#this is very frustrating but also objectively silly

[pumpkinrootbeer]

I hate the fixation part of anxiety disorders, especially when it is something that in no real world will ever materially affect me in any meaningful way bc what do you mean I have spent the better part of three hours so anxious im nauseous over a hockey player *potentially* not resigning with a team. I have real boy problems too and my brain chooses this to get so fixated on I'm almost crying over it. I WANT TO BE NORMAL!!!!

[hplonesomeart]

He found out he’s not the highest rated anymore….isn’t taking it too well <<

[mumpsetc]

Not to forgivr III for anything but I think right now Bot’s in the middle-ish of finding themselves out? Like they talk with Floor about what they wanna be/look like, but they’re still messy on that front, and their arc in the future is about becoming mire solidly their own person

Though there is Some setup with Bot about them being notably courageous/“badass” with how they were the first person to approach the volcano, but imo that’s rather weak character writing. It’s like dumbing their personality down into “#girlboss, gender-unspecified robot coming of age edition”, with nothing of real substance to back that.

It’s like. I can see where this is going already- a sorta shallow, “finding yourself” type arc continuing through however many episodes that ends with Bot going home their own person, yay! It makes it so they can eliminate Bot anytime they want and still have a somewhat-satisfying narrative ending for them, y’know?

Good Point, They Do Still Have Some "Being a Person" to Figure Out Beyond Gender Stuff and Them Continuing to Do So Till They Can Be Neatly Eliminated Would Make Sense for the ii Crew. I Guess I'm Just Frustrated Because You Can Portray Someone In the Midst of Finding Themself and Have That Character Be Something. God You're Right Though Bot is Probably Just Gonna Become Generically Nice Generically Badass and All Complexity Their Character Could Offer Passed Over Because That Makes Them Less Epic Squee Adorable. I'll Be Surprised if They End Up With Any Negative Traits at All and Isn't Just an Uncomplicated Bastion of Good.

[mikaela-the-slut-expert]

If you do take requests at this moment, can I request a Hualian x GN reader where reader feels like the third wheel, and when Hualian look further into reader, they find out that reader is hurting themselves/trying to change in the way they look

That Hualian would baby reader, like take sharp objects out of arm’s reach, or spoon feed reader when it’s time to eat. Giving reader kisses and words of affirmation every time they’re around

Lol, I’m feeling very angsty, but if this request is a little too far, you don’t have to do it (I hope you’re doing great! Make sure to drink enough water!) 🥰

Shape Shifting Heart

HuaLian x gn!reader

Ignore grammar mistakes

Slight OOC

Made up looks about reader for plot

Tyyy Pepsi zero has become my hydration 😔🙏

Also I'm so sorry for disappearing but I've had like the worst few months of my life ever so 😃🙏 bear with me

____________________________________

Being with Xie Lian and San Lang is the best thing that has ever happened to you. There's so much love to go around with three people and everyone is always taking care of each other! So you never listened to people being hateful about it, whether that be other gods or ghosts. You guys are happy and that all that matters right?

What happens when all of you aren't happy, when it's just one person bringing down the mood and the whole relationship? That's how you've been feeling lately. You haven't been much use to Xie Lian and San Lang these days. Often, you've been curled up in bed and staying hidden under the covers. For what reason? They don't know. You won't talk to them, and while Xie Lian and San Lang pride themselves on knowing you inside and out they can't figure out what's wrong.

You can't tell them. It's kind of embarrassing, humiliating even. How do you tell your lovers, "I feel like the third wheel, I feel neglected and left out" to the two kindest people you've ever met. Everything you do seems to make it worse and you're trying your best so you don't understand why it seems to put your relationship more on edge.

You had honestly just wanted to sulk and pout for a few days in bed over something silly. When they stopped visiting the bedroom it became a problem. All you do is lie here so what could possibly have made them want to leave you alone? You aren't even doing anything to warrant them off! Xie Lian and San Lang easily coddle each other all the time so why don't they think to do it with you? They stopped coming to the shared bedroom, even going as far to sleep in another bedroom together, but by themselves without you.

It only made you feel worse, are you so depressed and off putting they don't want to be near you now? Sadness becomes frustration and it fuels you to get out of bed in what has been weeks. You leave the room disheveled and groggy hoping to find one of your lovers to receive some affection, to you it feels like you haven't had in forever.

You find them together in the kitchen, an awfully domestic scene. Xie Lian cooking dinner and San Lang attached by the hip. The way San Lang holds Xie Lian's waist and stays close while Xie Lian bustles around the kitchen. Where you had once been and would usually love to hear the sound of their laughs and love filled giggles all it sounds like is mocking joy of what you once felt. How many nights has it been like this? How many nights have they been content without you?

"Making dinner without me?" You pipe up, leaning against the kitchen counter. Making dinner is a silly thing to be upset about. A part of you feels awful for being so jealous but the other doesn't. It's not like you're jealous of San Lang or jealous of Xie Lian. You don't spite a specific person. You're just jealous of the love they share, of their bond. You're envious of their happiness, you just want to be included too!

"Ah, y/n!", Xie Lian gives a wobbly smile, "Of course not" Xie Lian didn't know how to bring up that they've been trying to give you space. He doesn't know how to say it in a way that would sound reasonable to you. These days you've been a little irritated and you easily take words they say but add a whole new meaning to it. They know it's not your fault, it's one of your episodes maybe.

No one moves. They don't know whether to extend a hand to invite you or not but you seem to take it upon yourself. You walk closer and stick right up to Xie Lian's and San Lang's side. The tension - you can't tell if you're imagining it or not, you've been imagining a lot these days - is thick. "Well I feel a little better so I'll join from now on, what are you making?" You try to make conversation, you try to move closer in hopes that the domestic scene will just continue.

It doesn't. The room is tense and so are your lovers. You hate it. It makes you want to lash out, cry, and scream. Xie Lian and San Lang seem to be walking on eggshells around you and you don't know why. You've never gotten angry with them before, you've never been violent or aggressive with them so why are they acting like you're a ticking bomb?

San Lang attempts to break the tense atmosphere first. Wrapping hesitant hands around your waist and nuzzling into your hair, hair he will not mention is a bit notty. "We missed you" he murmurs into your long, bright locs. "We're glad you feel better" this seems to get the night moving smoothly again. It's pathetic how quickly you melt into San Lang's touch and preen at his words. It finally feels like you're included in the domestic picture they make.

The three of you eat dinner and enjoy it, Xie Lian's cooking has been getting a lot better but that's probably because you and San Lang were in the kitchen to help him. You're filled with a deep satisfaction when Xie Lian gently grabs your hand and all of you go to your shared bedroom together. Xie Lian pulls you into bed and They cuddle up next to you under the covers, placing gentle kisses on your face and shoulders.

You feel suddenly energetic because of the affection you're receiving. Making you giggle and kissing them back with new found passion. You won't lie you guys haven't had sex in a while so. . . You easily climb on San Lang, and straddle his hips. Kissing him eagerly and nipping against his lips. They weren't expecting you to be so eager but who are they to deny you.

Xie Lian gets behind you and slips off your robe, running his hands over your body. Your back, arms, hips, and thighs- your thighs. Xie Lian's hands freeze, and moves his hands as if he's been scalded. The sudden movement catches San Lang's attention and he sits up but he keeps you in his lap. "Gege what's wrong?" San Lang stares at Xie Lian and suddenly all the attention is off you. Somewhere inside you, you feel a little miffed at Xie Lian's reaction.

But you're concerned too so you turn your head to your other lover with concerned eyes, however Xie Lian is the one staring at you with pity. He turns on the light and sits next to San Lang. "His thighs, San Lang. . ." You scrunch your face. Of course that's what Xie Lian reacted so strongly about. While you were rotting in bed you were feeling so down in the dumps. So- so maybe you took it out on yourself and used your sword on your own skin.

It's not that big of a deal, they're already healed and just remain thick scars across your thighs but it matters to your lovers greatly. They've explored your body many times, and they know these are new. "Baobei, what happened?" Xie Lian cups your face with gentle hands but you turn your head the other way. You're irritated the night has stopped over something so trivial. "Nothing important, I was just feeling upset a few weeks ago, it's trivial now. Can't we just- can we not focus on that?"

Your face is scrunched in irritation and you try to roll your hips against San Lang but he removes you from his lap and onto the silk covers. You groan in frustration. The night was going perfectly and now it's all messed up! San Lang's eyes narrow as he gazes over your legs, and you swallow nervously. "This isn't something we can just ignore Y/n. You know that. . . Let's stop here for tonight" If it were San Lang saying it you wouldn't have minded as much but it's Xie Lian.

Xie Lian loves San Lang's body even with the scars on it so why won't he love yours?! "We don't have to stop! Just- ignore it, would you please?! I can get rid of them, I can look like whatever you want me to be! " You never notice when you start heaving for breath, when tears line your eyes and you try to cling to one of your lovers. You don't notice when you subconsciously change your body into something else because it's something you've always had the power to do.

So when your skin becomes smooth again, and unmarked it's something you don't even look over. But for Xie Lian and San Lang it's completely different. It's like looking at a stranger's body. Like looking at somebody who's never worked a day in their life, someone who has never gone to battle, something you are not but you're desperately trying to be. You have no scars, and the callouses on your hands have disappeared. They've memorized everything on you and now you've made yourself look completely different.

To you, it feels like they look at you with disgust and anger. You're breaking down and it's not something you're even registering. "Y/n stop!" San Lang gives up on keeping you on the bed and he lets you crawl into his lap, he cups your face with surprisingly gentle hands that contradict his angry voice. "Breathe Baobei" he rubs comforting circles into your hips and Xie Lian rubs your back. They're trying to get you to breathe and to stop hyperventilating.

San Lang never looks away from you, and he plants tiny kisses in your cheeks to get rid of your tears. When did you start crying? You don't remember. You eventually calm down from listening to your lovers instructions and their loving touches. When you're finally breathing normally again and the tension leaves your body they try talking to you again. Xie Lian rubs his fingers through your hair, he doesn't like how you've easily changed yourself. He misses your bright locs not the dark ones you've decided to take on. He kisses your head. "I want to talk to my Y/n now. Can I?" Xie Lian asks sweetly.

You've always been you but he wants to talk to his lover not the made up version of yourself. You sniffle and San Lang pats your waist. You take the encouragement and change back to your original body. When you make a weird noise in your throat that sounds close to a sob Xie Lian wraps around you and kisses your nape. "That's good Baobei, we're proud of you." San Lang and Xie Lian glance at each other and in that moment decide to drop the topic about your new found scars. They can only try to find the root of the issue now.

San Lang kisses your forehead and then below your eyes and then your lips. "Tell us what's wrong?" San Lang poses it as a question. As in, you don't have to but it would greatly help them if you did. You feel pathetic and selfish. You don't know why you broke down over something so silly and foolish. "I-I felt, I felt like a t-third wheel. You guys seem so happy without me and all I do is mess up, I'm sorry " you start to cry again and you rub at your eyes harshly but San Lang holds your wrists gently and keeps them away from your eyes.

Xie Lian kisses your shoulder. "There's nothing to be sorry for baobei. No one's at fault." He runs his hands over your thighs, making circles with his fingers. "We didn't mean to make you feel left out, we just wanted to give you space. We thought that's what you needed" Xie Lian explains softly. You nod and sniffle. That's more reasonable than whatever your mind came up with. San Lang pulls you closer by the waist. "If we make you feel like that tell us Baobei, we'll fix it immediately" he says with narrowed eyes. You know he isn't upset with you and he's probably beating himself up for not being able to tell. You kiss him deeply and sigh against his lips.

"M'sorry, I know you love me I just- my mind tells me awful things." You whisper in San Lang's lips and kiss him again. San Lang grunts and playfully tugs a piece of your hair. "Should I beat it up for you?" It makes you giggle.

🦊🪷

For the next few days and even few weeks they baby you endlessly. Xie Lian keeps an eye on sharp objects and makes sure you can't get into the weapons room. He also confiscated your sword and he won't even let you hold knives in the kitchen. The only sword you're allowed to be around is E'ming and they know you wouldn't do that to him or San Lang.

They have no problem with dragging you everywhere they go and often San Lang likes to feed you during meals. At first you blushed and insisted you could do it yourself but San Lang waved your concerns away and said "Let me take care of you". They coddle you a lot and one of them is always in the room with you. You know now that you need to work on your communication and not let your mind get to you. It was a big misunderstanding but San Lang and Xie Lian treat it as if it was a genuine problem.

You're suffocated with love but you wouldn't change it for the world.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

You seem like an incredibly well read person, plus someone with a lot of insight into intimacy because of your work. So, in light of your romance book reviews, which are an absolute highlight on your patreon, do you have any insight into what is needed/suggested for a good romance novel?

g o d this is so fucking hard and also really fun to chew on. I want to preface this by saying this is ENTIRELY subjective and based completely on what I *PERSONALLY* find that I enjoy in a romance. this isn't, like, an objective guide on how to write a romance that doesn't suck. that doesn't exist because people like different things, and I'm speaking from one perspective.

also I should say that my preferred flavor of romance novel is solidly contemporary. I haven't read many historicals, certainly not enough to opine well on them, I don't do those mafia dark romances or whatever the fuck, and I've barely dabbled at all in any kind of fantasy romance, whether they're full high fantasy or witchy urban fantasy stories. (although I'm about to do one of the latter next month, you can vote for a book on my patreon rn!)

having gotten all of those caveats out of the way, here's some shit I like and dislike:

there are exceptions to this but broadly, I prefer a POV for everyone involved in the relationship. to me a romance where we're only seeing events from the POV of one member of the relationship automatically makes it seem like one person matters more in a dynamic where everyone should be of equal importance. also, god, if the plot's really going to hinge on not knowing what's going on in one partner's head suggests that miscommunication is going to be a pretty critical part of the plot, and I hate that shit. TALK TO EACH OTHER. I'LL KILL YOU.

on that note, there needs to be an actual compelling reason why the characters can't be together, okay? the #1 driving tension of every romance is "why the fuck can't they be together yet" and you BETTER have a good answer. whether it's interpersonal or external forces, if there's a very easy solution to what's keeping them apart then your characters look dumb and I'm bored. one of the most frustrating romances I've ever read involved two characters who were mutually attracted to each from the JUMP, who refused to act on it because they were coworkers (neither of them in any position of authority of the other, nothing unprofessional or inappropriate about it) and they were "only" living in the same state for A YEAR. A FULL YEAR !!! shut up. get a grip and kiss each other.

now, having said that: whatever your bullshit reason is for these two characters to be interacting with each other, you need to COMMIT to that shit so hard that I, the reader, will feel silly for even questioning the logic. the worst offender I've ever seen on this front is D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding, which pulls its protagonists together via a reality TV competition and then just... promptly loses any interest in really dealing with the actual realities of being filmed 24/7? it's insanely distracting how little the book engages with its central hook, and was a huge point deduction for me. whereas you have, like, The Bride Test, a book with a premise that skirts dangerously close to a little bit of human trafficking but embraces the whole premise so wholeheartedly that you completely forget about the potentially horrific elements in there. who cares that Esme was bribed here with the promise of a green card if she seduces a man she's never met? there's whimsy happening! we've moved on! it's literally fine and she's in no danger except the danger of a BROKEN HEART.

this one is going to seem SO obvious but like. I need them to be actually like each other. I'm not saying they can't be mutually bitchy while they grow to like each other or anything, they don't have to always be NICE to each other, but there are so many M/F romances where the dude is just flat out fucking MEAN and condescending to the girl until he decides he wants to fuck her. and sometimes even after that! stop it! after a certain point I don't want her to fuck him I want her to run him over a car!!!! there's suuuuch a line between "guy I butt heads and exchange banter with but could fuck if we just got to know each other" and "man who hates me and is for real fucking bullying me."

"kisses only," "doors closed," whatever term they use for a romance novel without any sex scenes on page, I don't like it. listen: I know that they're not everybody's cup of tea, and I FULLY recognize that a lot of romance novel sex scenes are unfathomably cringe. and yet, I need them. partly because they're funny, but also because if this book wants me to be invested in the developing relationship between two adults who are supposed to be WILDLY sexually attracted to each other, then I want to see the damn sex. no matter how many bad similes or unfortunate adjectives it entails. and if you're not going to show me the sex, don't you dare have the characters gushing about how great it is. I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. (I'm looking at you, Sorry, Bro.)

related: there's this thing that I call "Horny Wolf Syndrome," which is derived from this tweet:

initially I used it to refer to when previously sweet-tempered male romance protags inexplicably started talking like horny wovles during sex scenes - "LET ME SEE YOUR PRETTY CUNT ON MY COCK" and the like - but now I more generally use it to refer to scenarios in which characters of any gender completely dispense with their established personality while they fuck in order to fulfill a more broadly appealing, one-size-fits-all sexual fantasy. I hate that shit; if your characters act like completely unrecognizable people during sex, you didn't write very strong characters. one of my favorite things about writing sex scenes is that it's so SO interesting to see how their the characters' personal quirks translate into a setting that's very different from most other contexts, and it's deeply disappointing when authors take the easy route in favor of some pornhub dialogue.

one of the things that actually won my most recent read, Raiders of the Lost Heart, a HUGE amount of points with me was how frank the female lead was about initiating sex for the first time. it was completely in character for her and felt really different than any other book I've read, and honestly? it was a breath of fresh air.

[superkirbylover]

saw a post talking about ableism in cartoons. overall i agree with the message of the post, but the points made and said feel really infantilizing.

for context, i am disabled and many members of my family are as well. this is all drawn from experiences.

there is something to be said about exclusively designing characters who are insane and crazy with a form of lazy eye. there is something to be said about portraying disabled characters as incapable and stupid. there is something to be said about how these tropes continue to push the idea that disabled folk are "other" and are treated poorly. however, the post and OP made a few comparisons i really didn't sit well with.

they claimed the design of old man mcgucket from gravity falls is ableist for giving him wall-eyes as a way to portray how crazy he is. however, the post failed to mention that he's also a mechanic. he's a genuinely smart character with real accomplishments that happens to be crazy and disabled via his eye condition. he has depth. i don't associate his craziness with his disability, and it feels ableist to me to exclusively focus on the eyes and ignore how he isn't just "the crazy guy." i understand wanting to avoid stereotypes, especially harmful ones. however there are real people who sometimes fall under these stereotypes. as a kid, i fell under the stereotype of flapping my hands when i was happy or excited. and yes, there are people who condemn and discourage autistic folk from doing this because it's "stereotypical." that feels insanely ableist to me.

there is something to be said about trying to avoid harmful stereotypes of disabled folk, but i feel like people tend to overcorrect. derpy hooves is an excellent example; rainbow dash gets very frustrated with her in season 2 and is a bit rude. her voice was silly and she was oblivious. because some parents called and found this offensive, there was a redub and re-animated version of the scene featuring her. however, this version is infinitely more ableist to me. it's no secret derpy is disabled, and i personally resonate with her. to me, she is autistic. on top of missing social queues and having a hard time understanding things occasionally, her lazy eye can impare her visually. it is an undeniable fact that sometimes, disabilities will frustrate other people. my autism frustrates my friends and family sometimes. this isnt rooted in ableism. to me, its much like how non-disabled folk will get frustrated with each other. people should treat others, including disabled folk well and avoid getting mad at things they cannot control. however, erasing the fact people do get frustrated with autistic folk feels infantilizing. people will get frustrated with me. sometimes i do things that are objectively irritating. i don't want this erased. it's a part of being human. what i don't want is the irritation being used as a justification to treat disabled folk as sub-human. this isn't what happens at all in the scene. now, in a later season with derpy and rarity, i have many issues with the scene and how derpy and rarity are portrayed, so i do think there is something to be said there.

as long as the character has depth and is portrayed with respect, much like a person, then personally i don't find issues. i am personally tired of people overcorrecting for ableism in media. there is some correcting to do, don't get me wrong. but i don't want my disabilities washed down to the point where negative experiences with my disabilities are erased. they are important to my and many other folks identities as disabled folk. i don't want my experiences to be sanitized.

[snuggleboots]

₊˚♡˚₊ The Akatsuki, communicating their love ₊˚♡˚₊

₊˚♡˚₊ feat. Itachi, Kisame, Kakuzu, and Hidan ₊˚♡˚₊

Tags: Fluff, mishmash of random headcanons, general cutesy relationship stuff.

♡ Kisame communicates his love in various ways, but it's always most sincere in the little things he does. If you're both walking up a flight of stairs, he'll always walk behind, just so he can steal a kiss without having to lean down a bit to reach you. Usually, he'll follow that up with a stupid little, 'How's it feel to be the tall one for once?'

♡ He's a man who likes to sleep in, but when you're sleeping with him, it's his god-given duty to wake you up with some combination of stupid, sleepy shenanigans. It typically starts with some needlessly aggressive cuddling while he's waking up, which becomes a smattering of kisses and little nips dealt wherever he can reach, and eventually develops into... either cackling over your groggy irritation or moving into a little extra lovin', if you feel up to it.

♡ Cuteness aggression is a real thing, and it's his curse. If your tongue pokes out just a little bit when you're thinking hard or focused on something, if you flex your toes like a little cat when you stretch, or purse your lips when you're frustrated - he's gonna bite you. Always does. He can't help it, he gets the impulse to squish you, bite you, pinch, or bully you a little bit when you're minding your business, doing things that he finds objectively precious. You make his teeth itch when he catches you off guard, and you flash him those big eyes, and- UGH.

♡ Now, he isn't the perfect listener by any means, but Kisame is very attentive when tiffs happen in the relationship. He listens with the full intention to learn and solve the problem, and if things get a bit heated he'll calm himself down and ask you to back up and explain why you're upset. He doesn't make a habit of taking himself too seriously, which really helps him navigate rough patches well.

♡ Your personal space is his preferred space. You're stretched out, reading a book or resting your eyes? It doesn't matter where you're hanging out, that's still just as good as an invitation in his books. When he saunters on over and nonchalantly plonks his entire body weight on top of you, he doesn't even have the courtesy to say sorry for the disturbance. Nope, he's on a mission, hooking his arms around your waist and just burying his face in your belly. You're warm, you smell so nice, and he's livin' large on cloud nine, which means you're stuck there until he's decided he's had his fill for a bit.

♡ Itachi's a man with simple wants and simple displays of love. If your days are busy and he's tucking into bed before you are, he'll cosy up on your side to keep it warm until you're ready to join him for the night. It's a little silly, a little cute, watching a man like him streeeetch right out when you meander into the bedroom, and unceremoniously shimmy back over to his side before settling in and promptly passing out. That is, however, a quiet little token of his affection.

♡ He's perceptive about things you don't enjoy doing, and especially things you tend to stress about. Without so much as mentioning it, he'll tend to the little things like that just to take them off your plate. If you're sick or in pain, Itachi is more than content to take care of you. Sorry, it's a small facet of who he is, to tend to the very few people he cares about. The man also cooks, and pretty damned well at that. His breakfasts are a cure-all when you're feeling like absolute garbage.

♡ There is such a thing as an 'Uchiha pout', and he weaponizes it for petty reasons and to ridiculous extents. He isn't always just some stone-faced caricature of a stoic, and it's brilliantly displayed when you deny his simple requests, such as relaxing after a long day, curled up on the couch with him when he's having a low-energy, no spoons left kind of day.

♡ Yes, he wants to settle his weight into your side and just be - or better yet, rest his head on your shoulder and soak up some easy, effortless affection until he's feeling a bit better. (Please card your fingers through his hair, he won't nod off again, really-) If you really have the audacity to say no - and he will call it that - you're going to see him purse his lips, pinch his brows and angle his face away from you like some kind of disappointed housecat. 'You make me lonely', he'll halfheartedly mumble, because it's a guilt trip that works and he's fully aware of that fact. No, he does not feel bad about it, either.

♡ Kakuzu's 'love language' exists in subtle acts of service and physical touch, generally shared in private. No, he's not going to say he loves you, but he can show you that your presence doesn't irritate the part of his brain that makes him want to shove his fist through someone's skull.

♡ When the seasons turn and you inevitably wind up freezing cold every goddamn night, he's content to settle beside you on the couch and tuck your chilly feet under his leg while he unwinds with a good book. There's no need to fill the silence, just let it be and enjoy the moment. You're cosy, he's relatively happy, and for all intents and purposes, you two are set to have a wonderful, quiet night.

♡ And since Kakuzu's a habitual early riser, you're typically still snoring long after he's up and ready for the day. When it's time for him to get up and get dressed, he'll flop his blanket - because he sure as hell doesn't share one - over your head before he turns on the light to get dressed. When he's done and the light's out he'll pull it down and be on his way without having disturbed your sleep.

♡ On the odd time that you're waking up with him, he'll slip by while you're getting dressed and steal a kiss to your shoulder.

♡ When his nail polish is chipped and it's time to reapply, he'll let you do it. For one, it's less for him to do, but! It's also a little token of trust on his part to toss you the polish, plop his hand in your lap, and grumble something like, 'Don't paint my damn fingers this time'. You probably still manage to flood his cuticles, which he will grumble about, but it's the thought that counts.

♡ Hidan's love can sometimes be compared to that of a fat, obnoxious housecat. If he's off-duty when you're trying to enjoy some free time, he is firmly wedged up your ass because he likes attention and you actually listen to him when he talks about... whatever's bouncing around in his head.

♡ Lounging on the couch when he's just coming in from a month on the road? Haha, sucks to be you actually, because he's instantly ripping through the living room at terminal velocity, with full intentions of divebombing your sorry ass before you have the chance to scramble up and evade him. You're still wheezing from impact, and this guy's already launching into a tirade about every little gripe he's had about his mission. 'Kakuzu was a dick, the ration bars taste like shit, the coil broke on my scythe and, and, and...'

♡ Hidan loves a good late-night hangout, so he's usually around to burn time with you when you can't sleep. Even when you don't feel like talking, he always fills the silence himself by chatting your ear off about whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it's just life stuff, other times it's his interests - and often, he'll animorph into a used cars salesman for Jashinism. You expect it, he loves that you actually listen and engage with him.

♡ 'You only get to die if you lived, no matter how great or shitty your life was, get it? Seeing the end is a privilege', he'll mutter into the lip of a half-full mug. When you're tired at the table, jolting upright after accidentally dozing off for the fifth time during his proselytizing, Hidan will slide you a cup of something that'll keep you fucking wired for the night. It's not to be a dick, obviously, but you're listening! And this is important shit! 'Diseased, crippled, or fuckin'... broke; at the end of the day, you're alive, and your pain's recognised by Lord Jashin. Suffering is a gift imparted, that only the living receive, and...' something something Jashin is great, and you should probably definitely convert.

♡ He's claimed half of your bed, and sleeping with him fucking sucks. He sleeps like a starfish and steals the blankets, and you're not waking him up unless you feel like investing some serious effort into doing so. He snores, and on the nights that he winds up sleeping half on top of you, you have to deal with the fact that he drools like a dog and sleeps with his mouth hanging open. You don't wanna deal with that? Tough shit, you're comfy, and somehow your bed is just waaaaay better than his. Okay? Okay.

[kelpeigh]

A common complaint among sitcom viewers is how nothing ever changes/develops long-term. The function of the unchanging plot/characters is of course is for ease of casual viewing and so re-runs can air out of order without confusion. WWDITS has always loved playing with that problem, pointing out that there's a canon reason for their characters to remain stagnant: they are literally immortal and unchanging. They've said it explicitly multiple times, most notably imo in the s4 finale "nothing ever changes around here".

So I think it was a little spicy for tptb to give that nod to fans with the hypnosis moment. They said, okay, here's the “best possible ending”, see how out of place the idea of happiness and contentment is here? Canon is not the best possible universe, this isn't even the best possible narrative, these characters are circlejerking idiot disasters and they’ll never be good, well-adjusted people, even after the show is over. They even showed us that this very documentary is a reboot and everything is more of the same.

In the series finale, they cranked the "nothing ever changes" to 11 and had Guillermo, the only character capable of real change, freak out about it, only to show us that he won't change in the end either. This whole season he seemed to be over Nandor, the other vampires, and vampirism in general. But now he's brushing Nandor's hair again. He's calling him "Master". He's acting hopeful when Nandor says there’s reasons he’s happy they won’t have cameras on them all the time… Then his final speech about moving on is a fake-out. By doing that fake-out he joined the vampires by accepting that he'll be a silly little guy forever.

You could argue that the only real change on the whole show is that Nandor really truly considers Guillermo an equal now-- and I like how that leaves Nandermos an open door to write further development post-canon. Cool.

Otherwise, characters are dynamic enough to be interesting, but any development gets folded into the multitudes contained within each vampire without disturbing their Set of Most Salient Attributes. Nadja learned human psychology but still can't empathize. Colin Robinson was literally reborn and he's slightly more chummy with Laszlo for it, but doesn't remember being raised by him. Laszlo's new-to-us passion for science is a re-invigoration of an old pursuit (Cravensworth's monster). We've also seen him make the mistake of thinking Nadja needs protection no less than three times this season.

Tl;Dr It’s frustrating that WWDITS wants to have its cake and eat it too, but it’s meant to be frustrating like that. It’s not new. It’s not exclusive to a ship. I get being more than frustrated about it because it feels like the same ship treatment we’ve gotten from a million other shows, but it really does fit here, on the “even when something changes, no it doesn’t” show

what IS objectively horrible that I will complain about to no end is there was no Simon the Devious this season

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

Who in Nekoma is Photogenic?? 

Kuroo: Has a bit of a dorky smile and his hair never behaves but not that bad, at least he looks genuinely happy. He prefers candid photos over posed ones even if he looks silly. Also the type to get very sentimental over pictures, he loves to scroll through his camera roll every once in a while and laugh at them with his friends. Later in life he keeps physical photo albums and his JVA office is covered in picture frames.

Yaku: As the objectively coolest guy on Nekoma how could he not be photogenic? A closed-mouth smiler but he makes it look good, the lighting always seems to work in his favor too. He prefers sitting/crouching photos cause they don't emphasize his height.

Kai: THE BEST SMILE, he always looks the happiest to be there. He's usually the one offering to take photos of everyone else but then Kuroo and Yaku yell at him to ask a stranger so they can all be in it. Teases Yaku for fixing his hair beforehand cause y'know. Buzzcut.

Kenma: You just know he's hitting you with a classic Kenma squint. Can't smile on command nor does he bother trying, he groans when someone suggests taking a photo and complains until it's over. But sometimes Kuroo will hit him with a sneak attack and he looks radiant for some reason??

Tora: Can't fake a smile to save his life, looks like he's shitting himself in every photo. He's the type of guy to ask for a countdown but it never helps. Ironically one of the only ones who actually cares about his looks in photos so yeah he's just suffering.

Fukunaga: Either the cutest little cat smile or staring into space like he's having war flashbacks, no inbetween. Does bunny ears on whoever's in front of him or something weird that people only notice days later. Master at photo bombing.

Lev: I hate to say it but he's the most photogenic on the team, he does become a model after all. It's so effortless for him, it always seems to be golden hour when someone pulls a camera out in his presence. Pisses off everyone, especially Yaku who tries to catch him off-guard to prove that he's not that photogenic. This only frustrates him further ("HOW DO YOU STILL LOOK LIKE A MAGAZINE MODEL EATING CEREAL?!")

Inuoka: A goofy grin to rival Kuroos, he's just excited to be there. Sometimes him and Shibayama plan cute little duo poses together, they'd totally have a connected senior quote. Usually does a peace sign or a wave, something with his hands.

Shibayama. There's a 50% chance he's closing his eyes in every photo they take. One of the only ones who cares about how he looks along with Tora, he fusses with his hair a lot and always thinks he looks bad even when it's fine. Has worried about it less since Inuoka made photos more fun.

Teshiro: The photographer goes "Hey Teshiro, can you try smiling?" and he's like "am I not??". Completely straight-faced no matter how hard he tries, canonically he's kinda self-concious about his eyebrows so I don't think he'd like photos very much. Tried open-lipped smiling once and people thought he was gnashing his teeth so he never did it again.

[narfin-frood]

Silly question but how do you art?

Or more like, how is your process to draw? Your lines and posing are so loose and show the feeling of a character so well, like, how do you make your art so real with only a few lines is what most amaze me. Anyway I hope I'm not bothering you and that makes sense, thanks for reading!<3

you're not a bother, don't worry! i'm not sure if there's an appropriately concise answer to a question like this, but i'll try to explain my process for poses a bit, and if there's anything else specific you'd like to know about my process, feel free to ask, and i'll try to answer!

for posing, i find it's very helpful to start by thinking about what situation the character is in. you don't need a location or a background or anything (unless you're being #serious about it). for this, i chose "picking up something way too heavy" (cont. under cut, wall of text ahead)

keeping it very simple is key!!! do not worry about details!!! i am very bad at this. i love to add a little detail or two, like his eyes or his little expression, but i have to catch myself before i get too into it, otherwise i'll forget the point of what i was doing and/or get bored. use just enough strokes to get the point across, and stop there (for now).

i draw fast and loose, with long strokes, which also happens to help with the problem that happens if you start with any specific part of the body. it's important to start with... everything at once, or else you won't be able to see what needs to be changed or fixed until it's too late and you've already decided on where you want the head and the left arm to be!

to display effort & strain without just contorting the character's face, you gotta think about just how heavy the object is, how one would go about grabbing it comfortably, and whether your character is smart enough to lift with their legs.

wander is great (read: BEST CHARACTER DESIGN EVAR. i love him kisskisskiss) because he's not grounded in any sort of reality until necessary, and his limbs have no bones, but he still has specific proportions and volumes to refer back to if you get carried away with the wackiness. posing a character made up of several noodles of varying widths is very simple, because you can do basically whatever you want to push and pull and make it as clear (and/or as funny) as possible.

start with your line of action, in this case the long line connecting his neck and his left foot. think about where the floor is, so you can make the feet of your character and whatever else is touching it coexist in the same reality. think about clarity: big, simple shapes are your friends, and if you're not getting the gist of the pose through the silhouette alone, try again! there's NO shame in hiding the first layer and doing a couple more sketches until you land on something you really like. Don't polish a turd, especially if you yourself think it's a turd. it'll make you feel like you're wasting time, and drawing is about having fun and experimenting, so if it's getting boring or frustrating, it's time to try something else.

wander and other characters with no bones and no rules are great for posing because you can do things like make their arms bend the wrong way just to play with the clarity of the pose. this:

un-breaks the arms and makes a little more sense for somebody with elbows, but some clarity in the action is lost when the arms don't curve upward and away from the very heavy object he's straining to pick up.

grounding your characters is both more complex and easier than it sounds, and it unfortunately requires you to think about perspective (i know. i know. i know it sucks and it's confusing. i hated it for a very long time but once it clicks, you'll have it in your brain forever)

fudging a perspective grid is fairly easy, just draw several parallel lines and have them get closer to each other as they recede into the distance, and then do it again in the opposite direction. you can use the transform tool in whatever program you use most to fudge this for even less effort, by just getting a png of a grid and fucking with it

now that you've got your floor, think about those feet. the grid makes it fairly easy to envision how a shoe would look sitting on that floor:

this is also where having an understanding of volumes comes in handy, because things farther in the distance will in fact look smaller, but it's up to you to figure out just how much smaller it would be in comparison to the other identical thing with the same volume that's closer to the camera. usually it's almost negligible, but it becomes easy to spot if it's a little off.

and here's the pose i settled on! i made his noodle arms more extreme for extra XD factor and i put him on his tippy toes for that extra bit of height!

a lot of the principles i'm talking about in this post i mainly pick up from consciously watching my favorite cartoons (and live action shows) and if i really, really like the way something is done, or if i see something that i've never really registered before, i'll screencap it or i'll pause or i'll just keep thinking about it until i draw again.

this is called "building a visual library" and it's the #1 easiest and most important way to practice. it requires no drawing, unless you want it to. look at lots of art by artists you love, and if you see something and you think to yourself, hey, this looks really good, by all means, absorb it.

art is great and it's really fun and there's literally nothing wrong with taking inspiration where you can find it!! seriously!!! absorb your favorite parts of every art style you find cool and fun and put it into your own! you're the only person who can draw the way you draw, and while replicating an art style is fairly easy (or it can be, depending), matching it perfectly is Literally impossible, so don't worry about being derivative. Nobody will notice, and if they do, it's okay to say you're inspired by them! encouraged, even!

my own art style, like everybody else's, is a frankenstein's monster containing all of the things i've loved before!!! and i think thats beautiful and if anybody tries to tell you you've gotta be 100% original and have "your very own style", they're a filthy liar and they're definitely (consciously or not) already taking inspiration and reference from the things they themselves find cool and awesome.

ANYWAY. wall of text over.

TLDR: draw quickly, use long strokes (try not to pet your lines), have a specific situation to put your character in, get familiar with volumes and proportions, and have fun!!!

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

For vaggie that spear is her support animal/therapist

For charlie, it's a rival she'd like to throw in lava but can't cause, it's vaggies support 'animal'

silly headcanon plot twist- Charlie's jealously at the spear ISN'T silly or irrational at all, it's a subconscious manifestation of Charlie's desperation for her girlfriend to actually open up emotionally to HER instead of to a WEAPON, confide fears and problems in CHARLIE, and a very frustrated, very also-emotionally-constipated-in-her-own-way Charlie doesn't wanna pin that frustration on Vaggie directly so she deflects all her anger to the spear, which as an inanimate objects, can't get any hurt feelings over this or decide Charlie is too much and dump her

we've done it. we've cracked the silly headcanon and found the angst waiting underneath XD XD XD

or maybe the above is all just what the hazbin crew speculates together, in their weekly "there's no way those two idiots don't have shit going on in their relationship" chaggie hotel gossip meet-ups

[cheerioskid]

moonrise au mumbo and grian doodles bc they are so silly ft. a quote by the lovely @germworms when we were exploring their dynamic

little bit of explanation below!

basically after grian disappears from his position as a god he lives in disguise on "square earth" and eventually finds his fav human, mumbo! (the moon prophet)

being so detached from the land of the humans leaves grian really curious about almost everything (yes like the little mermaid but w mcyt gods)

so he's pestering mumbo w all his questions and just generally never leaving him alone, mumbo is slightly annoyed by this and tries to get him off his ass by giving him random objects to inspect or he starts a fire for him to stare at for hours

grian is naturally very warm (sun god tings) and mumbo is naturally cold being the moon prophet so grian sometimes just hangs close by to make sure he doesn't die of hypothermia (red winter era, very cold brr) even though mumbo doesn't mind the cold as much

mumbo also has no idea grian is the sun god (remember no human has seen him in this form other than his prophet) so he starts complaining to bdubs about this weird guy who keeps following him around and is too frustrated to notice bdubs giving him suspicious looks

for more info about bdubs go check out Sea's character sheet for him!! also check the hashtag for other posts!!

[mamiya-a]

Playing dangerous

Mother Miranda/reader

Warning for explicit content.

Chapter 13: Birthday surprise

Summary:

Good luck trying to find out Miranda's age. (She doesn't know it herself)

You don't think that something so insignificant and easily overlooked could bring such filled and joyful feelings to your already tightened chest. Yet the waves of excitement , rushing through your body, can hardly fail to make their presence known when you place your toothbrush next to Miranda's in a fluid motion. 

It's satirical , and kind of makes you feel silly, but the look of a very ordinary object, placed so calmly next to something that belongs to her, forced you to smile like a little kid who just got a long-awaited birthday present. Despite understanding that Miranda is a woman , keeping too much on her appearance, her personal bathroom is not as  cluttered with the variety of products as you expected her to be using. You could even say that the first few times you spent exploring the medium sized room , left you disappointed. After all, the woman you now sleep next to almost every night , always has that pleasant aroma wafting after her like a cloak of pleasure, part of you wanted to unravel her secret ways of achieving her enchanting scent and appropriate it for yourself. 

Surely the days that have curled up under the dark , but cosy roof of the now not so sinister mansion are beginning to follow along , making you lose track of time. And yet , the enjoyment of shared moments with the blonde woman doesn't seem to be going away . Everything about her makes your fingertips itch , and the soft pillows of your cheeks warm. It's not just the insignificant toothbrush, but also the hairbrush placed next to hers, the forgotten pieces of outfits at almost every corner of her bedroom- quickly tossed aside after Miranda's decision that you'd look better without them, the few bulging notebooks, that have migrated to her room through which she occasionally runs a darker pen to correct mistakes , even your rarely fully charged phone which she makes sure to plug into her own charger so you can use it when you need to. 

Even her daughters have noticed,  little by little the room originally assigned to you is emptying , while Miranda's has slowly started to welcome another person's warmth. 

The line between the simple job of being a babysitter and the unconscious burden of your role as Miranda's partner has long since begun to thin. You often find yourself lending a helping hand to her daughters, who would normally prefer to seek their mother's advice. Several times now you've had a meal together , prepared from your personal recipe, which the girls have enjoyed and Miranda has praised. Penetrating this little family is a slow but sure process. 

Your fingers run smoothly through your  hair , slicking it back, as you examine your face in the mirror. Your eyes are silent , but there is a small light in them that has been unseen for years. Peace. You can easily admit to yourself that you feel calm and in place. 

A new wave of obliteration assaults the top of your head , born of your frustration over the few hairs sticking out. When you find yourself making the same motion for the third time , now gritting your teeth , you laugh. It's not even a hairstyle you like, but it's certainly out there, hastily acquired by Miranda. It seems like the blonde woman effects you in an unusual way - without both of you even noticing you have began to mold yourself into her own persona. 

A perfect exactly is the current morning. You've never been a person to greet the sun with a enthusiastic smile, yet alone cut a precious slumber session even before the end of night. Miranda, however, is keen on her obligations. And you follow her blindly. She has urgent work , which requires to start at sunrise? Then you wake up with her. 

Your body clumsily begins to move towards the bathroom exit , your skin tingling from the cold in the room , expecting a pleasant wave of heat to spill over it the moment you take the first step  into the bedroom, but your brain fails to remember the unpleasant cold air wafting through it. 

Your pajamas do keep you somewhat warm but you can't help your toes , which curl under the weight of your body or your shivering hands , momentarily wrap  around your top, trying to mimic a heated capsule. 

A pleasant metallic sound chimes past your ears , gently caressing them with a gloved hand , almost instantly accompanied by the inviting glint of jewels , which reflect in your eyes when you decide to turn your head towards the distraction. 

Miranda stands proudly in front of her vanity , her figure slightly twisted forward but not losing any of its glory , at an angle where in an upright position and slightly tilted head she can clearly see the different types of earrings she is trying on and possibly choose the best pair. Although , she looks quite lost in her selection process , she allows herself a distraction and her lips develop into a sweet smile, specially sent towards you. Maybe it's the way her lipstick has soaked into the soft tissue , or maybe it's the whole adorable look , or the simple need for her touch , but after that gesture you quickly find yourself clinging to her , trying to tear away some of her body heat. 

With your chest already pressed against her back, you're easily lost in the crisscross of all the curves of her body, accompanied by the sweet smell of her perfume. The quiet sigh she lets out , influenced by your eager mouth , which is lost along the length of her neck, makes you lock her waist in the trap of your arms, knowing fully well that she trusts you enough to relax  in your tight  embrace. 

You keep kissing her on that significantly more sensual skin until Miranda gives in and relaxes her hands on the surface of the vanity. In one palm she still clutches a beautifully coloured earring , its twin dangling from her left ear, threatening to tangle in your hair. She doesn't protest when your fingers shift to apply pressure to her jaw. Once her head shifts, however, you stare at her begging mouth for yours and pause. You don't want to ruin her slightly reddish lipstick , even if it means leaving her disappointed.

"It's early" -  Miranda comments , her morning voice presenting its magic over you once again. Your gaze whips away from her and instead lingers on a hanging clock, with the time being  just after 7am. - "The bed can still keep you warm." - her statement certainly sounds pleasant, but as soon as your eyes fall upon the furniture's emptiness you shake your head. - "Why don't you get some more sleep, darling?"  

"It's pointless without you" - you stubbornly answer her. Although Miranda's mouth snaps open , ready to protest, a light of interest flickers in her eyes and she deftly raises her eyebrows. Then she smiles, and her voice changes pitch. 

"You want me to feel bad for waking you up or for the fact that I'll have to go out on in less than an hour and leave you?" - the one thing she forgets to mention is her absence will be considerably long. Lucky for you, though, that's exactly what you need. As an initial plan you had set an alarm to wake you , but Miranda's silent, yet  unable to restrain themselves, palms however easily pulled you from your dreams. 

In her full defense, this is the first time someone has managed to wake you up with just the gentle caress of their hands on your face. It was certainly a great beginner sight of the day. 

"I was thinking of getting up early anyway." -  you assure her , placing another soft kiss on her skin. - "But if you're so willing to be my debtor..." the blonde woman hums in approval, trying to follow your train of thought. - "I wouldn't turn down a little study help." 

"Are you still struggling with making diagnoses?" - just broaching the subject makes you snort. The surprise in the woman's voice, however, is belied because your lack of duties over the past few days hasn't prompted you to stick your nose into study materials, but rather to indulge in complete relaxation, which is now starting to put a strain on you. 

"So many diseases..." -  a rush of warm air leaves your lungs , gently caressing ends of  golden hair before you separate from Miranda with a slow step. She doesn't miss the chance to follow your movements with wonder. - "And their symptoms are so identical...tell me, how am I supposed to be able to handle them all?" 

"The domain of my work partly obliges me to be familiar with the topic." -  she explains calmly. Already both her ears show off the lovely earrings, paired almost perfectly with her dark dress. A horribly sly grin appears on her face, accompanied by a cross of her arms. - "How about a quick exercise?" 

Unable to refuse her , you sigh , making a circular motion with your hand to signal your agreement. Miranda smiles at you again , her eyes scanning your body from top to bottom while the brief seconds of deliberation clearly show behind them. 

"Let's say your poor patient  suffers from...fever, fatigue , body weakness... or pain, soar throat and severe cough." - every description comes out of her mouth with a harsh tone. Listening carefully to her spilled words you can't help yourself but notice a furious line building up between her eyebrows. - "If not treated properly the sickness can cause respiratory distress, organ failures or in the worst cases - death." 

Miranda stops her brief presentation , moving her hands through the thin air and forcing the bracelets around her wrists to jangle.  She has exquisitely adorned her forearms with those golden metal branches wrapping upwards around her skin that you love to admire , easily lost in the beautiful portrait of the woman. 

You suck in a breath , gathering your thoughts , so you can give her a solid answer. You know , Miranda wouldn't stab you in the back by making more specific cases , but you don't leave yourself in the proper hands of this shallow thinking. 

"Assuming , that the failure of internal organs is precisely the lungs..." -  you begin to think aloud , causing the edges of her lips to lift. The blonde woman is certainly a fan of situations , in which the two of you can freely discuss your common pursuits. - "I think a safe answer would be Tuberculosis?" 

"No." - although voiced out clearly, the dissatisfying sound of the word is quieter than its siblings, fluidly escaping her lips. 

"No!?" - one might say your reaction is a big overreacted and filled with false hope. Miranda on another hand finds it amusing. 

After a few more wrong speculation shot from your thinking mind , eager to find the answer, you give up and offer her a perfectly green light to award you with what should be the correct response. 

"Spanish flu." - Miranda's smile doesn't dare leave her face once she decides to shatter your hopes for a correct assumption , slow shaking of her head, silently mocking you. 

"That's so unfair, Miranda!" - you barely stop yourself from shouting, clenching your jawline while she obtains a surprised face , born from the usage of her full name. - "At least give me something that's not from a hundred years ago, please." 

"Is...the previous century considered too old for you, darling?" -  as you watch how something specific in her question causes her to place a palm on her chest , you lick your dry lips, visibly chapped from the cold in the room. Perhaps you should try to convince her into adding an air conditioner to heat up her bedroom from time to time. 

"Isn't the Spanish flu extinct?" - you voice out, unable to stay upright and hastily taking a position on the bed. After only seconds, you throw a warm blanket over your lap and legs.  You pat the mattress to signal Miranda to sit next to you. Surprisingly she does , but not looking forward to receiving the precious heat of the sheets you would kill for right now , despite the presence of her short dress. - "I doubt anyone still struggles with it today." 

"You could never be certain." 

Even your most successful attempts to understand her message fail in their work the second her head hovers over you and subsequently lands on your shoulder. You can't stop the joy spreading through your body. Perhaps the thing you like most about the woman next to you is the way that even in an almost dense silence , like  currently, the intimacy and tenderness you have with each other dare not evaporate. 

Of course tender moments like this are easily spoiled , but not because of an unspoken or overly spoken opinion , emotions or misunderstood situations. These external factors - unavoidable commitments always find the cracks in your walls of calmness. Miranda's phone rings, causing her to make an annoyed guttural sound before reaching out to grab it. You appreciate the fact that she doesn't pick up , even a part of you is oblivious at the thought that she considers you more important than her probably ringing colleagues. What you don't like though is that once her screen goes black again she detaches herself from you , destroying every connection to your body with hers. 

"Leaving already?" - strange, it seemed that somehow you had more time to enjoy her morning company. Miranda sighs , her back turned to you, shoulders slumped low. She nods - an answer to your question. 

"I sincerely hope this meeting will be different." -  her quiet words remind you of how this whole visiting different groups of scientists thing started about two weeks ago. The blonde woman was happy to reveal the secret that the email you helped her with wasn't limited to just one person's address. And on the bright side, quite a few of her potential partners were interested. Which often left you alone while she negotiated, but with more time to prepare her surprise. - "Honestly, darling, after so many conversations with...immature disappointments, not even knowing exactly what they want...it would be refreshing if I could find a quality group to finally start my project with." -she pauses briefly between sentences- "and finish it  successfully." 

"Take your time, Miranda." - you find the will power to fight back against the cold , and even though you're reminded of the awful feeling once you step fully on the floor , you manage to walk behind her yet again. - "I know this is something of great importance to you." - her specificity to the topic confirms it. She tenses a bit , while your finger gently run up to her slightly exposed back, past the strange pattern of her skin there. You still think she's searching for a way to fix it , even though she denies this assumption. You place a kiss to the back of her neck just to calm her down. - "I can be patient and wait for you while taking care of the girls." 

"Then I can count on you to handle breakfast?" -  it's normally Miranda who takes on the kitchen tasks. You've noticed it's one of her few hobbies outside of work. Or at least the ones you know about. A lot of it's still a mystery, but you're slowly starting to unravel it. 

"Are you doubting me?" -  your tone immediately makes her turn around. Both of you are met with smiles. What you don't expect, however, is for Miranda to pull you to her and lean her lips against yours without warning. There goes all your worry about her lipstick. 

"I promise to make something sweet for all of us as payback." - she says. Her eyes dart around the room , searching for something. She calms down once she sees her prepared bag on the bed. - "How does that sound?" 

"Lovely." -  you assure her , as she separates from you to grab her needed accessory to her outfit from your shared bed. - "When did you say you were coming back?"

"Should be before afternoon." - plenty of time to prepare, then. 

You can only think how good of an idea she has given you without realising, all the way down  to the front door, where you wave her goodbye. Although Miranda's taste for food is hard to satisfy ,  she certainly has a sweet tooth. 

Except she doesn't know that she's not the one who's going to have her way in the kitchen. The idea is still swirling around in your head even after her departure , with her book of recipes open  in your hands until you come across something she would surely like. 

***** 

"What kind of bowl do we need?" 

"Make sure it's large, sweetie." 

"Where is the flour?!" 

"The bottom cabinet...on the right..there it is, dear." 

"Are two eggs enough or should I get more?" 

"Yeah, I think it's alr-" 

"Ah! Stupid knife!" - A high-pitched scream quickly throws you off balance. Your body hastily makes a full circle on its axis and you spin towards the direction of the sound. Across from you, a few feet away from the sink stands the mini version of Miranda. Despite their similarities , Eva is still a child, and the kitchen is unfamiliar to her and her sister. The blond , however, is currently holding one hand in the other , and her face is sucked up in a frown. A sharp knife with plastic handle has fallen to the floor by her feet. Once your eyes focus on it, a few tiny drops of scarlet blood trickle onto the surface of the kitchen tiles. It makes you freeze. 

For the moment, you're sulking , not knowing what action to take first. Eva has clearly cut herself and her extra unmoving makes it clear that she is still in shock too. Then a thought runs through your head. These children may not be yours , but the risk of your profession forces you to feel like they are. How would Miranda react...what would her vindicated character do? 

In mere seconds you are both over the sink, her stiff yet easy to lift body is heavily supported in your arms , as you work together to thoroughly clean, her wounded finger. The cut isn't deep , but certainly the sight of the water rushing in with blood isn't one of the most pleasant. After you stop the water flowing, you start to wonder just where Miranda keeps the emergency patches...if she even has any. Luckily for you , another helper comes to your rescue. Eveline quickly opens a distant kitchen cabinet and pulls out sterile bandages , which you use to secure Eva's ring finger. 

The commotion passes almost as quickly as it started. All three of you are now calm and breathing normally. Your eyes slowly slide away from Eva and instead land on the floor , where the fallen knife still lies. You allow yourself to bend down to pick it. As soon as you stand up, however, another part of the incident appears on the kitchen counter in front of you. 

The piece of butter that is sitting there is still visibly frozen...and solid. The puzzle of the happened quickly assembles in your head. Most likely, in the inexperienced and soft hands of the blonde girl , the knife slipped from its main target and cut her finger. 

You focus on Eva again, noticing that she is somehow purposely avoiding your gaze. 

"You know, butter knives exist for a reason?" -  it's comical how even the way the mother and daughter's facial features are almost the same when twisted in anger. Eva's hands are flailing through the air in defense. 

"If I had known would I have-" 

"Just promise me you'll be more careful." -whether you warm her bed or not , whether you hug and kiss her every day, even if you're the only thing close to a friend to Miranda-you don't want to think about what she'd do if something happened to one of the girls ,  on your watch. Then again...you wouldn't feel out of place on your own. Just like now, if you were closer to her , instead of focusing on the written sentences about the recipe....a sigh escapes your heavy chest. - "You really scared me."

"I...I'm sorry, I should have... asked for help." -  you and Eveline  both look at each other , unable to comprehend that it was her sister who decided to say those words. The almost unreal moment is quickly brushed aside as soon as Eva notices your wonderful looks and instead hastily coughs , ending the silence in the kitchen. - "I still think nothing would have happened if we had decided to make a cake."  

"I assure you Miranda will be just as happy with the cookies." - the clock never works in anyone's favor, though. Minutes eaten can't be returned , and what you have is still an unfinished dough mix and a wounded baker. - "If we ever finish them..." 

"I don't get it." - the blonde girl comments irritably , arms now crossed. - "A birthday calls for a cake with...candles and decorations..!" - she twists her wrists and turns to you. - "what's so special about these cookies?" 

You can still recall the day Miranda decided to share this recipe with you, instead of kicking you out of her precious kitchen. It was a rather weird day, vivid...she was awfully domestic, which had a positive side effect to you of course, but also summoned questions, as for why she was suddenly so interested in you. Although this scene had passed quite a while ago, ghostly memories of her hands on your waist or between your own , guiding you through the baking, still linger inside your head. The tips of your ears burn while you open your mouth to give the kids an answer. 

"Nothing...and everything." - you're met with pure confusion, which you immediately understand and after a second the mistake is fixed. - "It's just a nice memory of her...us." 

While Eveline giggles, Eva forces a grimace on her face. It's interesting to be in the company of both your biggest supporter and the one , who probably prays for your breakup with Miranda every night. You shake your head and smile, proposing them to finally get over the baking. 

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Soon , despite the size of the room, the kitchen is filled with a pleasant smell , managing to reach every shrouded corner and closed  cabinet. With every passing second , the sink , filled with dirty and used dishes, starts to take back its spotlessly clean original shape, influenced by your eagerness to clean your workplace. 

You can't stop yourself from casting a few glances at the two little girls next to you, who are carefully drawing birthday cards on the kitchen counter, with thousands of colored pencils scattered on it. Near them is a large bouquet of flowers. Artificial of course , losing the beauty of the living nature, but easy to maintain and especially hide. You still remember , you bought them about a week ago , when you were out , to prepare the rest of the gift gestures to Miranda. 

Surely the task of deciding exactly what to gift a woman , who has practically everything, was not easy at all. Lucky for you, though, the solution isn't hiding miles away. This isn't the first time, and you don't think it will be the last, that you have to ask Evelyn exactly what to do with her unpredictable mother. 

After some conversation , reflection and various ideas - the raven black haired girl managed to get your attention by mentioning something about the older woman's past hobbies. Thinking about it now you wouldn't call it a hobby but a lack of faith in the abilities of others. It's clear to you that Miranda is overly particular about her clothing , if it wasn't dramatic and eye catching enough , she wouldn't go out. 

You learn from Evelyn that in past years she herself has tried to achieve this effect but perhaps due to lack of knowledge and time it has remained history. However, a sewing machine has been left almost untouched in the mansion, which is  now  nicely moved to your original room , away from Miranda's sharp gaze.

You hope that all the materials and fabrics you already bought , under the disguise of going for weekly shopping, past the dubious blonde woman will be enough.

Lost in thought , you forget about the mechanical work of your hands and before you know it the plates are already arranged and washed and you are taking the last steps of your shared activity with the girls - to get the already finished cookies out of the heated oven. 

The room seems too empty, however, once you manage to get them all into a large plate, more like a tray but managing to fit them all. With the help of their childish imagination, the girls managed to add all sorts of multi-coloured embellishments to the normally boring looking cookies. Some have faces , others flow from one colour to another , and others are in different shapes - circles , squares or hearts. However, these two pairs of helping hands have disappeared from the kitchen before they can see the finished product. 

Your gaze moves to the ticking clock on the wall , out of sheer interest... 

"She's here! She's here!" 

Eva bursts into your chambers of calmness without bothering to knock. Her words ignite a raging fire in your chest and you nearly drop the biscuits at her surprise appearance. Behind her, Eveline comes hurriedly , but quietly , over to the counter and grabs the bouquet of artificial flowers. She disappears as quickly as the wind. 

Unconsciously you have moved to the window , where you clearly recognize the black jeep parked in front of the mansion. Because of its darkened windows you can't see the silhouette of the woman inside , but your breath hitches the moment the car door slowly opens. 

You let Eva pull you through the hallways to the living room before you can see Miranda get out of her car.

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.

Normally you like the clattering sound her heels make, but now every uncertain step she takes on the smooth floor forces out  a straining echo. It's obvious she's looking for you - both you and her daughters. You swallow hard  once the repetitive waves of sound stop just outside the closed living room door.

It takes Miranda only a moment after she passes the entrance , to freeze in place as if struck by angry thunder. Her pupils dilate to the point that the blue of her eyes is barely visible. Well maybe getting up in front of her with cookies, decorations, presents and yelling wasn't the best idea for a birthday surprise,  given her peculiar nature. 

At best you would have assumed , you startled her, but the way her hand moves to latch around the base of her neck and rub calming circles there, tells you that's not the point. The nervous tic , usual for her, quickly reveals that the woman really has no clue what is going on. 

"Eva?" -  her daughter's name tumbles from her uncertain lips. The girl doesn't wait to be called a second time and after placing the drawings , which she was holding until now, on the table - she shortens the distance between her and Miranda who has already started to squat , shortening the length of her body, in order to be at the girl's level. 

Again you become an external witness to their closeness. First Eva hugs her mother hard across the shoulders , to show her that everything is fine , and then she puts her ear out , so she can hear exactly what she is saying. Miranda's eyes are troubled , the normal emotions in them have evaporated , dead with boredom as they wait for their younger daughter's response , which however is a reply that rumbles around the room . 

"It's a birthday surprise , mommy!" -  she explains enthusiastically , one of her little hands having caught Miranda's. Unfortunately for you , it's the one whose ring finger is wrapped in a bandage , due to the cut from earlier. - "We wanted to do something special for you."

"...But today is not.. my birthday." - Miranda delays her response, visibly confused by the situation. Your fingertips dig into the metal tray in your hands, piled high with cookies. 

"It never is!" - Eveline inevitably joins their conversation, but she doesn't move from her place , close to you. Her mother's attention moves to her, a slight smile on the edges of her lips. - "If you don't celebrate it today, you won't do it tomorrow or whenever...and that's...." her speech slows and she rethinks her words. - "our birthdays are always celebrated , and you say you don't even remember yours...it's not fair to you, mom..." 

For just a second, comfort flashes in Miranda's eyes. She places a loving kiss on Eva's forehead, then grabs her wrist to bring her fingers closer and her lips provide another caress on the wound , wrapped with a bandage. She lifts her gaze to you, almost making you stagger back. The blue of her eyes looks more beautiful than any night sky, and the dark  makeup around her eyelids make the color pop so brightly you come back that she's glimpsed into your soul.

The older woman stands up proudly and begins to walk close to you, followed obediently by Eva. As soon as she reaches her other daughter - she unexpectedly grabs her and lifts her up without a problem. The girl giggles in her embrace, and though her arms hesitate whether or not to turn away , they wrap around her mother anyway. Eveline whispers something in her ear, presumably to congratulate her on her fake birthday, at which Miranda whispers back with a soft kiss on her cheek. 

As you watch them with kind eyes , the tray in your hands grows heavier and heavier, but not as heavy as the lonely heart in your chest. You can't stop a thought , swimming furiously through your mind. If your mother were alive, would she be hugging you like this , would your family be so happy...? You can't deny that you are at least a little jealous of moments like these. But with that comes the other problem, which is the fact that you feel out of place, like waste to this foreign family...

Then you feel gentle caresses around your neck , cheeks and ears. You blink once, twice, before Miranda's face forms in front of you , and the fingers running charmingly across your cheekbones feel real. Almost immediately you relax into her touch, her palms soft as pillows , enveloping both sides of your face. You can even feel her thumbprints gently touch the edges of your eyelashes. 

"Was that all.. your doing?" - as if seeing straight ahead, her question now contained the answer she needed. But you can't take all the adulation for yourself. 

"It was a general idea." -  you answer her, noticing how her white teeth barely grazed the skin of her bottom lip for a brief moment. Miranda, despite nodding in agreement, remains so engrossed in you. Her gaze moves from your eyes , to your mouth and back again. As if she couldn't make up her mind what to do with you. 

When Miranda approaches to kiss you, however, you panic. You don't know how her children, especially Eva, would react to such closeness between you. In an attempt to stop her proximity, you try the cookie tray against her stomach, causing her to look down in annoyance. Then a quiet laugh slips from her throat. Her slender fingers grab a cookie decorated in green and she brings it to her mouth , tasting it.  

Then Miranda just can't hold back and places a quick kiss on your cheek anyway , before totally detaching herself from you. She sits down on the couch, surrounded by her daughters who excitedly start showing her the cards , they made. She is surprised at the fake flowers , but accepts them graciously. You smile, knowing she likes it all. You join them, fingers trembling with desire to show your girlfriend your personal gift.

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"Can I open my eyes already?" - Miranda's quiet , concerned voice echoes through the room, a slight note of impatience curving the edges of her words. Her body moves clumsily forward, now stopped just outside the door to your original room. You stand deftly behind her , one arm around her waist, the other gently pressing the handle , causing the wood to creak. 

"Just a second..." -  you mutter, eyebrows arched, stress born of the fact that several pieces of fabric lie carelessly in front of the entrance. You quickly kick them aside so you can pass , without the danger of both of you ending up on the floor. After a few quick glances , in the now lit room from the lamp you turn on, you take a deep breath. - "You can open them now, Mira." 

A rainbow of emotions runs across her face. Her initial look of calmness is replaced by surprise , which quickly turns into a questioning expression...and finally a mixture of disappointment and incomprehension. Her reaction makes you wince. 

"You bought me...a sewing machine?" - Miranda asks  uncertainly, her slender fingers working their way through the air to tangle with yours. As she looks at the medium sized machine on the table in the middle of the room , along with a mannequin and a pile of fabric...all things she once bought , but never used , you don't notice that she pulls your hand closer to her. You take a step back just before she can brush her lips against your swollen knuckles. 

"No, I borrowed it. From you, actually." -  you assure her, praying that someday you too will have enough money to forget what you do and don't own. Still, you feel pleasantly touched by the softness of her assumption that this is her gift. - "I plan on creating something new for you to wear." 

"How did you even think of that?" - her surprised tone adds to the confirmation that rich people like her, whose houses are piled high with unnecessary furniture and ornaments, often forget about their possessions. 

"I certainly got a little...inside help." -  you urge out a smile. She returns a similar gesture, one more provocative than usual. 

"Eveline?" - your head quickly makes a nodding motion to confirm her assumption. A quiet, chuckling 'of course' escapes past her lips as she steps forward. Her index finger glides across the surface of the spreading machine , and her body slowly surrounds it. She sighs , eyes raised to you. - "If my memory serves me right I gave up that little toy , because I found it too...confusing." her pride won't let her call it complicated. - "Do you know how to use it?" 

"When I was younger, I often tried to make my own clothes." - a few fond memories of your teenage years spent in  long nights of sewing various t-shirts pop into your head. - "money was tight , plus my taste in fashion was always changing..." - you chuckle at the way your father used to react to all of  your different phases, the poor man would always try to understand and support you, no matter what. - "Oh and the internet is truly a wonderful gold mine so...I looked up a lot of video guides. " - something in her gaze has softened, you find it incredibly comforting. - "I'm certain in my abilities." 

"Why are you doing this?" - Miranda questions, head slightly tilted, if not allowing herself to be confusing enough she then quietly adds, almost whispering. - "What...do you want from me?" 

"I...what?" - you've expected everything, from her showing no emotions to covering you with kisses, even getting mad...for whatever reason she decides to acknowledge, really everything but her current reaction, which is beyond your understanding. Miranda doesn't take a step further or closer to you, she only allows herself to cross her arms in front of her chest. 

"All of this, of today, everything." - she taps a few times on her skin, as if to gather your attention. - "Why do all of this for me?" 

Your lips are part, leaving your mouth open for a few seconds as you try to figure out her logic. Hasn't anyone ever done these sorts of things for her? Thinking about it , Miranda didn't look so much surprised as frightened at your surprise with the girls. You fall silent, an icy chill spreads through the room. You know her love life story isn't one of the best but you can't stop yourself from wondering how much of a neglect she's been that she wants a reason to be treated well. Or the worse part of the situation is that she probably thinks , she should do something in return for you.  

"I told you, didn't I?" - you take a confident step towards her, keeping your hands close to your body, trying not to scare her. Yet her nose slightly wrinkles once you approach her further. - "I want to treat you right, show you respect and appreciation, I want..." - you stop right in front of her. Due to the  height difference between you , the upright lifting of your head if needed. You find her with weak eyes, darker than usual. - "I feel like I want to give you everything...that's why today is for you and for you only." - finally she breaks, her beloved, soft palms gentle cup your cheeks and you swear you almost melt at her touch. - "I can be good for you, better than...Mia...or Eva's father even." 

"Oh?" - Miranda's curiosity clicks right on time - "Is he part of the competition as well?" 

"Eva shared with me he wasn't the best." - the girl surely showed her hatred towards the man, from Miranda or rather your weird dreams , twisted with unpleasant feelings for him, you know he wasn't the best partner either. - "Yet he was still with you, at some point." 

"For most of our relationship we were forced to be together."  - her hands trail down your open collar , down your exposed neck. It's not long before Miranda leans in , to place her head there, her lips just inches from your collarbone. - "I was married, you know?" -  she laughs , and you try to figure out exactly how she let this happen. - "After that, I didn't even want to look at men." 

The way her hands are clenched into fists you can guess that Miranda didn't have a good husband at all. And yet you can't stop your questions. 

"What was he like..?" - she doesn't answer , not before kissing your skin and then sighing, shooting warm air towards your neck, easily making you arch it to the side , as if she's tickling you. 

"He felt like a change. I first met him behind the church where his father worked." you decide to put your arms around her back and waist as she continues to tell her story. - "He was visibly attracted to me, but he didn't dare to become closer to me. I didn't care." - this sentence makes you wonder what kind of childhood Miranda had. She has the appearance of a very calm woman, yet deep down she holds a storm , ready to escalate at any moment. - "After a few more meetings between us, he broke down, threw away his laws and shared his bed with me. He was kind, he lied for me, he committed sins, he cared..." a note of nostalgia rises in her voice, but is quickly replaced. - "That was until I naturally found myself pregnant with Eva. Then he changed and everything...went to hell." 

"He probably judged her as a mistake and-" 

"Eva is anything but a mistake." -  you realize the error of your words as soon as Miranda pushes away from you , leaving your arms empty. It doesn't matter what relationship you have with her, her daughter will always come first. -  "But you're right...he didn't love her like I do. You have no idea how many times he's tried to get rid of her." -  your fingers twitch at the thought, and your eyes slide down to where they can clearly see the scar on Miranda's ankle. - "To keep his pride he married me. That turned out to be his biggest mistake , one that haunted him until his death." 

"I'm sorry, Miranda...I-" 

"What for?" - she cuts you off again, silencing you immediately. The sound of her heels is loud when they drop on the floor next to her. You fail to realise she has bended down to take them off. After that she places her arms on her hips with a bored expression. - "he's in the past, easily forgetting...while you promised to sew me something from scratch, didn't you?" 

Miranda tosses a small object to your direction. Even with a bit slowed reflexes you manage to grab it, squeezing it tight between your palms. Once you take a closer look you recognise a tape measure, which you have earlier placed on the table with the sewing machine. You take it's end , allowing the rest of it to roll to the floor. After that you move closer in order to wrap it around her body - you begin with her shoulders.  Miranda knows her measurements very well , but she allows you to do your things. 

"Today is for you." - you repeat your statement from earlier, while seeking her lips. She kisses you back, smiling. Without her heels, which she took off in order for you to take her proper measurements, she's less tall, yet still hard enough to reach. - "and anything you desire for." 

***** 

Miranda certainly took your words too seriously. After asking for a dress of her own inventive design, which you spent the rest of the day making, making dinner also fell to you. While she decided to take a relaxing bath , you had to protect her daughters, who wanted to help, from any more cuts or burns. Finally you enjoyed a nicely cooked rice with fresh meat and vegetables. Miranda, however, did not appear. Even when you said goodnight to the girls, she didn't leave her room. 

She had you wrapped around her demanding finger from the moment you took a step into her bedroom. After that you found yourself accomplishing her every desire, as promised, naked and under her own revealed body. 

Even though the windows are open, allowing darkness and cold  to enter the room in the form of invisible globes, you feel warm, if you're honest with yourself - burning with flames of flesh and passion. The main ceiling light , which serves to illuminate the entire room , has been extinguished. In its place is a small lamp on the left nightstand  next to the bed. That way you can see every curve of Miranda's neck as she tosses her head in the dim light. You like the fact that her ridiculously huge bed doesn't creak , no matter how viciously she moves. The only louder sound , enclosed within the four cold walls, is her heavy breathing intertwined with your own. 

Miranda is torturing you. When she asked you to quench her intimate thirst , there was no questioning from your part, nor when she asked to climb on top of you. But now...you can  barely stand what is happening. The woman , in all her loveliness, has you pinned down with her terribly strong legs , almost not allowing you to move a muscle. While she is wearing the pleasant black fabric of her nightgown , you are completely naked , body left to her mercy , which turns out not to be entirely gentle , for already several red scars from hard  bites have formed around your breasts.

A soft moan slowly escapes her soft lips , quickly lost around the room , but not before she caresses your ears. You almost loose yourself between the line of allowed and not allowed as your hands clench into pathetic fists , almost crying that they can't touch her. But that was what Miranda had ordered. Just to stand and watch her , while she took what she wanted. You bite your lip , tucking your hands back under your head , trying not to tell her once again that she is beauty in its most divine form as she flicks her hair back with a quick palm through the blonde roots. 

The recently bought plastic toy from the mall easily achieves its purpose of satisfying her. Although not as large as the previous one used on Miranda, she herself said it was softer and nicer. You revel in the fact that she loses herself in her passion with little to no obstacles. If only you had the permission to help her by slamming your hips up, giving her more friction... She makes a back and forth motion with her lower body , her back arching forward as her nails slide over your burning skin. Your name trickles from her throat, making your heart skip a beat. You're sure one day this woman will kill you. 

And that moment may be closer than you expect. At first you only feel her sticky imprints on the base of your neck, but then she abruptly changes the tempo of her movements, managing to wring a broken tone of delight from her straining vocal cords. By then, a scarf of hard palms wraps around your neck , squeezing it as if it's the last thing she's going to do. Her thumbs are positioned right at the end of your jaw just below your ears, at a point she knows is enough to make you dizzy but not stop your breathing completely. Her so far calm movements are replaced in quick , uncoordinated ones as she chases after her orgasm. She squeezes you so hard that the harness straps viciously begin to bite the skin of your lower body.  

She needs just a little more to finish, her mouth remains open , and a thin line appears between her eyebrows. Her hair  spills around her face once she leans forward. You get the feeling that she's going to break into a million pieces, but she's got you fooled. Her breasts glue themselves on yours and she practically sticks to you, barely breathing. A low but pleasure-filled moan sets your skin on fire. The sound is almost like a growl. Then she settles. 

You wonder if she's done for tonight. You have no idea  anymore exactly for  how long she has been riding you , how many times she has made herself orgasm, and fallen on you like that before she getting up and going at it again. The nights of the cold season are long , you worry that Miranda wouldn't want to go to bed at all. 

You think about whether to restrain her almost trembling body with your hands or continue to follow her commands. You almost do, you almost touch her, but another guttural sound slips from her blonde strands of hair covered face , and your hands return to their original position. You shudder when her wet tongue licks your earlobe , and immediately afterwards she starts whispering praises. Her passion-filled pants pour into your system, slowly dripping all over your body before collecting between your legs. 

"You're driving me crazy, you know that?" - you hiss as soon as she decides that the tender skin of your ear deserves to be nibbled on too. - "Everything you do makes me feel so...hungry." - she sighs  and a second later her whole body follows her as  she takes a sitting position, the plastic toy sinking inside her again. - "and I'm greedy, darling, will you give me some more?" 

You have no choice but to swallow hard and nod. You would never refuse the goddess above you. You feel like your cheeks are going to explode, red and swollen with blood, once she starts moving again. Her head tilts backwards, showing her entire bare throat and the sharp elements of it , which pop out as soon as she begins to shudder and moan. You want  to kiss her there, to bite her the way she does , and then run your tongue over her bruised skin. You must be looking at her like a feral animal, because Miranda chuckles darkly at you, gathering your attention. 

"Do you realize how full of sin your eyes are?" - her hand slides over your skin again , but this time it doesn't wrap around your neck, but instead cups one of your breasts. 

"Because you're marvelous." -  you whisper, your eyes probably drained of all color compared to hers which glow brighter than the dim lamp in the room -  "every cell in your body is covered in glory..." 

"Darling..." the way she moans your nickname, unusually louder than her previous sounds, makes you totally lose your temper. She's not the only one starving for the other.

Your hands shoot out , faster than arrows, towards her and her limping body. Your fingers dig like leeches into her waist, threatening to tear the fabric of her nightgown. With the newfound strength in your wrists, you push her down and along with the thrust of your hips upward , you make sure the sex toy has found its way into the deepest and most sensitive areas inside her. She almost screams, suppressing the urge by biting her lip. 

"W-what...what are you doing?" -  Miranda murmurs uncertainly, now coming to the real world. She watches carefully as your upper body straightens and you find yourself in a sitting position , with her on your lap. She doesn't like this at all, the look on her face is a clear sign of that. - "We said no touching-" 

"You're getting loud." - you snap hastily, making her wonder if her moans can really be heard outside the comfort of her bedroom. Your hands move up , folding the nightgown enough to reveal the lack of space where the toy enters her body. You then continue to drag your palms over her clothed body, purposely putting more pressure on her clearly hardened nipples. Finally you begin to copy her , your fingers wrapping around her slender neck but not long enough because soon you are gently caressing her face. Her lips are extremely soft and she willingly parts them to take both of your thumbs in her mouth. - "Do you want me to help you with that, Mira?" 

You can physically feel the curse seeping from her vocal cords. Your thumbs press against her tongue, causing her jaws to close like a quick mechanism. Her teeth dig into the skin of your fingers , but you continue to caress her face with your free ones. After the unspoken clarity that you're going to pull your thumbs out of her mouth she nods and barely part her lips, however it's enough for you to get one hand out of there. You briefly guide it downwards where you gently lift her nightgown again, your saliva-soaked thumb quickly finding her throbbing clit and beginning to slide over the bump. 

You don't know exactly how, or with what force she manages to remove everything you exert on her and immediately after throw herself on your chest. Miranda wastes no time moving on to her favorite pastime when you are this heated and intimate. This time her teeth are relentless. Straight or pointed, it doesn't matter, they all sink right into your skin and manage to break the barrier to your scarlet blood , which almost immediately runs down her tongue. 

"It hurts, Miranda" - a new sound rises from her, almost the equivalent of a scream as she finds herself on her back on the bed. Realizing that you've managed to reverse your positions , she wastes no time in making you regret it. It seems to you that her nails are even worse than her teeth. The combination of both is complete hell. You will never understand how this woman who keeps her nails extremely short , who makes you do the same , has the power to drive what she doesn't have into your back with such force. - "enough, stop-" 

You force yourself to grab her wrists with fierce force and pin them to the pillow above her head. Maybe you're too drunk at the moment, or maybe you're really starting to lose your temper around her, but you could swear her fingers don't look normal in any way. The fingernails , which you swore weren't that long, now look big , sharp and unkempt , and her fingers themselves have grown in length, black as pitch and covered in blood...your blood. You blink and that picture fades from your eyes. You start to pound harder at her, angry at the fact that you don't understand any of what is happening.

Why is Miranda so strange? Why does she always make you feel so...unhinged. If you grabbed her wriggling mouth, filled with sharper than usual teeth right now and made her talk would she? Even if you force her...? You don't have those desires though. In fact, the only thing you really care about right now is how her whole body is writhing in pleasure and she can barely look you in the eyes , because hers are busy sliding towards the center of her head. Your worries flow out of your mind the way her orgasm drips down from between her legs.

Your grip loosens and you quickly pull out of her, leaving her empty. Miranda is a stuttering  mess. You look at her with the kindest look you can bring to your face, working to loosen the belts of the  strap  and toss it aside at  last. You lift her nightgown one last time , not to prestimulate her , but because she is clearly struggling to catch her breath. You want to release her from her factory prison , which has been teasing you all night. You kiss her quivering belly, her rapidly rising and falling breasts , then press your head on them. Despite her heavy breathing and your best efforts to hear it, her heart doesn't seem to be beating. 

Before long, she calms down. A wash of laughter fills the room, startling you.

"Are you angry with me? Do you wish to punish me, my darling?" - she voices out in a strained tone. You feel the weight of her hands on the back of your neck, dragging you down towards her. - "Or do you just really like being rough with me?"

"You have no right to complain" -  you decide to tease her, kissing just the edges of her lips. - "You're the one who leaves me wounded and scarred every time." 

"But you're so beautiful when you bleed for me."-  her hair is so perfectly strewn across the pillow, it's like a golden halo has formed over her head. You scoff, poking her in the rib until she cracks a smile as well. 

"Am I dating a psychopath, Miranda?" 

"Perhaps?" - she brushes her nose along with yours. - "Would you deny her if you were?" 

This time you really kiss her. Gently, as if she would break if you pushed her harder. You're afraid you'd still be with her even if she locked you in a cage. Even though your hands start to slide down her body, you know she's done for the night. Your confirmation arrives on a silver platter as soon as she pushes you off of her. Miranda unexpectedly stands up, slightly stunned by the weakness in her knees, and rolls over to open a drawer beside her bed. From it she pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a small purple lighter. You watch intently as she lights the tip of the thin cylinder , filled with tobacco, and slowly takes her first drag. 

"Did I do too much?" -  you run your hand over her shoulder, deliberately avoiding the odd blackness on her back to get her attention. Turning around with her lips slightly parted and a questioning look in her eyes, a cloud of smoke slowly covering them. - "I know you only smoke when you're tense or angry or..." 

"No, actually..." -  she pauses , to flick the burnt part of her cigarette onto the locker. It's interesting how she owns me ashtrays. - "I'm willing to admit it's kind of a guilty pleasure for me." - she runs a hand through her hair , to move it away from her face. - "You know , I stay in my office for so long a day because I don't want my kids to inherit the same bad habit."

You nod your head in understanding. You easily remember the smell of smoke all over her office or the many burn marks on her desk where she probably put out her cigarettes. You remember though , and their taste from that day on the terrace. You had tried cigarettes as a rebellious teenager and had made it clear , this was not for you. But with Miranda it's different, her kind is different. The usual vaporous, bitter taste was suppressed and although you choked a few times because of your quick puffs, the taste of them felt much better. 

"Can I have one?" - you nervously reach for the box. Miranda arches a questioning eyebrow. 

"It's not healthy." - she informs you sharply, gripping the box between her long fingers. You almost don't laugh. The woman, already reaching for a second cigarette wants to convince you , that smoking them is harmful. Well this is already interesting. 

"Miranda." - you try to make your voice sound sweeter than honey too.  

"No." - she replies firmly. 

"Mira..." - you place a kiss on her shoulder. She shivers. 

"I already told you no." - she starts to sound uncertain though. 

"Please, my dear...dearest." - you smile when you feel her physically give in. So nicknames hold almost the same power level as they do to you? Useful information for the next time you're going to find yourself begging her for something. 

Miranda hands you a cigarette , she's even nice enough to light it for you. This time she doesn't want to pull it from her lips, nor is there any hurry , so you let yourself enjoy the taste of it. Miranda is right , the feeling is comforting but you don't think it's something you would do as often as she does. Still, you like the peaceful moment you're in. Once you manage to let her you look around the room , your fallen clothes that Miranda practically ripped from your body and the still wet plastic toy , attached to your belt. 

"Are you sure you don't want more?" - your words are almost lost mixed in the kisses falling on her shoulder. Her hair still manages to smell wonderful, in spite of all the smoke around the room. 

"Are you planning on me not being able to walk normally tomorrow?" -  she snaps back at you, bowing her head. Her voice is dry, you'll probably have to go get her some water, but the fingers running just slightly down the length of your thigh , make you not want to move a muscle. 

"Actually, I wanted to give you an orgasm for every birthday you refused to celebrate." - there's a hint of a joke in your tone, which Miranda latches onto and shoots right back at you. 

"Oh, so you want me dead?"

"Really? That much?" -  she nods, astonishing you. And here again , despite your closeness a new wall of the unknown rises between you. You know , Miranda is older and yet...you have no idea by how much exactly. - "How old are you anyway?" 

"I stopped caring about my age so long ago." - she says hoping to end the subject, but you insist on the answer. She realizes that there's no hard way out so she places her chin angrily in her open palm and mutters. - "I should be about a hundred and thirty something..." 

"Miranda..." - you blink a few times, staring at her. And she's looking at you like a ghost is standing in front of her. The next moment you frown, jabbing your finger into her ribs again. - "I'm not kidding, tell me the truth!" 

"Okay...thirty...no actually forty..." her blue eyes tangle around your body. But you don't give in, her ribs are quickly assaulted and this time she tries to suppress a smile because of her tickle. Maybe the cutest thing you've ever seen. - "Darling...don't make me count please." 

With that you give up. The woman is impossible. 

.

.

.

You find it really unpleasant how the rest of the mansion manages to be so cold , and the room you were shivering in all morning is now warmer than one heated by a fireplace. 

Proudly wearing Miranda's long , night robe , your body is partially protected , but the cold still manages to bite the bare parts of your skin - like your arms , neck or legs . 

You both agreed that you need a glass of water and you, being the less tired of the two, take on the task of walking through the dark corridors of the mansion to fetch them to Miranda's bedroom. 

Your passage is quick. The thing slowing you down, however, are the closed rooms of her two daughters. Some inner , unknown instinct manipulates you into confirming that Eva and Eveline are fine and sleeping calmly in their beds. You barely manage to catch your breath once this fact is confirmed. As if something could attack them in this lonely mansion... 

The only light on the second floor comes from under Miranda's bedroom door. You're not surprised to find her already asleep and wrapped in blankets. Her bed is so comically large that her generally tall figure looks small and frail in the middle of it. Without thinking much you close the wooden door behind you , turning the key, locking yourself from the rest of the mansion. Almost every morning her daughters come in after waking up and if they are lucky enough, their mother is waiting for them with open arms for morning cuddles. This time, however, you decide to reserve that moment for yourself. 

Her body twitches with every step. You're sure she's already awake. She sleeps very lightly and is awakened by the simple opening and closing of a door, your footsteps only adding to the disruption of her sleep. It kind of makes you sad, the thought that she doesn't have enough faith in anyone that she would fall deep asleep around them. That lack of trust is upon you too. 

You turn off the small bedside lamp and quickly slide under the covers. You smile, feeling her wrap her own limbs around you. Like a snake in its prey. In her sleepy states, she looks most beautiful to you. Like a true goddess of eternity, with her white wings clipped so she can roam the earth...with you. You place loving kisses on her forehead. 

"Happy Birthday, Miranda." - she only murmurs in response, but you're certain she's more than thankful. 

[alastorsfuckassbob]

With Her Song- 5

AlastorXFem!Reader part 5!

A/N: okay so this is egregiously long and could totally be two chapters (a grand total of 14436 words) but I think I've made yall wait LONG ENOUGH!!!!!!!! a l s o FUN FACT I LEARNED WHILE WRITING THIS, although turpentine is often used as a paint thinner modernly, in the olden days it was used to alleviate ailments such as soreness or pain. IT IS ALSO very very flammable!! It’s one of those old timey concoctions people would just kinda throw on whatever to fix an issue, but it often caused more pain than good. YAY for metaphors teaching me new little things. Shout out to hadestown for teaching me that silly little substance- pls I live under a fucking rock that’s probs painfully obvious. 

Plot: Y/n needs therapy but instead indulges in a few too many dinky drinks with friends-it goes painfully wrong and then painfully right and then with a dash of fan service we get some drunken closure!

Minors get the frick out..thank yew :)

⚠️WARNINGS⚠️

-A bit of ANGST

-Alcohol and drugs..duh

-Murder death and violence..the whole nine yards

-A LOTTT OF CURSING (are you surprised)

-we do kiss but its not fun but could be fun in the future

-overuse of thesaurus! (take a shot every time i say enraptured)

✨ WITHOUT FURTHER ADO ✨ (i did not proofread this LMAO)

“I don’t know how I ever managed to love someone stupid enough to waste their soul on nothing more cheap liquor and lust rolled cigarettes.” 

The words echoed through your mind. Each syllable reverberating into the depths of your soul, sowing the seeds of your own corruption. Their tone twists deeper, sharpened and volatile. The desolate look of his eyes was a time drenched rusted knife plunging deep into your skin, it radiated with a sincerity you weren’t ready to meet. 

The memory was soaked in turpitude turpentine, match struck and ablaze with frantic fire. No matter how many times you attempted to cleanse your thoughts of the memory, the words would bubble up from the ashes and form again. It was a festering wound that wouldn’t close. The defiled crimson that poured from your wounded heart manifested as chapfallen tears and somber sniffles.

You reach into your satin lined purse searching for any form of distraction. A box of cigarettes finds space in your grasp, the lighter following soon after. Your shaking hands remove the thin stick from its box, you click the lighter to no avail. It sparks in unspoken flames,  devoid of fuel, unable to battle the recollection displayed; it creeps in deeper both vivid and haunting. In a swift movement the objects fly across the room fleeting from your frustration. Your fingers fumble through the crowded labyrinth of the bags interior in search of your phone.  Your grasp gets tangled on the crumpled receipts of your latest purchases and various tubes of lip gloss before it meets the exterior of the device. 

The urgency of each swipe heightens and you frantically scroll through the contact list. Each name surfaced on the digital roster stirs a sense of unease within you. The majority of the contacts in your collection were nothing more than business associates. In your panicked swipes you come across a small picture of Angel followed by the name “Hot spider from work”. He had chosen the name himself upon entering his number into your phone, you hadn’t bothered to change it.  You dial the number before you can convince yourself otherwise. Your eyes release a rivulet of tears dotting the surface of the screen as you await an answer. Its insistent ring pulses into your hand, mimicking the anticipation of your heartbeat. The longer it hangs in the air the more your hope for connection begins to fade. 

With a soft click angel’s voice carries warmth and familiarity into your ears.

“Hey doll, I’m going out with Cherri tonight, I can’t talk long you need somethin?” He casually chimed accompanied by his typical charm. 

You attempted to speak but the words caught against the burning in your throat. A nearly silent sob wracked against his ears, muffled by the crinkling timbre of the phone line. 

“Oh shit..y/n are you okay?" His voice adopts a concerned cadence, the essence of compassion underscoring the inquiry. You hold back a sniffle as he continues to speak. ”Did something happen?” He pondered your apparent distress, his thoughts racing to find any plausible explanation. His mind shifted to your shared situation, casting an anxious shadow onto his usually brightened facade. 

 “Did.. Val do something?” A mixture of concern and fear manifested within his hesitant tone. 

“No its okay..I just wanted to talk for a bit. I don’t want to bother you if you’re busy” Each carefully chosen word placed a mask upon the turmoil and disorder you felt underneath. He listened through each layer of brightly shined forgery, not buying into its incandescent veneer. Angel was not the “purest” soul in hell by any means, but his heart was imbued with the care he held for his friends. Even if the words you spoke supported a sense of stability, there was no way he would take that chance. 

“Are you still at the club? I’ll be right over. I just need to let Cherri kno-”

“No, no- I don’t want to ruin your plans” You cut him off before the words left his mouth. Despite his borderline celebrity status, Angel wasn’t granted many friendships. With everything Valentino demanded, he didn’t have a lot of extra time to maintain the ones he did have. Whatever unrest Alastor had pervaded you with would have to wait; it wasn’t fair to ruin his downtime.

“I can get drunk off my ass another night from the sound of it you don’t need to be alone right now.” He spoke ignoring your words.Your friendship was the last semblance of normalcy in his hellish life. He would never outwardly admit how much, but he loved you. He would give up a hundred nights of drinking if it meant he could fix whatever had troubled you.

“Can I come with you?”  You asked hesitantly. The fear of isolation haunted you too much to completely drop the issue, perhaps you could just tag along. That way you can avoid your current predicament, and he would still be granted a night of well deserved fun.

“Yeah obviously.” He mocked “Is that even a real question.” A wave of sarcasm crashed against his words, a laugh erupting along with it. 

He took a moment to catch his breath, eventually his satirical outlook shifted into a short apprehensive silence. “Are you sure you’re up for it toots?” He posed, genuine worry at its core.

“Yeah I think it’ll be fun to get my mind off things..its just been a rough day” you say nonchalantly, as if you hadn’t just shattered the majority of your dressing room in your fight with Alastor.

“Kay I’ll let Cherri know we found a third”  You could practically picture the jokingly seductive smirk smearing across his expression through the haze of the phone. 

“Angel-“ You playfully rolled your eyes. You adored his flirtatious sense of humor more than you were willing to admit. Occasionally, the comments could become a tad repetitive, but for the larger majority of time, they were hilarious.

“You know you love me babes, I’m glad you’re coming with us. It took you long enough-you’ve been denying my invitations for months. We’ll pick you up in a half hour okay?” He prattled out, his tone teeming with an enthusiastic thrill.

“Yeah it should be fun..I’ve gotta get changed, see you when you get here” You laugh out, amused by his reactions. You haphazardly click the device off and toss it on top of your bag. You rush over to the disorganized hodgepodge of clothing hung on the rack within your dressing room. You tear through countless revealing outfits in search of something well suited for a night on the town.

 The numerous options you had tried on and promptly threw off piled up behind you. Nothing felt right, if the color was correct, you didn’t like the way it fit you, if the fit was accurate, the color was an atrocity. You were beginning to contemplate not going at all, if you weren’t going to look good there was no sense in going. You anxiously inch closer to the racks end, denying each ensemble until you reach the final matching set, a short ivory corseted top and its matching mini skirt. It wasn’t ideal, but still held a bit more merit than the previous options. The dress you had  been wearing pooled at your feet as you slid the new top over your head. As you stepped into the skirt,  your phone started to buzz again. You pick up the device and read the message.

“Don’t expect us to wait all night for you~ We’re here now babes get your ass out here so we can have a good time”

You hadn’t expected the time to pass so quickly. You briskly check your hair and makeup in your phones camera and the results aren’t appalling enough to justify being late. The skirt’s zipper flies to a hurried close as you grab your things and rush outside to meet Angel. 

Upon exiting the building, you are greeted with the well welcomed sight of the spider demon. He leans against the sleek black car. His eyes are glossed in disinterest, focused on the condition of his nails. As the front door clicks to a close behind you, he glances up in your direction. His bored demeanor fading to that of excitement. You send him a small sheepish wave as you walk towards him. 

“Hiya y/n~” Angel purred, wrapping all  his four arms around your frame. He lifted you into a bit of a spin as he hugged you. “Don’t you just look spectacular, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to impress someone” He lets out a clearly fake gasp. His face shifts into an overly dramatic display of satirical shock. “Is it me? Because I think it just might be me” He pinches your cheeks playfully before ushering you towards the car.  As soon as you’re seated angel’s legs are stretched across you, and his arms rest behind his head against the window.

“Cheri! This is y/n.” Angel spoke enthusiastically, excited to have finally introduced his two favorite friends. You sent her a small hello and a little wave. However, Cheri remained rather quiet. In the few times Angel had mentioned her, she never seemed like the type to stop talking, just so long as she had something to say. It was off-putting to be the source of her silence. It didn’t seem like the two of you were going to be fast friends or even slow ones. Angels face fell as he shuffled awkwardly in his seat. The tension in the air suffocated you, straightening your spine as you drifted in its asphyxiating poison. His confident posture shifted into that of hesitation. The strong smile he usually wore faltered as it cracked into a thin straight line. You noticed the subtle reflection of his inner most thoughts in each anxious twist of his hands. Cheri rolled her eye, and fixated it towards the other window; clearly unbothered by his newfound expression.

“Right..uh..Who’s ready to get fucked up” He asked brightly attempting to fix the mood. Cheri sent him a glare in response, his efforts had fallen flat. You weren’t entirely sure what to say or how to defuse this situation, so you opted for silence as well. Disappointment sank into Angel’s frame. He drew his legs back and shrunk down into his own seat.  The rest of the car ride was devoid of conversation of any sort. The only sounds within the vehicle were the trashy pop songs the car’s radio bothered to spit out, and the hum of the passing cars. 

 To be entirely honest, you weren’t sure why Cheri didn’t seem to like you. You had never met her until this point or truly even spoken a word in her direction, and yet she seemed so bothered by your existence. Angel clearly liked her for some reason, maybe she was just defensive around new people. You could work with that. The car jerks to a heavy stop in front of the neon lined club roughly yanking you from your thoughts. The building in front of you was a bit smaller than Valentino’s own club and yet it held the all the same destructive tendencies.  As the three of you stepped out of the car, it sped off at an inhumane speed, leaving you with no course of escape.

The room was unusually warm. It seemed to pulsate with the thumping base reverberating from the numerous speakers that lined the bar. The dance floor oozed in the addictive scent of expensive perfumes and cheap liquors. The neon glow from the flashing lights above haloed each demon in a glistening sacrilegious sheen. For a moment, you are caught within its immersive daze. The electric buzz of the atmosphere in each tiny connection ties you within its euphoric chains. For a moment, you are nothing more than a spinning cog in the club’s eccentric machine. Twirling. Swaying. Hypnotic within its rhythm, your body reflects that of the environment as you lose yourself in its captivating dance. 

“Y/n babes- we haven’t had a round yet, we’re here to get drunk and dance- not just dance” Angel’s playful voice snaps you back into reality. He grabs your hand and leads you to a quieter table in the back where  Cheri had already ordered the first few rounds of shots. 

Before you can truly sit down in the booth, your fingers grip around the small glass meeting it with your lips, the sharp tingling liquid burning down your throat. Within minutes the first few rounds were complete, despite your slightly stumbling form, you insisted on another. Angel, in a similar boat, gladly agrees leaving you alone in the neon glow with Cheri. As he walks towards the bar you feel the intensity of her gaze pricking into the exposed skin of your shoulders. Her voice officially calls your attention as she pulls out a small bag of miscellaneous pills.

“How about we get things really started”  A sly smile spread across her face as she spoke, dangling the bag between her fingers teasingly. “It’s nothing too harmful just a mild..stimulant” She added as she took two small circular capsules from their flimsy plastic container. She placed one on top of the cocktail napkin in front of you and one on her tongue. 

“What does that mean, what is it exactly” You ask hesitantly. You weren’t opposed to the idea of doing something of this sort, but it was best to know what you were getting into. In all honesty, Alastor wasn’t worth the onset taking something too serious would cause. Even in Hell, actions tend to have consequences.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re too good for this shit” She huffed kicking her legs onto the table, knocking a stray shot glass to the side with a soft clink. Your eyes widen in surprise by her reaction.

“No I wasn’t saying that- I just want to understand what I’m getting into..thats all” You stammered out attempting to diffuse any tension your response may have accidentally caused. She rolled her eye picking up the small white circle on the napkin.

“Don’t worry about that- it’s just to loosen you up so you can have a good time”.  She laughed nudging your arm slightly. “Its not serious..It’ll just help you forget” She sent you a soft smile placing the pill in your hand. Her eyes held a fragment of sadness, she would never mention it, but she had her own issues too. In her own odd way, she was just trying to help, and for some reason you couldn’t explain, you trusted her. 

You swallowed the pill as she pulled out a small circular tube. She pressed its edge against her lips and sent a puff of fruit mingled smoke in your direction. She wordlessly places the device in your hand, and you do the same. Its hazy pink light glows against the corners of your face as it activates. It wasn’t entirely like you to do something like this, but it seemed to help you get along with Cheri. That would make Angel happy to see his friends get along…After all, it was just to help you have a good time..No harm can come from a good time if thats all it is. The speakers of the club somehow grow louder as they sputter out a new, faster tune.

“Fuck I love this song” Cheri practically yells standing up from her seat. Before you can object, her hand takes yours, and you are dragged into the middle of the dance floor. She spins slightly as she rolls her hips yelling out the mumbled words of the song’s melody. It wasn’t long before your limbs began to echo the beat of each rhythm in tandem with her movements. Your mind glowed in a different sort of euphoria, your limbs seemed to float, slowing gliding through the tempo of the resounding pulse of your heart beat. Each person in the room seemed to blend together in watercolor warmth and decadent dancing pleasure, painting the picture of pure energy. With each spin you felt the weight of each memory sizzle off of your skin and evaporate into the air. You glance at Cheri beside you as her body swings under the  influence of the pure “ecstasy” of the moment. 

“I thought you were just gonna be another one of angel’s depressing friends-but fuck do you know how to party” Cheri laughed throwing her hands above her head as she swayed to the beat of the music. (White girl wasted asf) 

“Where did I go wrong to make you think that” You laugh with her spinning her around. 

“It doesn’t really matter, you just had that vibe” Her eyes drift to the demon behind you “More relevantly, I think ears over there is picking up a different vibe”

“What do you mean” You ask as she subtly points to the cat demon across the bar. His white fluffy tail resembled freshly fallen snow. On first glance, he held a gentle exterior. Golden chains strung from his neck dipped between his low cut lacy top and suit jacket. As your eyes wandered upwards, his seemingly innocent appearance was betrayed by his piercing red eyes. They soaked into his skin like freshly spilled blood. He glanced back at you, noticing how deeply your eyes were trained on him. He smiled revealing his razor sharp teeth and the edge of his forked tongue. His eyes raked up your figure, stopping just below your lips. His tail twitched as his sharp claws flexed against the metal countertop of the bar. He slid across a few dollars to the bar tender in exchange for two shot glasses. 

“Y/n- are you blind- do you not see how he’s looking at you?” Cheri’s teasing voice stole you from your observations. It was getting a bit harder to focus. theatre music blared against your ears breaking your concentration at every available instance. 

“I don’t know” You mutter out, unsure of what to make of the situation. It wasn’t like the demon wasn’t horrendously ugly, with his tall pointed ears and softy fuzzy exterior one might even refer to him as cute. 

“Well I do! I basically live here- so he’s not going to reject you or anything, you should go for it” Cheri said nudging your arm playfully while shooting a sly wink to the object of the conversation.  

“I’m not really here for-“ She cut you off before the uncertainty in your mind could hold the physical space of your words. 

 “Why not he’s cute right?” She quipped twirling a piece of her hair. 

“I guess.. he’s alright, I just don’t know if I’m ready for that..I know it’s not important but- ” You stuttered out. The amount you had already drank and the pressure Cheri seemed to apply made it much harder to express how you truly felt. You had come out with them to forget what had happened and more importantly your feelings for Alastor, but now that that sentiment had phased into reality, nothing about it felt right. You wanted to drown your sorrows and slip into a blissful moment of peace, not fill the hole he left in your heart with the pursuit of another demon. 

“Y/n don’t drag down the night with whatever bullshit is going on in your head. Don’t prove me wrong, I was just beginning to like you. Go dance with him, it’ll keep your mind off whatever you’re stuck on” Through the rough tone of her voice, there was almost a hint of desperation. She sent you a soft smile and nudged you further in his direction. The world seemed to slow down as each passing face lingered in your peripheral vision, each step tapering into slow motion as you walked in his direction. You had hardly given him a hello, before he shoved another shot glass into your hands.  He spoke mostly of himself as he ordered yet another round. The world started to feel less and less real as he whispered utterances of “baby” and “darling”  denying you the autonomy of a true name. He was enraptured with the beauty of your form, he couldn’t care less to anything that lived below that exterior. His hands rested against the exposed skin of your back as you pulled him to the dance floor.

You spin around giggling wildly as his fingers grip tighter into your flesh pulling you closer. His hips grind against your own, as his tail thrashes with the beat. With each sway, the world around falls into disarray. You can hardly make out Cherri’s grin and less than subtle thumbs up as she begins dancing with another demon she had come across throughout the entirety of your conversation. She grabs their hand and leads them out the door. Your dance partner senses your attention falling elsewhere, he places his thumb against your chin tilting it back in his direction. For just a moment, his deep red eyes seem to encapsulate a glimmer of  Alastor’s own. The longer you gazed into his eyes the more apparent it was that their darling shade of crimson was their only similarity. Alastor had never looked at you in such desperate hunger. His eyes always held an aura of care. 

“What do you say we get out of here baby? You’re a fantastic dancer, but I’d like to chat with you more.”

He whispers into your ear as he places a hand behind your neck. The two of you are impossibly close, teetering on the edge of a kiss. His hands trail down your back and underneath the hem of your skirt. You take a step back but his grip grows tighter, keeping you within his grasp.  Angel, who had been viewing the scene from afar, practically bolted in your direction. 

"y/n- who the hell is this?” Angel steps between the two of you sending the man a glare. 

 “Give us some space” You whisper, your eyes locked with Angel's. He rolls his eyes in response, turning his focus to the man you had been dancing with. “Yeah.. give us some space” he adds in his direction, bitterness overtaking his normally sweetened tone. 

“That’s not what I meant.” You retaliated taking a step away from Angel. "I promise. Its fine." 

 “It’s what I meant though…I’m all for blowing off steam at the end of a long day but this is going too far”  He huffs grabbing your wrist and leading you off the dance floor and towards the front of the building.

“Oh like you’re one to talk. You’ve been throwing back shots since before we got here. We were just talking” You mutter, as he opens the door to the exterior of the club.   

“No you weren't and you know it- Also Y/n.. I hate to break it to you, but you are like maybe five feet tall” He laughs, placing his arm on your shoulder. 

“Angel-“ you cross your arms, shrugging him off.

“MAYBE” He places his finger against your lips, effectively shushing you. “MAYBE with a few inches tacked on the end...Your tolerance isn’t going to be as high as mine” He sends you a playful wink. 

“Bullshit- I’m just having a good time” you retort slapping his hand away. 

“No, you aren’t. Nothing about your body language or your face or fucking anything about you even hinted that you were enjoying that” he huffs flinging his arms out dramatically. “What’s really going on with you?” he asks pointedly, the tension in his body visible as the fur on his chest puffed out a little more. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t see why you care Cherri is doing the same things I am go bother her if your savior complex needs a new victim” you snap back at him. For a moment his face falls, his heart fragmented in the reflection of his eyes.  

“Babe- you’re wasted, you don't really mean that" he said with a small laugh in the attempt to mollify the situation on both sides. 

“everyone here is” you retort. You ignored the look in his eyes, tears pricking in your own as you turn back to the entrance of the bar. "Leave me the fuck alone Angel. We work together, you don't need to pretend to be my friend because you feel bad about yourself. I don't need pity especially not yours." you seethe placing your hand on the door in front of you. You knew you were being unreasonable, but whats said and done cannot be changed. Even if the rage you directed at him was not his to carry, fire does not care what it burns and bridges are not often rebuilt. Whats done is done, if Hell had taught you one thing, there was no way around that fact. 

“Can you just cut the shit and tell me what’s going on” He yells grabbing the sides of your shoulders. Your eyes grow wide shocked at his reaction. He lets out a sigh ”Look.. I'm sorry Y/n...I’m just worried about you.” his voice is barely audible. "I know I'm not the best friend in the world or even a good one, but you're all I've got. You don't get to tell me thats not worth anything so just cut it out and tell me whats wrong..this isn't like you." His grip on your shoulders softens and eventually falls as takes a step back.

“My ex-fiancee showed up at the club, its stupid I know its not important but that asshole knows how to get to me" you finally admit. 

“Oh realllyyy" His eyebrows raise suggestively. "Was it that cat sinner who used to work there- y/n i think you have a type," he laughs "but I always thought you two would be cute together” he smiles attempting to lighten the mood. 

His smirk drops as your face remains stagnant, clearly unamused. He sends you a more genuine smile, taking a seat on the curb patting the ground beside him.

 "It must be really bad if you've lost your taste for my impeccable sense of humor" he adds as you sat next to him indulging his invitation. 

“I knew him in life..he’s kind of the reason I ended up here.” you confess wiping the ghost of a tear from your face

“Oh.. y/n I’m sorry” Angel slings his arm around you offering a bit of comfort. 

“No-no don’t be I don’t want to ruin your fun with my sh-” 

“Y/n you aren’t ruining things,” He says resolutely, grabbing your shoulders with a playful shake "Just talk to me..if you want” His eyes house a desperation you were all too familiar with. Each shimmery pink spoke of his iris held tightly against your skin, begging for a fragment of honesty. 

“It’s fine really…He just.. didn’t have many nice things to say,” you mutter out, tearing away from his gaze and settling your own against the floor. 

“Shit, that’s rough.”  He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, a half-hearted smile tugging at his lips as he tried to mask his discomfort with humor. He was never great with words, but that would never stop him from being there for you.

“Tell me about it” you laughed attempting to distract from the unmistakable break in your voice.

“That’s definitely a drinking to forget kinda night..” He let out a short laugh in response, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of genuine sympathy before they darted away to the ground between the two of you. His brow furrowed as he searched for the right words to say.

“I didn’t mean to get so upset with you..You’re your own person and obviously, you can handle yourself-you just aren’t used to this scene and I didn’t want you to end up in situations you’ll regret tomorrow- like I used to do..” He sighed deeply, running a hand through the fluff of his hair.

“Angel,” You said softly, your hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

“You’re better than I am y/n…I just didn’t want anything to happen to you..” His voice wavered rendering it nearly unrecognizable. His casually confident demeanor dropped, as he reflected on the details of his past. Your eyes met his in a moment of understanding, your smiles stretching within them, it was clear you cared for each other even if you had a hard time expressing it. 

“I’m really not. If anything you’re better than me, at least you know when to quit” You chuckle lightly. You take a deep breath unsure of how to accurately express much of anything. The whole night had been a rollercoaster packed with invisible turns and twists divulging into one fucked up experience. “I’m sorry Angel. I shouldn’t have said any of that to you..You’re my best friend it’s important to me that you know that”, your voice softens as you try to convey how much he truly meant to you.

“Don’t go all soft on me Toots, it’s just what friends do.” He says, his overtly confident tone returning as he playfully nudges your shoulder “What do you say we head back to the hotel and raid the bar? It doesn’t matter how shitfaced you get in the comforts of your own home.” The act he so obsessively put on would never drop for longer than a few moments, but it was always comforting to be within his company when it did. You could be yourself and who you had to be all at once as long as you did it together. 

“Self-destructive and Safe? Oh, count me in” You giggle, pulling a few small shot bottles you had smuggled out from your pockets. He takes one, clinking it against the one in your hand. 

After a slight walk, the two of you arrived at the steep entrance to the Hazbin Hotel. It had clearly seen better days, although not the eyesore it used to be, it still projected an aura of delapidation. Not that the two of you cared, it had been a long night and you weren’t done yet, this was just another place to keep the party going. Between stumbling fits of giggles you slumped against his side, taking his hand in yours he opened the large wooden doors into the building. 

“Welcome to The Hazbin Hotel a place where sinners don’t sin for a place to stay unless you ain’t being watched then anythings free game” Angel smirked lifting his arms out like some sort of circus showman. 

Alastor stood on the balcony of the hotel, his gaze fixed on the foyer below. The dim light from Hell’s perpetual sunset illuminated the scene, casting long shadows across the marble floors. He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten back here after the fight. Each haunting memory of the argument was hazy, fractured like a broken radio transmission. One moment, he had been facing you, anger flashing between you both, and the next, he found himself back at the hotel.

“Must’ve been some form of magic,” he thought, though magic had never been something he entirely trusted, it was a necessity. Magic is synonymous with power, any and all magic was of use to him—he had long since mastered every trick of the trade—but you, you were something else entirely. How had you managed to fly under the radar for that long if your power was great enough to transport an overlord like himself against his will. 

His eyes narrowed slightly as his shadow slinked from the corner of the balcony, creeping along the edges of the stone like a living thing. It murmured softly, darkly.

“You could use this one, you know. A means to an end. You’ve already hurt her once…she could never love you again but you could still have her.." it hissed.

Alastor scoffed, shaking his head. “Do you never tire of your incessant suggestions, my dear shadow? She is more than that. Much more.”

"You could still use her to your advantage. She's weak, vulnerable, and she's already in your grasp..."

Alastor’s lip curled in irritation, a deep chuckle escaping him. “Do you ever shut up, you little wretch? She is no pawn.”

But the shadow’s words stuck with him, like a splinter in his brain. He could use you, he knew that. But something about it felt wrong, something he couldn’t quite explain.

He wasn’t naive. He could see the way the world operated—power was everything here. Yet as his eyes moved to the figure below, standing in the center of the lobby a pang of something softer tugged at his chest. It was you, severely intoxicated you, but still you. Always appearing when he least expected it. You had this uncanny way of showing up, out of nowhere, like some divine force ensuring he never quite lost sight of what he wanted.

And you were so... gorgeous. More so than anything he'd ever seen in this twisted hellhole.

The sight of you—draped in dim lighting, your features a perfect mix of both beauty and something darker, something uniquely you—left him breathless. His heart pulsed in his chest, almost painfully, as he watched you. He loved you, deeply, madly. The thought of it was strange, disorienting. For a being like him, who had long since abandoned all notions of softness, of attachment, it haunted him. Unfamiliar. But undeniable.

So there he stayed, out of sight and watching you with an intensity that could only be described as obsession. Your presence had shifted something in him, something he couldn’t quite control, and for once, that didn’t frighten him. It was almost... comforting.

The sound of footsteps echoed on the grand marble floors as you and Angel made your way toward the bar, Alastor watched you both intently from the balcony. The hotel loomed over you like a cathedral of excess, its luxurious interior drenched in shades of red velvet and deep crimson. The carpets were stained with the color of blood, and the chandeliers overhead seemed to catch the light in strange, angular ways, like broken glass. Despite the decor’s opulence, there was something unsettling about it all, a sense that everything here was just a little too perfect.

And then there were the windows. Stained glass windows lining the walls, depicting flowers—strange, foreign flowers whose forms never quite seemed to align with anything you knew. They were beautiful in their own right, yet so alien. They spoke of a beauty that was unattainable, untouchable, much like the lives you led here, in this place. They didn’t belong here... or maybe they did.

From your perspective, the hotel felt both too real and not real enough. It was alive in a way that made you uncomfortable, yet at the same time, it felt like you’d stepped into a delightful dream, one where you didn’t quite belong, but didn’t wish to leave.

Angel, sensing your quiet discomfort, nudged you with his elbow. “Relax, doll. It’s just another night in Hell. Let's grab a drink, yeah?”

His voice snapped you out of your trance, and you nodded, your gaze flicking back to the bar. Husk was sitting there, nursing a drink, his tired eyes flickering up at the two of you as you approached. He didn’t say anything but there was a knowing look in his eyes that made you wonder if he knew more about your situation than you did.

“Hey Husk, this is my dear friend Y/n who is in desperate need of a good drink” Angel practically yells grabbing a seat in front of the all too familiar bar of the Hazbin Hotel. 

“You’re just bringing everyone home these days” Husk mutters sarcastically glancing your way as he grabs three glasses from the shelf and a variety of bottles from the back of the bar. 

“Oh shut up, she’s a good one” Angel’s body slings over the bar as he speaks, he begins giggling at nothing or so it seems.  Husk’s typically bored eyes catch on the curve of Angel’s smile and the messy tousled hair that framed it.

 There is nothing more cruel in hell than the prospect of love.  His eyes filled with a pure haze of adoration, teeming in unyielding clouds of desperation. His smile grasping fervently at the raw precipice of vulnerability; entangled in the fear it could all slip away into the abyss of logic. These moments of observation became his own clandestine affair, a silent ache for an authenticity that Hell would never allow. He knew the way he felt for the spider demon was nothing short of love, yet their hearts were forbidden to intertwine openly. Angel had Valentino to deal with, and he had to deal with Alastor. It could never be anything more than lingering stares and passing glances, but oh how deeply he craved it. 

“How’d you wind up with this one? He’s not exactly a peach to be around.” Husk asks, tilting his head in your direction as he slides a glass to each of you.

“He’s the one good thing to come from working with Val” You boasted patting Angel’s head lightly. 

“Yeah yeah I’m great I know” Angel cuts in wrapping an arm around your shoulder “But how did a bombshell like you end up with a shitbag ex? I’m dying to know” Angel teases tousling your already messy hair. 

"We met when we were basically kids," you said after a long pause, your eyes never leaving the glass. "Teenagers, you know how it is." you shrugged, a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. "It sort of just went from there."

Angel's gaze sharpened, his smirk widening. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms with a knowing look. "It’s always the ones you know the longest that turn out the shittiest."

You rolled your eyes, chuckling  dryly "Right? We worked together later on his stupid show," you added a bit  more forcefully, as if the words themselves could push the memories away.

Angel made a low noise, almost a scoff, and took a slow sip from his glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim. "Well, you should’ve known better than to mess with someone in show business."

you glanced up at him, your brow arched in amusement. "We're in show business."

"Exactly." Angel’s smirk was quick, knowing, and laced with the kind of dark humor only he could pull off. “go onnnn” he says with a slight shimmy.

You slump back against the bar, your glass swirling in your hand as the ice cubes clink together. The amber liquid inside your glass has begun to lose its chill, but you don't care. You've had enough to drink to not give a damn. You can feel the heat spreading from your chest, and for once, you don’t mind it. It’s been a while since you’ve felt anything other than numb, and tonight—well, tonight is different.

“Well, there really isn’t much else to say,” you mumble, staring into your glass. Your fingers circle the rim absently as you speak. “I’d loved him for years… I don’t know if it was love, but that’s how it felt. I guess you can’t really call it love if it doesn’t go well. You know how it goes. Eventually, people leave…” Your voice falters for a second, and you can feel the weight of the words like a stone in your gut. You take another drink, feeling the burn slide down your throat. “I’ve never been good at that part, so I waited. A lot of good that did.” You laugh bitterly, staring at the glass in your hand like it holds all the answers. “Eventually, I had to find someone else. Worst decision of my life, but I’d make it again every single time.”

You take a deep breath, then lean your head back against the bar. Your head spins slightly, the liquor mixing with your emotions, making it all blur together. You hear Angel shifting in his seat and you feel the heaviness of Husk's eyes on your form. The weight of the silence seems to press in around you.

“On the house,” Husk grumbles from behind the counter, his voice rough as always. “Take whatever else you want. Just don’t touch my whisky. It’s late as fuck, I’m going to bed”

“Bye,” Angel mutters, not even bothering to acknowledge Husk’s sarcasm. He flips his cigarette between his fingers, eyes glinting as he focuses on you instead.

Your attention shifts back to Angel, and you lean in, squinting your eyes like you’re trying to make sense of him. “So, you and the cat demon?” you ask, a teasing edge in your voice. “I think it’s you who might have a type.”

Angel huffs, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Shut up, Y/N.” But there's a softness in his words, like he’s not as defensive as he wants to be. You catch it, and it makes you press him further.

You tilt your head, genuinely curious now. “What’s going on with you two? I didn’t think you cared about anyone like that.”

Angel leans back on the bar, staring at his cigarette like it’s the most interesting thing in the room. He drags in a slow breath before answering, the weight of his words sitting heavily between you. “I don’t know, okay?” He mutters with a shrug. “I just think he’s cute. That’s all. It’s stupid, I know. But when I’m around him... I don’t feel like just an object. Like I’m not just some... disposable thing to be tossed around.”

The words hit you like a ton of bricks. You weren’t expecting that—that vulnerability in Angel, the crack in his usual cocky facade. You lean forward, trying not to let your surprise show too much. “You think that’s stupid?” you press, watching his eyes flicker as he looks away. “I don’t think it is. I think you deserve to be treated like you're more than that"

Angel doesn’t meet your gaze, instead fiddling with the edges of his empty glass. He lets out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. I’m just... maybe I’m just hopeful. Maybe one day it’ll turn into something real. But who knows, right?” He lets the words trail off, his tone growing quieter, almost uncertain. “It’s dumb, I know.”

Before you can say anything more, Angel stands up and heads to the shelf, grabbing another bottle of whatever's closest to him. But as he moves, his elbow jostles the shelf, knocking something off the counter. You both watch in horror as Husk's prized bottle of whisky tumbles off the edge of the counter and crashes to the floor, the glass shattering into a dozen pieces.

“...He is going to be so pissed,” Angel says, his voice almost panicked as he stares at the mess. He turns to you, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “Do you want to hide out in my room for a bit?”

You don’t hesitate. The last thing you want is to deal with Husk’s wrath, especially not with the way the night is going. “Yes, of course,” you say, grabbing another bottle of liquor as you push yourself off the barstool. You head for the stairs, Angel following closely behind. The idea of getting away from this scene, just for a little while, feels like the right decision.

But as you reach the stairs, you realize something.

“Shit-I forgot my bag,” you murmur, turning back to Angel with a small shrug. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wait up.”

Angel nods distractedly, already heading up to his room, and you hurry back down the stairs. You push through the hallway, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you make your way to where you left your bag. Your mind is still spinning, and the alcohol isn’t helping, but you need to get it—need something familiar to hold onto.

That’s when it happens. You’re rushing, trying to get in and out quickly, and you don’t see the vase on the floor. Your foot catches it, and the next thing you know, the world explodes with a deafening crash.

The sound of breaking glass fills the hallway, and you freeze. “Shit,” you mutter, dropping to your knees as you scramble to pick up the pieces. You glance around, heart racing. The last thing you need right now is someone catching you in the act.

But then, from the shadows, you hear it—a soft, almost deliberate rustling. You tense as Alastor appears from the darkness, his sharp eyes gleaming as he watches you for a long moment.You freeze. Alastor. Of course, it’s him. In your hazy, frustrated state, confusion takes over. Your vision is still blurry, and you’re not sober enough to deal with this. Why is he here? What does he even want from you now?

“Why are you here?” Your voice comes out more hoarse than you intended, but it’s sharp enough to make the air between you crackle.

“I live here, dearest,” Alastor responds smoothly, his usual theatrical charm present, but his eyes flicker with something you can’t quite place.

"I heard she sang a good song"

“Since when?” You stare at him, trying to make sense of his words. He wasn’t here before... Was he?

“Never mind that,” Alastor interrupts, a faint flicker of something darker crossing his features as he steps closer, his shoes clicking rhythmically against the marble floor. “Just let me help you.”

You scoot back instinctively, pushing yourself up from the floor, the shards of the vase still scattered around your feet. 

You can't think straight—your emotions are too raw. Without thinking, you say, “I’m leaving.”

But before you can take a step, Alastor’s eyes catch something on your hands. His gaze sharpens. There’s a softness, an unexpected concern, as he moves toward you, his usually composed demeanor slipping for a second. He notices the faint scratches on your hands—small but still enough to catch his attention.Before you can react, he reaches out and softly grabs your arm, pulling you back a little to inspect the damage. The gentle touch is disorienting, but you don’t pull away.

“Please, mon cher,” Alastor says quietly, his voice softer than you’re used to hearing, but it carries the weight of sincerity. “Just let me help you... It’s the least I can do after all I’ve..caused you. Let me help you, and I’ll stay out of your life as long as you wish me to.”

"I heard she had a style"

Your brow furrows, suspicion creeping up again, but you don’t pull away from his grasp. “Is that supposed to be some sort of deal?” you ask, your voice sharp, your words coated in disbelief.

“Not at all,” Alastor responds, his tone almost too calm. “Just an agreement. It doesn’t need to fall into writing. Besides, in your current state, I doubt you could accurately hold a pen.” His lips quirk into a half-smile, the usual teasing glint returning to his eyes.

“Shut up.” The words are out before you can stop them, frustration boiling over.

Alastor’s smile falters slightly, but only for a moment. He releases your arm, though his eyes stay fixed on you.

 “There’s no need to be rude, dear. I am merely trying to help.” The words are gentle, but there’s a coolness underneath, like he’s waiting for you to take the first step.

You don’t want to engage. But still, you can’t help yourself. “And what good would that do? You’ve already told me all I need to hear.” Your voice is brittle now, the cracks in your tone betraying the hurt you’ve been carrying. 

Alastor’s expression shifts, a flicker of frustration crossing his face before he sighs, leaning back slightly. “You said some pretty nasty things too, dear, if I recall.” He huffs, a playful edge to his voice that’s trying to cover up the heaviness between you both.

“Nothing unwarranted,” you reply, a small bitterness lingering in your words.

There’s a brief silence as Alastor steps back, his hands clasped behind his back as he surveys the mess at your feet. He eyes the broken vase with something resembling disdain but then looks back at you. “Let’s call it a truce for now, Y/N,” he says with a smirk, his voice smooth and composed again. “It’s the least you can do after breaking such a valuable decorative asset on my property.”

"And so I came to see her, and listen for a while"

You blink, confused, your eyes narrowing as you glance back up at him. “You own this place?”

Alastor chuckles lightly, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling for a moment. “I think of myself as merely a benefactor. But yes, you could say that.” He looks back at you with a glint in his eyes, his smile returning, this time with a little more sincerity. “A truce for tonight, and we can go back to being at each other’s throats tomorrow morning. What do you say, dear?”

You’re about to protest, but the exhaustion finally catches up to you, and you sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. “Fine. Let’s just clean this up.”

You both move silently to gather the broken pieces, each of you moving in tandem, a strange sort of quiet cooperation filling the space. Every now and then, your hands brush against each other as you both reach for a shard, and though you try to ignore it, it doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you.

Alastor catches your eye as you shiver involuntarily, the chill of the lobby creeping under your skin. Without a word, he shrugs off his coat and gently drapes it around your shoulders. The soft fabric is warm against your skin, but it’s more than that—it’s a gesture of care that you didn’t expect.

“That should do it for the mess, dearest,” Alastor murmurs after a moment, his voice quieter now, as though he’s aware of the fragile truce between you. “Now to get you cleaned up.”

"And there she was this young girl

A stranger to my eyes"

You blink, feeling more disoriented than ever, before the world around you shifts. Without a second’s warning, Alastor teleports you both—your surroundings blurring, the air suddenly thick with the scent of damp earth and moss. When you open your eyes again, you’re no longer in the sterile lobby. Instead, you’re standing in a room that seems to stretch beyond its walls into a lush, almost dreamlike forest.

The scene around you is breathtaking—towering trees draped in moss, thick vines curling around branches like old friends. The atmosphere feels alive, warm, as if the land itself is breathing, and the soft whisper of the wind through the leaves is so familiar, it aches. It reminds you of home—Louisiana, the bayou. The air smells of wet earth, pine, and the faintest scent of honeysuckle. It’s not just a room; it feels like a part of you, like the land that cradled your soul in life.

You walk carefully toward one of the trees, reaching out and brushing your fingers against the moss that coats its trunk. The sensation is calming, and you feel a small lump form in your throat. “It’s just like home,” you mutter softly, your fingers tracing the edges of the moss, which decorates the trees like lace trim on an evening dress.

"Strumming my pain with her fingers"

Alastor steps up behind you, watching you with an unreadable expression. “Indeed it is... it helps me feel... real.” There’s a rare vulnerability in his voice that catches you off guard, his usual radio demon facade beginning to crack, just for a moment. He steps aside and moves toward the other side of the room, his demeanor shifting back to its usual composed self. “I’ll fetch you some water... and a painkiller.”

"Singing my life with her words"

The silence that follows is deep, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. The only sound is the soft rustle of the bayou outside. You’re not sure how long you stand there, but the stillness makes your thoughts feel sharper, like you can hear your own heartbeat in the quiet.

Finally, you break the silence. “Why wasn’t I good enough for you?” The words slip out before you can stop them, and the rawness in your voice is so vulnerable, so unguarded. “Why couldn’t you just say that? I understand why someone like you wouldn’t want me... Did you think I was too weak to talk to about it?”

"Killing me softly with her song"

Alastor freezes. His back is turned to you, but you can feel the shift in the air as his posture tightens. He says nothing for a long moment, and then, his voice breaks through, quieter than you’ve ever heard it before. “No one will ever be good enough for me not if they aren’t you.”

The words hang between you like a fragile thread, and you can hear the underlying sadness beneath his calm facade. But you need more. “Then why didn’t you stay?” you ask, the question a raw echo of everything that’s been haunting you.

Alastor’s shoulders tense as he turns slowly to face you, his eyes unreadable, though the weight of his silence speaks volumes. 

"Killing me softly with her song"

The night air is thick with the sounds of crickets, their steady chirping filling the silence between you and Alastor. The aftermath of the broken vase still lingers in the hallway, but it feels insignificant compared to the weight of the moment between you two. It’s one of those rare moments when words hang heavy, the space between them charged with something deeper.

Alastor stands a little apart from you, the soft glow from the distant lights casting long shadows across his figure. The red in his eyes has dimmed slightly, but his presence is still undeniably imposing. The air feels charged with the weight of everything unspoken, and it presses in around you like a thick fog. You can feel it closing in as he finally speaks.

"Telling my whole life with her words"

“I couldn’t, Y/N… I died.”

The words land like a heavy weight, and you freeze, the chill of them settling over your skin like ice. Your chest tightens, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding slipping out in a slow exhale. Your mind spins, and for a moment, it feels like time has stopped.

The crickets continue to chirp in the background, a constant reminder that the world is still moving, even though you’re stuck in this small, suspended moment of time.

“Oh... I... I didn’t know that.” Your voice is quieter than you intended, the confession stirring something raw in you that you weren’t prepared for. The realization that Alastor had died—that the man you once loved had been gone all this time—hits you harder than you care to admit.

“That’s entirely my fault.” Alastor’s voice is softer now, the edges of his usual control slipping. He seems almost… remorseful. “It was a bit of a hunting accident, as you know I’ve been involved with... some unsavory things.” His words trail off, like he’s trying to give you space to process the details. But you don’t need them. You’re already piecing it together—the life he must have led, the dangers of his world. “Quite frankly, I made a mistake. But there was not a second of this afterlife that I did not long just to see you again.”

He steps closer, and the shift in his presence is enough to make you look up, meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes—vulnerable, open, raw. It’s a side of him you haven’t seen in what feels like a lifetime.

“I am a vile and selfish man, Y/N,” Alastor continues, his voice low, tinged with regret. “Being here has only exacerbated that. But you... you make me different. I don’t know how else to describe it.” His shoulders sag slightly as if the weight of his own confession is a burden too heavy to carry alone. “I feel like I have purpose again... just knowing you’re here too.”

The words hang in the air between you both, the soft whisper of the bayou outside suddenly feeling miles away. For the first time in a long while, you feel the urge to speak, to let the thoughts and emotions that have been building in you come spilling out. It’s reckless, and yet, it feels necessary—like the truth you’ve buried under layers of hurt and bitterness is finally clawing its way to the surface.

You lean against the wall, your head spinning with the alcohol coursing through your veins, your tongue loosened by it, and the raw honesty that comes with it.

“I just figured you went and found something better,” you mumble, almost to yourself, though the words hang in the air for him to hear. Your voice is quieter now, quieter than you intended, and a small laugh escapes you—a bitter, hollow sound. “Out of the two of us, you were the one who had potential. I was just your assistant. I figured you went and found better.”

"Killing me softly with her song"

The words leave your mouth like a confession, as if it’s something you’ve held in for far too long. You can’t quite tell if you’re seeking closure or if the alcohol has just made everything too raw to keep inside. Either way, you can feel the vulnerability in your chest, heavy and uncomfortable.

Alastor’s posture stiffens, and for a long, painful moment, neither of you speaks. But you notice the shift in him. His broad shoulders sag just slightly, and for a brief moment, you can see the crack in his polished facade. Had he known that his death, his disappearance, would instill so much doubt in you—would leave you questioning everything between you both—he would have found a way back to you. There’s no other way to put it. If he could have, he would have crawled his way out from the depths of hell to find you.

His eyes soften, and you see the conflict in them. His words—those dark, twisted truths—make him feel like he's trapped in the aftermath of his own actions. The power he gained in this afterlife, his position in Hell—it had all made him feel secure, yes. But that security didn’t mean anything without you. It never had.

None of it mattered in the way it should have. Not if it meant leaving you to carry all that doubt, to wonder if you were never good enough to hold his attention. The weight of it presses in on him like a vice, but he’s too proud to show it completely. He is a demon—he doesn’t show weakness. But in this moment, there’s no mistaking it.

 “You were always and have always been so much more than that.” There’s an intensity in his words, a plea beneath the calm exterior.

You can feel the air between you both shift. The space between you shrinks with every passing second, each of you wrestling with the emotions that have lingered for too long. You want to say more, ask him more—but all you can do is stare at him, at the man who’s been gone from your life for so long. The man who came back from the dead, and yet, somehow, it feels like he’s never truly left.

You swallow hard, unsure if you’re ready to hear more—if you want to hear more. But you know that the truth, no matter how painful, is what you both need to face.

“Y/n.. for god's sake we were almost married, from the moment you tumbled into my life, you’ve flipped everything I thought I knew upside down in such a beautifully tragic way. Your voice even if it holds animosity, is pure music to my ears. It calls such a deep desperation within my heart to the surface. I wish I could capture the essence of your smile in stone, that way it would never fade or change. In your presence I feel alive in a way I never thought possible. I truly do love you, and I truly am so very sorry I said those things to you. It is the most important thing in this world to me that you know that none of it was true..I am so sorry for what you’ve been through. I wish there was something I could do or say to erase it all bu-“

You cut him off capturing his lips in a desperate kiss. For a moment, he leans into your touch. Reveling in the warmth of your form and the subtle caress of your thumb against his cheek. Your lips brush lightly against his his eyes closed tightly. As he begins to consciously process what was truly happening he pulls away pushing you further from him.

Your eyes swirl with tears as they fill with hurt, you could not comprehend why he would say such things and then reject your affections. He places his hand on top of yours, sending you a loving smile. 

“My dear, please do not misunderstand me..I want nothing more than to bask in your affection, but it isn’t right to do so currently. You aren’t within a solid frame of mind..If you still desire to do so once your mind returns I will welcome it wholeheartedly, you are all I want, just not like this.” His hand travels to your face, his thumb pushing the tear from your cheek.

“oh okay,” You whisper out. “I’m sorry” you muttered unable to pull your eyes away from his crimson ones.

“Please, don’t be, you haven’t done a thing wrong.” His apology stretched further than the situation required. Its melancholic timbre expressed decades of regret in a single instant. The words held you in the palm of their hand offering a comfort that you had not felt since his disappearance. 

“I’m going to try and find something different for you to wear alright?” He added before his expression could find the opportunity to fall. Reputation was his only strength and he would not dare disregard it, it was all he had to hold onto with you still at a distance.

“What you don’t like my outfit?” You say slightly rolling your eyes, gesturing to the lace lining the bottom of your skirt.

“No, on the contrary, I think you look lovely, I just assume it wouldn’t be the most comfortable to sleep in” He shrugs “Let’s get you cleaned up” He adds taking your hand and leading you up to a spare room.

With a snap of his fingers, a comfortable set of silky carnelian pajamas appears along with a silver-plated hairbrush and a warm cup of tea. He hands you the cup as he wordlessly runs the brush through your tangled hair. Naturally, it reminded you of the life you used to live together, he had taken the time to learn how to care for your hair and committed it to memory. It was an aspect of your nightly routine you had forgotten how deeply you missed. The porcelain teacup warms your hands as he hums a familiar tune. A few minutes passes and for once silence feels comfortable. Finally, he twists the newly detangled h/c strands of your hair into two neat braids, tying them with matching red ribbons. With another snap, he manifests a cloth and a bowl of water wiping the smudged sparked eyeshadow from your face and the red-stained gloss from your lips.

“I’ll leave these here for you to change into if you’d like dear.” He says setting pajamas into your arms before placing a key in your hand. “I’m just next door if you need anything, this will unlock it. Nothing is too large or small darling.” His smile radiates in authentic charm as he closes your hand around it and his own. “Sweet dreams Y/n” He whispers before closing the door hoping you don’t notice the soft blush painting his cheeks a lovely shade of pink. 

“Goodnight Alastor” You murmur as a smile of your own creeps onto your face. You quickly discard the (quite frankly stained) ensemble you had worn to the club in favor of the pajamas he had given you. The room feels a great deal larger without him here, however, exhaustion overpowers your newfound loneliness. You hold the key in your hands for a moment before placing it down on the bedside table and crawling into the downy sheets that had been calling your name since the moment you had seen them. 

Your body drifts within the realm of the subconscious, losing itself in each kaleidoscopic illusion of memory it pressed upon you. Your ex-husband, the dreams that had plagued you since his death, nothing more than thoughts and feelings to the conscious mind divulged into a twisted wasteland. Each flickering falsity fractured into the dissonant landscape. The shadows of your past contorted into grotesque faceless caricatures sketched with ghostly whispers and regretful choices. The figures fought against the edges of your sanity pushing you deeper within the disquieting chaos. You felt the blood soaking your dress corrode your skin until it shattered into the image of his body against the floor. His green eyes glint with the weight the irreversible act bore. His mouth parted to match the ill-fitting angle his head spun itself in. The halo of deep crimson spread from his center like the delicate spines of a cornet clashing against the fading carpet. 

The moment rewinds, twisting into another distorted tapestry before you can resist. 

“Without me, you’d be nothing. You owe me this”

The man you had regretfully married screamed into your ear, shrill and desperate. His words form tendrils around your wrist, dragging your hand to the kitchen knife clenched into your fist. His gasps polluted the air in whiskey-scented poison as you punctured his skin. His body falls in a cascade with your distorted thoughts, blurring the thin line between paranoia and relief. His eyes, once drenched in an ocean of fury now rest in a gossamer pool of milky white. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it- I didn’t mean to-“ his body made contact with your floor before you could stutter out the end of your sentence. The hypnotic image swirls within a hypoxic cacophony, suffocating you in its remorse-ridden blaze.

Before the flames could truly engulf your form, your eyes shoot open meeting the deeply concerned ones of the radio demon. His ears lay flat against his head, gently wisped in vulnerability. Your trembling arms reach up and cling to his without another thought. He sits down beside you gently guiding you into his lap. 

“It’s alright dear, I promise you are safe. I won’t let anything happen to you. It was just a nightmare mon coeur.” He whispers into your hair as he holds you close. You sob helplessly into his arms, your face pressed into his shoulder. You weren’t used to the aspect of comfort after a nightmare, you clung to him as if he would suddenly dissipate if you didn’t hold the pieces together. 

“My dear..please, it was just a nightmare. You’re safe now I promise you” His tone is softly desperate, wanting nothing more than to take this away from you. Somehow, he manages to pull you closer into his arms with a tenderness you had yet to experience within your expansive time in Hell. 

"Would it be helpful to talk it through?" Alastor asks, his voice calm, gentle in a way you rarely hear from him. His eyes flicker with that strange, unsettling depth, as though he’s anticipating something, but he isn’t pushing. He’s merely offering.

You hesitate, unsure if you even want to go there. Your heart is still racing, the lingering echoes of your nightmare digging at the edges of your mind. It’s hard to focus, hard to make sense of everything swirling around in your head. You glance down at your hands, picking at the edges of your sleeve, avoiding his gaze.

"I don’t know…" You swallow hard, trying to calm the sudden tremor in your voice. "I’ve never really talked about them before." The words feel strange in your mouth, like you’re admitting something you’ve buried for years. "I don’t even know why it affects me so much. It just does."

There’s a softness in Alastor’s eyes as he steps closer, but still, he doesn’t try to touch you. It’s as if he’s giving you space, waiting for you to find the words.

"If you wish, I am here to listen." His voice is steady, like the gentle hum of a distant radio, but there’s a sincerity in it. Something rare, something you’ve never expected from him.

For a moment, you just sit in the quiet. The weight of the past is pressing down on you, and you almost feel like you’re suffocating. But there’s something in Alastor’s unspoken presence—something that draws you in. Maybe it’s the way he seems so patient, so understanding despite everything between you. You take a deep breath, your mind still racing.

"Alright..." Your voice comes out softer than you expect, barely a whisper. You wipe your hands on your pants nervously. "It’s nothing really... I don’t know why it affects me so much." You shake your head, frustration making your words come out faster. "It’s just a reminder of why I’m here. Why I ended up like this."

Alastor doesn’t interrupt, just watches you closely, his sharp eyes never leaving your face. His head tilts slightly, like he’s trying to understand something deeper—something you haven’t said yet.

"How do you mean, dearest?" His tone is curious, but it’s not prying. It’s soft, inviting you to share without forcing the issue.

You exhale slowly, feeling the weight of his gaze on you like a heavy blanket. Your chest tightens, the memories threatening to rush in all at once, but you push through them. For some reason, talking to him feels... different. Almost like he understands, in a way no one else ever did.

"After you left…" You pause, trying to steady your voice, trying to get through it. "I got married." You don’t know why you say it like that—it sounds so... final. But it was, wasn’t it? A chapter of your life that should have ended long ago, but you never knew how to turn the page. "Things weren’t great." You shrug, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. It feels too absurd to even mention.

Alastor doesn’t react, just stands there, waiting for you to continue. He doesn’t need to say anything—he’s not pressing you, not making you feel like you have to hurry. He’s simply giving you the space to speak. And somehow, that’s the hardest part. It’s easier to keep quiet, to bury everything. But now, with him standing there, watching you with an almost disarming patience, you realize it’s time to face it.

"It was purely out of necessity." Your words come out clipped, almost too fast. It’s like you’re rushing through the confession, trying to distance yourself from the pain, but you can’t stop the words from tumbling out. "I didn’t love him. I’m not even sure if I’m capable of such a thing anymore."

The air in the room feels thicker now, charged with the weight of everything you’ve just said. You realize how heavy those words were, how long you’ve carried that silence. 

"That... that doesn’t sound like a life well-lived." His voice is quieter now, more thoughtful, saturated with regret. He speaks as though he’s reflecting on your words rather than speaking from his usual position of authority.

“He was cruel in ways description can’t really do justice to.  We had a child together, my daughter, Elise.. He never laid a hand on her..not usually. I would never allow it, I figure it’s better me than her...I’m the part of the reason why she existed in the first place, Its only fair I take that on.”  The nightmare still lingers like a fog in your mind, and the silence around you feels both suffocating and comforting at once. Your gaze drifts aimlessly across the room, but you can't quite focus—everything feels distant, almost dreamlike. A knot tightens in your chest, but you force a slow breath to steady yourself. You want to look at him, to see if there's any understanding in his eyes, but you can't bring yourself to meet his gaze. Instead, you trace the edges of your nail with your finger, the small, repetitive motion grounding you, keeping you tethered to the moment.

“I don’t really know what happened, but it sort of changed one day.  She was nine or so.. He had come home drunk as he often did and things turned violent. She was only a child, naturally she couldn’t withstand as much as I could..And.. and He had killed her..and so I returned the favor.” You open your mouth to say something else, but the words get stuck. Instead, a broken, strangled sob escapes your lips—soft, almost imperceptible, but heavy with years of hurt. It's not the kind of cry you can control. It’s hollow, void of all the sharp edges of pain you'd grown used to; just a quiet, numbing release of everything you’ve kept locked inside. Your chest feels tight, your breath shallow, but the tears don’t come in a rush. It’s like your body can’t remember how to mourn properly. All you can do is sit there, head hanging low, shoulders trembling with that quiet, aching sob that feels as if it’s made of pure exhaustion. You want to scream, but you can’t. You can’t even look at him as the silence presses down on you, suffocating

Alastor's sharp gaze softens as he watches you. He’s used to control, used to being the one in command of every situation, but this—this is different. Your fragile, broken sobs cut through his practiced exterior, and the smallest flicker of something unrecognizable crosses his face.

His body is torn between wanting to comfort you and not knowing how to offer it without making everything worse. His voice, when it comes, is low and almost strained, as if he's fighting the instinct to raise it—something he’s done to keep his own emotions at bay.

"Y/N..." The name falls from his lips like a whisper, the sharp edges of his usual tone dulled, softened by something far more human. He reaches out, but hesitates, his fingers just shy of brushing your shoulder. He doesn't touch you, but his presence looms—close, suffocating in its weight. "I didn’t mean for it to be like this." His voice cracks slightly, a faint tremor you wouldn’t normally hear. "I’m… sorry. For what it’s worth."  He’s not used to offering comfort—it feels foreign to him—but the sight of you like this, unraveling in front of him, tugs at something deep inside him. 

“Please don’t be..I’m not. I regret so many things.. but I can’t force myself to truly regret those actions, and yet their memory haunts me.” You whisper as tears well in your eyes once more. The weight of your confession hung heavily above your head, threatening to crush what was left of your fragmented heart. You let out the yawn you had been holding in, revealing your tired state.

“Perhaps it’s best to try and get some rest” He softly laughs out, lifting you from his lap and placing you onto the bed. As he stands, his eyes can’t help but linger within your own. A few moments pass as you each have the first true chance to observe how vastly you both have changed. His hair still held the same wave it used to, flopping delicately around his face. The curled strands framed each expression that wandered onto his face in a deep softness unlike any you had encountered before. His smile, however, was nothing more than a diaphanous veil. His eyes drenched the rest of his face in a somber sodden mask. His eyes drifted to the ground as he turned to walk out the door. 

“Wait” Your voice is small as you grasp onto the cuff of his sleeve. “Please don’t go” His eyes bore into yours, his soul reflecting the love he held for you through the crimson-boarded windows of his eyes. His smile was soft and genuine, like those he used to give you so often in your time on earth. He ponders this proposition for a moment before he lets out a small breathy laugh.

“Of course mon coeur.. I  promise I will stay as long as you wish me to” He took your hand in his squeezing it lightly. 

“However, you may not remember this whole ordeal in the morning as well as you do now. Considering our previous argument, I think it’s best I maintain a small bit of distance to not worry your sobered self in the morning.” He whispers placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. He sat himself within the slightly tattered scarlet chair that was placed next to the bed. 

“M’kay” you murmured out sleepily. The exhaustion of the night had finally begun to enrapture your form as you tucked yourself under the covers. Before you could protest, your eyes began to droop into a more peaceful slumber. 

Alastor kept his promise, he remained perched in the armchair beside your bed throughout the night. His hand found itself placed against your back. He began to trace the lines of your history together into your skin, as his thoughts started to shift to the past. 

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1929: The bookstore next to Rosie’s shop.

(shush they’re alive at the same time on the grounds of I SAID SO also Rosie's Dialogue is pink in this segment!)

Alastor’s legs carried him to the bookstore faster than he could commit to telling them no. The shop was their secret meeting space, it offered the close comfort of a good book and the privacy Rosie’s store could never offer. Rosie was a slender woman who despite her youthful age and progressive spirit, was a ghost of his past. They had grown up together, she had watched the disillusioned spirit of his youth rot in tandem with her own. With each passing year, their golden facades had been tarnished, corroded by the cruel hands of experience. Their connection flickered with the dimming light of nostalgia and the glow of understanding.

 If he was conflicted, there was no reality in which he wouldn’t rush to her opinions and overwhelming honesty, and boy was he conflicted. The object of this confusion was none other than you. Something about your presence seemed to reverse the rot in his heart. It made him softer in ways he didn’t truly understand. He would cancel every meeting and appointment within his schedule if it meant he could spend another few moments with you. On some level, this was normal. He had always held a drastic level of care for you, but through the years it had begun to shift to something more. 

He twirled a small golden ring in his fingers each movement dancing within the fabric of his coat pocket. It was almost as if the ring had begun to solder itself to his skin, constantly conducting the electricity of the desire and love that coursed through his veins. He would tell himself the only reason he had bothered to purchase such a thing was a drunken mistake. He had drunk a bit too much on one of your dates years ago, and had purchased it on a whim…that was all, or at least that’s all it could be. It was unrealistic to think something along those lines would work out between you two. Yet, he still kept the damned thing in his pocket, maybe you would mention marriage in passing, and maybe that would be enough to lift the ring from his hand and place it onto your own. 

He knew thoughts like that were silly and unprecedented. Marriage could never be the result of his feelings, it would make them too real. He couldn’t seem to get rid of them, no matter how deeply he knew it would benefit you. If he did marry you, there was no reality in which you would not discover the horrors of his secret life. He had always been selfish on some level, but in this situation, it would never feel right. He could never hurt you.

 His conflict had driven him to Rosie’s doorstep and promptly next door to the bookstore. If anyone would know how to deal with this, it would be her. She knew you both evenly, naturally her perspective would hold some merit. He had brought you to one of his weekly lunches with Rosie a few years prior after you mentioned an interest in meeting his other friends. The two of you were practically attached at the hip from the moment he introduced you. If anyone would know how he should proceed, it would be Rosie. She was far more trustworthy than most gave her credit for, he wouldn’t have to worry that she would tell you his thoughts like he would if he had spoken with Mimsy or one of your friends.

The bookshop was quaint, filled with antique furnishings and the scent of aging paper and well-weathered leather. Dust dances lazily in the golden beams of the sunlit window behind him. Alastor sat restlessly in the reading nook anxiously fiddling with his hands as Rosie browsed the books in the store’s eclectic collection. She kept a subtle distance as she knew he would have an easier time with honesty if he did not have to meet it face to face. He kept his eyes trained on the floor as he rattled on about his dilemma.

“She’s my Terpsichore Rosie…She could command me to drown myself with her song and it wouldn’t have mattered because I would have already done it anyway…Everything about her just entrances me. That’s dangerous…I’m dangerous. I can’t involve her with something that could bring her harm..especially if I would be its catalyst… I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from her. Perhaps I need to remove myself from her company for the safety of-“ 

She cut him off turning abruptly, as she placed the book in her hands back on the shelf.

“Alastor- Darling you should do anything but. You can’t be so caught up in the past that you miss your future”. She sat next to him on the aging loveseat. Her eyes did not meet his, instead, they remained focused on the world behind them through the window.

“Rosie I don’t think you fully understand my “tendencies” He murmured, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He nervously twisted the ring in his pocket, a silent reminder of the question that begged to burn into reality. 

“I know all about the little stunts you pull darling. I just think you’re giving them too much power over you” She replied gently, shrugging her shoulders. “Y/n is a wonderful girl, she is the kindest and most understanding person I’ve ever met this side of the city. Don’t let the right person slip away because you are determined to make it the wrong time. If you don’t want to hurt her, then don’t hurt her. It’s that simple. Even if you are “dangerous” then make the choice not to be for her, she is worth it.” She said firmly, her words embalmed with conviction. She gingerly placed her hand onto his shoulder in silent support of his uncertainty. 

“I hadn’t thought about it that way” He mumbled, mulling over her words. As he thought on this, the tension in his body began to dissipate. He took a deep breath, finally able to release the weight he had packed so heavily onto his shoulders. 

“Of course, you hadn’t-“ She giggled, getting back up to fetch her book. She flipped through its pages as she spoke.“What better place to protect her from so-called “dangerous things” than from by her side? You might consider yourself to be dangerous, but there are people in this city that could do far worse to her.” Her words were nonchalant but their meaning resonated within his mind with great urgency. 

“I need to see her” Alastor declared. The surge of desperation in his voice was almost palpable. His heart pounded harsher than it ever had before at the intensity. He flew from his seat and rushed towards the door. 

Before he could leave, Rosie called his name dragging his attention back to his current location. “Oh one more thing, Alastor?” Rosie spoke plainly with a hint of malice tucked in her tonality. 

“Hm?” He hummed, confused as to what she could possibly want at a moment like this. 

“I swear to god if you harm a hair on that sweet girl’s head you’ll end up worse off than your victims” She smiled fiercely, and he returned it. He hurriedly closed the door behind him with a soft thud, the bell on top of it reverberating within the space. He had no intention of letting any harm come your way, especially not of his own volition. Tonight would be the night he finally allowed himself to fully care for you without his own self-determined repercussions. 

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

You let out a soft hum in your sleep snuggling deeper within the sheets. He glanced back at your sleeping form, your softened breaths filling his ears as his heart tinged once more in his eternal regret. He brushed a strand of hair that had fallen into your face behind your ear, and for the first time in decades, his plastered-on smile truly felt real. In that moment he had allowed his soul to fully tie itself to your own.  Even if you would never accept his apologies, he was going to love you until his body betrayed its physical form and faded to dust, and if it were possible he would love you long after. He would revert hell to nothing more than ashes and rebuild it in your image even if you could not bear the sweetened saccharine of his words or the touch of his hand…He would suffer through any despicable action just as long as it granted you a fraction of happiness.

It didn’t matter if forgiveness was within the cards, even if it meant bargaining his soul, he would help you get your own back. 

so y e a h that happened! uh that was lowkey kinda garbo but yk what im back upon my bullshit so y u h its fine (the sad part on a personal level is that 95% percent of this was already done i just had to add like 5-10 action lines and a couple of descriptions here and there-)

[brianmaysclog]

Satoru’s Girl

In a world where you could have suguru geto, but suguru geto couldn’t have you.

a/n: HELLO! i am uh VERY excited about this! there will also be another one of these at the end, bc i obviously cannot say what i want now bc it’ll ruin the fic and we cannot have that. well actually, there are time jumps in the fic, so be prepared for that. anyways, i hope you all enjoy:)

Satoru x AFAB! reader, Suguru X AFAB! reader

word count: 6.3k (woohoo!)

Warnings: cursing, smut (although not really smut but i’m putting the warning anyways), marriage, pregnancy, birth, death, mentions of death, death scene (best way to put it). i would say this is probably pg-13, i think that’s all the warnings, if i forgot any please let me know!

likes and reblogs are appreciated, but not necessary.

“Hey alexa, play Satoru’s Girl.”

Now playing: Satoru’s Girl:

______________________________________________________________

Suguro Geto has been infatuated with you his entire life. The moment he first looked into your eyes, he swore he saw the future with you in it. He could show you his love, give you his love. He could give you the Sun on a cloudy day, the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow; but it wouldn’t matter. Because you weren’t his. You were Satoru Gojo’s. 

Best friends since practically birth, Sugru swore that he would worship you, cherish you, and protect you. 

That's why when you told him you were falling for his best friend, Satoru, he had to do everything in his power to prevent it. Not to hurt you, not to embarrass you, not even to shoot the shot himself. But simply to protect you. 

Gojo was a player. He cared for his best friend, yes, and he also loved his favorite girl and wanted you happy, but being with Satoru would only make you happy for so long. And he couldn’t bear seeing you so sad, especially if he could have prevented it. 

But it was too late, the two of you had declared your feelings for one another before Suguru had a chance to object. He could have prevented this, he should have. Not even now, in the past, he had time after time to confess how he felt, yet he never did, too worried about ruining your friendship or changing your view on him. It would kill him if you thought of him any differently.

If Satoru had known Suguru’s feelings, he never would have gone in, but Suguru is a people pleaser. He could tell for a while that Satoru was developing feelings for you, yet, he had hoped it was just a phase. That it was just one of Satoru’s silly crushes he would get and go away, when gone, he could then respectively get the opportunity to go for you; but.

The phase never ended. It was proven quickly that Satoru’s playboy phase was over, and he was ready to commit, settle, and create. 

______________________________________________________________

“What color?” 

“hm..” 

“I asked what color. As in the dress I wear for Satoru and I’s date tonight.” 

“Oh, uh, the blue one. It’ll pair really well with his eyes.” 

“You are so right! What would I do without you Suguru?” 

God, you were so beautiful in Suguru’s eyes. Crafted by the Goddess Aphrodite herself. Chiseled by the hands of Michelangelo directly. You were perfect, you were flawless, you were Satoru’s. He needed to get these thoughts out of his head, he needed to push past these feelings. He needed to get over these pent up feelings, he could no longer think about them and feel good about it; happy. Because you were not his, you were Satoru’s. 

______________________________________________________________

“Suguru, can I please come over?” 

“Uh yeah, sure doll. What’s wrong?” 

You hesitate before you answer, not sure if you want to say anything at all. 

“Satoru and I got into an argument. He left and I don’t want to be here by myself; I can’t. I’m just too frustrated, angry, I can’t stand being here right now.” 

Suguru can feel the clench of his jaw get tighter, almost painful. How dare Satoru hurt his girl. How did he hurt his girl? Did they disagree on something? Did he insult her? Did he lay with anoth… no he wouldn’t. But it is a possibility. 

In fact, it didn’t matter what he did. Suguru was seeing red, and in that moment, he wanted to hurt Satoru and protect you. 

By the time you arrived at Suguru's, you had stopped crying. Your face red and puffy, but also emotionless. Feeling nothing but anger and regret in the moment. 

Suguru welcomed you in with a hug, so warm and comforting. You stay like that for a moment and breathe in his scent. Menthols and cedar, so familiar and pleasing. 

He sends you to the couch and goes to the kitchen to grab two wine glasses and a bottle of the wine brand you really enjoy.

“So doll, tell me what happened.” 

In which you do. You proceed to tell him how the two of you went out to eat with some of Satoru’s coworkers. and how you didn’t appreciate his work wife (her words not yours) hanging all over him, especially in the presence of you. Scooting in real close to him in the booth at the restaurant, causing you to have to sit between two of his coworkers. Then, she would constantly interrupt you every time you had something to say, and would belittle you. The worst part of it all, Satoru let it happen. His coworker, Nanami, said something before he did. Actually, it does get worse, on the way home you bring this up to him, telling him how you didn’t appreciate this, and he brushes it off as her normal behavior, which then, makes you think. If this was how she acted when you’re around, how does she act when you’re not? This stirs the pot even more, makes it reach a boiling point, as you begin pointing accusations towards him and it just got nasty from there. 

You take your final sip of your third glass of wine, signaling Suguru, still on his first glass, for another refill. 

“Of course, I feel bad for accusing him of such things, but do you blame me? They looked like they were the ones in a relationship and I was one of the coworkers!” 

“Don’t feel bad. It’s normal to feel that way, based on what was on display for you tonight and with how you were feeling. You had every right to be upset.” 

“I know Suggy, I just feel so bad about it.” 

“Do you know where Satoru is now? You mentioned he had left.” 

“No.” 

A moment of calm before the storm.

“Wait. What if he’s at that bitchs’ house. What if he’s over there laughing with her about how oblivious I am. What if he’s already fucked her, rolled over and said goodnight-“

“Y/N stop. That’s not happening and you know it. He could be at the gym, even sitting in the car. Have you called him ?” 

“No…I don’t want to talk to him, right now.” 

It sucks. It really does. Being stuck in between the disputes and fights between your best friend and the love of your life. Conflicting on what side to be on, having to choose between your brain and your heart. 

“Okay, maybe I’ll do the talking. I’ll call him and check in to make sure he’s okay. Where’s my phone-“ 

Maybe it was the wine talking, actually it was the wine talking. You would never do this sober. You loved Suguru, but not like this. This was out of spite. Out of anger. Nothing but pure venom behind this. 

Suguru knew this. He dreamed of this moment every night, but not like this. 

Your lips on his. 

He knew this was wrong. He knew you didn’t mean this. He knew he couldn’t enjoy it. You were tipsy, he was not. You were in a relationship with his best friend. He couldn’t. 

He gently pulled away and looked at you, tears now slowly cascading down your face. 

“Y/n..” 

“I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that, I don’t know what I was thinking.” 

There’s silence, followed by a knock on the door. A familiar knock. The knock only Satoru does. 

“Suguru. I messed up. Can I come in?” 

The tears fall down your face even more now. Guilt taking over. 

“This never happened, okay?” Suguru speaks up, heading towards the door. He wants it to keep happening. He wants to keep kissing you, properly. He wants to make you feel better, to make you forget the events of the night, ever happened, but he knows he can’t.  

Suguru doesn’t open the door until you respond with a faint “okay,” acknowledging to never speak about what just happened. 

Satoru walks in, explaining, just how you did, what had happened. He then says he wasn’t at the gym, wasn’t at her house, but that he was just out. Walking around, clearing his head, feeling so stupid. Feeling so shitty he hadn’t done anything, feeling like he needed to do something to make it up to you, he just didn’t know what. That’s why he was here at Suguru’s. You, not yet noticed by him. 

When you are, Satoru's eyes pop out of his skull, relieved. He was worried you were at home, alone with nothing but your thoughts and his harsh words. He left you, which was so selfish of him. He should have stayed there and talked it out. Apologized with his words and his mouth….and tongue….and hands…. 

He trusted Suguru with his life. He knew that the two of you had been friends forever. Even before the two of them met in middle school. He had nothing to worry about. He knew you had seen Suguru as a brother, and from what he was told from Suguru, that you were not his type and nothing but a friend to him. He trusted Suguru to comfort you and be there for you when needed, so seeing you at his house wasn’t surprising at all. 

What Satoru didn’t know, though, was that you had kissed Suguru just mere moments before he arrived. 

______________________________________________________________

“Marry me.” 

The statement catching you off guard, you choke on the noodle you were slurping. 

“W-what? "I said, marry me.” 

“Right- Right now?”

“Well obviously not now, the courthouse is closed. Tomorrow we can. We’ll go shopping for our wedding attire then head our way down and officiate our love.” 

“Satoru, I would love to marry you, but don’t you think-” 

“Think what? That this is all too soon, so sudden? That I’m crazy? No darling I don’t think such things. I think that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That I want you to have my last name, to become mine, officially. I want you to walk around when you’re shopping with Shoko and flaunt off the ring on your finger, showing you belong to me. I think that I want you, forever, and that I am so impatient I simply cannot wait to marry you. I want to see you all dolled up for me, in a beautiful dress, telling me how much you love me in front of whoever comes. I want you, forever-no, I need you forever. So, I’ll say it again. Marry me,” 

“Yes Satoru, I’ll marry you.” 

He places his hands on your face and pulls it closer to him. He then pushes your hair behind your ear and leans in so close, breath fanning on your lips. 

“Perfect. We’ll make it happen, tomorrow.” 

He then ends the sentence by finally capturing your lips with his. Fast paced and sloppy at first, but then slowing down to more sensual, passionate kisses, Before things become to heated, you pull back and confront him: 

“However, in the future, when we are rich, you owe me my dream wedding. A live band, a 10ft tall wedding cake, a beautiful gown,-”

“Deal,” Satoru says, kissing you again. “As long,” kiss, “you marry,” kiss, “me,” kiss, “now.” 

______________________________________________________________

“Suguru.” 

“Yes Satoru?” 

“What did you get y/n for her birthday?” 

Suguru chuckles. The two men sitting on the couch of yours and Satoru’s shared apartment playing Mariokart. You went out with Shoko for the evening so Satoru took his opportunity to discuss birthday ideals. 

“Why? Do you need ideas on what to get your loving girlfriend for her birthday?”

“WHAT! Of course not. She’s just been naming a lot of things she wants for her special day, and I want to make sure you didn’t get her anything I did, because otherwise one of us is gonna have to return it.”

“Right.”

Satoru didn’t like that and attempts to run Suguru off the track, but to no avail, fails. Suguru retorts by throwing a banana peel on the track, which in turns, makes Satoru fall off the track. 

“Bastard.”

“I’m in third place now you better catch up..” 

“I am……gonna be first, just you watch.” 

Silence consumes the two, the only noises being from the game and a couple of frustrated sighs and groans. 

“How the hell are you first Suguru?” 

“I’m just that good.” 

“Bullshit is what it is.” 

“Oh and would you look at that, I win.” 

“You’re a bitch.” 

“A winner is what I am Satoru.” 

Satoru rolls his eyes and hands his friend a five, the rightful bet for the round. 

“This isn’t over, I got plenty more coming.” 

“And you won’t have anymore coming once the night is over.” 

Satoru gets up and heads towards the kitchen and grabs two cans of that soda they like so much. He throws one to Suguru and the two of them drink it in silence before Suguru speaks up: 

“Oh, and to answer your question, I got y/n that blanket and house slippers she really wanted.” He chose to go a safer route, didn’t want to get anything too intimate, like the perfume you really wanted.

“In her favorite color?”  

“You know it. What did you get her?”

“I got her that perfume she really wanted, as well as some snacks, and drinks she really enjoys. I also got her that huge stuffed animal she wanted, the sweaters, and that dress.” 

“She’s gonna love it.” 

“I hope so. I don’t want her to think I overdid it. She deserves all of it, and I want her to know that, too.” “She will. Don’t overthink it.” 

And the conversation ends with perfect timing, as you walk into the door with multiple bags in hands. “I’m back! Did you miss me?” 

“Always dear,” Satoru greets you, taking your bags in hand and giving you a kiss. “Hey Suguru!” You finally spot the black haired man and give him a hug. He inhales your scent, quickly, and smiles. 

“Hey doll. Did you have fun with Shoko?”

“So much fun. Actually, you two sit down, I’ll give you guys a little shopping haul!” You squeal with excitement. 

And the two men sit down as you take the bags back from Satoru. You then proceed to show them everything you got. From the hair clips, to the graphic tees, to the..

Oh. You managed to purchase everything you wanted for your birthday. 

“Looks like we’re both gonna have to return what we got her,” Satoru whispers into Suguru’s ear, which manages to make him laugh. 

“What’s so funny?” you ask, faking a hurt expression as they interrupted your haul.

“Nothing love, continue.” 

______________________________________________________________

“What?” 

“You heard me.”

Suguru couldn’t believe his ears. He never wanted to imagine this, and even if he did, it happening so soon, while the two of you were still so young. 

“I don’t’... I don’t know how to tell Satoru. I don’t even know if he wants kids, we’ve never talked about it, really, before. What if he’s angry? Or scared? What if he leaves me?” 

Tears begin falling down your face faster than you are able to wipe them off. 

Suguru has always wanted kids. Especially if they were with you. He knew, in that moment, that if Satoru refused it, he would help you. 

Except he knew Satoru wouldn’t refuse it, nor would he leave you. He would be so happy. He loves kids, and he’s wanted to be a dad, probably, much longer than Suguru wanted to be. 

“And, knowing our families, who knows how they’ll react. They could be angry, sad, happy, or  worse, disown us. Oh Suggy, I’m not ready for this, I can’t do this.”

“y/n, relax. Breathe. It’s okay. For starters. Satoru will be beyond happy. I can guarantee you that. I know him just as well as you do, so trust me on that. I know you're scared, and I know it all is happening so fast. But that’s okay.” 

“But our parents-” 

“To hell with them. If they aren’t happy, if they aren’t bursting with joy at the fact that you are carrying their grandbaby, then forget about them. You know that Satoru and you will have mine and Shoko’s support and love. You also know that my family will love that baby like it is their own kin and spoil it more than it needs to. Again, I know it’s all so sudden. I know it’s happening so fast. But, it’s okay. It’ll all come together in the end.” 

“Thanks Suggy, I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

You embrace him in a hug and begin crying softly, but this time with happy tears. You know it’ll be okay. 

“You know I’ll always be here for you doll.” 

“I know, I love you Suggy.” 

“I love you too.” And he really does. But he needs to stop. 

You were, now, carrying the child of his best friend. He needs to overcome these feelings, it isn’t right. It isn’t fair. But he can’t stop. 

______________________________________________________________

“Absolutely no peeking at all. You understand me?” 

  “Yes ma’am,” Suguru and Shoko both say, the pair also doing a little hand salute. 

You and Satoruo had planned a little surprise for the two of them. They knew you were pregnant, they just didn’t with know how many, So once you had left the OBGYN appointment, the two of you began planning your surprise. 

“Can we look yet? I can feel my forehead getting sweaty with this blindfold.” 

“NO Suguru, LEAVE it on.” “Satoru-” 

“NO ifs, ands, or butts. We’re almost done. Be patient.” 

A very long, dramatic, time later, you then announce to your two friends that they can take their blindfolds off. 

“Finally.” 

There is a moment of silence once they are removed and the two of them look at you and Satoru, confused. 

“Erm doll, what are we supposed to be looking at?” 

Satoru had a sweet tooth, so when he saw the candy bars he had come up with the perfect idea. 

You handed a Hershey’s bar to Shoko, with the HER colored in. 

“It’s a girl?! Ohmygod!” she jumps up and gives you a hug, tight, but not too tight afraid she may hurt the baby. 

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Satoru says, handing another Hershey's bar to Suguru, this time the HE being colored in. 

“Wait, it’s a boy?” 

“Well yes, technically the both of you are correct,” you say, waiting for the two of them to piece it together. 

It takes a little bit, watching the two of them trying to connect two and two together, but eventually Shoko yells out, “Twins? YOu’re having TWINS?” 

“Ding ding ding!” 

“YES! More babies to spoil!” Shoko then engulfs you and Satoru in a hug, The three of you jumping around in a circle. 

Suguru, although happy for you two, is sat on the couch in shock. His heart aching, He should have been the one announcing along with you that you were having twins. 

“Congratulations you guys. I’m really happy for you.” 

______________________________________________________________

Satoru watches you as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your hands on your belly, eyes darting back and forth between your growing stomach and your face. 

“Love, what’s wrong?” 

You hesitate, and of course Satoru sees as your face changes between upset to content. 

“Nothing!” you smile.” 

“Don’t lie to me. I know when something is up.” He gets up from the bed and makes his way behind you, snaking his arms around you and his hands, now resting upon your stomach. “Talk to me.” 

“I just-” you begin crying. Tears pouring out slowly. “I feel so different. I look so different. My body is changing and I don’t feel beautiful anymore.” The tears more rapid now

Satoru turns you around, your face now laying directly in his chest. His arms tighten around you, engulfing you.

“Y/n?” 

“Yes?” you ask, lifting your face up to look into Satoru's eyes. They were so beautiful, so captivating. Entrancing you. 

“You are so beautiful, just as beautiful as the day I first laid my eyes on you. Just as beautiful as the first time we made love, when your skin was slick with sweat and hair all matted in a mess. You are just as beautiful as you were the first time you were hungover, sick as hell, throwing up everywhere. And just as beautiful as the day you said ‘I do,’ and we married. You are beautiful, and you always will be. You are growing our children. Do you understand how amazing that is? You are so strong, stronger than me. I could never do something like that. You are nurturing and doing everything you can to ensure that our kiddos are safe, healthy, and well nourished. I don’t understand why you are feeling like this, and I probably never will, but just know, to me; I know you are beautiful. And I love and appreciate the fact that you are doing this, holding our babies everyday.” 

“I love you Satoru.” 

“I love you too, y/n,” and with that, Satoru picks you up, with haste, and carries you to the bed. Where he spends a majority of the evening showing you just how beautiful you are, and how much he appreciates you. 

______________________________________________________________

“Hello?” 

You answer the phone, taking a break from decorating the nursery. You, Satoru, Suguru, and Shoko had all been painting, putting furniture together, and getting everything ready for your unborn babies. Satoru had left to pick up lunch about an hour or so ago, so the three of you had resumed working until he had returned. 

You were about seven months along at this point. Belly growing bigger everyday as you provided a nurturing environment for your babies to grow and develop in.You were glowing. 

But you always were in Suguru’s eyes. 

You begin looking pale, eyes bubbling with tears. Your hand, banded with a wedding ring, turning white as you are gripping the phone so tight.

“y/n.” 

No response.

“y/n, what’s wrong?” 

Shoko comes up to your side placing an arm on your stomach, meant to comfort you but it makes you feel sick.

Suguru stands behind you, preparing to catch you in case you collapse. 

“I-, I understand. I’ll be there shortly.” 

In which you hang up the phone and the tears officially fall. Sobs escaping you, and eventually you do fall, not hard, just to your knees. Suguru and Shoko follow suit with you, both pairs of arms are wrapped around you. 

“y/n…” 

“That-that was the hospital,”  you begin.

Sobs become more uncontrollable as you try to compose yourself and explain what you were just told over the phone.

“Satoru’s there. He-he was in an accident. A bad one. They-” 

You begin sobbing even harder now. Shoko wraps her arms around you, even tighter, lending her shoulder to you, so you can cry on it. 

Suguru’s face is blank. He doesn’t want to assume the worst. He doesn’t want to assume the worse not only for you, as he knows the pain and torture it would cause you, the emptiness you would feel, but he doesn’t want to assume the worst for his best friend. 

He’s known him for years. His brother, his idiot, the love of his girl's life. His comedic relief in the dark points of his life, his moral compass, his Mario Kart partner. 

He knew that if he lost Satoru, he would lose you too. He would lose himself. Things would be different. The stress it would cause you too, wouldn’t be good for the twins. 

Satoru was strong. The strongest he would call himself. He could pull through, he had to. For you, for your babies, for Suguru. He needed his best friend. 

“Let’s get down to the car. We’ll head that way now,” Suguru says, picking you up and carrying you towards the front door. Shoko follows suit, grabbing yours and hers bag, just in case. 

And just like that, the three of you head towards the hospital, as fast and legal as possible. 

______________________________________________________________

He looked so peaceful in the bed, Satoru did. The doctor’s, now, certain that he wouldn’t make it. The injuries from the accident just too severe, they did everything they could, they really did. Satoru just lay in bed. Not being able to do anything. Which leaves all that is left to do is say goodbye. You and Shoko had already said it. You taking a good few hours before you left his side, but the doctors and Shoko both agreed that you should take a break, The stress and pain not being good for the babies. You promised him you would come back. Whether it be when he is gone or not yet, you would come back. 

Now just sits Suguru and Satoru, alone in the room. 

Satoru’s still body is a different atmosphere than Suguru is used to. He’s used to Satoru’s banter, his quick jabs and silly jokes. His video game rage and loud belches. The silence, he didn’t like it. 

“Satoru.” 

Nothing. 

“Please, Satoru. Make a miracle happen.” 

Still, nothing. 

“Your babies need you. Y/n needs you. I need you. You’re my best friend. Please. You can make it.” 

This time there is something. A hand twitch. 

“Su….Su….Sugu..Suguru.” 

He stands from his chair, tears brimming in his eyes. Not yet allowing them to fall, he can’t. If Satoru somehow makes out of this, the tears need to be shed from joy, not sadness. 

“Yes Satoru?” Suguru then places his hands on top of Satoru’s. 

“I.. I need you to promise me something,” his voice raspy. So faint and dry. 

“Anything.” 

“Pl,,,please take care of my love for me. And our babies. Protect them, make sure they’re okay, like you used to.” 

“Satoru-” 

“Promise me. My babies need a good father figure in their life, and you can fill that roll. Y/n is  strong, so strong. But I need you to be there for her when she needs it. I need you to be there for her when she doesn’t feel beautiful, to be there for her on her birthdays, on our kids’ birthday. I need you to be there for them, because I won’t be able to. Can you please, promise me that you will do that?” 

Suguru couldn’t hold back now, crying full time now. He wasn’t supposed to see his best friend go. He wasn’t supposed to take on the role of his friend. He loved you, yes, but it wasn’t his place. You were Satoru’s, not his. 

“Yes Satoru, I promise.” 

He faintly smiles. 

“Oh and one more thing, before I forget.” 

“What is it?” 

“Don’t let my kids grow up without knowing who I am. Make sure they know how cool, awesome, talented, and amazing at Mario Kart their daddy was.” he attempts a laugh at this, but it turns into a fit of coughs. 

“I would, but I wouldn’t want to lie to your children. If anything you were mediocre at best.” 

Satoru attempts a fist, followed by a “bastard.” 

And for about five more minutes the two of them talk and say their goodbyes, until Satoru takes his last breath, as soon as you walk in too. 

You run to his side and begin crying. Shoko, behind you with a hand on your back, with a few tears falling down her face too. Suguru is on the other side, staring at his best friend. With no more tears left to cry, he just stands there emotionless, in shock that he really was gone. He had a job. A job that he had sworn to for his whole life, but now, it became much bigger. He promised his best friend, and he never intended to break it. 

______________________________________________________________

“Suguru.” 

He opens one eye, trying to make out who, or what was trying to get his attention.

Ever since Satoru’s passing, Suguru had left his apartment to move into yours and Satoru’s, which was the smarter choice since the nursery was already set up. He had moved into the old office, obviously no longer used. 

“Hm?” 

“Suguru, wake up. It’s important.” 

“What is it?” he sits up, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out. He looks to his right to see the alarm clock which reads 4:45AM. 

“My water broke.” 

“Oh.” Suguru says. Yawning and stretching some more. “OH. NOw??? IT’s so Early!? WHy didn’t you start off with that?? WHY didn’t you just bust through the door screaming that?!”

“No time to question that, we need to head to the hospital, like, now.” “Right.” 

In which he hops out of bed and grabs the hospital bag heading towards the car. Following suite, you, carefully, rush down stairs of the complex, and get into the car. Sugru, now much more awake, ensures you have everything and that you are safely strapped in, and that both car seats are in the back seat. Once he completes the internal checklist, he straps in himself and heads towards the hospital, this time, in a not so legal manner. 

On the way there you manage to get ahold of Shoko and she promises to be there the same time as you, so she is there when the babies are born. 

And when they are, it is 6:08 in the morning. Suguru and Shoko being there for you the entire time, a hand to hold each as you pushed each one out. And they were so beautiful.

Although Satoru wasn’t physically there with you in the room, you knew he was there in spirit. You could feel him. Feel his smile, feel his presence, and feel the tears of joy he cried from his babies being born. ______________________________________________________________

“Hey Satoru.” 

It had been about three months since the babies were born, Shoko and Suguru wanting to give you a break for the day, took the twins. You decided since you had the day off you would visit Satoru. “I promise, I’ll bring the twins to meet you. It’s just so cold, I don't want them to get sick. They arrived a bit early. Just so eager to meet us.” 

The rain now turning into a slight drizzle. 

“They are so beautiful Satoru, Megumi and Tsumiki. They both have a mix of our features, however they don’t have your eyes like I hoped they would. But, they have your smile and your nose, and the same attitude you had too. You would have loved them so much. And they would have loved you.” 

The rain picks back up again, but just for a moment, then it turns back into a light fall. 

“Suguru and Shoko have been great, amazing actually. They’re actually watching them today. Shoko insists on watching them a lot, she says it because I need a break and need to rest, but I think we all know it's because she loves being an auntie, and she loves spoiling her niece and nephew.  I swear, they have more clothes than you ever did, and that’s saying something.” There is a bit of silence as you sit there and just stare at his grave. Scattered around the grave are photos, you and him, him and Suguru, group photos of the four of you. Vases of flowers lined around the grave and his favorite pair of sunglasses sit on the very tip of the headstone. It’s as if  he decorated the grave personally. It was him.

“Oh! I brought you something! Or rather, some-things.” 

You reach around behind you and grab the bag filled with goodies for Satoru.

“For starters, this.” It’s a framed photo of you in the hospital bed, just mere seconds after pushing the twins out. You look exhausted, but Satoru would have thought you looked gorgeous. To each side of you is Shoko and Suguru, both of them holding one of your babies, a huge smile plastered on both faces. You take the photo and place it on an empty spot near the headstone.

“I brought these too, just so you can have a piece of them with you.” And you pull out two beanies, the exact ones that were placed on your twins head when staying in the hospital. No need for it anymore since they have grown out of it. You then place those next to the sunglasses. Little weights holding them down so they don’t blow away. 

“And finally, this. I know you will love this.” 

It’s a trophy, one that was found while looking at the flea market with Suguru one day. The two of you saw it, laughed, gasped, and immediately bought it. It was perfect. A trophy that reads “world’s best MarioKart player,” you place it directly in front of the headstone. It was so specific, why it existed, you didn’t know, but you were glad it did. 

As soon as you placed the trophy on the grave, the rain cleared. 

“Well, as much as I don’t want to leave, I have too. I enjoyed my time here today, Satoru. I love you.” 

You get up, dust yourself off and head back towards your car. In the time it takes to get there, you look up towards the sky and see a rainbow, faint, but visible. 

“Oh Satoru, you’re so beautiful.” 

______________________________________________________________

You and Suguru had the apartment to yourselves today. Shoko took the kids to the zoo for the day, and then would keep them for the night as well. She didn’t get to see them that often anymore due to her new job, so she took every opportunity to see the kiddos to the extreme, and would steal them for a few nights. 

It had been about five years since the twins were born and Satoru had passed. They were about to start school, so all of you were trying to get the last bit of fun in before it would be “unknowingly sucked away.” (As Satoru would have said). 

So with the house to yourself, you and Suguru sit on the couch, watching, who knows what movie, while eating takeout and sipping on some wine, except y’all weren’t sipping as you were already on the second bottle.

“This movie is boring, Suggy.” Hiccup. “Let’s watch something else. Or do something else.” 

“Like what doll? Neither of us are in a state to drive.” 

“Hmmm-“ you begin but interrupt yourself with a fit of laughter. 

“Hey you! What’s so funny?” Suguru joins in with you with laughter, jabbing his hands to your side and tickling you. 

“Hey STOP!” Your laughter now becoming more uncontrollable. 

The tickle fight-or rather tickle assault since you haven’t been able to get your hands on Suguru- comes to an abrupt stop as you fall off the couch, bringing Suguru down with. 

You lay on the floor, with Suguru hovering on top of you. His hands holding yours over your head. Breaths are shaky and uneven. The two of you staring into each others souls, not daring to break the contact. 

Heat rises up to your cheeks, but that was because of the wine. Right? Definitely not because you are feeling some way about Suguru, no. You loved Satoru still, you couldn’t. 

But, it had been so long since you felt good. 

“Su-Suggy.” 

And as if he had read your mind, he placed his lips on yours, but in a way that was so soft. It wasn’t sloppy, it was perfect. So passionate, so needy.

Suguru had wanted this forever. An actual kiss. It felt so wrong, but it was so right. He needed this. Satoru told him to take care of you, but he never specified on how. 

Every thought of guilt being pushed further and further into the back of his mind. 

The wine giving him courage? Maybe, however he would have never done this if he had thought you wouldn’t reciprocate it back. He had noticed for a few weeks now the way your stares towards him had become more longing and more sincere. The touches you gave him on his arm or back, even the way you wrapped your arms around his neck, became longer and more heartwarming. Even if this was a one time thing, a moment of selfishness, pleasure, and lust, he was going to make it worth it. Make it the best moment of his life. He was going to make you feel good, gonna make him feel good. 

“Let’s move to my room, doll.” 

The run towards his room is fast. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him move that quick before. Quickly, he lays on the bed and pulls you on top of him, where now, you are straddling him. 

A few more kisses are exchanged before Suguru is pulling your top off, no bra on as the two of you were just lounging around the house. 

He stares, hard, although he doesn’t mean too. The stare now making you feel nervous and small, causing your face to shift. Of course, Suguru notices this.” 

“You are so beautiful, y/n.” 

Suguru did fulfill his duty to make you feel good. It was more than good, it was the best you ever felt…..in a while. 

And in that moment of climax, shared between the two of you, Suguru was yours. You had him. You’ve always had him, but then. You really had him. You had officially seen him when he was most needy.  Seen him in a moment of pleasure, ecstasy. 

But, Suguru didn’t have you. 

Because, 

No matter what he did, how he made you feel, you would never be his. You were never his. 

You are and always will be, Satoru’s.

______________________________________________________________

a/n: wow! and here it is. i am actually really proud of how this came out. now, onto what i needed to say. i’m thinking of writing a bunch of different side stories about this, like reader telling Gojo they’re pregnant, Gojo and readers first date, Gojo before the fatality, maybe an alternate ending👀 if that is something you guys would be interested in, lmk and i’ll start writing. thanks for reading<3 highly appreciated 🥰 sorry for the pain i may have caused, if it makes anyone feel better i got v emotional writing this!

[anyamaris]

The Trouble With Roommates

Word Count- 2000+

Genre-Roomates to Lovers au/Smut

Pairing- Roommate!Seonghwa x F!reader

Summary-Cleaning dynamic takes an unexpected turn.

Warnings-MDNI 18+ Smut, unprotected sex (very bad, don't do it), etc. NSFW below line.

A/N-Updating this with a new header from the lovely @kwanisms since it's been so very long. Thank you KikiBooBear!

This was my first Hwa one shot and I still love it and how silly it is.

Thank you @cafekitsune for the banners!

Tags: @cultofdionysusnet @ksmutsociety @shinestarhwaa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @woosanbby @yoonguurt

"Y/n!!" You hear your name being called and you sigh, pulling off your headset. Should have gotten noise cancelling, you think and lean back in your chair.

"Y/n!" You hear again and the voice is coming closer. Damnit, you think, I'll have to finish this later. You'd been having writers block lately and you'd FINALLY been able to get some inspiration from a really heavy music listening session and some brainstorming.

"Whhhhaaaat?!" you yell back, then your door is being opened and you spin around to look at your roommate. Seonghwa's face is cloudy and he's frowning. Great, what did I do this time? you wonder.

He looks as irritated as you feel as he sighs and holds up some random Lego. "Did you knock this off the set I was building?" You glance and it and try to remember. "Oh yeah, sorry, I was dusting and fell over, I tried to fix it but you know better about that stuff so I left it on your desk." You say, going to turn back around in your chair.

You feel it being turned back around and he's glaring down at you. "Why were you in my room?" He asks, fuming. What the actual hell, you think. "Dude, you're the one who's all like, make sure you dust blah blah. I clean a lot and I was just doing you a favor. Why are you so mad?" You frown back at him, and wonder why he's so moody.

Seonghwa was normally a very quiet, clean, polite roommate. He only got upset at random, strange things and you could never predict it. Always something with going in his room, even though he had no issues coming into yours to clean.

Frustrated over the double standard, you huff at him. "Just...I worked hard on building this, so ...." he say. You pull your headset off and grab it from his hand, walking out of your room, making your way to his. "Fine, I'll fix it. Jeez, it's not like you can actually BREAK Legos. I've built plenty in my life. Also, I definitely didn't lose any pieces."

As you make your way into his room, he's running to catch up behind you. "Wait! No, don't, it's fine!" He says, coming in behind you. You walk over and find the setup the part belonged to and look it over.

"STOP!" He yells from right behind you, and tries to grab the Lego out of your hand. You turn around and he's right in front of you. "What is the issue? I don't know why you're so upset...you're mad at me for ruining it, so I'll fix it!" He reaches for it but ...for some reason, you're so frustrated at him, you hide it behind your back.

"What...what the fuck, Y/n, give it to me." He frowns down at you and you smirk up at him, suddenly feeling the urge to tease him. "No." You state and he's trying to reach behind you now. His arms are going around you and you're both struggling, then you turn around so you can use your body as a shield. He wraps both arms around you and is trying to get it out of your hands now and suddenly you're breathing heavier.

Was his body always this long and lean?? As he's struggling with you, you're all of a sudden aware of a very hard object pressing against your lower back. Gasping, you wiggle a bit more and it jerks. Woah....is he getting hard from this? You think, feeling even more emboldened to tease him more.

"Oh my god, stop moving. Just..." he gasps and you can't help but giggle. "Hwa....are you...?" "NO!" he yells and pushes you away. Turning to see him, you take in his panting, his red face, and the obvious bulge in his lounge pants. You raise an eyebrow at him and smirk.

"Is it me or the Legos that have you...erect?" You can't help but say and burst out laughing. His face clouds over and you think, maybe you've pushed too much. "That's it, I'm going to rip down your stupid Kpop idol wall, see how you like it!" He yells at you and he's gone in a second, moving towards your room.

No longer in the teasing mood, cause how DARE he mess with your idols, you yell "YAH!" and you're running after him. Now he's the one smirking as you run into your room and he's holding your Baekhyun pillow, reaching for one of your sacred shelves with all your albums and lightsticks.

"Noooo!!!" You scream and launch yourself at him, grabbing the pillow and there's a brief spat where you're trying to grab the pillow but it's tough as he's so much taller than you. The struggling ends with you being on top of him on your bed. "Don't you touch them!" You're panting down at him and he's smiling up at you. "Doesn't feel very good, does it?!" He laughs in your face and you just barely resist the urge to headbutt him. You grab the pillow from his hands, then despite your better judgement, you adjust both of your legs so you're straddling him and you're rewarded by the look on his face going from triumph to shock.

"Y/n...!" He gasps and you grab both of his arms, pinning them above his head. "No, that didn't feel very good....but this does." You say, leaning closer to his face and grind your hips slowly against his, rubbing yourself against his now rock hard cock. "Oh...god...Y/n....what...are you d-d-doing...?" He manages and his eyes roll back. "I have... no idea....Hwa....but...." You gasp out, suddenly feeling a wave of heat go over your body and it really does feel good.

Shit...you think...I definitely went too far. But your body and your brain are competing as you lean down to press your whole body on top of his. His eyes flash open and he's raising his head to meet your lips. In shock, you release his hands and they immediately drop down to cup your ass, rolling your hips against him as he lifts himself against you. Opening your mouth to him, his tongue is rolling against yours in a dance, leaving you breathless.

Holy fuck, this man can kiss, you think and then all thoughts are escaping you as your body is flipped and he's the one pinning you down. "So, you like teasing me, huh?" He growls down at you, his dark eyes clouded with lust and his dark hair falling forward. Oh my god...was he always this fucking hot? you think momentarily and then he's dropping down to bring his mouth to yours again, then trailing his lips down your neck. "I don't like this shirt" He whispers against your skin and before you can answer, he's yanking it off of you. His hand slides under the cup of your bra and he's squeezing your nipple, his mouth still on your neck, his hips moving slowly against you.

"Hwa....Hwa...what..." You murmur and he's nipping your neck as you bring one hand up into his hair to tug lightly. The other is pulling at his shirt and he leans up briefly so you can pull it off. You both pause momentarily, you looking at his half naked form, him looking at yours before you both reach for each other again for a deep kiss. His hand slides underneath you to cup your ass and lift you a little into him, while yours are in his hair and running your nails lightly down his back.

"I need you, Y/n.." he moans against your neck, kissing down your body and you're just nodding like a moron, writhing around under his mouth and tongue as he flicks and kisses and nips his way ever downwards. Then his hands are pulling down your pajama shorts and underwear all in one motion. You lift your legs to let him pull them off all the way and before his head can continue kissing downwards, you stop him. "You too...." you manage, wanting to see him more than anything right now. He nods, his mouth open, panting as he stands up briefly to remove the rest of his clothing. You have a moment to take in his long, lean masculine body, his cock prominent and dripping from just touching you and your hips jerk upwards involuntarily.

"Y/n...you're so fucking sexy, I want....." Seonghwa groans and then he is grasping both of your legs, pulling you forward a little bit and he's kissing your stomach, down to your hips. "...taste you.." he mutters against your skin then your hips are lifting once more as he drags his tongue down between the sensitive area between your legs, stopping briefly then flicking his tongue out against your clit, once then twice. You muffle a scream with your hand as you look down at him. His hands are grasping your inner thighs and he's looking up at you. Smiling, his eyes locked on yours, he flicks his tongue once more and you cover another moan. "Mmmm...so wet...Y/n, don't cover your mouth. I want to hear you." He says softly, his breath against you and then he's moving his hand to slide a finger against your folds and drawing his tongue along your clit, back and forth.

Letting go, you grab the sheets around you and let out an animalistic howl. His finger slides inside of you as you moan his name over and over, and he sucks gently on you, making your insides spasm.

"Hwa Hwa Hwa HWAAA.......fuck me......" You're gasping, not being able to handle all the sensory overload. You feel his breath as he laughs softly against you and he looks up at you. "Hmm? Tell me...tell me what you want..." "FUCK ME!" you yell and throw your head back as he slides his finger out of you and crawls up your body.

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you so fucking hard, Y/n......." he growls and his face is in your neck, his one hand in your hair and his other guiding his rigid cock against your opening. Your legs wrap around him as he slowly sinks his length into your tightness, almost pulling him in.

"Yes...oh my god, yes....Hwa..." You manage and he's moaning against your neck now, finally buried all the way inside you. "So tight..." He's gasping and then pulls back briefly before he's pistoning his hips forward again, slamming back into you. "Oh god!" He moans and then he's panting and groaning loudly as his hips pick up a rhythm, fucking you slowly at first, then picking up the pace gradually.

"Say my name, Y/n. Say it..." He's whispering in your ear now and you're moaning it out at his command. "Seonghwa! Seonghwa...you feel so good, oh my god!" His mouth meets yours again and you grab his hair, his hand in yours as the pace quickens even more, moaning into each others mouths, your screams breathed in by him.

Finally, you can feel the growing tension in the pit of your stomach climbing up, feeling like something inside of you is going to break as your back starts arching off the bed.

"HWA!! HWA.....I'm so close I'm going to......fuck please make me come...." You're screaming and he's looking down at you, sweat dripping, his eyes frantic with need. "Come for me, come around my cock, baby." He's panting and you run your nails down his back. "Cum inside of me, Seonghwa! CUM CUM WITH ME!" You're screaming and he lets out his own scream as everything explodes inside of your head and body.

He's moaning your name as his body comes down on top of you, holding you, his body jerking and spasming as you feel him fill you up, deep inside. Your legs are locked around his waist as he rides his orgasm out. Then....breathing out your legs collapse to either side and you both slowly relax.

"Fuck." He says against your neck. "mmm...yeah. Fuck." You murmur back and then you're both laughing softly.

He brings his head back to look down at you and you lean up to give him a quick kiss.

"I'm totally fucking with your Legos from now on."