing quickened. Your mind screamed a warning, but your body refused to move.

Because for the first time in a long time… you felt something you couldn't ignore.

The silence between you was almost deafening, broken only by the ragged breathing you tried unsuccessfully to regulate.

But you couldn't let him be in control. You couldn't let Alastor think he could push you wherever he wanted.

So you inhaled deeply and let the question slip out in a sharp, direct, blunt tone.

— Since when? — You blurted out suddenly.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, his smile barely twitching, but the spark of interest in his eyes flared brighter.

— Since when, my dear?

You looked at him sternly, your back still pressed against the bar counter.

— Since when did you have me in your sights. Since when did you plan all this. Since when did I become an object of desire for the radio demon himself.

For a moment, his smile widened in a way that made you feel as if you had fallen into his trap without realizing it.

— Clever. — He murmured, his voice vibrating with dangerous satisfaction. — Of course, it wasn't hard for you to notice.

Before you could move, his hand slid with precision to your chin, grasping it firmly and forcing you to look directly at him.

His touch was not rough, but relentless.

— The truth… I don't know for sure.— he admitted, his tone lower, more enveloping.— But I do know one thing…

His thumb glided barely over your skin, an almost imperceptible brush, but calculated enough to make you hold your breath.

— Your husband is a hindrance in the equation.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

— A hindrance that has prevented me from coming directly to you as I have wanted so much. — he added with a softness that was in dangerous contrast to the meaning of the word.

A shiver ran down your spine. The seriousness with which he said it, the certainty with which he admitted it… took your breath away.

Nerves exploded in your chest, and the heat of the wine in your system did nothing to help you keep your composure. But you refused to give in.

You growled in obvious disagreement, your hands clenching into fists at your sides.

— We may be in Hell. — you spat, holding his gaze.— but I refuse to give in so easily.

Alastor raised an eyebrow, but did not loosen his grip.

— I don't care what you feel. — you continued, in a tone you meant to sound cold, but which barely managed to mask the tremor in your voice. — I never cheated on my husband in life, and I will not do so in death.

For an instant, Alastor's face remained neutral.

But then you saw it.

A barely perceptible twitch in his eyelid, a shadow crossing his red eyes.

And then, his smile returned.

Only this time, it was tighter. Darker.

His grip on your chin intensified slightly, tilting his face just enough to make his every word feel more dangerous.

— You can say what you want, my dear… but we both know the truth.

— And what would that be, exactly? — you muttered through gritted teeth.

Alastor let out a small chuckle before whispering.

— You always look at me with a different gaze, perhaps, to other people's eyes it may seem like simple disdain… but to me…

Your body tensed.

— And that look was a gift from before I knew I would be your husband's colleague… from before I knew who you really were.

The air in the room became unbreathable.

Because his words were not an assumption.

They were a statement.

One that, no matter how hard you tried to deny it, was eating you up inside.

The air became thick as your mind was swept away without your permission, like a violent current of memories that had been buried until now.

A year ago actually.

You had barely been in Hell for a few months. Everything was an incessant chaos, a spiral of violence and decadence in which anyone could get lost. But you… you were living well.

Your husband had moved fast, establishing connections with powerful figures, making sure they lacked for nothing. And, indeed, nothing was lacking.

Except excitement.

Boredom had slowly begun to choke you. Even though you were in Hell, a place of chaos and madness, the routine had begun to devour you.

So you made an impulsive decision.

For the first time, you went out without your husband's company.

And you ended up in Cannibal Town.

It was as enchanting as it was dangerous. If you ignored the scenes of sinners being eaten alive in some corners, it had a certain intriguing air.

But something else caught your attention.

An enthusiastic murmur arose from a group of women with dark eyes and sharp smiles. They all seemed to be looking in the same direction, their red-painted mouths forming words of admiration and affable greetings.

Unable to help yourself, you follow their gazes.

A demon unlike any you had encountered before. Elegant, impeccable, with that presence impossible to ignore.

He was not a predator in appearance, but there was something about his appearance that made him more lethal than any of the beasts that prowled Hell.

Your eyes widened with surprise, and your heart….

It sped up.

You stood watching him without noticing the time passing, completely caught up in his image.

Until he turned around.

His bright eyes, red as fire, stared straight into yours.

They pierced through you.

As if they had been searching for you.

The air left your lungs in an instant, and an inexplicable nervousness came over you.

You looked away suddenly.

And without thinking, you fled from there.

Your memories scattered and again you forced yourself back to reality.

Your breathing was erratic.

You remembered him.

You had known him before your husband made any alliance with him.

And when your eyes returned to Alastor's, you found something worse than a smirk.

He was nodding. As if he had read your thoughts.

— That's right, my dear…— he whispered with dangerous delight. — From that moment… we both felt that spark, didn't we?

Your throat went dry.

— No…— You tried to deny, but the word came out choked.

Alastor tilted his head, enjoying your internal struggle.

— No, what? — he asked softly, as if he really wanted you to elaborate.

You drew in a shaky breath, forcing yourself to compose yourself.

— It was nothing. It didn't mean anything.

Alastor's smile widened.

— Oh… are you trying to convince me or yourself? — his tone was a venomous whisper, dragging you deeper and deeper into a game you had everything to lose.

— You ran away that time.— he continued, his grip on your chin loosening just enough for you to speak.— But… haven't you ever really wondered why?

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out.

Because the truth was devastating.

Yes, you had thought about it. You had felt something that day. Something you were terrified to accept in the present.

Inside you, the battle was merciless.

Denial.

You clung to it tooth and nail, looking for any excuse, any justification for what had made sense that day.

Intrigue.

That was it. Simple curiosity in the face of someone who seemed different.

Stupidity.

Yes, a passing foolishness. A moment of weakness in a new, chaotic world in which you were still learning your way around.

But not love.

No desire.

No… that.

But the more you dug into the memories, the more the barriers you had so painstakingly erected fell away.

You remembered how you spent weeks in a state of uncertainty, with anticipation growing in your chest every time you went out, hoping - without daring to admit it - to find again.

And there, in the bitterest depths of your soul, the truth waited patiently for you to accept it.

But not here .

Not in front of it.

Fury flared in your gut and, with a spark of courage, you summoned all your strength and pushed him with both hands.

The move wasn't enough to send him away, but it did send him staggering back a few inches.

You, on the other hand, crashed backwards against the bar, feeling the edge dig into your skin.

The air left your lungs in a sharp gasp as your hands shook at your sides.

— Go away. — The words came out harsh, laden with a panic you didn't want to show.— I will not do this to my husband.

Alastor remained in place, watching you with an intensity that made you feel naked, exposed.

But he doesn't move.

— Forget this whole damn circus and get out.

Your voice echoed in the room, but instead of an immediate response, there was a silence.

A different one.

One that didn't belong to Alastor.

It was in your own chest that you felt it first: a tremor.

Not in your hands, not in your legs.

In your heart.

And when you looked up again, you noticed it.

For the first time, Alastor wasn't smiling completely.

There was something subtle in his expression, something imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him.

But you saw it.

His refusal to accept your rejection.And then, without warning, he advanced with a single long stride.

You gasped for air.

His shadow covered you, and the distance between you shrunk to almost nothing.

It was then that he asked the unimaginable .

—Just one kiss.

Your eyes widened.

— What? — Disbelief cracked your voice. Alastor looked down at you, his eyes glowing like burning embers.

— A lasting kiss. A real one.

Your body tensed.

— And if we feel nothing…— he continued with a dangerous softness, — if this has all been an illusion, a foolishness… I will leave you alone.

His voice dropped a tone lower, like a promise.

— But if we get carried away….

He didn't finish the sentence.

He didn't need to.

The implication hit you like a punch in the chest.

— You're insane — you whispered, trying to keep your voice from shaking.

Alastor smiling, but not mockingly.

— Maybe.

You instinctively took a step back, but the bar was still there, preventing you from escaping.

Refusing was the only option.

But before you could open your mouth to refuse, you felt the touch of your hands.

Not on your face.

Not on your waist.

On your hands.

His fingers intertwined with yours in an unexpectedly delicate grip, and when you looked up, his eyes caught you completely.

There was no longer arrogance in them.

There was something else, something devastating, something you never expected to see in him.

Supplication.

The radio demon, with all his power, with all his overpowering presence, was begging you.

Without words, with his eyes, with his touch.

Your heart gave a brutal flip in your chest.

— Yes… —The word escaped your lips in a barely audible whisper, so fragile you could almost convince yourself you hadn't uttered it.

But Alastor heard it, and that was enough.

Alastor did not rush. He did not advance with the abruptness of one who takes what he desires without waiting for permission.

No.

He approached with exasperating slowness, measuring every inch he reduced between you, giving you the opportunity to flee.

But you don't move.

Don't look away from his gaze, even if the anticipation made you gasp, even if the air around you seemed thicker, suffocating.

Alastor noticed it all, your tense jaw, the slight quiver of your eyelashes, the sway of your chest as the air caught in your throat.

But you don't back down. And that sold your fate.

His hand rose parsimoniously, and the pad of his thumb brushed your lower lip with almost reverential gentleness.

The caress was light, barely a brush, but a violent shiver ran through you. You did nothing when his finger slowly probed it, as if he wanted to memorize its texture, its shape.

You did nothing when he pushed off it with a playful touch, just a slight tug that sent a tingle straight to your stomach.

And when he tilted his face and pressed a kiss against your lower lip, as delicate as a whisper… You closed your eyes.

Praying to whatever divine force that it would end there. That you didn't feel anything.

Because if you did…

If you really did…

You were going to end up in his arms.

But the universe was cruel, because the void he left when he turned away hurt you more than it should have.

You didn't have time to analyze it, because Alastor leaned in again. And this time, there were no distractions.

This time, he really kissed you.

It was soft, leisurely, almost lazy, as if he savored every second his lips moved over yours.

As if he was drinking in something long longed for.

Your fingers clung to the edges of the bar behind you, searching for something to anchor you to.

But when the kiss became firmer, when the heat of his mouth became an irrefutable reality, an instinct stronger than your reasoning took over.

You let go of the bar and, without realizing it, your fingers became entangled in his sack.

It was a minimal, almost insignificant action. But to Alastor, it was the equivalent of a match lighting a forest fire. Because the need exploded in his chest.

And the containment crumbled.

His hands slid to your neck, catching it firmly, and the gentleness of the kiss became something much more ravenous.

You opened your eyes, startled, trying to pull back, to speak, to do something.

But Alastor took advantage of the opening, sinking deeper, and his tongue slipped inside your mouth without warning. A choked moan formed in your throat, drowned out amidst the mess that was now the kiss.

There was no control.

There was no caution.

Only the sound of ragged breaths, soft gasps and the static electricity emanating from your skin.

A tingle ran through your entire body as his hands left your neck to wrap around your waist, drawing you hopelessly to him.

And you…

You didn't stop him.

In fact, it was quite the opposite. Because your arms found their way to his shoulders and you clung to him with the same desperation with which he was devouring you.

As if your life depended on it.

And worst of all… It's that at that moment, you felt like he really did.

The only thing that mattered at that moment was the heat.

The burning that spread through every corner of your body, every nook and cranny of your being, as the wet sounds of both lips colliding echoed through the air with an obsessive cadence. For him, those discordant notes were a heavenly melody, a symphony of desires fulfilled and temptations realized. But to you…

To you they were the sounds of decay, of the abandonment of everything you once thought you could be. They were obscene, the complete opposite of any standards you once thought important. And yet, who are you to define what is right or wrong in a place like this?

He kept moving over you, parting for an instant only to take over another spot on your face.

First, a warm, wet kiss on your cheek, followed by one on your chin, then on your cheekbone, leaving a sensation that added to the volcano burning inside you. Then a kiss on your eyelid, as if he wanted to seal you somehow, leaving a trail of fire on your skin.

And when he stopped on your forehead, he took you completely off guard. It was a soft, tender kiss… but the mixture of his warmth with his closeness made your legs wobble.

As soon as he could do this, he captured your lips again, leaving no room for doubt, the desperate need in his kiss burning hotter than any fire, every second consuming you insatiably.

Now, your hands didn't know where to go.

It was as if your whole body was in motion, touching what it could, clinging to what it found. Your waist. Your chest. His sack , which I had learned to want to feel in your hands. But your fingers didn't stop there, they slid down to her shoulders, running up and down her figure, searching for a stability that no longer existed.

Finally, your hands ended up in her hair, messy, intricate, and the desire to touch those deer ears, those details that only reminded you of her nature, became unbearable. You moved closer, wanting to sink your fingers there, to undo the only remnant of control left in him.

The thought of your husband… evaporated, almost as if it had never existed.

You don't think of him and you don't think of anything else either.

Because all there was at that moment was Alastor. His body, his presence, that electric tension that passed between the two of you, and the feeling that everything was so perfectly right . If you remembered nothing, if this was a new beginning, if Alastor was claiming to be the true lover in your life, you would feel that it could be true, no more questions needed to be asked.

This kiss… this was the only moment worth remembering, and the only truth you had left.

The last thing you remember, through the haze of arousal, is Alastor undressing you with delicate urgency, stripping you of every garment as if he were unveiling a work of art. And then, suddenly, you find yourself reclining on one of the leather seats, being fucked by him in such a delicious way that your moans burn your throat.

You don't know how many orgasms he has brought out of you, but you know you are overstimulated by the violent trembling in your legs and the pleasurable pain your pussy is suffering.

Your moans rise in intensity, tearing through the silence as Alastor rams you with unbridled passion. It's too much for you, that your voice shoots out with a plea.

It's a slow, exquisite torture. You feel the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, that sweet spot where all your nerves converge, and a choked cry escapes your lips. It's a pleasurable pain, an electric shock that makes you buck under his touch, feeling every cell in your body explode in an explosion of sensations.

— There? You like that, don't you? — Alastor whispers, his voice throaty and loaded with a possessiveness that makes you shudder. — You like it when I fuck you like that?

— Yes, there… M-more…— you hiss in a broken, shattered voice, tears in your eyes.

You open your eyes, your gaze lost in the haze of excitement. The world is reduced to him, to the intensity of his dark eyes and the way his body completely dominates you. Fear tries to creep into your thoughts, but pleasure is an unstoppable tide that drowns him mercilessly.

You lunge again like a madman, possessed by your own pleasure, arousal drenches you both and the smell of sex wafts through the room. And the wet sounds force you to roll your eyes back and paint them white.

Alastor, intoxicated by your surrender, watches you as he makes you his. A primal instinct overcomes him and, with a nimble movement, he shifts position. Now he takes you with abandon, with an unbridled ferocity that steals your breath.

He wants to see you cry with pleasure, to see you lose control completely. He demands it of you with words and actions, praising every moan, every spasm, every sign of your surrender. He kisses you voraciously, savoring your taste, and embraces you with a possessiveness that marks you as his own.

As he gazes at you, his eyes linger on your belly. An almost ravenous need invades him, and sharp words burst from his lips, "You're going to be the mother of my children," he exclaims in a throaty voice that runs down your spine. "You're going to be the sexiest mother in hell, sporting my seed."

And seeing that little bulge of his cock in your belly only slowly breaks the self-control he still thinks he possesses. And he grunts when he hears you moan, a long, choppy moan that seems so sweet to him.

Desire consumes him, the idea of procreating with you drives him crazy. Even though that is practically impossible in hell.

— Let me fill you. — he begs with a fervor that shakes you. — Let me sow my semen inside you and create a new life, a life that belongs only to us.

Sighs and low moans came from him as he uttered those words like a mantra, the climax approaching, so fragile you feel it inside you.

Melted and not really you, you look at him with tight eyebrows, clinging to the places of his thrusts and simply nod.

— Come… come inside me, please! — You cry out with heart-rending urgency, pleading for Alastor to bring you to the ultimate orgasm.

— Look at me, my love. — he hisses, his voice a dangerous purr, — watch me as I give you what you crave so much.

Alastor purrs, his static brushing against your skin and ruffling your hair. You, lost and sensing that at any moment you are both going to be finished, bite your lip trying to hold back the screams.

Alastor immediately notices this and leans in, a quick glance informing you what he's thinking.

— Scream… scream whatever you want, precious, just scream how good you feel, how good you take me… fuck — His voice came out raspy, demanding even.

Alastor, possessed by a perverse euphoria, grunts and gasps on you, each lunge a coup de grace against your last defenses. Your vision blurs, the world is reduced to him, to the heat, the salty taste of your own skin and the sound of your own pleas.

The climax hits you like a bolt of lightning. A torrent of heat and light bursts inside you, tearing apart any barrier that remained between you and him. You scream, a wild, primal sound, as your body contracts in uncontrollable spasms. Alastor roars over you, pouring his essence deep inside you, claiming you as his own.

When the aftershocks begin to subside, you find yourself staring into his eyes, your breath hitching, your body covered in sweat.

— You are perfect. — he whispers between gasps. 

As you both recover from your climax, Alastor couldn't help but grab the back of your neck, pulling your face to his to kiss you with a hungry fervor. You accepted the kiss in response, surrendering to the passion still seething between the two of you. And as you kissed, Alastor slowly withdrew from inside you.

The contrast between the wild way he had possessed you minutes before and the gentleness with which he was now extracting his erection was mesmerizing. You gasped as you felt the emptiness in your body, a pang of longing mixed with the satisfaction of the pleasure just experienced.

Alastor contemplated the mess you were now. Your flushed face, your skin covered in sweat and your body freshly sated by his lust gave you a wonderful glow. He let out a static-laden chuckle as he watched some of his cum slide down your thigh.

With his claw, he scooped up some of the substance and looked down at you, a mischievous smile curving his lips. You blushed even more at the sight of the semen on his claw, a tangible reminder of your intimacy.

— You shouldn't feel ashamed, cherie. —Alastor exclaimed, his voice echoing softly. — After all, we have already shared a very intimate moment.

You felt a faint spark of helplessness at his comment, but it quickly vanished as Alastor lifted you into his arms, as if you were a feather.

— I'll take you to a hot bath. — he said, his voice a warm whisper in your ear.— So you can relax and recover.

The aftercare Alastor was giving you melted your defenses, weakening the resistance you were still trying to maintain. Clinging to his neck, you accepted his offer, surrendering to his charm and the need to feel his closeness.

— You're amazing. — you whispered, your voice barely audible.— I don't know what you've done to me.

Alastor smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. As he carried you in his arms, you felt everything around you fade away.

In the depths of the pentagram city, a small establishment, an uncrowded place, was the ideal location for a meeting such as the one Alastor planned to have with his most promising associate

With a cup of tea in hand, he drank it neatly, savoring each sip as if it were the elixir of his victory. The sulphur-laden air and stale tobacco lent an aura of secrecy, a perfect setting for a meeting between men of his caliber.

The tinkling of the establishment's old bell resounded, marking your husband's arrival. Always punctual, always impeccable in his gait, he advanced with the confidence of a man who knows he is well received. He did not suspect, he had no reason to.

Alastor, with his perpetually stretched smile, received him with an elegant gesture. His mood was still high, his spirits renewed after the evening he had spent with you. He still savored the echoes of your presence, the memory of your skin, the timbre of your voice entwined with his on that special night.

— Alastor! — your husband exclaimed effusively, taking a seat across from him.— What a pleasure it is to see you again.

— And mine is even greater! — the demon intoned with his usual theatricality.— I'm glad to see you're still in one piece after your little excursion. I hope it was as… exciting as you imagined.

Your husband laughed, settling in with the ease of one who has good news to share.

— Oh, it was. From start to finish. Mercenaries, small-time demons, ambushes…— your husband exclaimed enthusiastically, pausing before continuing, —Violence at every turn, as expected. But you know what? It was all worth it.

Alastor tilted his head in mock interest, gently twirling the spoon in his tea.

— Ah, Yes? , And what did you find in the midst of such an odyssey?— he asked.

Your husband leaned forward slightly, and in one measured motion, pulled out a bundle wrapped in dark velvet. He held it reverently before unfolding the cloth and revealing his most precious find: a grimoire of infernal magic, its yellowed pages exuding a latent energy, its leather cover cracked and marked with symbols forgotten by time.

Alastor looks at the relic with a lopsided smile, interlacing his fingers on the table.

— Well, well… —he mused, slurring his words in his melodic tone.— It's not every day one stumbles upon a treasure like this.

— No, not every day. — agreed your husband with palpable excitement as he turned the pages with eager fingers.— But here it is. Lost magic, forbidden spells… and one in particular that changes everything.

Alastor did not react immediately.

He simply waited, letting the other man elaborate, let him drown in his own enthusiasm.

— One of these spells guarantees a conception in hell— he declared, his eyes glowing with a feverish intensity. — A pregnancy.

The silence that followed was almost imperceptible, a minuscule space of time in which the world seemed to hold its breath.

Alastor's smile did not fade, but something in his posture changed, a subtle tension in his jaw, a slight drumming of his fingers against the table.

— Oh… what a fascinating revelation,— he murmured with his usual sweetness, gently setting his teacup aside.— And tell me… who, exactly, will be the lucky one?

Your husband laughed with genuine warmth, oblivious to the storm brewing in front of him.

— Who else could it be? My wife.

Alastor felt the air grow heavy in his throat. The timbre of his laughter did not change, nor did the sharp glint in his eyes, but inside him, fury pulsed like a chained beast, clawing, wanting to escape.

No. Not yet.

Your husband continued to talk, rambling on about his love for you, about the future he planned by your side, about the miracle that was within his grasp. His enthusiasm was blinding. He didn't see the way Alastor settled into his seat, nor how the shadow of his smile took on a dangerous tinge.

And then, with absolute calm, the demon exhaled a sentence that split the conversation in two.

— I'm sorry, my friend… but. — said Alastor, his voice smooth as velvet, riddled with a steely edge. —…I fucked your wife.

The sound of his voice, though serene, felt like a thud against the table. Your husband stopped immediately. His words died in his throat, his face paled as if the blood had left him with a single jerk.

— Pardon? — he asked, a shaky laugh seeping between his lips.— I must have heard wrong… that was a joke, wasn't it?

Alastor didn't move. His smile was still there, relaxed, serene. His crimson eyes glowed with dark satisfaction, as if he enjoyed the bewilderment of the man in front of him.

— Dear colleague. — he whispered with a bone-chilling sweetness.— Do I look like someone who jokes?

The light of the establishment flickered over both men. The silence that followed the confession was thick.

Your husband, still incredulous, searched Alastor's face for some hint of mockery, a grimace that would disprove his words. But the demon only looked at him with that lazy and enchanted smile.

— No… — your husband muttered, his voice barely a choked whisper.— It can't be…

Alastor let out a light laugh, full of amusement, and leaned forward with his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers.

— Oh, but it can. — he crooned with delight.— And it was.

Your husband swallowed dryly.

— When? —His voice cracked slightly. — How?

The demon narrowed his eyes, his smile curving with pride.

— Ah, you want details? — he asked, with a venomous sweetness.— It's funny… I thought certain images would be overused in your mind.

Your husband's jaw tensed, but Alastor didn't stop.

— Although, if you insist…— he continued with mock innocence, stroking the rim of his teacup.— I might say it all began with the allure of loneliness. Poor soul, abandoned by her beloved on such a perilous travel… so, so far away. What was I to do but offer her a little company?

Your husband's eyes grew wide with horror as he realized the truth.

The travel.

The damn travel.

The letter the radio demon had sent him, with a destination that promised only advantages.

It was all Alastor's idea.

All this time, the whole odyssey, all the effort to find that grimoire… it had been nothing more than a distraction.

An excuse.

For the Radio Demon to get tangled in the sheets with you.

The chair slid back with a violent creak as your husband shot to his feet, his face flushed with anger, chest heaving with erratic breathing. He pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, while his other hand clenched into a fist, knuckles white with restrained force.

— How could you…! —he bellowed, his voice rasping with fury. — How dare you betray our alliance like this! To climb into bed with my wife!

Alastor did not flinch. On the contrary, he leaned back comfortably in his seat, raising an eyebrow haughtily.

— Betray the alliance? —he muttered, his tone overflowing with condescension. — I don't know why you're so surprised. After all… she's always been mine.

Your husband's blood boiled in her veins. But Alastor was only smiling. He was smiling as if he had already won.

Alastor brought the teacup to his lips with that infuriating grace of his, but before he took a sip, he dropped one last lunge.

— ¡Ah yes!, and actually…— he paused briefly, enjoying the anticipation on your husband's congested face.— It wasn't on the bed. It was on the couch.

The silence in the room was immediate.

For an instant, there was only the subtle tinkling of china as Alastor finally set his tea down on the wood with absolute serenity.

Your husband, however, felt the last strand of his self-control tear. The vein in his forehead pulsed violently before he let out a fierce curse, his voice so powerful that some of the demons present in the small room were startled.

Murmurs began to run through the patrons, some watching with morbid interest, others feigning indifference as their ears pricked up to catch every word.

— You damned bastard! — your husband spat, his chest rising and falling with furious breaths.

Your husband pointed a trembling finger at Alastor, his other hand clenched into a fist that rose as if at any moment he was going to hurl it at the demon.

— She's my wife!— he spat, rage exuding from every word.— As much as you have taken advantage of my absence, she is still my wife!

Ah, but those words…

Something bubbled up inside him, a dense, toxic emotion that began to seep into the atmosphere like a dark fog.

— Is that so? Your wife…— repeated the demon, his voice a silken whisper.

The teacup hovered in the air for a few seconds before disappearing in a distortion of static, as Alastor's silhouette began to change.

The lights of the place flickered, crackling with irregular frequency. His shadow, which until that moment had remained obedient under his feet, began to lengthen and twist, transformed into a creature with a will of its own.

Little flashes of his demonic form began to manifest themselves involuntarily: his smile, once playful, twisted into something sharper, more predatory; and his eyes, those glowing red eyes like burning spokes, crackled with barely contained rage.

— Ah… — he whispered, rising with an unsettling slowness. — No, no, dear friend….

— She… She's not yours. —he exclaimed, each syllable making the ground tremble beneath his feet.— She never was.

A flash of red and black flashed across his figure. The temperature in the place dropped sharply, and static electricity made the lights flicker with a sickly hum.

The murmuring in the room ceased. No one dared move.

And then Alastor bowed his head slightly, his smile curving into something that no longer looked human, but the ravenous grimace of a predator ready to feast.

— And now..—He uttered in a tone that was almost melodic. — I'm going to get rid of the nuisance.

Your husband barely had time to inhale before the shadows around him began to move.

The radio broadcast, transmitted from high above, echoed in every corner where Alastor's signal could reach. At first, only intermittent static could be heard, distorted like the wailing of a spectrum trapped between frequencies. Then, the screams began.

Heart-rending sounds echoed through the air, where the infamous red demon's radio broadcast was emitting a special edition.

Suffering permeated every note of that macabre symphony, and the listening demons shuddered, some with morbid pleasure, others with a visceral unease that made their skin crawl. But no one turned off the radio.

Alastor's distorted guffaws filtered into the transmission between each interval of screams, each word a mocking echo, a sadistic mockery of the fate of the wretch who had dared to defy him.

And the wretched victim had been your husband.

— What a… lovely evening, my friends! — He intoned enthusiastically, his voice buzzing with a hint of static.— Don't you think despair has such a… melodious ring to it!

More laughter. More pleading in the distant background, fainter and fainter.

Then silence, and then a click.

The program had come to an end.

In the demon's hands rested the grimoire.

His fingers ran over the ancient leather cover, feeling the dark energy emanating from the book. The mere presence of those pages, covered with infernal inscriptions, vibrated the air with a primal power, one he recognized all too well.

His red eyes glowed with keen interest. A spell of conception.

The idea was fascinating. In Hell, damned souls could not create life the way mortals could, but that book…that spell promised the impossible.

Could it be true?

Could there really be a being born of his essence, of his power?

A snap echoed in the air as he closed the grimoire with a firm movement. His fingers drummed on the cover as her smile widened with barely contained excitement.

Well…

There was only one way to find out.

And you… you would be the perfect person in his little experiment.

___________________

Oh god, I still don't forget this series of stories, misfortunes consumed my time and at last I can upload this work. I am sorry forever. T.T

[starlightshadowsworld]

No because had I gone into Bungou Stray Dogs knowing a member of the Port Mafia was in the Agency.

I would’ve assumed it was Kunikida.

First chapter Atsushi tries to run off when the tigers mentioned. To which Kunikida pins him down with his hands behind his back.

And says you can pay for this meal with your arm.

Dazai had to calm him down. Telling him that hey the President said no injuring anyone during these interrogations.

As if he was Kunikida’s handler.

His backstory is so deliberately vague and seemingly too perfect. It’s just enough to defuse suspicion but we know nothing else about him.

And I can see a world where Dazai makes himself the mystery guy to make himself the focus in this situation.

Katai, his best friend is a hacker.

He has a lot of knowledge and experience with using firearms and explosives.

Akutugawa respects him.

The Agency all fought the Black Lizard but Kunikida was the main person fighting Hirotsu. You know the leader of the highest ranked team in the Port Mafia.

The entire Azure Messenger arc being like hey Kunikida has the potential to be the great threat we’ve ever faced.

He’s broken the law several times without issue.

And Jouno, a former criminal executive finds a kindred spirit in him.

Like the pieces are all there I would’ve believed it. If anything I could’ve seen Dazai as the former teacher from how he spoke to Atsushi to begin with.

I dunno how to explain it but it’s giving Korosensei from Assassination classroom.

So yeah as far as the beginning goes if I went in not knowing anything but hey this reformed bad guy in the Agency.

My money would’ve been on this delinquent right here.

[charlieaboveandbeyond]

hear me out: OctoKids special episode

starring: Koshi, Pinto, Periwinkle, Orson and Ursa

I need the kids to have a spotlight for an episode. I need them to band together on an adventure and be pushed out of their comfort zone and essentially act as a mini version of the crew

It would be set primarily in somewhere like the Himalaya Mountains - huge environment, massive species diversity, lots of potential for a special episode

"Hey, Koshi, do you reckon you could fly the OctoRay?"

"Uh, no?"

"But your sister can! And it can't be that hard, right?! :D"

"Pinto, I'm not - "

"Didn't Donna Doxi fly a plane once?"

"..."

They indeed tried to fly the OctoRay.

This did not go well.

SO. Now the kids are stuck in the Himalaya Mountains with no OctoRay and damaged OctoWatches. I'm picturing Koshi & Pinto taking the lead, as the two Junior OctoAgents of the group - they lowkey give off Barnacles & Kwazii vibes (caring confident leader & daredevil lieutenant) and I'm here for it.

Between them, I'd reckon they'd have quite a good knowledge of survival skills: Koshi & Pinto have OctoAgent training, Periwinkle goes to Otter Scouts, and Orson and Ursa are Polar Bear Scouts. They can survive in the wild until they're rescued, right?

(Meanwhile, back on the Octopod)

("Captain, it appears the OctoRay has gone rogue")

("Hey, Captain, have you seen Pinto?")

("Actually, that's a good point, Peso, I haven't seen Periwinkle for a while")

("Let me ask Koshi, I'm sure she'll know, they were playing hide and seek together the last time I checked")

("Anything?")

("Would you like the good news or the bad news, Captain?")

("Uh...")

("The good news is that all the kids are together. Koshi, Pinto, Peri, Orson and Ursa.")

("...what's the bad news?")

("They took the OctoRay and it crash-landed somewhere in the Himalayas.")

("the F [censored because it's a kids' show]?!")

Back to the Himalayas!

I think this episode would be focused on the kids employing their shared skillset to survive out in the wild.

Do they encounter tigers? Absolutely.

Do the tigers think they're food? Also absolutely.

What I would especially love to see in an episode like this, in terms of character arcs:

Koshi becoming the de-facto leader. She's been shown in A&B to almost mimic some of Barnacles' mannerisms, her sister is the captain of the OctoRay, she spends a LOT of time around people in leader roles and it's bound to rub off on her. Whilst I'd love for some Donna Doxi references, I'd almost want her to not slip into her mystery-solving mode? This time, SHE'S the mystery, SHE'S the one who's lost, and she has her friends to look after and I think she'd do a great job.

(But because it would be a special-length episode, there's almost certainly a side plot for the gang to help a nearby creature with something - a missing friend, perhaps?)

Also, Pinto gets some great character development in A&B, and it would be reflected in this special. Peri, Orson & Ursa are younger than him and Koshi, and whilst their own skillsets are invaluable, I think they're more likely to be thrown off by this new situation? Pinto would be an AMAZING older brother figure to them, keeping them distracted with fun activities and games whilst keeping an eye on them.

Also. Koshi telling them all stories around a campfire. That's it, that's the whole scene.

I'm gonna be honest this sounded way better in my head, but I had to share what I had with the world, so ya, let me know what you think :D

[gingernut1314]

Playing House ch. 7

Summary: Toji has been away for three days, and on the fourth he comes back

Content: female reader, pre-star plasma vessel, reader is the cousin of Mamaugro, reader is Tsumiki's mom, Tsumiki and Magumi are cousins, gendered terms, grief/mourning, definition of a toxic relationship, flirty Toji, Toji interacting with Tsumiki

Word Count: 3.3K

Tag list: @needsleep3000 @onebatch--twobatch @heeknow

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Three days.

Toji had been gone for three days. 

Three whole days you spent wondering if he had just used this mysterious job of his as an excuse to run away. 

You had been surprised, with the way he’d hardly seemed to care for his son, that he had stayed for as long as he had. Surprised he’d allowed you to boss him around and demand things of him…but you supposed it was only to keep you from seeing the plans he was making to leave. 

The only thing that kept the smallest bit of faith lit in your mind that he would come back was the fact he had left his number on the fridge. You weren’t so sure people who made it a habit to run away left numbers…your cousin sure as hell hadn’t left any new number when she’d left and you didn’t blame her for it.

But Toji? 

You stared at that number for hours on morning number one of Toji being away. Had reluctantly plugged it into your contacts and tried to shove it out of your mind. To shove his being gone out of your mind, of which you failed miserably.

You used this time to complete your task of cleaning the rest of the townhome. You cleaned the bathrooms, the living room. You sweeped, mopped, and vacuumed the floors. You wanted to tackle that room full of boxes but…you found yourself not able to even open the door, knowing the boxes were full of things that might only hurt you. 

So you went downstairs and washed the pile clothes Toji’d left in one of the armchairs. While they had dried on the clothesline outside, you braved going into the master bedroom. 

Tsumiki was hot on your heels and so you enlisted her in helping you move one of the side tables from in this room all the way downstairs. She mainly helped keep the drawers shut while you did all the heavy lifting, but you two managed to get it downstairs and set up in the living room. 

It didn’t match any of the future down here, but if Toji was insistent on using it as his bedroom, his clothes needed to go somewhere that was not in a pile. You even found a basket in one of the clothes you put his blankets and pillow in.

And on the dawn of the fourth day, Toji was still gone and you started to stare long and hard at the number in your phone. 

Would he even answer if you texted him? Called him? 

You were sure contact was on an emergency based need but…the townhome was so clean now. You found yourself wanting to rub it into Toji's face. You made breakfast and you found yourself waiting to snap at him for trying to grab a bite. 

What the hell was wrong with you? You’re mind hissed and you found yourself agreeing, shoving your phone into your back pocket and going about collecting your children to head for the store again. 

You needed a stroller and car seat for Megumi, things you couldn’t for the life of you find within the townhome and knew in your gut probably had been tossed or left to rust somewhere by Toji. 

The trip didn’t take too long, and soon Megumi was chilling in the cheapest stroller money could buy, car seat set up in your car, and Tsumiki nibbling on a cup of jagariko as you walked back home. The weather was nice enough, despite the coming winter, so you didn’t make a rush to get back to that stuffy townhome. 

You had just snagged a potato stick from Tsumiki’s cup, your daughter happy to share, when you caught sight of the girl from across the street. She was walking with a woman you assumed just off first glance, was her mother. 

“You mean the daughter of that nagging bitch?” Toji’s words rang through your head. 

She looked nice enough…Toji just disliked other people.

“Hi, Ms. Fushiguro!” The girl, Emi, waved your way. You waved and greeted her back, hoping that would be the end of the interaction, but to your disappointment her mother started crossing the street over to you. Emi gave a tight smile at this too, but followed. 

The woman introduced herself as Emi’s mother, before turning her eyes onto Megumi and Tsumiki. “Such beautiful children.” She praised, giving Tsumiki a small wave she shied at. 

“Thank you.” You smiled as best you could, Tsumiki glancing at the woman, then to Emi before rushing off around the stroller to hold Megumi’s chubby little hand. “She’s a bit shy.” You explained.

“I understand. Emi was just as shy.” Emi seemed a bit annoyed at this but gave a pleasant little chuckle. “What a shame it was, what happened to the little one's mother.” Your heart froze at the mention of your cousin. 

“Uh--yeah.” You swallowed. “I hav--”

“And you must be her sister then? You look so much like her--well…your complexion is a bit different…nose too.” She continued, giving you no time to speak or even think of an excuse to leave. 

“She’s my--was my cousin.” The correction only made that hurt swell in your chest like some fucked up ballon. She gave a slow nod as if that cleared up her nitpicking of your features. 

“So kind of you then, to come here for the little one.” Her eyes found yours again. Kindness looked oh so fake in them. “She got so sick so quick, your cousin. I tried my best to help, oh but that brute wouldn’t let anyone see her towards the end. Kept her locked in that house. No visitors. No doctors.” She gave a pathetically fake saddened shake of her head. 

You didn’t even know how to begin to process what she was saying to you. Why she would be saying this to you. 

How much of it was real? How much of the truth was twisted? How much was really real?

“That man is bad news, dear. No sense of respect. Your cousin was so kind. Always said hello and spoke with me. Not a good match, if I may say so. She had so much potential.” Emi gave a warning to her mother but already you felt the tips of your fingers grown ice cold. Felt your stomach fall and jolt like you might throw up. 

Because suddenly you were back in that kitchen in your former home, surrounded by your mother and aunts and grandmothers and other family that had no right to talk to you about your beloved cousin. 

“She was a slut. It’s no surprise she ran off with him. Throwing her life away like that, what a shame.” 

Speak no evil.

Don’t challenge their truths. Don’t defend her. Don’t speak and you would save yourself the verbal lashing. 

Tsumiki must have come to your aid because she was tugging at your hand as if to pull you away but--you wanted to run away. You wanted to defend your cousin but--but you couldn’t speak. Couldn’t unclench your jaw. 

“If you need help, dear, just--”

“Help with what?” A smoothly deep voice gruffed in your ear. 

Toji. That was Toji’s unbothered voice. 

He was back and yet you couldn’t even turn to look at his face. 

Speak no evil. 

Speak no evil.

Speak no evil. 

“Oh…Toji. I was just telling her how I noticed you had left her all on her lonesome. Was just offering up my help with those sweet babies if she needed it.” Emi’s mother said in an almost-hidden sneer towards Toji. 

“Slut. Whore.” 

“He’s in a gang. She must have joined too.” 

“Monster. Beast of a man.” 

Don’t speak a word. Keep quiet. Maybe they’ll stop. 

“Nah. You’re kids been helpin’ out.” Toji said. Tsumiki yanked at you arm again, trying to get you to move but--cruel, burning eyes bore holes into your skull and you couldn't stop them. 

“Yes…I’m just surprised you're back, is all. Did any of the animals you bet on win this time?” Toji gave a huff in amusement.

“Haven't been in a minute. I’ll be sure to have your husband tell ya…hell maybe that old bastard and I’ll go in on a bet together.” Emi’s mother’s thin lips pressed even thinner. 

“Horrible.” Was all she said before storming off. Emi gave you a quick apology before rushing off too. 

“Told ya she was a nagging bitch.” Toji gruffed. You saw him come into view then as he started for the townhome just down the street and yet--

You were still stuck. 

Still stuck there, in that kitchen. 

Stuck feeling utterly powerless.

Tsumiki called for you, but when you didn’t respond, she knew something was wrong. She remembered when you weren’t feeling good like this before. Remembered she had to go find help because nothing Tsumiki had done had done anything. 

Tsumiki gave a small whimper as her eyes looked toward Megumi’s dad, hands in pockets and walking off. 

He was not nice. He said mean things to you and had tried to hurt you…but he was the only one Tsumiki knew and the new babysitter was too far away. 

So, just how she had to be brave when it came to comforting Megumi, she had to be brave and help her mom now. 

She let go of your hand and rushed off toward Megumi’s dad. She grabbed at his arm and pulled as hard as she could to get him to stop.

When he looked down at Tsumiki, she felt goosebumps prick over her arms. 

He looked scary. Like some monster. Like a bad guy…but you needed him.

“Shit kid--what the hell is up with you?” He asked, pulling his hand from his pocket to yank Tsumiki off of him. But Tsumiki was determined. She jumped as high as she could and grabbed for his hand.

“Mama she--” His eyes narrowed in confusion, but he didn’t pull away from her again. “Mama’s not feeling good.” He looked away from Tsumiki to look at you. To find you hadn’t moved a muscle. Saw you looked ashen and too tense. 

Megumi’s dad pulled from her hold again but he walked back towards you, instantly making Tsumiki feel okay. She was quick to follow after.

Toji said your name. 

You hadn’t even realized he knew what your name was, but here he was using it. 

“First your damn kid and now you, huh? Somethin’ happen while I was gone?” Toji asked, coming to a stop before you. He watched you as you fought to say something back, only a choked noise bubbling in your throat. “That old hag really got under your skin. Shit.” He sighed, giving his head a scratch as he assessed the situation. “I’ll push this, you just walk.” He moved around you as he spoke.

Rough hands peeled your own hands from the stroller handle. You watched through tunneled vision as one hand grabbed to push the stroller and the other grabbed for your upper arm, pulling you along. 

“So you’re not gonna welcome me back?” Toji asked as Tsumiki jogged a bit ahead, brown eyes watching you in sharp worry and fear. 

“Y-you--” You had to all but wrestle with your tongue and lips and teeth to answer. “Really a-are a dog.” Toji gave a sharp laugh at your words. 

“Shit. You’re frozen as hell and you’re still up my ass.” You felt your body slowly release its hold on you. Slowly feel your vision widen and shallow breath even out. 

“If I don’t, who will?” You said in a rush of breath. 

“I'd finally get some peace and quiet if you didn’t.” You became painfully aware of his hand on your arm. Of the warmth it radiated through your skin--of the calluses and scars that roughened it.

You didn’t push him away, as you might normally do. Not when you were still coming down from the horrors your mind conjured up and resurrected. When, despite your better sense, him being back around you had your body easing. 

Not when his guiding hand felt too good. Made you all but forget about the flash freeze that had taken hold of you.

You all came to the townhome and he let go of you then, but you were finally feeling okay again so you didn’t mind. You went about grabbing Megumi from his stroller and tried to manhandle the strolling down, but Toji cut in when you nearly toppled over it. He made quick work of folding it down and even went as far as to carry it inside. 

The change was--startling. The help without a fight. 

You…enjoyed it. Enjoyed it even when you knew it wasn’t something to get used to. 

Tsumiki grabbed your hand and you two went into the house together. 

“You get rid of my things?” Was what Toji greeted you with as you closed the door behind you. He stood in the small entrance way, looking over the picked-up living room. 

“No, but it was an eyesore. It’s all in there. Everything’s clean.” Green eyes found yours, distrust high in them.

“What’s the catch?” Toji asked as you moved past him. 

“What, I couldn’t just do it out of the goodness of my heart?” You made your way into the living room to grab Megumi's play mat. You laid it out and placed him stomach down. Megumi gave a huff. You knew he wasn’t the type to particularly like tummy time, but he needed it. 

Toji gave a huffed laugh, “Hell no. You want something.” You settled yourself down on the ground before Megumi, legs criss-crossing before you reached for his downstairs toys you kept in a basket under the coffee table. 

“I have no problem playing house if you keep working.” You shrugged, picking a collection of connected multi-colored rings from the basket to dangle Megumi’s way. He huffed again, cubby hand reaching for the rings but just missing. 

“Playin’ house.” Toji repeated. You heard him begin walking around, come to a stop, and then the airy swoosh of the fridge door opening. Glass rattled and you knew he was grabbing for one of the beers you had bought for him while he had been away. “That what we’re doin’ here?”

“I guess it is.” You said. Megumi reached for the colored rings again and captured one between his fingers, non-existent brows furrowing in concentration as he tugged at them.

“Juice?” You heard Tsumiki ask timidly. You looked around to find her standing just before the line where carpeted floor turned into the tile of the kitchen. She wasn’t looking your way, but Toji’s. 

It--surprised you. Had you holding your breath to see what would happen. Tsumiki had been so scared of him this whole time…so quick to rush and hide away from him so…what had changed?

Toji gave her an annoyed look, brows furrowed and one raised. “You askin’ me for juice?” He gruffed, fridge door still open.

“Please?” You saw her put on her biggest puppy dog eyes. A look that almost always broke down your defenses and had you giving into whatever she was asking for. 

Toji stared right back as if the two were having their own battle of wills.

“God--where the hell is it then?” Tsumiki was quick to skip into the kitchen, disappearing from view behind the counter. Toji leaning down, reaching into the fridge for one of the juice boxes at its back. 

“Here--what? You can’t open it yourself--geez. Shit--give it here.” Toji stood to his full height and you found the green juice box in his hand, thick fingers making quick work of getting the plastic straw out of its wrapper and stabbing it through the foil-covered hole at its top.

You really couldn’t get used to this. Shouldn’t even let his actions today make you feel--at ease. Shouldn’t let them trick your mind into seeing what your cousin saw in him but…he was making it very hard today. 

He seemed…better. Like going back to work had helped lighten him a bit. Like getting out of the house, doing something other than drowning his sorrows away, had been greatly needed. 

Your daughter came bounding over, juice box in hand and a pleased little look on her face. She patted your shoulder in passing before crouching next to Megumi, whose head wobbled a bit as he turned to look at her drinking her juice. 

“When’d you get wine?” Toji asked, still having not left the kitchen. Green eyes found yours again and you felt your stomach give a flopping jolt. 

“While you were gone.”

“Yours?” 

“Yes, so don't even think about drinking it.” Toji held his free hand up in surrender. 

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it.” His eyes scanned over your features slowly. Too slowly. So slowly you began to feel too hot. “Want a glass?”

Drink with him?

That felt…too comfortable. Like having a drink with him was the equivalent to giving in to--to whatever the hell was going on. 

“No.” Toji raised a brow.

“Thought we’re playin’ house. The mommy and daddy drink together.” Humor laced his every word.

“Well the mommy still has to make dinner.” That wolfish grin pulled over his lips as you spoke. Like he really enjoyed you playing along. 

Not that you could disagree. You’d come to miss the fighting--the teasing and back and forth as psychotic as you felt feeling like that. 

You were letting him win you over and you didn’t know how to stop. 

“And wash the babies, put them to bed, and get ready for my first day of work tomorrow.” You finished, turning away from Toji then, finding you couldn’t look at him for any longer then you had. 

“Party pooper.” You gave a small shake of your head as the fridge door shut. You heard the pop of he opened his beer and then his footsteps coming into the living room. 

Something fell into your lap, making you jump slightly and Tsumiki squeeze her juice box a little too tight, liquid falling to the floor. 

It was a white envelope. Thick. Like a brick. 

“What is this?” You questioned, grabbing up the heavy envelope. You eyed Toji up as he moved around the babies before flopping down on the couch with a great grunt. 

“Take a look.” You hesitated, mind racing a mile a minute as you thought over endless possibilities as to what it was. 

Green filled your vision. 

Green upon green upon green. 

Money. And lots of it. 

“You said my role as daddy was to pay the rent. That should cover about three months.” Your eyes found his wolfish ones as he took a long swig of his beer. Eyes that tracked the bob of his Adam’s apple as he drank deeply--as some spilled over his lips and down his sharp jaw.

The sight made you all fidgety.  

“Are you in a gang?” You asked bluntly. Toji gave a barking laugh, wiping his face with the back of his hand. 

“Gang? That’s the best you could come up with?” You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“This money, it’s--drugs then?” Toji shook his head as he reached for the remote on the coffee table. 

“Nope.” He clicked the tv on. “I thought you didn’t care where I worked as long as the bills were paid.” 

Emerald green eyes found yours again. Dark, dangerous eyes that had your heart freezing. Had a shiver run sharply down your spine and spread through your thighs.

“I don’t.” 

“Then take the money,” He got comfy on the couch, finger lazily clicking through the channels. “And don’t ask questions.”

Speak no evil. 

Don’t question it. Save yourself the trouble. The hurt.

Speak no evil…

“Put on channel 200. I want to watch my show.” You found yourself saying. Toji gruffed at this request, but still did as you asked.

“It better not be some love-sick shit.”

<- Previous | Next ->

[sowhatwereyousaying]

A Promise

summary: After a drunken night out, you accidentally kiss South Korea's biggest playboy, Gong Yoo—who recently vowed on live TV to marry the next person who kissed him.

warnings: age gap (reader is in their 20s and gong yoo is in his 40s);

I should have stopped at two tequila shots.  

But no. My best friend, Mia, had convinced me that I needed to "live a little"—which meant drinking like I was celebrating a lottery win, dancing like an unhinged maniac, and somehow… accidentally kissing Gong Yoo, one of the most handsome man in all of South Korea

Yeah. That happened.

The Night It All Went Down

The night had started innocently enough. My friends and I were celebrating Mia’s promotion, and we ended up at VERA, one of the hottest clubs in Seoul. It was packed with celebrities, influencers, and people with perfect faces who didn’t seem real.  

At some point between shot number three and shot number… too many, I lost track of my surroundings. All I knew was that the music was pulsing, my head was spinning, and I felt unstoppable.

That’s when I saw him.  

Gong Yoo.  

Sitting in the VIP booth, dressed in all black, his sharp jawline and devastating smirk catching the flashing lights of the club. He looked exactly like he did in the tabloids—sinful, dangerous, and ridiculously hot.

And in my tequila-clouded brain, I had the most spectacularly bad idea.

"I’m gonna kiss him," I announced to Mia.  

She choked on her drink. "What?! No, you're not!"  

But it was too late.  

Fueled by liquid courage (and zero common sense), I marched up to the VIP section, ducked under the rope, ignored the confused security guard, and planted myself right in front of Gong freaking Yoo.

He was mid-conversation with some idol when I stumbled forward, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him.

And not just a quick peck—oh no.  

I kissed him like I meant it.  

For two whole seconds, the world stopped. His lips were warm, soft, and completely still. I vaguely registered the sound of gasps, the flash of cameras—  

And then, suddenly, he kissed me back.  

His hand slid against my waist, his lips moved against mine, and my brain basically malfunctioned.

Then reality smacked me in the face.  

I pulled away with a gasp, realizing what the hell I just did.

Gong Yoo blinked at me, then tilted his head, looking entirely too amused. "Well, that was unexpected."  

My heart plummeted as the entire VIP section burst into chaos.  

Phones were out. People were shouting. Security was stepping in. And then Mia’s voice **screamed through the noise—**  

"OH MY GOD, WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!"  

The Morning After

I woke up with the worst hangover of my life and three hundred missed notifications.

The internet had lost it's mind

DIG INTO THE LIFE OF THE MYSTERY WOMAN WHO STOLE GONG YOO'S HEART?!

WHO IS THE WOMAN THAT KISSED GONG YOO—AND WHY DID HE KISS HER BACK?!

GONG YOO LAST ROMANCE? STAR DECLARES HE’LL MARRY THE NEXT PERSON WHO KISSES HIM—IS THIS IT?!  

I groaned, pressing a pillow over my face. No. No, no, no, no. 

This was bad. Really bad.

I barely had time to process it before someone knocked on my apartment door. 

Mia poked her head in. "Um…good morning?"  

"What?" I groaned.  

She pointed over her shoulder. "You… have a guest."  

I frowned, dragging myself out of bed and stumbling toward the door. The second I opened it, my stomach plummeted.

Gong Yoo stood there.  

Looking very smug.

I panicked. "Why are you here?!"  

He leaned against the doorframe, his smirk deepening. "Well, sweetheart, you kissed me. And I don’t break my promises."  

I blinked. "What promise?"  

His eyes sparkled with amusement. "The one I made on live TV last week."  

Oh no.  

No, no, no.  

The interview.  

I had seen it. The entire world had seen it.  

Gong Yoo, a notorious playboy, had gone on The Late Night Show and declared to millions of viewers, "The next person who kisses me? That’s it. That’s the one. I’ll marry them. No more games."  

My blood ran cold.

"Gong Yoo," I said, voice barely above a whisper. "That… was a joke, right?"  

He grinned. "Nope."  

I gasped. "But I was drunk! It was an accident!"  

He shrugged. "Doesn’t change anything. A promise is a promise."  

I stared at him in absolute horror.

This couldn’t be happening.  

I was a nobody. A broke nobody. I worked a boring marketing job, I had student loans, and the most exciting thing in my life was my cat, Mr. Pickles.  

Meanwhile, Gong Yoo dated supermodels and lived in mansions.  

This wasn’t real.

He must have seen the panic on my face, because he sighed, crossing his arms. "Okay, fine. Look. I know this is sudden. But the media already thinks we’re engaged."  

I stiffened. "So?"  

"So," he continued smoothly, "if we break up now, I look like a liar. And you’ll be the girl who 'broke my heart' and ruined my big vow. The internet will eat you alive."  

Oh.  

Oh no.  

I swallowed. "What… are you saying?"  

His smirk returned. "I'm saying, sweetheart—" He leaned in closer, his voice low and dangerous. "You're stuck with me now." 

a/n: I am extremely OBSESSED with this guy and honestly I just need him (sorry). This is my first attempt at writing fanfic, and honestly, it was inspired by a random story I read a few weeks ago. I had a lot of fun with this and am honestly happy with how it turned out, and I hope you liked this too. This one is pretty unrealistic and the opposite of how gong yoo actually is seen (ig) but honestly very fun.

also thanks to @dyingswanpavlova for inspiring me to write my own after reading their absolutely wonderful Your Girl series which you can read here, I forgot where the header is from, but if it's from you, please let me know, I'll mention yall <3

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my February 2025 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Wildflower by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (112k)

“You look like a wildflower,” Louis comments, shielding his eyes from the sun, the crinkles near them even more prominent in this light.

“What?” Harry’s words stumble over a surprised laugh.

“With your hair all fluffy like that.”

Harry’s fingers automatically find their way into his hair as he silently curses the humidity out on the water.

“He kind of does, doesn’t he?” Elizabeth adds.

Louis tilts his head to the side, smile softening and blurred around the edges. “Our very own long-stemmed wildflower.”

-

or: a 1950s hollywood story spanning half a decade where harry and louis are constantly growing towards, away from, & around each other and everything harry wants are things he can’t have.

Through Eerie Chaos Series by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics (103k)

Through Eerie Chaos (102k) For as long as anyone can remember, Old Hillsbridge Manor has always been believed to be haunted. Everyone in the village agrees and keeps a respectful, fearful, distance. New in town after a bad breakup and an internship that led to disappointment rather than a permanent job, Harry Styles figures taking pictures of the decrepit building could be a great new creative project. Or at least a much-needed distraction while he searches for a job and crashes at his parents’ new house. No one warned him about the apparitions though; about the music, the laughter, the people who flicker and vanish when you call after them, the echoes of a past that should be long gone… Harry has never believed in spirits but even he can admit that there’s something weird going on. What starts as mere curiosity evolves into a full-blown investigation and soon enough, Harry finds himself making friends with an aristocrat from the 1920s and struggling with finding the best way to tell him that he’s dead. The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process. Peace In Your Arms (1k) The happily ever after ...

I Could Fall In Love With You by tippitytap / @tippitytap (55k)

If Louis were asked to describe Harry's role in his life, the answer would have always been quite simple: best friend.

Since last year, the answer might have also been: housemate and co-parent to the cats.

What Louis didn't think would ever happen was that the answer would one day change to: the man he was falling deeply in love with.

or: Right at the beginning of a nationwide lockdown might be the worst time to fall in love with your childhood best friend and housemate. But if Louis knew one thing, it was that Harry and he would always find a way through life together.

Carry This Feeling by Awriterwrites, dimpled_halo / @a-writerwrites (49k)

There’s something about Louis Tomlinson that makes Harry feel unhinged. It’s in the other man’s stare, in the way he looks at Harry like he knows he’s hiding something. Like he’s not really all he says he is.

Harry’s not so sure it’s fear he’s feeling. Maybe it’s something deeper. Ever since Louis walked into his house, he’s felt on edge. He’s just being himself after all, and that’s usually enough to get just about anyone to drop their pants. But...it’s clearly not working on Louis Tomlinson. It dredges up something oily and unpleasant inside Harry. He doesn’t like it.

He’s got to lock that shit down tight.

*** Harry knows, objectively, that he shouldn't try to get his ghostwriter into bed. He knows. But...he finds it hard to resist temptation when Louis waltzes into his home and his life and turns everything upside down. And, as it turns out, Louis might just need a little turning upside down too.

Salt in Your Wounds by Halos_Boat / @halohamilton (32k)

Harry and Louis have been with each other since university; together for almost a decade and married for seven years when their marriage starts to take a tumble.

Harry doesn't think there's anything worth saving anymore, so he leaves. Louis doesn't see the use of stopping him, so he let's Harry go.

Beige by blueskiesrry / @blueskiesrry (5k)

Harry finds it hot–he always does–the way Louis is so attentive, but he finds himself more drawn to Niall and Zayn, watching as the two of them whisper softly to one another, having their own conversation in the midst of the larger, group one, one of their hands coming up to run soothingly along the other’s thigh. It reminds him of him and Louis in their early days, so completely enthralled with one another, caught up in the novelty and freshness. There could be twenty people in a room, and he’d only have eyes for one.

He glances at Louis every now and again to see if he notices as well, and Louis watches some, but he mostly watches Harry.

 or: harry and louis are in love on valentine's day. louis pretends he hates it. they host game night for their friends.

Different Than You Do by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry (2k)

Louis and Harry have been friends for a little over four years. Louis has been in love with Harry for most of those years, even if he didn’t want to admit it at first.

What happens when he impulsively decides to tell him?

Don't Call Me Baby by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt (2k)

A short and cliché roommates AU inspired by To Be So Lonely, where they’re both oblivious to each other’s feelings and Harry gets sad and jealous over nothing. It works out in the end.

Happy Valentine's Day, You Cockroach by allwaswell16 / @allwaswell16 (2k)

Harry Styles, new director of the Milltown Zoo, has a great idea for a Valentine's Day themed fundraiser. For a donation, they'll name cockroaches after people's exes and then feed them to the meerkats on a live stream. He just didn't foresee how many cockroaches would end up with his name...

[projectjasper]

Saw your post about Phuwin's new series... I am shocked to find out you are a fake heterophobe 💔 People never practice what they preach 😞

JFJKLGJFKGJKFG cannot believe i am being accused in such a manner...

let me be clear on my stance here:

a 12/16-episode cishet gmmtv series focused on romance <- boring, repetitive, has been done fifty million times this decade alone, the actors, resources, and time slots wasted could have easily gone to a ql instead: verdict - bad, shouldn't exist ❌

a 6-episode thriller netflix series focused on uncovering a mystery <- has the potential to be fresh and interesting, does not have any cookie-cutter cishet romance at its centre, would not guarantee me a ql even if it didn't exist: verdict - alright, allowed to exist ✅

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Recently extinct species make me sad for all the usual and normal reasons (loss of life, biodiversity and unique life forms that experienced the world wholly uniquely and acted in it like no other, to name three), but a big thing that also makes me so sad is the forgetting that comes right after. Many endangered species are greatly ignored to begin with whilst alive of course, which is awful, but the way that extinction also causes us to forget. A species could’ve been so abundant a hundred years ago, people would’ve used a fish species or a tasty plant for food, or parents would’ve warned their children to not put a poisonous toadstool or insect in their mouth, a diver would exclaim, “Aha!” after emerging from the shallows holding an especially big bivalve, or someone making a species diary would sketch out a local bird or fasten a single flower to the page. But.. then the species goes extinct. It doesn’t exist anymore. None of these events, these actions happen anymore. Not with these species. The people who had these experiences dwindle out and they may not even realise that their experiences were among the last of their kind. And we forget.

[natjennie]

I already know I'm gonna be obsessed with falin's subversive version of haunting the narrative. as soon as I figure out what she has going on, I'm gonna be insane about it.

[ganondoodle]

got visually spoiled on the literally last thing i was still actively missing and working towards in totk but i dont think im gonna like it anyway ...

if it is what i think it is, and what it looks like to be, its just yet another nail in the coffin (or however you say that) as to why the lore sucks in this game even tho it had such good setup and so much potential

[velvetjune]

Spoilers for Alan Wake/Control games and DLCs: one of the things I really like in Alan Wake 2 is the confirmation that, no, Alan can’t create something out of nothing. There were implications in-story that supported that, but it was good to have that be a big part in the sequel. The AWE control dlc easily made it seem like Alan himself had a role in the events of the game and the formation of the FBC, and, personally, seeing it through that lens cheapened a lot of the game and Jesse’s story. Instead, having his writing influence the Hiss and try to manipulate (even out of desperation) Jesse/the FBC to end Hartman and get help, fit right into plot and conflicts of Alan Wake 2, with Alan being sympathetic, but also an asshole for trying to change and control people’s lives in his writing.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

oh hooray that this was reuploaded by the videographer

[silverselfshippingchaos]

I feel like I say this a lot, but I really don't want fandom blogs here 💀 not comfortable with that

[salt-baby]

I think the take-away from my near death experience is that I am simply unkillable