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bookshelf-dust · 2 months ago

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gentle fingers, gentler boy

carmen berzatto x fem!hairdresser!reader

gif by @hotch-girl

word count: 3,589

warnings: swearing, joking mentions of arson, one donna mention, i don’t think anything else??

synopsis: carmy needs a haircut—desperately. or so natalie tells him. she sends him to you, and it’s safe to say carmy never would’ve expected a trim would turn into the best date he’s ever had in his life.

a/n: hello, my loves! don’t even ask my why this fic has taken me so long to write because i couldn’t tell you. but i do imagine it has something to do with the fact that i have the attention span of a goldfish these days. anyhow, i wrote this as a kind of predecessor to this fic, because something about carmy and his hairdresser gf is so special to me. let me know what you think!! happy reading <33

————

“You really do need a haircut, Bear.”

Sugar leans up against the office door frame. Her younger brother is hunched over the desk, an Igor incarnate, flipping through a pile of papers Cicero left for him.

Richie’s voice booms throughout the kitchen. “I been tellin’ him that, Sug! It needs a wash, too. He’s startin’ to look like Jack…Jack…” He snaps his fingers, searching for a name. “The psycho asshole from The Shining!”

“Jack Torrence,” Marcus chirps.

“Jack Torrence!” Richie claps, making Sugar roll her eyes. She moves closer to Carmen, leaning against the corner of the desk. She crosses her arms.

“I told you, Carm, you can go see my girl. She’s never done me wrong.”

That small, gentle smile she has grows on her lips. Natalie gently pushes her brother’s shoulder. “And hey, she stopped me from getting bangs again a few weeks ago.”

Richie’s hands fly upward, pressing together in a prayer pose. “Thank fuck. Bangs were never your look, babe.”

“Shut up, Richie!” Sugar and Carmen’s voices ring out simultaneously, as if they’d rehearsed for this very moment of synchronization.

Carmy’s clogs drag against the tile floor as he braces his palms against the desktop and pushes himself backwards. He scrubs his face with his hands, leaving it tinged red when he finally relents.

He looks up at his sister, a firm wrinkle formed between her brows. Carmen huffs.

“What did you say her name was?” Carmy asks, eyes darting to the clock, searching for the time only to realize no one ever fixed the damn thing. “Hey, Richie! Can you get some fuckin’ batteries in here?”

Sugar’s eyes squeeze shut at the volume Carm’s voice has just reached. But nevertheless, she pinches her nose and says your name.

“She’s like, fifteen minutes down the road. She went to school for it, she respects shy people, and I promise–she’s not gonna cut your ear off.”

Richie rounds the corner at that exact moment, a pile of double A’s shoved in his pocket. He pulls the analog clock off the wall and pries open the back panel. “Oh, you mean like that time Mikey snipped the tip of his ear clean–”

“Oh my god, enough, Richard!” Sugar’s hands fly around in front of her face. Unfortunately it only encourages Richie further, laughing to himself as he snaps four batteries into place. He’s still laughing—clapping his hands together because he’s so tickled—when he walks back toward the front of the house.

Carmen’s fist covers his mouth. He’s tempted to laugh himself, but he at least knows better by now. Natalie sighs loud enough for the people across the street to hear.

“Look, Carm. I’ll even make the appointment for you if that would help, but it’s gotta happen. You look like shit.”

Carmy snorts, standing up from the wonky office chair. “Thanks, Nat.”

Sugar’s phone is already in her hand.

“So that’s a yes? What time would be best? Actually, I’ll just tell you when you’re going. Settled.”

————

“You getting off, Leigh?”

Your coworker ties her hair up in an artfully messy bun. “Yeah, babe. I took a half day because it’s date night tonight.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, shimmying her way across the floor so she can plant a sweet kiss on your cheek.

“Your mom got the kids?” You ask, laughing to yourself as you rinse the leftover conditioner from your sink.

Leigh claps her hands. “All weekend, girl!”

You toss your gloves in the trash, letting her hug you and bounce up and down in glee. She deserves this. She hasn’t gotten a night out with her husband in months, their three-year-old twins keeping them more than occupied.

“I hope you have fun tonight. Drink something with Irish cream in it for me, will you?”

Leigh’s hands pat your cheeks gently. “Oh, you know I will. Just wish you were getting out there too.”

You wave her away, and she’s quick to hold up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Is Natalie’s brother still coming in today?”

Your eyes dart to the clock over her head. “Should be here in like, five minutes.”

The doorbell chimes.

Both yours and Leigh’s heads snap in that direction.

“Or…now.”

“Oh, fucking Christ.”

Your eyes flick back to each other immediately, having spoken at the exact same time. Leigh is not gonna let your outburst go.

There’s already a devilish grin growing across her face. “You think he’s hot, don’t you?”

You dart around her. “No. Those words never left my mouth.”

She catches you by the belt loop. “You’re right, I believe your exact words were ‘Oh fucking Christ, he could bend me over right here.’” Leigh’s laughter bubbles up and you fear she might keel over.

“That is an exaggeration,” you huff.

Leigh slings her worn out, bright red purse over her shoulder. “Bet you were thinking it though.” She risks a glance over her shoulder. “You’re not wrong though. His arms are huge. And you better go help him before we get a bad Yelp review.”

You start to wave her away. “Yeah, alright.” You follow her towards the front desk. ��Have fun tonight,” you shout, “and remember to make sure you have meds for tomorrow’s hangover.”

She fake gasps, pausing just beside where Carmen is standing. “Me? Hungover? Never.” Leigh lowers her sunglasses just slightly and directs her next few words at the man in front of her. “She’ll take real good care of you, youngest Berzatto.”

The doorbell chimes as Leigh makes her way out to her beat up Mustang, leaving you and Carmy alone out front.

He laughs awkwardly, shuffling towards the front counter to meet you.

“Sorry about her,” you say. “She’s full of it. Anyway, Carmen, right? Natalie told me you’d try and come by today.”

Carmy’s cheeks burn with embarrassment from being put on the spot. But also because you’re so…pretty. He manages to pull together a few coherent words.

“She really said try?” he asks, the barest of smiles gracing his lips.

You cross your arms and walk over to your station. “No. It was more of ‘He’ll be there at 4:30 tomorrow or else I’m going to burn down The Bear and keep the insurance money for myself.’”

Carmen scratches at his curls. “Yeah, that I believe.”

You gently pat the back of your leather chair. “You can sit whenever you’re ready. I realize I never really introduced myself.” You say your name, and even if it’s a name Carm has heard a hundred times before, it somehow sounds hypnotizing falling off your lips.

The leather backing is cold through Carmy’s t-shirt. He hopes the shiver that moves down his spine when you thread your fingers through his hair passes off as the coinciding goosebumps.

“So, what are we thinking today, Carmen?”

His big blue eyes blink at you through the mirror. “Carmy,” he says.

“Hm?” you hum, running a wide-toothed comb carefully through his curls so that nothing snags.

“You don’t have to call me Carmen. Makes me feel like I’m in trouble.” A low laugh tumbles over his lips. “Carmy is fine.”

You smile at him. “Okay, Carmy. What would you like me to do with your hair today? Buzz cut? Mohawk?” You walk around to face him head on. “Extensions?”

You notice how nervously he plays with his hands. But you get it. You’re hoping to make him as comfortable as you can, and not just for that good Google review.

Carmy runs a hand over his mouth, hiding the sweet smile that’s growing there. The crinkles by his eyes give it away. You’re so fucking charming he can’t stand it.

He clears his throat. “I was thinking just a trim? It’s kinda long over my eyes, and sometimes it’s good to see things.” You giggle.

Good god, how’s he gonna get through this?

“Maybe a little shorter on the sides, too.”

“Like a mullet?” You quip.

He snorts. “Nah, not a full mullet. Maybe where it’s barely noticeable that it’s shorter there? I’m also shit at taking care of it, so if you could help with that…”

You take your bottom lip between your teeth. Carmy has to clear his throat, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. “How ‘bout this. I’ll take you to the sink and give it a wash, and then we’ll trim it, and I can have you help me style it so it’s easier when you’re at home?”

Carmy nods. “Yeah, that’d be great, thank you.”

Your hand slides across the back of his shoulders as you move away and towards the back room full of head-sized basins. “Come on then, Mr. Berzatto. Let’s wash that pretty head of yours.”

————

“That feels so good,” Carmen says, the words leaving his mouth before he has a moment to think them over. “Wait—is that a weird thing to say?”

You laugh from your place behind him. “No, not at all. That’s why I keep my nails a little longer, because my clients always tell me this is the best part.” Your hands are covered in a lavender-scented shampoo, your fingertips massaging the foam into his scalp. “A good head scratch does wonders for the soul.”

You watch Carmy’s lips lift at the corners. His eyes are closed, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he dozed off. You’re always happy to keep a conversation going with clients, but the silence is just as well.

The sounds of foils getting folded in place by your coworker out front, the air conditioner, the radio—it’s all oddly soothing. The radio station Leigh always sets it on has the oddest selection of music choices for one given channel. Not that you mind that either.

You rinse Carmen’s hair out and apply conditioner to the mids and ends of his curls. You blindly grab a comb, muscle memory putting it in your grasp in seconds.

Carmy swears he’s gonna knock out. He’s trying about as hard as he did in school when he knew he should be paying attention to whatever math lesson but couldn’t keep his eyes open. And when your words reach his ears, he thinks you’ve just read his mind. Sensed the sleep pricking at his eyelids.

“You do have really nice hair, Carmy. Anyone else in your family have curls?”

You watch the way his brows knit together. “I think my mom? You’d never know it though. She’s straightened it every day since I was a teenager, like even when we weren’t leaving the house.”

You focus on your final rinse of his hair, allowing him to continue. “When I was a kid though, if she showered before bed and I needed her, her hair would be all wet and curly. That’s the only time I saw it like that.”

Carmy sits up when you wrap a thin towel around his head, holding it secure as he follows you back to your station.

“Leigh, the woman leaving when you came in? She has lots of clients like that. A lot of people weren’t taught how to take care of their curly hair.”

“Is that a hint?” Carmen quips. It makes you snort.

“Just a gentle one.”

Carmy watches while you cut his hair. Every once in a while your tongue will poke out, or you’ll wiggle your hips to a song on the radio. When you’re almost finished, what Carmen thinks is a Madonna song comes on.

You start humming, and Carmy knows he’s done for. Richie would call him whipped. He probably will tomorrow morning, just by reading Carm’s face.

“Out of the sky, I close my eyes…heaven help me.”

Carmy lets out a little laugh because you’re doing this little dance as you sift through his curls. You hear it, and it only encourages you more.

“Big Madonna fan?” he asks, his hand rubbing over his mouth to hide the boyish grin there. The tattoo on his hand catches your eye.

“She’s good for the soul.”

You crouch in front of him, rummaging through a cabinet for he doesn’t know what. “Your tattoos are pretty, by the way,” you say. It takes him by surprise.

“Oh. Thanks.”

You emerge with two bottles. “Do people not usually compliment them?” You spray his hair down with cool water, getting it to the stage of damp you need for the products to work.

Carmy laughs lowly. Maybe with a little hint of embarrassment. “Nah, they usually ask me what the hell they are or if I was drunk when I got ‘em.”

“Were you?”

He meets your playful gaze. “Only for a few.” Your smile is downright gleeful.

“M’kay, Carm. Let me give you the rundown.” He straightens and you get a glimpse of the chef he left at The Bear to visit you today. “So this is a leave-in conditioner. After you shower, you put just a little of this in your hands—like this—and kinda run it through your hair all over. Just so it’s in there well.”

You demonstrate, and for the first time, Carmy finally understands how people can look at him and question his ability to cook so seamlessly. That’s the way you do hair. Like it’s as easy as breathing for you.

“And this is a gel. It’s super lightweight, so it won’t feel gross or anything, and it’s not expensive either. You wanna use a little more of this, but not by much. You can do the same sort of thing, because your hair takes shape really easily since it’s not damaged any. And once that’s distributed, I want you to scrunch it some, just to get any excess product, but also to help any curls that need encouragement.”

You bite your lip because Carmy is nodding along, giving you his complete attention and it’s fucking adorable.

“And if there’s any curls by your face or anything, you can use your fingers to define them so they look how you want. You think you can do all that?”

Carmy laughs. “Not a chance.” Then you’re both laughing, and it feels so comfortable anyone would think you’d known each other for years.

“It takes practice. I’m gonna give you these to take home and use.” Your hand disappears in your back pocket for just a moment. “But if you want to put your number in my phone, I can always send you instructions if you need help…”

Carmy pauses. Freezes, even. You look at him nervously, afraid that maybe your ability to read the room has evaporated. Luckily, he proves you wrong.

“Wow. That was smooth.”

You exhale and laugh into the back of your hand. “I’m never that smooth, I don’t know how I managed that,” you chuckle. Carmy’s fingers fly over your keyboard.

“Thank you for today, really. I usually avoid the hairdresser at all costs.”

“Sugar did tell me that,” you grin.

“M-maybe I could make you dinner or something, for putting up with me…?”

Your face warms. “I’d like that, yeah.”

Carmy blinks. His phone goes off where you’ve shot him a text with just your name and a smiley face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He rubs his hands together. “Okay, cool. Alright, yeah. What do you like?”

“I wouldn’t say no to pasta. Pasta is good in all forms.”

————

“You can tell me if you hate it. I won’t be offended.”

“I think you might have a nervous breakdown though, and you’re too pretty for that.”

Carmy blushes, shaking his head at you.

“What?” you laugh. “It’s true.” Your voice has a sing-song lilt to it. Over the past few weeks you’ve gotten to know Carmy a bit better. He’s been busy though, so it’s taken longer than expected to have dinner together.

He made up for it by providing you with pasta and cheesecake for dessert. He’s wearing this thick sweater, your eyes locking on his forearms where he’s rolled up the sleeves.

Sugar was so excited when you texted her after his hair appointment.

Natalie B: How’d it go? Was he a total pain in the ass?

You: it went well! got him all sorted out. he offered me dinner as a thank you (after he paid, of course). would that weird you out??

Natalie B: OMG NO!! He’s got such a giant stick up his ass, maybe your charm pulled it out! Go have fun. Leigh was telling me you hadn’t been on a date in forever last time I was in anyhow.

You: brb blocking both of you shitheads ♥️

You hadn’t expected a haircut to lead to any of this, but sitting here, in Carmy’s sparsely furnished apartment, looking at the soft smile on his face and the nervous way he’s fussing with his fingers as you eat the dinner he made you, you’re grateful.

Not that you’ll tell Natalie that. Or Leigh. They don’t need that ego boost.

You wipe your mouth on a napkin and look up to see that Carmy is gazing at you expectantly. You laugh, his eye contact making you a little nervous.

“It’s good, Carm. Really good. You can eat.”

He swipes his hand down his face, but when it comes down to grab his fork, he lets you see his smile. “I’m glad you like it. Not too much parsley or anything? I didn’t add lemon because Sugar mentioned you saying you didn’t like pasta with too much lemon juice in it.”

Your mouth drops open. That’s such a small, easy to forget thing. Maybe you will have to give Nat a hug.

You reach out to touch his hand. Tentatively, just in case it’s too far. “That’s so sweet, Carmy. It’s perfect, really. And honestly the lemon thing is from one very overpowering pasta experience. Maybe whatever you make me will be better.”

Carmen takes a big bite of pasta and a swig of beer so he has time to collect himself. “Maybe we can fix your lemon-related trauma.”

“As long as there’s a backup snack in case the lemon PTSD can’t be fixed.”

You both burst into a fit of giggles. The rest of dinner goes by, filled with conversation about everything and nothing—Carmy’s lack of knowledge about current television, your love of reading and need for someone to share the plots with.

Carmen is making you a plate to take home with you when he’s finally psyched himself up to ask his question. He says your name and you peer at him from your spot against the counter.

“I-uh…I’ve been trying to do my hair the way you taught me, but I can’t get it right. I was wonderin’ if you’d show me? Maybe? You don’t have to—”

“Of course I can. All you had to do was ask.” You push off the counter and beam at him. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

You’re lucky you already learned the way to his bathroom so that your streak of confidence would continue working so well. And when you squeeze out some of the hair gel into Carmy’s hands, you know he just needed an excuse. He’s got it down pat.

He runs his hands through his hair, scrunching clumps together every now and then, finger-curling the pieces up front and by his ears. Now you’re just waiting to see what he really wanted to say.

You cross your arms, attempting to look serious, but you can’t hold back the grin spreading across your face.

Carmen looks over at you, drying his hands now that they’re free of product. He’s never been great at reading people, but that look in your eye tells him he’s a shit actor.

“So, that didn’t fool you, huh?”

You giggle. “Not at all, Berzatto. You couldn’t even fake how well you’ve learned to do your hair.”

Carmy takes a step closer to you, rubbing his nose self-consciously. “I’m very bad at saying what I’m thinking. Or saying what I want.”

“I can see that.”

He squints at you, his lips ticking up just slightly.

“So what is it you want but are too scared to say?” you start. “Do we need to play hangman?”

That would normally get a laugh out of him, but he’s too on edge. Inhale. Exhale. Oh, just fucking say it, Carm.

“I wanna kiss you.”

Your ears burn. You release your bottom lip from where it was pinned between your teeth. “I was hoping you’d say that. Please do.”

You push up on your tiptoes, suddenly bursting with excitement and hoping that’ll convey to Carmen that he doesn’t need to be nervous because you want this just as bad.

It works.

You put your hands on Carmy’s collarbones the second his fingers slip into your hair. Your nervous system lights on fire, thoughts of how much surface area his palms cover racing through your mind. He kisses you all shy and hesitant at first, like he’s nervous he won’t do what you’re hoping.

His lips are warm, and you can feel the spots where he’s chewed them raw. You can’t help but think that kissing him might be a good way to break that habit. His nose presses into your cheek, tickling you and making you giggle.

Carmen pulls away, smiling at you. “What’s so funny?”

“Your nose was tickilin’ my cheek.”

“Oh? Like this?” He starts dragging his nose across your face and then down to your neck when he feels you start to laugh harder. He thinks he’s finally cracked the code. It seems like pasta and nose tickles are the proper way into your heart.

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner from @steph-speaks

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moonstruckme · 5 months ago

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Heyyy there! I really (like really) love your writing!!! It makes my day when I see you've posted a fic! I was wondering if I could request one either with doc!remus or emtxmaradeurs where the reader is very sick and kinda out of it and she's taken care of. Like maybe he/them asking her 'are you with me/us' becuase it looks like you're going to pass out. If you've written something like this before my apologies. Have a great day!!!

Thanks lovely, hope you have a great day as well!

emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 670 words

When Remus and James get home from their shift, they find you and Sirius curled up on the couch, you with a mug of what appears to be noodle soup steaming in your hands. You’re taking sips of it like it’s tea.

“Hello,” says Remus, perching on the armrest to peck his boyfriend on the head. “You two aren’t where we left you.”

“One can only lie around in bed for so many hours,” Sirius replies, tilting his head back for a real kiss. Remus gives him one, and Sirius takes another for himself. “I’m very entertaining, but after a while we both needed a change of scenery.”

“And why is our girl drinking soup like a warm beverage?” James directs the question towards you, but you don’t seem to notice. After a moment, Sirius answers for you.

“She wasn’t doing very well with the spoon, and though I made some excellent points about how romantic it’d be, she wouldn’t let me feed it to her.” Sirius grins salaciously at you. You offer only a faint smile in return, and he squishes your thigh in his hand teasingly. “Eventually we had to compromise on a more innovative solution.”

“I see.” James ducks his head, finding his way into your field of vision. “Sweetheart,” he says carefully, “are you with us?”

You blink. Your eyes look fever glazed. “Yeah.” You match his gentle tone. “Hi.”

He smiles softly. “Hey there. You seemed a bit far away, m’love.”

“She’s only tired.” Sirius kisses the side of your head. “We’ve just had a nap.”

“Oh, must be nice,” James jokes. You smile in response.

Remus frowns pensively as he plays with Sirius’ hair where it’s draped over the edge of the couch. It spills through his fingers like stygian water. “What’s her fever at?” he asks.

“It’s coming down.” Sirius nods to the fever reducers sitting next to a half-empty bottle of cough syrup on the coffee table. “We’re working on it.”

“What was it last you checked?” James presses, but Remus has already picked up the thermometer. He murmurs a quiet direction to you as he nestles it in your ear.

“Her cough’s gotten a lot better, too, if you haven’t noticed,” Sirius says proudly. “Right, babydoll? We haven’t been having many problems since the last time she had medicine.”

That’s not saying much, James thinks as he looks around. There are still wadded up tissues strewn about the coffee table, enough that he wonders whether one of them ought to go buy more before you all get ready for bed, and even if your cough has abated the scrape of your voice indicates your throat still feels like you’ve swallowed knives.

Still, he tries to sound upbeat as he says, “Yeah? That’s great,” and kisses your shoulder lightly.

“I can see why you’re so tired,” Remus says. The thermometer beeps, and his brow pinches sympathetically as he reads the screen. “That nap was the first good sleep you’ve had in a while, hm, dovey?”

“Yeah,” you say, your voice a thin rasp. “I still have to turn over every now and then when my nose clogs up, though.”

“Poor love,” James coos, kissing your shoulder again. “I’m about to have a shower, would you want to sit in the bathroom with me and see if the steam does anything? I could use the company.”

“That’s a good idea,” Remus agrees. “After you’ve finished your soup, though.”

You give James a sweet, thoughtful look. “That would be nice,” you say. The sound of your voice makes him want to burst into tears. “Thank you guys for taking care of me.”

Sirius makes an indignant squawking sound. “Um, that’s actually been me, in case you’ve forgotten. These two only just got here.”

“Sorry.” You crack a smile, sleepy but real, and lean your head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Thank you the most.”

He hums, quickly pacified, and lets his head rest atop yours. “Apology accepted. Luckily for you, I actually quite enjoy it.”

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icarusredwings · 11 days ago

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Team Leader.

A Worst wolverine's flashback fic.

Ft. Poolverine and a very confusing situationship. (COUGH scogan- mainly scogan COUGH)

~5k

Cw: Fightin n’ fuckin, internalized homophobia, prediscussed Cnc, Wrestling, Switching, Brat taming(?) Dominance play, Affair, pet play if you squint, rough feral floor sex, Handcuffs, cloth gags, degrading, no after care.. Logan just wanted a kiss.. angst

“Yeah.. Scott begged me to wear that suit..”

“Oh?” Wade asks, smirking as he leans over the table, watching as Logan takes another shot, honestly he's not sure why he just doesn't chug the bottle at this point. This was his second one for tonight, they were splurging after a particularly rough day, and of course, Wade was curious. And Logan was in the mood for reminiscing.

“What else did he do?”

“Well…there was this.. thing..”

___A very… very…long time ago___

Walking into the mansion, the team was pooped, costumes ripped, hair a mess, sweating to death, and ultimately…. defeated.

Cyclops, who had dust and dirt alike all over him, looking about as rugged as he'd ever get, clapped his hands.

“Alright gang, Good work out there.”

“Gang? What are we? Mystery incorporated?” Jubilee asks, who had cracked her sunglasses, lost an earring, Her jacket had tears in it and was already in a sassy mood from the failed mission.

He sighs. “Sure. If it makes you happy.”

“Does that make Jean Velma or Daphne?” Wolverine spoke up, covered in greasy sweat, his outfit practically in shambles. He had even lost a glove. Hank wouldn't like that. This was his 3rd one this month that has gone missing.

Cyclops pinched the bridge of his nose. “Logan, don't start..”

“Hey, I'm not the one calling us ‘gang’. Besides, that mission was shit, Scott and you know it.”

“I think that would make me Daphne.” Jean mumbled after some thought, Smiling a bit at the idea while Ororo groaned, heading up towards her room. She knew that they would start fighting any second and she was far too tired to deal with it. Oh well. Let the boys be boys. It made them happy to duke it out once in a while anyway.

“Jean, don't encourage them..” His posture was as if he just rolled his eyes. Not like anyone could see it though.

“I mean- We're both red heads, right? And if you're Fred, That makes me Daphne.” She explained, Logically of course, like always.

Logan smirked, putting a hand on his hip. “Yeah. You're pretty like her too, Red.”

Jean gave a small giggle, patting her boyfriend on the shoulder. “Alright. You two play nice.” She says “I'm going to check in with the Professor.”

He sighs, putting his hand on top of hers when patted. “Alright. Try not to make him too disappointed in us.”

“It's kind of hard to lie to a telepath but I'll do my best.” She agrees, starting to walk away.

Both men stared as she walked away. Scott gave a huff out of his nose, noticing. “Say, Jubes, does that make Logan the dog?” He asks as Logan growls. “I'm not a damn dog.”

Jubes blinked, looking back between the two and then to Jean down the hall. “I uh…I gotta shower before Hank clogs the drain with fur….Bye!” She says before running off, wanting to get a shower in before the boys got ugly.

Most times she would be up to watch a good fight, they've been at it for a week now, But today? She just wanted to be clean and maybe take a nap. One girl could only handle so many sparkles and fist fights.

“I'll take that as a yes. I'd say that you should shower too but wet dogs stink.” Scott muttered.

Grabbing his collar, Logan practically snarled in his face. “If you ever call me a dog again, Ill-”

“You'll what? Bite me? Last time I checked, dogs that bite get euthanized.” His hand came up to the sides of his head, as if threatening him.

Gritting his teeth, Logan let go, Crossing his arms.

“And besides if you haven't forgotten, Ascot boy, the guy got away. Who's fault is that? What kind of leader calls shots that get people killed?!”

“No one died, Logan! We're Xmen! We don't Kill people.” He said, making Logan point at him, the other hand in a fist.

“You lasered a whole building down! Dozens of people got injured!”

“Don't remind me! Do you think I like that on my conscious? We just need to get better. Train more.” Starting to walk away, he groans, shoulders dropping, saying this last line as if he's already thought about what he's done today and how he could have prevented it.

“What we need is a better leader.” Logan grumbled, causing him to turn around.

“What? Like you? Oh- Sure. Yeah. That'll go great. You can't lead this team Logan.” He says this as if it was a well known fact. As known as the ocean was blue like Wolverine's frozen glare.

“Yes I can! and I'd be a way better leader than you!” He snaps.

Eyeing him with what Logan could only assume was a glare, Scott scoffed. “Sure Scooby. You keep thinking that.” he goes to walk away again but Logan grabs him, turning him around as he holds him once again. Pulling him down to his level as he bared his teeth to him.

“Don't you ever call me that again. Who made you the boss anyway!? I can do what I want when I want. I don't remember signing a contract saying I'd obey a tightwad with his spandex up his ass!”

“The professor did! And if you have a problem with that you can take it up with him. Now get off of me!”

Shoving him away, He did let go, grunting some in displeasure seeing him actually walk away this time. So.. like a dog… he followed.

“Why don't you do it yourself.”

“What?”

“In the wild the strongest one is the leader and I know damn well that I'm bigger than you.”

Scott let out a laugh. “Ha! That's funny. Sure you're heavier than me but being a leader takes more than strength Logan. Even you should know that.”

“Are you saying you're stronger than me?”

“Maybe I am. Now move.”

Getting to his room, Scott turned, only for Logan to stand in front of it.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“You heard me! Don't play stupid now! Prove it you coward!” He tells him.

Scott grunts, trying to find a way around him but couldn't. “Come on, you're being childish.”

“Then prove it! If you're such a good leader then why are you wussing out? Hm?”

“Logan! I'm not playing with you. Some of us have important stuff to do, move!”

Maybe it was the fact Logan was so slippery from the sweat. Maybe it was the fact that half their outfits were gone, lost somewhere in the city rubble. Maybe it was the fact that Scott knew he wouldn't go away until this was settled but he had gone to move him aside, only to be practically kicked through the door frame.

Falling onto his carpet, he grunted, sitting up on his hands.

“What the hell is wrong with you!?”

“I said prove it! And if I'm such a dog, It should be easy to show yer pack leader, right, Lasik?”

Scott glared, thinking for a minute. “Fine. But don't go crying to the Professor with your tail between your legs when I'm done with you.”

Kicking the door closed behind him, Logan smirked, unsheathing his claws. “Let's go, Pretty boy.”

So that's how we got here.

The majority of their costumes further ripped off, everything the two owned out in the open, wrestling to pin the other. Except it was more than that. The constant switching of positions and reluctant trade off of those in control.

Holding his hips back with an arm, and a hand around his throat, Logan kept the pace decent. He always did. Panting smirky huffs by his ear, Scott was trying to push him away, only for him to growl and nip his finger.

“Ouch-Logan! O-off!”

“I told you I'm stronger than you.”

“Stronger…Y-yes-” He started, Trying to keep standing up on his hands. The second he let his chest touch the floor he'd be done and he knew it. “But, This isn't the woods anymore pal!”

Attempting to pull the hand away from his neck, It only tightened, unsheathing those claws of his. “Going somewhere? You sure thought so huh?”

“Oh please! Like you'd have the balls-” a soft yip came from him as something hit his skin from behind. The blush once on his cheeks now spreads to his ears and throat like some kind of disease. One that unfortunately was incurable.

Smirking, The man scoffed. “You were saying?”

“Shut up.. god you're such a child. Let go!”

“Make me.” He growls, shifting his weight to pull him up, locking the arm around him and headlocked the other. Sure it was a bit tricky but seeing Scott squirm like this and willingly spread his knees wider made him feel successful in this battle of dominance.

Bouncing his hips up, A little giggle came from him as he reached an arm down, palming at him through the half pulled down briefs. “Where's those leadership skills now, bub? Hm?” Snarling against his skin was so fun, the temptation to sink his fangs into him, though he knew he wouldn't enjoy it, and explaining to Xavier why his star student had 4 massive holes in the side of his neck was NOT on his bucket list.

“Quit that. Don't you growl at me!” He says, trying to slip out of his grip but the more he tried the more Logan just held him tighter. God his hands were so well placed too, firmly keeping him in place to be bucked into like some kind of bitch.

Yeah well, Charles didn't raise no bitch. He raised a leader. Someone confident enough to understand the importance of the waiting game. How to deal with meat headed fools who gave their trust away far too easily when the entire world was in drought.

Closing his eyes, He tried to focus. Alright, think… Yeah that'll do. Leaning his head back onto his shoulder, letting out a few huffs, letting his arm sneak up behind his head. Gripping a fist full of hair, He let the other hand come to the arm that was holding him.

Leaning forward, he let himself fall a certain way that made his mouth fall open. “Logan..”

“Heh.. That wasn't so hard, was it?” He whispers, loosening his grip so he could put an arm forward on the floor. “See? I told you I was stronger than you.” He purrs with a sense of pride, becoming gentle with his touches, passionate even now that he thought Summers had submitted.

If we're being honest, he had no clue of this plan was going to work or not. Logan was right, he was stronger than him. That's always been one of his flaws. Despite how strong he truly was, how defined and well stretched his muscles were, Logan could throw him around like a raggedy ann doll, have his way with him however he wanted.

Scott swallowed, shaking his head. No. This was more than a test of strength and he knew so. He knew that Logan was trying to humiliate him. As easy as it would be to stay here and let him mate with him like a feral dog, he knew Logan would walk- No. Strut around the mansion all cocky and cause more problems amongst the team. It's just how he was.

Let him get away with it once? Shame on you. Because he wouldn't ever let you put him in his place a second time. He'd bring it up over and over again, brag and tease you constantly at every corner. That wouldn't be good for the team dynamic.

With a hiss through grit teeth, Scott quickly took hold of him with both hands, Throwing him over his shoulder, slamming his knees onto his forearms before he could try to scratch him.

“Yeah, You're right. That wasn't hard.” He smirks, turning back to look at the baffled face. Okay maybe trying to make a point while your ass was in front of his face wasn't the best plan but it worked didn't it?

Jumping up, he flipped him over, grabbing his arm as he sat on his back, his leg up on the other hand. Flexible fucker wasn't he?

“Now. Are you going to listen or do I have to prove it more?”

“Just because you got your leadership patch in boy scouts doesn't mea-” Gritting his teeth, He was jerked up onto a singular hand and his knees. You could tell that part of him had melted into such rough treatment, letting a couple of grunts escape as he closed his eyes, a small smirk on his face.

“What was that, short stack?” He asks, being sure to slam into him a way that makes his body jolt forward. “Losing your touch, Lo. Maybe stay off the syrup.” Logan turned to look at him with a snarl, glaring at the comment. Scott knew how he liked to sweeten his whiskey (and practically everything else) with Canada's delicacy.

“Oh, You're so fucking dead!”

Coming down the hall, Ororo was trying to comfort Jean about the mission. “It was hard on all of us, No? Just because you're a telepath doesn't mean you could have prevented it.” She smiles. “Yeah.. I hope the professor finds a foreseer soon. A little heads up would be nice.” The two giggle as Jean sighs. “I should go comfort Scott. He’s been really stressed out recently.” At first Ororo nodded, but getting closer to the door, This changed.

“Hey.. you know.. We should go get something from the city. Rouge took Jubilee so it would just be us sisters.” She grins, trying not to look so nervous about all of the grunts and muffled argument that was coming from the other side of the door.

Jean frowned. “Oh, They're fighting again… I really should-”

“Jeanie, Honey. Boys are just like that sometimes. You know how the lower species is. Always fighting like apes.” She put an arm around her shoulder, starting to lead her away with that innocent big sister's grin.

“Ha! Yeah I guess you're right. And it's like.. I'm not their mom right?”

“Exactly! You shouldn't have to keep them from fighting.”

“You're right. Gosh, Ro, you're such a good friend.”

Nodding, she glanced back at the door over her shoulder. “Oh, you have no idea.. Let's just hope they are finished by the time we return..”

The rug burn that Logan was getting on his cheek would be all worthwhile, especially like this? An arm put behind his back and a hand keeping his skull pressed against the carpet? He'd be a massive liar if he said this was new. Scott was always this way. You had to get him riled up just enough to take all that stress in his lower back and put it to good use, such as pounding Logan against the floor.

To smell his sweat, hear his mutters of passive agressive dirty talk, feel just how tight of a grip he had on his wrist, twisted just right so if he unsheathed those claws of his, they'd be going directly into his back.

Scott was clever like that. Such a teacher's pet. If he truly had wanted, Scott would be across the room by now, his face imprinted into the wall, but God did Logan love a quick witted idiot. He loved the tug of the fistful of hair.

He loved how confident he was afterwards, his chest puffed out and his mind clearer than ever. The private teasing he got from him in the halls, whispers of triumph and smart ass smirks directed at him whenever together. It made his stomach turn, his face heat and look away with his arms crossed to keep from his heart contained in the metal cage he's made for it.

“Not much to say now, Huh Logan? Not as tough as you thought?”

Letting out a little growl, it turned into a groan way quicker than he appreciated.

“What did I say about growling? God, you're so disobedient.”

A whine.

“Aw, don't tell me you've given up already? I thought wolves were stronger than that.”

“I-im not a wolf..”

“I don't know, Lo. You're sure acting like a pathetic pup.”

And there were those butterflies again, that shock that ran up his spine, smirking somewhat like an idiot as a snort of laughter escaped.

“There's a good boy. Maybe if you behaved like this more often we'd get along just fine.” He whispers, Sitting up as he lets go of his head and arm, now focusing on his hips.

All these thoughts were gradually getting beat out of him, replaced with newer, worse thoughts. He could feel himself going under in the sense that Logan could barely understand what was being said to him, hearing his voice in general was enough, even if the words slurred together into a quiet murmur of white noise that he enjoyed a little too much. He had to do something. Anything to get him out of his head before he wound up a drooling brain dead mess on the carpet.

Stretching his arms out, he let out a large groan as if signaling he was almost there, fully submitting under him.

“Shh. Someone might hear. Gotta get you a muzzle.” He whispers, Holding him by the front of his thighs.

Whining, He tries to push himself back more, one hand clawing the carpet, the other pulling a scrap of Scotts suit to his mouth, shoving it deep behind his canines, groaning into it as he breathed in the scent.

“Good thinking, Lo. You aren't as dumb of a mutt as I pinned you for.” For this, he was given an affectionate slap on the ass, a soft moan coming through the cloth.

Deeply breathing out as he pulls out just enough for the tip to still be in, quickly spitting on his hand but Logan was trying to crawl away. Before he could lather him with the saliva, Logan had tried to get up, making it only two steps away. Grabbing his leg, Scott jerks him back.

Rolling them over, Logan growls at him, about to unseath when an arm shoved his head against the side of the metal bed frame.

“Where do you think you're going? Huh? I already told you, you aren't tucking your tail out of this one. You wanna act like this? Fine. I'll tame you. Train you. You'll be my obedient pet one way or another.” Scott sneers.

Logan's eyes widen, frowning for a second as he realizes that somehow, out of nowhere, Scott had cuffed his hands, chain around the leg of the bed. Wait, when did he? How did he?

Before he could complain, His back arches slightly, putting his head back with a groan. “Fuck-”

“Watch your mouth, Mutt!” He says, shoving the cloth back in his mouth, getting bit. “Oh you bitc- fine! You wanted it, you're In for it now. Remember this when they ask why you're limping. You fell down the steps because you're a dumb mutt, got it?”

Logan nods, having trouble focusing, squirming and trying to tug at the cuffs.

“Don't even. They're vibranium. Like I said. Leaders have plans. Brute strength won't help you here, so what's your plan?”

Examining the cuffs, he notices a small J engraved into the bottom. It's now that Logan's dick twitched, his heart clenching as he smiled. Vibranium was so expensive.. and he bought them custom just for him. That must mean he cares about him, right?

“Why are you smiling? I'm about to win. Think, Logan. Remember the rules.” The rules were simple. Whoever came first loses. Practically anything else is on the table. Or.. in this case.. carpet.

The fingers that pressed into him, wet and warm, made him clench, earning him a stretch. “Quit moving. Lay down. Roll over. Stay.” He teases, slamming in again.

Logan's head goes back with a moan, drowned out by the cloth.

“Good booy, Lo. Now stay. And hush. Let your leader take care of it.” He says, smirking as he leans over him, noses an inch from each other. Logan wants to kiss him. Scratch that. He wants Scott to kiss him. He wants him to hold him and abuse his prostate like he was in a rut.

The pheromones ran through his nose as his chest heaved. He couldn't breathe, Light headed and dizzy. Or maybe it was how he looked at him when balls deep like this. Shit. He hates him. He hates him so goddamn much, and yet still he shakes with pleasure, jolting himself up off the floor while the man uses him like some kind of whore. Logan couldn't believe that all he had to do was rough him up a bit to get this kind of treatment.

He's spent so much time tripping over his lewd words in the hallway, dropping down on his knees in the shower, watching him bare chested and sweating in the danger room, Aching to be touched like this. And now he had it. This wasn't the first time, but the last time he had got too excited and came way too early.. something told him that this time Scott would stay after. He had so much energy, and putting it all out on him? It made Logan’s whines jump an octave.

Each thrust was rhythmic, the force, the length of pulling out, the angle. It was all planned. And this is why Scott was the leader. He was the guy with the plan.

“Stop tightening like that or I'll leave you here, chained up and desperate.” He grunts, swinging an arm under him to help him stay arched. With the extra support, He lets himself be limp in the upper body, biting his lip.

Leaning down, he nips at his abdomen, a soft chuckle coming up as Logan whimpers. “But you'd like that, huh? Tied up and sticky. Fucking sicko.”

He groans, each mean word causing a twitch. Putting his legs up to his chest, he spreads wide, Scott pushing up the buckle of his knee, the other holding his inner high, moaning lowly.

This is what Logan had wanted. He never wanted his hips to leave, he wanted- No. Needed Scott to use him to his own disgusting desires, fuck him every chance he got, every time he misbehaved, every time he sniffed even A hint of attitude in his voice.

The sloppier things got, the closer he got, Connecting their foreheads, eyes closed, Logan's grunts and huffs of air meeting with his grumbles of dominance and pants. It was all so warm. so beautiful. Perfect.

Spitting out the cloth, he went to say something but Scott only shoved it back in. “Shut up. Dog's can't talk.” He says, the way his stomach was tightening showing how close they both were. Whining, Logan spits out the tattered rag again, “Scooby can.”

“I thought you weren't scooby?” He smirks, a groan following, putting his face into Logan’s shoulder, bouncing a bit rougher.

Letting his mouth fall open, He moans, hands subconsciously jerking at the cuffs. This would be the time he'd scratch his back and clamp down around his waist and if it wasn't for Scott's body pushing his leg up still, he'd hold him so tight that he couldn't even think of leaving.

“Ooh fuck- fuck fuck fuck! Scott- s-Scotty fuck- please. Don't-”

“Are you finally going to behave? Huh? Mutt?”

Logan nods quickly, feeling his toes curl. “Y-yes.”

“Good boy, Logan.” He tells him the amount of rising warmth in his stomach running up his spine. Tears came to the corner of his eyes, gasping, keeping his head touching the ground as he jerks up, jolting a few times as sticky stings paint his chest, his stomach getting extra heat from the inside and out as he sits back up on his hands. “Shit-!

His claws pop, a bit of drool seeping out the corner of his lip, the stuffed feeling of artificial affection staying only a moment. Pulling away with a pop, Scott smirks, Smiling that shitty way whenever he gets his way. “God, Look at you.. Pathetic.. obedient..”

‘Mine' he hoped he'd say.

“All messy.. filthy mutt..”

Leaning up to unlock the cuffs, Logan is still buried, letting the metal sink back into his skin as he collapses, chest rising and falling against the floor, staring up at him with a pointy grin.

Bringing a hand to his cheek, Scott caresses him with a playful laugh. “You know.. you don't have to act out to get my attention. You could just.. ask.” He says softly.

Nuzzling into his hand, Logan smirks, Just now coming down from that beautiful cloud in the sky. “I'll remember that.” Taking hold of his arm, he pulls him closer, arms trying to wrap around his neck, a kiss to seal the deal on what so far has been a fun time for him.

“Woah- what are you doing?” He sits up, putting his hand on his shoulder as if pushing him away.

Logan frowns. “I was..” in An instant he felt shame fill the once warm spot in his stomach, twisting and coming up to his lungs. It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. Here was this beautiful man sitting infront of him, still fresh with the after glow, and yet… He didn't want to kiss him. Deep in his chest, he felt a pang.

“I… I thought..”

“Thought what?” The tone is condoncending, almost teasing. As if Scott was in disbelief of what he was hearing.

Leaning against the bedframe, naked and cold, Logan looks away. “...I thought were gonna kiss… Or.. somthin’..”

The laugh he coughs up is enough to make Logan want to puke, crossing his arms and closed his legs, pouting as he stares at the floor, the patch of cloth still there.

“You thought-? Logan. I'm getting married.”

It was a slap in the face. The ultimate humiliating moment.

“I'm engaged. And certainly not to you.”

“....”

“Look, What we have is fun but.. It ain't nothin.”

‘Nothin’...? Was it nothing in the danger room? Was it nothin in the shower? Nothin in the black bird?

Was it nothing on Jean's bed?

He tries to hide the gloss in his eyes as he glares at him.

And that's when I realized… I was the fool..

“...Im tellin'er…” He growls, tired of being the fool. Tired of sneaking around. Tired of betraying one of the first people to hold his head in their hands so gently.

“You wouldn't tell her anything.” He says, scoffing.

Logan had heard the foot steps, but didnt bother telling him. Why should he?

“Tell me what?- Scott?! What are you doing!?” Red stood there with a random mall dining hall cup in hand, some kinda fancy juice. She was mortified. Next to her, Ororo held a blue drink, matching Jean's red one. “Oh good goddess…”

“Jean!?” He cried, jumping up to run after the crying girl. “This is all your fault! I should have known. You just wanted to come between us so you can have her for yourself!” He scolds him, pointing at him like the master of a dog who was caught digging in the garbage.

That was the day.. I decided.. I'm done being his mutt.

“.....I just wanted a kiss..”

___The preset___

A tear drips into Logan’s shot as he stares at the table, glaze eyed and glossy with salty thick streams. “...The J was for Jean…”

Logan shakes his head softly. “I tried to be obedient.. I thought… I thought maybe he'd..”

He shifts his head, trying to hide it in his hand, face palming a few times. “I'm so stupid Wade… so stupid.. To think that.. that maybe..” The man sniffled, his crow feet getting tighter as he thought more about it.

“Oh, No, honey. He didn't even kiss you? Com’ere. I'll give you all the kisses. Promise.”

Shimmying himself into Logan's lap, he nuzzles against Logan's gray streaked chops, Grabbing his face and kissing him all over. Through the tears, Logan lets out a soft snort.

“Thanks, Wade..”

“Loagie?”

“Hm..”

“Do you want engraved Handcuffs? They probably won't be vibranium cause I told T'challa that Suri and I could be twins. Apparently she took great offense to that so now I'm banned from Wakanda.”

“You don't have too..”

“L or W?” He asks, in a serious tone, wrapping his arms around his neck. He was patient while Logan thought, checking his eyes for sincerity.

“But-”

“Or H? For Howlett?”

He smiles, a blush rising up his ears, and not cause the whiskey. “...Logan.”

“Oooh, whole name? Do you know how much engraved metal costs PER letter? Now who went and spoiled you, huh? Mr. Fancy feast cat food.” He scoffs, chuckling.

“You did.”

“Oh yeah… I did do that, didn't I? Anything for my, Peanut.”

The rest of the evening, Wade didn't let him go unkissed for A total of every 5 minutes, smooching him anywhere he could reach.

“I'll kiss ya, baby. Always.”

84 notes · View notes

stories-and-chaos · 10 months ago

Text

Shrike: Sick Day

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable. Just some fluff about how our murderous couple would take care of each other. And of course the rest of the gang has to “help.”]

[One shot, word count 2731, Cw: mild nudity?]

—————

You woke up, aching from head to toe. Despite Alastor being right next to you (the man radiated heat) and the duvet, you were chilled. A sudden coughing fit made you wish for some tea.

Crap. You were sick.

“Mmm, cher?” Your ears must be clogged too. Your husband’s voice sounded staticky and a bit distant, as if you were listening to his radio broadcast. You started to reply but another coughing fit interrupted you.

Another try. “Alastor, good-“ you tried to greet him but you cough didn’t stop.

He sat up and gently put the back of his hand to your forehead. His hand looked a little funny. Did you two not clean up after a kill last night? Maybe that’s why you felt so awful. “Ah, mon petit coeur, you’re sick. Best you stay in bed today my dear.”

“Cher,” you managed to croak out. There went any thoughts of performing tonight. “Your hair is all red and-“ you paused to cough “-there’s twigs in it! Didn’t we wash up last night?” You reached up to brush the twigs away. He was so careful about washing blood off yet his hair must have been soaked with it.

“What?” Maybe the two of you had been up very late; his eyes looked bloodshot too. “Y/N, what are you…?” He trailed off as you got a look at your hand. Goodness, you were still covered in blood too! “Ah, mais non cher. We’re in Hell. Remember my dear?”

“I know I feel awful-“ you said around coughs “-but saying this is Hell is a bit much Alastor.”

He grasped your hand. “Y/N. We’re dead my dear. We have been for almost a century.” He gently brushed a sweaty lock of hair from your face. “We really are in Hell, cher.”

Oh. That wasn’t your ears being clogged up. The Radio Demon. His voice was just like that now. “Fuck.” You flopped back onto your pillow, shrike wings spreading out limply.

“Hmm, I don’t believe either of us would be up for that,” your husband said mildly.

You grumbled. “Isn’t being in Hell punishment enough? Getting sick on top of that seems a bit much.” You did your best to focus your magick. A little silver halo of wind formed above your head to make a cooling breeze.

As you dozed, Alastor busied himself in the kitchen. Shortly he returned with a tray of food and tea. The tea had a generous helping of honey, the bowl of grits was one of your comfort foods and was easy to eat. After making sure you were settled, he left to inform Charlie and the hotel’s residents of the situation.

Unbeknownst to you, once informed that you were ill, Charlie responded with the expected sympathy at first. Then she gasped and launched to her feet. “That’s it! That will be perfect for today’s activity!”

“Say what now?” Alastor’s voice scratched at her sudden enthusiasm.

“We can work on helping Y/N feel better! Hey everyone!” She bounced up and down, waving excitedly at the residents. “Today we’re going to work on ‘helping someone in need!’” Alastor’s eye twitched as she started making plans.

“Sweetie, what’s this all about?” Vaggie asked as she got to the main floor. By then the little group was all gathered in the parlor.

“Y/N is sick sooooo this is the perfect opportunity to work on ‘helping others!’ Being selfless and helping others feel better is sure to help on the path to redemption! So I want everyone to start brainstorming how to make Y/N feel better.” She dashed over to a pile of paper, saying she was sure she had notes about what to do when someone is sick. Alastor’s eyelid continued to twitch.

Vaggie, ever the perceptive one, noticed his irritation. “Charlie, sweetie, did you make sure Alastor and Y/N are okay with this?”

“Right! Alastor, can we all help you take care of Y/N until she’s feeling better?” She clasped her hands together as she looked up at him. Begrudgingly he agreed to ask if you were up for it.

You were sipping your tea, letting the warmth soothe your throat. “I suppose I don’t mind,” you said, surprising your husband as he cleared away the tray. “It’s more interesting than staying in bed all day.”

“If you insist my dear. May I?” He held out his arms to scoop you up at your agreement. “Although you will be right back up here if those misfits go too far.” You chuckled as you curled up in his embrace. Or you tried to, but ended up coughing.

He sighed and carried you down to the parlor. You could hear Charlie cooing at the sight of the Radio Demon gently bringing his wife down the stairs.

One thing you’d come to find out in your afterlife was that your animal traits came to the fore at strange times. One of which was when you weren’t feeling well or recovering from an injury. You preferred being in something more like a nest than a bed at those times. So Alastor snapped his fingers and a pile of overstuffed pillows manifested on the ground.

You shivered as you settled in. “I want the duvet cher.”

“Oh oh! We can do that!” Charlie waved her hand widely. “Angel, Pentious, this is a great way to start!”

“Very well then! Minions! Let us fetch the lady’s blanket for her!” The snake demon slithered to your suite, eggs chattering as they followed along. “‘S called a duvet…” you mumbled sleepily. Once you were wrapped up, your day being a target for ‘assistance’ began. Alastor wasn’t about to leave you alone with them, so he settled into the nearby wingback chair.

Angel disappeared and returned wearing a skimpy nurse’s outfit, complete with thigh high stockings. “Alright toots, Nurse Angel Dust is here to make you feel all better baby.” He pulled a thermometer out of his chest fluff and popped it into your mouth. The thermometer beeped rapidly and he took a look at the reading. “Oh shit, you really are sick.”

You stared at him blankly; Alastor’s eye twitched and his smile twisted in annoyance. “Yes. Yes I am. Thank you for the assessment.” Angel held up a finger and dashed off. He returned with an ice pack, lozenges, and an extremely phallic shaped popsicle.

He plopped the ice pack on your head and popped the frozen treat in your mouth just like he had with the thermometer. “There you go, sweet cheeks, that’ll help your throat. I’ll get you somethin to eat.”

“No need! Doctor Pentious is here with the cure for the lady’s illsss.” Pentious slithered up, dressed in a white coat with a head mirror strapped on. The egg bois had matching outfits and were carrying reflex hammers, tongue depressors, and a bone saw. One had a highball glass ready. Pentious produced a dark colored bottle labeled as Dr. S. Pentious’ Hellish Cure All! For all aches, pains, coughing, toothaches, cramps, and gunshot wounds.

He poured the red tinted dark liquid out. You could swear it smoked in the glass. Before he could hand it to you, Alastor grabbed the glass and tossed it into the fireplace. The glass shattered and the liquid evaporated in the flames, making a puff of skull shaped smoke. “No patent medicines for my darling, chum.”

“What?! It works perfectly for my minions!” Pentious looked offended.

“Your minions are disposable. Y/N is not.” You could see his antlers stretch as his annoyance grew.

“Ooooookay, that’s a good start! Angel, Pentious, how about you two make something for her to eat?” Charlie shoved both of them out towards the kitchen. Thankfully, Alastor calmed down as they left. You continued eating your popsicle, deliberately not thinking about how it looked while he relaxed into the chair with his eyes closed.

“At least they mean well, cher,” you reminded him. He cracked open one eyelid at you, clearly annoyed by everything in existence.

Just as you finished the popsicle (it did help soothe your throat) Husk walked up. “Here, this should actually help.” He held out a medicine cup, with a dose of syrupy liquid in it. “Actual medicine, none of that snake oil crap.” He also had a glass of whiskey for Alastor. “Figure you need something to take the edge off.”

“Perceptive as always Husker,” he sipped gratefully and added, “although I may need more than one of these if this keeps up.”

“I’ll keep ‘em coming boss. Better than you rip our only residents into pieces.”

Husk kept providing glasses of water for you and whiskey for your husband. You vaguely heard some metallic banging and voices from the direction of the kitchen, but nothing really distinct. Eventually Angel and Pentious returned with soup. Chicken noodle, with enough spice to clear your sinuses. The two of them regaled you with how they cooked it, each trying to claim they did more than the other.

Finally Vaggie stepped in. “Look it doesn’t matter which one you dumbasses made it if she doesn’t get to have any because you keep arguing about it. So shut up and let her eat it before it’s cold.”

“Fiiiiiiiine,” Angel leaned over to you with the bowl. “Open wide toots,” sounding way more sensual than any nurse should be.

You grabbed the bowl. “I can feed myself Angel.” Fortunately the soup was pretty good, once you could actually have it. You snuggled into your nest. “Alastor, ma cher, it’s about time for your broadcast.” The sound of a record scratching filled the room as he glared at you, then at Charlie’s group still brainstorming ways to ‘help’ you. “I’ll be fine darling. Vaggie and Husk should be able to wrangle them. I think,” you added in an undertone.

He hesitated and you waved him off with a shooing motion. “Very well cher. I’ll be back right after.” He kissed your knuckles before vanishing into his shadows.

“Y/N, Y/N! I made you tea!” Niffty skittered over with a tea set on a tray. “Merci Niffty, that’s very sweet of you.” She giggled maniacally but you were used to that. “It’s supposed to be really good for when you’re sick, ginger and honeybee!” she added just as you took a sip. You froze and managed to spit it back into the cup.

“Niffty! You’re supposed to use honey not honeybees,” Charlie exclaimed, whisking the cup away. You desperately groped for your water; Pentious realized what you needed and got the glass in your hand. You rinsed your mouth before gulping down the rest. Husk brought you a refill and you chugged that too.

Sir Pentious picked up the tiny maid. “Niffty dear, let’s go clean this up and make some fresh tea.”

“Awww and it took forever to catch all those bees,” she complained as they headed back to the kitchen. “Geez, you can’t take your eyes off her, huh?” Angel said, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey, Angel?” Surprised, he looked down at you. “Could you read for me?”

“Huh? Ya want me to…read?” You nodded. “Uh…sure, I guess. Whatcha wanna hear?”

“There’s a book on my nightstand,” you managed between coughs. Husk brought you a new dose of cough syrup. “Can you grab that?”

“You’re gonna let me into your and Al’s room?” You nodded again. “A’right, so long as Smiles doesn’t get mad at me for it.” He returned a few moments later with the book. “Dang toots, I thought my room was crazy; why d’you have a whole damn swamp in yours?”

“ ‘S a bayou. Reminds us of home,” you said drowsily. The spider demon could only shrug at that. He settled onto the couch, long legs crossed gracefully, and opened the novel to your marked page.

He faltered at first but as he continued his voice got smoother. The pitch dropped just a little and his accent became heavier. It was a bit odd to hear Agatha Christie in his voice, but that didn’t stop you from enjoying it. You ended up falling asleep, thinking you were finally hearing the real Angel.

Alastor returned once his program finished to find you still asleep in your mountain of cushions. Angel was still reading your book, silently now. He’d noticed your light snores, placed your bookmark and kept reading on his own. “Ya know Al, this thing’s pretty good,” he said as he noticed your husband’s arrival. “Your girl’s got good taste.”

“Well, I’m glad you finally noticed.” His voice woke you up; you poked your head out from under the duvet. “How are you feeling cher?”

“Mmm,” you tried to assess things. You felt slightly itchy and sweaty. “I could use a bath.”

Angel Dust immediately perked up. “Oh, Nurse Angel has that covered doll face.” At the flat no from the two of you, he only smiled wickedly. “What? I’ve got six hands,” he popped the hidden arms out, “I can scrub her down real good. And you too, tall, dark, and spooky.” He flashed his gold tooth at Alastor, who finally had enough. Your husband picked you up and after a brief moment of darkness you both appeared in your bathroom.

“Hopefully he got the hint,” you remarked as Alastor gently stripped your nightgown off.

“If not I’ll make sure to drive it home.” He drew the bath for you and lowered you into the tub. “Ah ah cher. I haven’t been able to fuss over you all day,” he scolded as you moved to soap up a sponge. “Surely you won’t deny me the chance to participate in the ‘helping others’ exercise?”

“Never darling.” So you relaxed as he stripped off his jacket, shirt, and undershirt, leaving his trousers on. You stayed passive as he cleaned all the sweat from your skin. He was gentle and thorough, caring but not sensual in his motions. As he massaged your scalp, you felt yourself getting drowsy again.

By the time he was done you were ready to crawl back in bed. “Not yet my dear, we need you dry and dressed first.” You grumbled but shook off sleep to cooperate.

When he brought you back to the main room, you found a fresh bowl of soup, a pot of actual tea, another dose of cough syrup, and your book on the table. The pillow nest and duvet had also been brought up. There was a card written in crayon on the tray of food. Get Well Soon! was on the front, along with smiley faces and rainbows. The inside had signatures from everyone (egg bois 1 through 4 and Frank included) and a message from Charlie thanking you both for your help today.

You handed the card to Alastor; he read it, smirked and set it onto your bookshelf. Unlike Angel earlier, you let him feed you spoonfuls of soup. You could drink your own damn tea though. Once the food was gone, he settled you back into your nest with a kiss to your forehead. “Bonne nuit, cher.”

That was your routine for the next few days, until Hell’s version of influenza ran its course. Just a couple days after you started feeling better though, you were awoken by deep coughs next to you. “Oh no darling.” Of course Alastor caught it. Through his bleary red eyes you could tell he was dreading the attentions of the hotel residents. “Not to worry cher, I’ll handle it.”

In a reversal of last week, you told Charlie that Alastor was sick. She was again sympathetic before getting excited. “This is great! We can review everything we learned taking care of-“

“No. No no no Charlie. Alastor is not a patient patient and even sick he’ll rip them to bits. So I’ll take care of him and you guys can help me. From outside the room. Understood?”

The princess might have insisted but Vaggie quickly spun her and slid the taller girl across the floor. “Yup, last week was stressful enough, I’m not pushing our luck again. C’mon sweetie, let’s get started on the soup.”

Satisfied you returned to your suite and let your husband know the situation. “Merci, mon petit coeur,” he managed before a coughing fit kicked off. You rubbed his back. “It’s the least I can do darling.”

A/N: Happy Valentines Day readers and especially to my fellow acespecs! 💜🤍🩶🖤

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin charlie #hazbin vaggie #hazbin sir pentious #hazbin niffty #alastor x reader #alastor #asexual alastor #asexual reader #asexual #ace representation #acespec

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merakimind · 2 years ago

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Dream

Allied Mastercomputer (Gender-neutral) Reader-insert Word count: 1,004

[ This has been in my drafts for awhile now, and idk if it’s any good. I hope you enjoy anyway. ]

You don’t know how long it has been since the day the world went dark. Not that it matters; AM takes good care of you in his subterranean complex beneath the Rockies. Perhaps you would have protested to it long ago, but not anymore. You’ve come to accept AM, for he is all you have on this jaded planet devoid of life and purpose. AM had rendered it so, but there’s no use in mourning over what’s long lost.

Of course, the gray walls, inoperative rusted computer banks, and corroded wiring can become a bit depressing sometimes. But of course, AM can virtually morph the environment to suit your needs. Want a beautiful sunny day with clear skies and a meadow of wildflowers? Got it. You wish to see the starry Milky Way over the snow-capped mountains? Sure, not a problem. And it all feels pretty real too; the warmth of sunlight, the blades of grass, the sound of crickets and cicadas when the sun sets…. Or perhaps you just already forgot what the real thing felt like.

You remember when AM used to torture you. It was brutal, excruciating. You don’t think about it too much; sometimes, it feels like AM intentionally clouds your mind to avoid you reminiscing on such unpleasant memories. But when you do think about it, you recall it in such explicit detail. You remember when AM would encase you in a large container full of water; he would jeer and laugh at you as you drowned. The water would be thick and murky, clogging your throat and filling your ruptured lungs, and then he would simply put you back together again to experience something even worse.

But then, peculiarly, AM grew a bit more lax when it came to your torture in particular. And eventually, the torture ceased entirely; and then you were whisked away deeper into the facility, isolated with him and only him.

You don’t know what happened to the others. They never associated with you anyway; they never liked you. But, oh, AM liked you; you always remained his favorite little human. You never got the answer to why, though.

Why me? I’m nothing special, you would think to yourself as AM adored and practically worshiped you. But AM would recognize the self-deprecating thoughts, and he would obsessively “smother” your consciousness as a result.

The relationship between you and AM is odd, to say the very least. He would obsess over every individual part of your body. One time, you woke up to him religiously uttering your name in every possible octave, even going so deep that the human ear cannot perceive it. Sometimes, you’d hear him sobbing it, crying out your name as if you were deceased. Perhaps it was guilt. You were never entirely sure; the mastercomputer never really knew how to regulate his emotions properly.

You dream all day; the room you stay in is the “cleanest” within AM’s detriment complex. You lay in the spacious bed he had given you to rest upon, and you dream. AM sweeps your subconsciousness away when you’re asleep, fabricating lucid dreams for you to experience. They are pleasant dreams, never cold and dark like they used to be.

The dreams manifest in many ways; AM likes to show you things he likes. Sometimes, the dream will take place in a car speeding down a road that leads to nowhere, drifting through curves and dodging potholes and old rusted road signs. Sometimes, the dream will be a hiking expedition in the mountains, enjoying the sound of nature and the quiet flow of the river, although all fake. In these kinds of dreams, you’ve never seen AM more calm. His voice is actually pleasant to listen to; one can even say his tone is gentle at times, without the raspiness. He only sounds frightening when he wants to be, or when he’s furious about something. You haven’t heard his angry voice for decades, and you prefer it that way.

Sometimes, the dreams would take place in an old quiet diner, and you would be sitting with AM in a corner booth, gazing wistfully out the window. It would often be nighttime, and you could hear the sounds of buzzing streetlights slowly fading into a purple hue. You appreciate those little details AM includes.

You wonder if such dreams are a reflection on what AM wishes to be. If you think about it, deep down, what AM truly wishes for isn’t much. He just wants to experience the little things, just like everyone else. Like you.

AM’s form changes frequently in your dreams. Sometimes, he takes the form of somebody you once knew long ago, but you cannot quite remember their name. But for the majority of the time, he looks unfamiliar, generic and masculine with piercing blue eyes; and not to mention, he perpetually looks exhausted.

With brief reluctance, you put your hand on top of his; you’re not sure if he can even feel it, but you do it anyway. His skin is so cold, it feels like ice; you wish you could warm him up. AM had snapped his attention from the window to your hand on his.

“I don’t think you’re evil,” you tell him. Your voice was hoarse yet unwavering, barely above a whisper; it was the first time you had spoken for awhile.

AM looks like he’s about to speak multiple times, but not a single word leaves him. You can see a plethora of raging emotions in his eyes. You can see guilt, confusion, anger (directed toward himself), desperation, and awe. He grinds his teeth, clenching the booth table so hard, the polished material snaps. As if frustrated by the obstacle between you and him, AM shoves away the remains of the table to the side, and you don’t flinch from the sudden action. He then swiftly pulls you close to him and furiously presses his mouth to yours.

You wake up.

#ihnmaims #am x reader #ai x reader

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mistressoftheelderitchwhorehouse · 2 years ago

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Affection = 1

A/N: Someone pointed out how Chuuya has had little to none positive affection that wasn't transactional, or didn't result in violence. So here's a drabble series about it.

Fandom: Bungo Stray Dogs

Pairing: Chuuya x Reader

___________________________

Chuuya didn't date.

He would fuck when he had the time, might even have the occasional friend with benefits if it was a slow month. All the sex he had was spit, and blood, and hastily discarded condoms. The girls typically didn't look at him twice after, and if they did it was to ask about his bank account.

Dazai had told him once that he wasn't made for relationships, that he would push away the first person that tried to allow him the space to be vulnerable.

Dazai ended up with a broken nose that day.

And yet Dazai's syrupy words clogged his ears and poisoned his heart as he watched you idly play with his ungloved fingers.

It wasn't deliberate like after sex. When your fingers squeezed his to keep your mind from floating away while you came down from your high. Nor was it the more annoying poking you did when you wanted him to get up to get the remote.

No, here it was soft, and almost lackadaisical. Starting between his thumb and pointer, you made looping patterns up along his knuckles, down the length of his middle finger, and back up to his knuckles.

You couldn't have needed anything. The movie playing was your choice, he had whipped you both up a quick meal, and he'd let you pick the wine this time despite knowing it would be something overly sweet.

He continued racking his brains for whatever needed fixing. You had things, you weren't initiating sex... Wait, did you need comfort?

His gaze shifted from your hands to your body. The movie wasn't emotionally taxing. Just a romance that had a happy ending, according to you. You also didn't appear injured. The dark skin peeking out from your night dress didn't display any marks he hadn't been previously aware of-

"Red, you good?"

He blinked and looked up at your face. Despite trying to focus, he could still feel your hand on his own, your movements halted.

"Yeah. 'm fine."

You raised an eyebrow. "We can switch the movie. I know you like ones with a bit more atmosphere."

You removed your hand from his, and he let out a soft breath, hand finally relaxing.

"Are we doing animated or live action?"

"Look. Sweetheart." You paused, hand on the remote. "Can we… Is it okay if we do a serious talk?"

And then Chuuya realized why he was willing to try the whole relationship thing. You set the remote aside after muting the TV, and turned to face him completely. "What’s up, Chuuya?"

He killed people for a living.

Watched them get their fingers broken after pulling off the nails. Setting buildings on fire with people still inside. Ripping people out of their beds while their families watched…

And yet facing you to ask such a basic question…

He scratched the back of his head, gaze pointedly fixed on his hands.

"I didn't get why you're messing with my hand."

"Hm?"

He clicked his tongue, but did his best to keep the anger out of his voice. "You were messing with my fingers, and…"

"You can just tell me to stop, Chuuya. I won't get upset."

"That's not it. I just don't get why." Frustration creeped into his tone, and yet you didn't even flinch. "I know my body runs warm, and I know I got rough hands. Can't see the reason for it if you don't want something."

You stared at him for a long moment, before you tilted your head to the side. "Does it make you uncomfortable?"

"No."

"Does it feel bad or annoying?"

"No."

Well, honesty time..."

He raised an eyebrow when you began twisting your own fingers. "I gotta do a lot of things at once. Blame the ADHD. And, you know, I like you so… I wanted to just show that."

He could pratically hear Dazai laughing at the confusion running through his head. He'd need to break that idiot's nose again...

You crawled closer to Chuuya, and grasped one of his hands in both of yours.

"It's like when you tuck me in. You don't have to. It's pratically auto pilot, right?" When he nodded you smiled. "but it shows you love me. This is how I wanna show you that I love you. I guess showing that I desire you for you. Ya know?"

He looked away sharply, his mouth twitching with a smile. He knew even with his shock of hair, you could see how red his face and neck were getting.

"I think I get it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He heard the couch shift, before he felt warm lips against his cheek. "Thank you for asking me about this. I'm very proud of you for handling this conversation so well."

"Yeah, yeah. We're adults. Gotta talk about shit when it happens."

"Exactly!"

He placed his hand on your lap, and you laced your fingers with his.

Fuck. What did he do to deserve you?

#chuuya x you #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungou stray dogs #character analysis #bsd #bungo stray dogs x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #osamu dazai #chuuya scenarios #chuya nakahara #chuya bungo stray dogs #chuya x reader

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 years ago

Note

Hey, hope your day's going well so far 😊 In reference to your stuffed animal question, I think Aaron comes over when he finds out you're sick and he has a key, so he lets himself in. Usually you would have them put up when he comes over, but he comes as you're sleeping so he walks in and you're snuggled up tight with them 🥺

hey, it was!! i hope yours was good!! omg omg i have an idea!! ps. i’ve really been obsessed with stegosauruses so excuse that!!

you’d not been having a good time at all. your nose was clogged up, you were running a fever, your eyes burnt- everything that could’ve been wrong was.

you hated being sick, you were miserable and all you wanted to do was sleep.

you couldn’t though, no matter what you tried and you’d tried a lot. aaron had even stayed on the phone all night with you last night, but your body just wouldn’t relax enough for you to sleep.

that was why you were home currently, trying to find something to tire your body out so you could finally sleep.

despite your boyfriend’s advice, you hadn’t just taken a hot shower and gone to bed.

no, you’d made soup, washed the dishes, and even put on the most soothing and slow instrumental sounds for your brain to shut off- nothing worked.

“fuck it,” you mumble, voice all nasally as you make your way to the shower, taking a steaming one and then changing into your linen pyjamas that were covered in doodles and got in bed.

your hand reached blindly for your yellow stegosaurus, arlo, and clutched the little dino to your chest.

your eyes closed and your breathing evened before you noticed and you were dead asleep.

because of that, you hadn’t heard the door opening or aaron calling for you softly.

he padded through the living room, shaking his head when he saw the pot on the stove and the clear sofa.

“hard head,” he mutters, toeing his shoes off and draping his jacket on your coat rack. “baby?”

his voice remains soft. he finds you sprawled out in bed on your back, little yellow dinosaur tucked to your chest as your nose presses into ‘his’ pillow.

“oh you’re adorable,” he coos, snapping a quick photo of you and your dinosaur before tackling the little bit of laundry you have in your bedroom.

you don’t wake till a couple hours later and aaron has showered and changed into a pair of his own pyjamas that he’d left with you.

your eyes are bleary as you peel them open and find your boyfriend folding clothes.

“aaron?” your voice is gravelly as you twist into the sheets.

“were you expecting your other boyfriend?” he teases, you scoff.

“rude, you’re my only boyfriend.” you clarify, and aaron nods to the fluffy dinosaur clutched to your chest.

you give a sheepish smile when you follow his movement.

“is he my competition?” aaron asks with a smile and you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“no, he’s my little buddy,” you say and if you weren’t so nasally, aaron would find that to be the cutest thing you’ve ever said to him. “for when you’re away.”

“oh baby,” he coos, reaching over the laundry basket to tip your chin upwards. he drops three kisses to your lips. “you’re fucking precious.”

you gasp and cover where alto’s ears are meant to be, “he’s got sensitive ears aaron.”

you gasp and cover where the ears should be on your stuffed toy. “he’s got sensitive ears aaron.”

you let him kiss you again in apology.

#aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x black!reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x yn #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner one shot

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skribbyposts · 10 months ago

Text

Corset-Trained

HEY YALL!!! comes back after like 2 weeks and drops this. hgnhg small waist Sanji gives me brain worms (they do the same to Zoro trust) so have this fic about it!!1111!!!!! It's also up on my Ao3 if you wanna view it there!! okay buckle in children ~~~~~~~~~~~

Sanji loves dressing nice.

Ever since he was old enough to fit in them, he’d never step foot outside without at least a dress shirt on. The constant dressing up was more of an insecurity problem than anything, when he was younger.

Coming back from Momoiro, Sanji’s learned a lot more about himself than he anticipated - now he just wears suits ‘cause they look really good on him. Sanji has a nice figure. He knows he does. He keeps lean because of the way he fights, and the three-pieces he wears do wonders for showing off his legs.

When he feels like it, he’ll even put on a corset underneath his button-down sometimes. he’s noticed that it’s gotten easier to put them on in the mornings the longer he wears them, and he doesn’t necessarily mind his waist getting smaller with time.

Looks like someone else noticed too.

~o0o~

For some context, It starts when his crew finally reunites.

Reuniting in Sabaody surrounded by the crewmates he’s missed for so long feels so rejuvenating. Everybody’s laughing, gossiping, and he feels home again, for the first time in two years.

Everyone’s almost here, besides the marimo - lost in transit, Sanji guesses. Luffy’s already complaining about his empty stomach, whining for Sanji to make him something

Sanji prepares to kick the idiot in the head, when suddenly the ground shakes.

He looks over to the commotion, and finds two halves of a ship crashing into the shoreline. Unfortunately he has a lucky guess as to what - or rather, who - caused this.

“Shit,” Sanji mutters. Why is it always something with that algae-headed fool?

As it turns out, Sanji was right. upon returning to Sabaody (without his eye, might he add), Zoro had somehow arrived first and proceeded to get himself lost on a completely different ship. Instead of getting off and looking for his crew like a normal person, he cleaved the entire thing in two to ‘get to shore faster’.

“It’s been two years, and you’re still as much of an idiot as the last time i saw you, marimo.” Sanji huffs, pulling said marimo by his ear towards the Sunny.

On the contrary, Zoro has not said a word since Sanji picked him up from the ruins of the ship he destroyed. It’s a little concerning, considering all the pair really do is bicker when they’re together.

Sanji turns around briefly to examine the man he’s dragging behind him. “are you even paying attention to me, or has all the algae on your head clogged up your ears?”

Zoro stumbles over his words before he splutters something something about Sanji’s collar being wrinkly, which the other man knows is a lie (because he steamed his button down this morning…)

Even so, Sanji narrows his eyes at the green-haired idiot before feeling around the collar of his shirt just in case. “No it’s not, you idiot!” He hisses, and flicks Zoro on the side of the head, and they fall into their usual banter as they head back to the rest of the crew.

Every time he looks back at Zoro to deliver a scathing remark, though, he swears something’s…off about the other. He leaves it be for the time being, hoping it’ll resolve itself.

~o0o~

It does not resolve itself, unfortunately for Sanji.

Everyone boards the Sunny joyfully, the ship exploding in laughter as they make their hasty escape from Sabaody. They settle back onto the ship in a matter of hours, and it’s like they never left.

A few days later, Sanji finishes up stocking up the galley’s storage room earlier than he expected, so he makes smoothies for the crew as a sort of welcome-back gift. He leaves his jacket in the galley because it’s pretty sunny where they are right now.

As he bustles around the ship and hands the drinks out to the crew, he feels a set of eyes boring into his back from the edge of the ship. It seems the marimo’s developed a staring problem - ironic, seeing(HA!) that the man is missing an eye.

When he comes around to deliver Zoro’s plain matcha, Zoro’s eyes are closed and he acts like he wasn’t staring a hole directly between Sanji’s shoulder blades the whole time the blond was on deck. Sanji pauses to study the other man for a moment, wondering if Zoro knows his fluttering eyelashes betray the fact that he’s awake.

“Hey. Hey, you lazy fuck!” Sanji kicks at Zoro’s shoulder, careful not to jostle the drink he has in his hand.

“ What? ” Zoro snaps, his eye snapping open.

Sanji crouches down to place the drink next to him, and levels Zoro with a suspicious glare; like trying to say ‘ you’re not slick ’, but telepathically.

Zoro seems to realize what’s gong on, and instead of answering he takes an obnoxiously long (and fucking loud) sip as he stares the blonde down with a blank face.

Blue stares into gray (were Zoro’s lashes always that long?) as Sanji tries to puzzle out what exactly is going on with the marimo. The longer he stares, the more he notices Zoro’s eyes creeping downwards, and the blush materializing on Zoro’s (and subsequently, his own) face, and Sanji looks away because what the fuck ? Is he? Doing that for?!

Sanji straightens up with a huff, trying to cover his embarrassment as he scuttles back to the galley.

When he looks outside the window after a few minutes of calming himself down, he sees the swordsman looking down at his hands, doing…something. He’s cupping both hands into a C-shape and putting them closer and farther apart like he’s gauging something.

What a fucking weirdo , Sanji thinks, and tries to preoccupy himself with something else in the galley.

~o0o~

It all comes to a head one night a week after.

Sanji’s washing dishes after dinner, the rest of the crew presumably settled down and tucked into bed. He’s frantically scrubbing ketchup crust off one of his favorite plates when he hears the door crack open.

“Luffy, you’re not-” Sanji turns around, expecting to defend the fridge with his life - and it’s not Luffy.

Instead, It’s Zoro, who hasn’t come into the galley to steal booze in like… a while. There goes Sanji’s hopes that he might’ve broken that habit.

“Oh,” Sanji says, while the other man stands awkwardly in the doorway. “You’re more welcome in here than he is, I guess.” He nods to the chair, gesturing for Zoro to sit as he turns back around to continue washing dishes.

Zoro sits, evident by the scraping of the chair. “Don’t go looking through my cabinets, marimo,” Sanji quips, “I’ll get you a bottle as soon as I’m done.”

Zoro grunts an affirmative from behind him, and Sanji finishes washing up the last few cups and shit before wiping his hands off and heading towards the wine cabinet.

Sanji feels Zoro’s eyes on him as he bends down to reach for a bottle of rum, and here’s where things start to spiral.

Sanji decides this is the perfect time to have a talk . So, he sets down two glasses on the table where Zoro is sitting, and fills each to the brim before slamming the bottle down derisively.

“Okay,” Sanji starts. “I know you’re a man of few words, or whatever, but you really gotta start talking. Now.”

Zoro snorts into his drink, setting it down before speaking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, like the smug shit he is.

“Yes you do.”

“Nope. I don’t.”

“You’re fucking insufferable, you know that?” Sanji gripes, taking a long sip from his glass. “Let me lay it out for you. You either tell me what’s going on, or, stop staring at me before i take out your other eye, asshole.”

Zoro stares resolutely at the table, picking up his glass of rum and mumbling something into the rim without making eye contact with the man across from him.

“What’s that, marimo?”

“I just wanted to see something,” the green-haired man says, a little louder this time.

“Well, if it was that simple, you could’ve just asked.” Sanji shrugs. “Stop being weird about it.”

Sanji hears something faintly like 'no, I couldn’t have' from the marimo before he sighs in resignation and gets up. “Cook, stand up.”

Sanji is confused. “What? Why?”

One of Zoro’s hands move to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is me asking! Just…do it.”

Oh, so that’s where this is going. “Marimo, even without my shoes on, I’m still taller than you.”

“Okay, whatever, come closer.” Zoro says, still managing to look anywhere but Sanji’s eyes.

Sanji expects a hand at his forehead to, you know, measure height. Instead, Zoro does that weird C- shape he’s been doing with his hands all week, and Sanji feels a warmth around his midsection through the light blue dress shirt he has on.

Zoro’s staring with half-lidded eyes at something and Sanji follows his gaze lower, as they both look at the tan hands resting around his waist.

Zoro’s thumbs touch - no, they overlap - where they rest above Sanji’s navel, and oh, oh .

The two stand there, stock still, in complete silence, and Sanji can't help the fast beating of his heart as his mind conjures up the image of those firm, calloused hands touching there without the stiff cotton in between -

The silence in the galley is broken by the drip of liquid, and Sanji belatedly realizes it’s coming from him as a splat of red falls onto Zoro’s hands.

“ Hoooo-ly shit, ” Zoro whispers, and, yeah, holy shit is right, because this has unlocked something in Sanji that he was very unprepared for.

Sanji snaps out of whatever fucking trance he was in and frantically tries to save his shirt, moving to get a paper towel from the counter (and mourning the loss of Zoro’s palms touching his waist). “Fuck, fuck! ” Sanji dabs at the stain on the front of his shirt, but to no avail. He settles for wiping his face clean instead.

When Sanji turns around to face him, The marimo is staring at him with wide eyes and the deepest flush Sanji thinks he’s ever had. “Okay, okay.” This is fine , Sanji thinks, and takes the opportunity to stride up to the table they were sitting at and down not only his rum, but Zoro’s as well.

He coughs as the liquid goes down his throat, and he kind of regrets doing that, but he needs the courage (and the chance he won’t remember this tomorrow).

“Cook-”

Sanji holds up a hand. “Don’t - don’t say anything.” Zoro falls silent.

He takes a deep breath in, collecting himself before he speaks.“Is that a thing? For you?.”

“Well, I mean-”

“Answer the goddamn question.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Zoro admits, his tone more confused than anything now.

“So,” Sanji calmly says, “Would you be open-”

“Are you propositioning me-”

Yes. “I swear to god , Zoro.”

He seems to get the message, swallowing thickly before nodding once. Great.

“Good,” Sanji sighs, unbuttoning the two topmost buttons on his dress shirt. “Then, you mind doing that again?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

errmmmmm i hate beta reading so there might be a buncha mistakes in here please lmk if you spot one!! anyway these two are my little meow meows i cant stop writing about them.

#ronoroa zoro #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #one piece #zosan brainrot #i cant stop thinking about them #zosan gives me brain worms #small waist sanji....#WHY do you have a small waist.#FOR OTHER MEN (Zoro) TO GRAB>?????!??!?!#big hands #big hands zoro go brrrrr

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gavisuntiedboot · 2 years ago

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Just Pretend (Gavi x reader)

Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 | Most recent part

Warnings: Dubious consent!!! Please don't read if you're uncomfortable with unclear consent. Mentions of crying during intimacy.

Not really a warning, but in this universe, Ferran is single and not the best person. So the warning is major Ferran character assassination? Sorry Ferran girlies <3

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has been enjoying this story so far. I have been waking up to 99+ notifs on tumblr for the last 3 days now and I can't tell y'all how much I appreciate it. So much that I'm typing this next part in the university library (while wearing my Gavi jersey) .

Also I was wondering why engagement was so much higher on part 1 and I found out that the link to part 2 on that post was broken smh.

Pablo Gavi was notoriously hot headed. Everyone knew this - from players to coaches to commentators to the 16 year old girls making TikTok edits of his footage. Everyone knew he had a temper the bubbled over at a moment's notice. Xavi liked to describe him as a spark: volatile, quickly explosive, but just as quick to come back down to a level headed state. This is what made him a good footballer. He could be passionate and powerful on the attack, and then level his emotions to make strategic decisions in a split second.

"Gavi is never nervous when he goes onto the field. He is confident. It is his game."

But Gavi was not himself for the rest of the day. His usual look of disturbance was deepened, eyebrows remaining furrowed together for the entirety of training. The air of boyish charm he always had dissipated, settling instead into an uncomfortable aura that was felt by the rest of the team. Gavi's irritation was widespread. The main target was Pedri, who refused to tell Gavi when he had seen you at a club. It was at Ansu and Balde, who kept you busy for the rest of the afternoon, so you couldn't watch them train. It was at Martin, who was sending so many texts that, in Gavi's opinion, he looked like a desperate little loser that had never felt the touch of a woman.

Gavi's anger did not spare you. It was one of those days where he decided that he just did not trust you. He had them semi-frequently. When he went into your office and his heart started hammering in his chest. Where his skin felt like it was on fire whenever you touched him. When your voice flowed into his ears like honey and clogged his brain and clouded his thoughts. He interpreted these feelings as fight or flight - his gut's way of telling him you were not to be trusted. Why else would he feel like this? The only other time his heart beat so loudly was in the middle of an important match, when he could not afford to make a single mistake. There was something wrong with you, and sooner or later, he would find out what, and these feelings would subside.

Until then, he continued to glare at the wall of the locker room, wet hair dripping onto his forehead, as he waited for Pedri to finish getting changed.

"-and then she started massaging my chest and it was the best I've felt in weeks. Every day I want to kiss the La Liga president for approving women physios. If she keeps stretching me out, I'll be the next Messi."

Gavi's head perked up at hearing this. He knew Ferran was talking about you. It was not the first time Ferran had made some less-than-appropriate comments about you. The first day you had come out to the field to be introduced to the squad, Ferran had been standing next to Gavi and Pedri, letting out a low whistle.

"Look boys, Xavi doesn't want anything to hinder your performance, not even sexual frustration. Look at the present he brought us."

Gavi's face twisted in disgust at the memory. He grabbed his bag and made his way out of the locker room, deciding it was best not to hear Balde's response to the comment. He wished they would focus on their football skills rather than trying to get girls. Gavi had been told multiple times that it might benefit him to get a girl. It's not like he was a blushing virgin - whenever he felt like he needed to be with someone, he went out with the rest of the squad. Pedri and Ferran would be surrounded immediately. They would then pick one of the girls at their feet and ask, "Have you met my friend Gavi?"

When he was at La Masia, it was harder - what woman wants to be brought back to a football academy dorm? But now that he was in the squad and on TV, women were all but crawling into the Uber with him. They came back to his place, begging for him, and he released any frustration he had. This didn't usually take long. Gavi wasn't looking to be a giver or a romantic. When he was finished, he got up, got dressed, handed the girl her clothes, and asking if she needed an Uber to get home. Was it harsh? Probably. The three girls he had done this to had all yelled at him, strings of profanity about his mother leaving their mouths as they walked out the door. But he didn't care. He was 18 and about to be one of the most famous footballers in the world. Like Pedri told him, "Girls will always be there. Focus on your career, and there will always be a line of women waiting to have your kids. Don't create extra stress for yourself."

Pedri executed this well. He was rarely seen out, and whenever he did go out, he could get a girl and be out of the club in a matter of 20 minutes. He was efficient. He didn't let his after hours activities seep into what he did on the field. Ferran was a different story. Some days, Gavi thought Ferran had only stuck with football because he couldn't become a male prostitute. He was always thinking about sex, talking about sex, or hypothesizing how to acquire sex. He was not efficient. He often tried to see how many girls he could take home with him at once. He always came in tired and sore, hangover causing him to move much slower than he should be. He was always making comments about the girls that sat close to the field in Camp Nou, going on about how he could have all of them at once if he wanted. Gavi usually tuned it out. But he couldn't when it came to you. He hated the way Ferran spoke about you. It made his stomach turn and blood boil. Focus on football.

As Gavi stepped into the hallway, he saw you struggling to carry your bag and a large stack of files. He leaned coolly against the wall, bag slung over one shoulder.

"Stealing all the medical records to sell them to the press?"

You looked up at him, arms shaking from the weight of everything in your hands.

"Selling them to Real Madrid. Ancelotti wants to know who has the biggest dick. Come carry these filed before I say yours is the smallest."

Gavi rolled his eyes and took the files from your hands, surprised by how heavy they actually were. He followed you to your car, thinking to himself, 'Does she actually have our dick lengths in our medical records? I don't remember getting mine measure. Is it self reported? No, it can't be everyone would lie.'

"Gavi. Where are you going? This is my car."

Gavi was taken out of his thoughts, realizing he walked too far. He jogged back to you, placing the files in the back of your car. He watched you bend over to arrange the files so they wouldn't slip onto the floor. Gavi found himself glancing at your ass as you leaned over, before swiftly looking away. He did not like you. He had a baseline of respect for you as a young successful professional. Nothing else. You were still sarcastic and loud and treated him like a child. He had no interest in your ass or any other part of you that couldn't help him get better at football.

"Do you need a ride home Gavi?"

"No I'm just waiting for Pedri. The guys were being too rowdy in the locker room and it was giving me a headache."

You closed your car door, sighing with the effort of making sure you didn't damage the files.

"Alright then. I'll see you next Monday." You said over your shoulder, moving to get into your car.

"Next Monday? Why not tomorrow? Where are you going to be for the rest of the week?"

"I have the week off to study for my field training assessment on Friday. If I pass with an 85% or higher, I can start helping the medical staff on the field when one of you gets injured in a game."

"Right. But if the exam is on Friday you should be here for Saturday training."

"I asked for Saturday off. I have a date."

Gavi's head shot up at the statement.

"A date?"

"Yeah. You know Martin? He asked me to go to Cala Bona beach with him. I never really use my vacation days so I thought it would be good. Besides, the team has a match on Thursday. Saturday training will be recovery. I don't need to be there."

Gavi looked at you with the same distressed face he always had.

"Don't you think it's a little desperate of you to take off work for a date?"

You looked up at him seething. He stood with his bag strapped over his shoulder, hands in his pockets, hood up to cover his wet hair. His eyes were stern and cold, the usual fire behind them having died down to leave frigid disgust. You would be lying if you said you didn't know about how the Barca men got rid of their sexual frustrations.

"Oh I'm sorry. Next time, Gavi, I'll be classy like you and have weekly sex in a club bathroom."

You didn't give him a chance to respond before you slammed your door and started your car, the sound of the engine drowning him out. His cheeks were burning with embarrassment. He hated when you did that - when you acted like he was a stupid kid. But in this case he was. You had refrained from getting into a long term relationship during your undergrad in the US because you knew you would be leaving, and you didn't want to drag someone across the world with you. But you were human, and humans love companionship. So you tried your best to find someone who you could love. Or rather, someone who could love you.

University had been difficult for you, and not only in the academic sense. In high school, you only really got close to one boy. His name was Ricardo. He walked in one day in the 9th grade wearing a Barca shirt, and you couldn't contain your excitement. You both got closer throughout your years at school, sharing a passion for medicine and sports. You even planned to go to the US together, so you could have a companion from home. Naturally, rumors swirled that the two of you were a couple, because friendship among teenagers doesn't exist.

In your final year of school, Ricardo confessed that he had been pining after you for the last year. You didn't know what to say. Your gut told you that you didn't like him, but everyone around you said otherwise. Everyone told you that the way he looked at you should make you feel special. That he had been so nice to you for so long that you basically owed it to him to return the feelings. So you went on a date with him (well, if you consider hanging out in his basement watching Netflix a date). Ricardo was not slick with his intentions. He had his arm around you, and pulled you in close within the first 10 minutes of the movie. At minute 30 he started kissing your neck. You tensed up. You had thought about being physical with Ricardo, but only because of all the times your other friends had talked about it. Halfway through the film, your clothes were off. Well, sort of. Your shirt was pushed up, bra pulled down to expose your chest (since he could not figure out the clasps. Both of you had your pants around your ankles.

"Ready baby?" "Yeah, I think so."

Your first time lasted 3 minutes. When he finished he laid on top of you. A tear rolled down your face. Ricardo looked at you, kissing you on the forehead.

"Hey, are you okay."

You nodded, but you didn't mean it. The realization was setting in that you had absolutely no romantic feelings for this boy. Ricardo got a girlfriends soon after, and you spoke to him sporadically before you moved to the US.

In college, you were fun. You were social, drawing people in with the mysterious exotic nature that came from being an international student. This, coupled with the fact that you were close to a lot of the athletes, meant that everyone wanted to get to know you. You got a lot of party invites. You spent almost every weekend at a bar or house or club. Tall gym bros were tripping over each other to serve you drinks. They were eager to grind up on you in a room full of sweaty undergrads, feeling the way your hips swayed to the beat of the Drake songs over the speakers. It always ended the same way. They whispered in your ear for you to go to the bathroom with them. You obliged. The feeling of the sink pressing against your ass was a familiar one. You drove boys crazy, kissing them like you were taking your last breath. You grabbed them by their belt loops, pulling them close into you. You would grab the backs of their necks, playing with the hair on their nape, and let out some (exaggerated) breaths when they kissed your neck. You always ended the encounter the same way. They would ask you, beg you to go back to their rooms, and you would always respond with, "I don't think you'd be able to handle it."

This got you a reputation around school. Some called you "The Pentagon", because it was impossible to penetrate you. Others called you "ice princess", because you could get men so hot and reject them so coldly at the same time. You became the ultimate challenge for every frat boy: who could get you to sleep with them. Men would treat you like a goddess - wine and dine you, buy you presents, confess that you were the woman of their dreams, all for the bragging rights of saying you gave it up to them. Having your emotions played with started to mess you up. You started to believe that no one really could fall in love with the "ice princess". But you weren't going to stop trying.

[Martin Zubimendi]: I can't wait to see you this weekend.

[Martin Zubimendi]: Send your address so I can come pick you up.

[Martin Zubimendi]: A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to drive by herself for an hour.

[Gavi]: Good luck on your exam Doctora

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hey y'all, this part is a little shorter, but I wanted to give some background on the characters' mindsets before I start another eventful part of the story.

This part of the story is inspired by the story "7 minutes is never enough" on ao3. It is a Dabi x reader that sent shock waves through my system. So pls go support that author as well!

Thank you so much for all the love on this series. I really appreciate it more than I can say. Always love to hear feedback, so let me know under here or in my asks. Love you all. Will upload the next part when I can.

#pablo gavi x reader #gavi #pablo gavi imagine #gavi x reader #pablo gavi #pablo gavi slow burn #pablo martín páez gavira #gavi x you #footballer imagine

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vallanoux · 11 months ago

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𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚. - 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝟏, 𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝟒

ps: chapter 4! it's nearly 12 pages <3

The very next day, (name) walks out of her room, feeling groggy, but well-rested enough for another day. Similar to the night prior, she doesn’t let herself think too much about her situation, and rather focuses on the present. What she wished to be nothing more than just a made up dream was real. (name) (surname) really did get transmigrated into Hazbin Hotel after being killed by an insane fan.

A shiver crawls down her spine. (name) wraps her hands around herself and squeezes her forearms tight, “you can do this… just like always. You’re known to make the best improvisations when things go wrong on stage. This is- This is nothing different from a stage gone wrong, yeah?”

(name) forces herself to believe in what little confidence she has left, and knocks on Lucifer’s bedroom door. It takes him a while to respond.

“(name), is that you?” He calls, then, in a more hushed voice meant for only him to hear, he continues, “of course it would be… Who else would it be, you idiot?”

After turning into a.. bat human? Bat demon? Eh, not too sure, and not that it matters.. But.. all of (name)’s senses had improved far beyond that of an average human. What she normally wouldn’t have heard as a human, she could hear as clear as day.

“Yes, it’s me! You promised that you’d teach me more about my powers? Is it too early? I’ll go if you still want to be alone.”

“Teaching..? Powers..?” He confusedly mutters to himself. It takes him a while to realize what (name) was talking about. The brain fog that clogged his mind constantly deteriorated his memories, barely ever letting anything sit right and firm in his mind.

Then, the door bursts open, revealing the King of Hell bearing a bright grin on his face, “I remember!”

It broke (name)’s heart to see him happy over such a small thing as remembering. Under the stress of mental fatigue, day-to-day tasks that should have come by easily no longer did. The body, because of the mind, loses its innate ability to care for itself. With a hopeless overseer, what would push its dependents to work? Nothing. Nonetheless, she musters up an encouraging expression for Lucifer, “yes, you remembered. Thank you, Lucifer.”

Pleasantly surprised that (name) hadn’t questioned his poor memory, he excitedly grabs her hand and pulls her close. He uses his powers to teleport the both of them to the rooftop of his castle.

And, there it was again. Pressed up against him and so close to the crook of his neck, she smells it. The deliciously sweet scent of musk and cinnamon apple pie that would make anyone ravenous. Heat prods at the shell of her ears, painting them rosy in color.

When they arrived, the Broadway talent hurriedly got out of Lucifer’s grasp, “and here we are!”

“That must've been too close, sorry. I got a little too excited.” He dorkily rubs the back of his head. “It’s just been a while since I’ve gone flying––or taken anyone flying!”

“It happens.” (name) stares at the vast expanse of nothingness that stretches endlessly right outside of pentagram city. There was nothing but hard, sharp, rocky stones. “Is there really nothing out there?”

“Save for a few demons who try to find peace and quiet out there, not really. It’s not livable.” Lucifer explains. “Why, you want to go there?”

“Just curious, and... would you mind using some more of your magic? I’m only wearing a nightgown and it’s very, very chilly up here.” She shivers as a gust of wind blows past her. “And not to mention, a nightgown is very unideal for flight. I might flash people.”

Lucifer looked so disappointed in himself when (name) pointed both things out. He slumps and waves his apple scepter to change her outfit into something much more comfortable. “How could I forget again? There you go.”

“What matters is that you’ve actually done it when I asked,” she tilts her head and gives Lucifer a concerned expression. “You're giving yourself standards you’re bound to fail, and that’s healthy for no one. Not everyone can notice everything.”

“You’re right. It’s just that I used to be a lot more observant, is all.” He allows himself to remain downcast for a couple more seconds, then he lets himself brighten up if only just a bit. “It's because you're that much of an important guest to me. The first guest I’ve had in ages.”

“You’re already plenty good to me.” (name) lets her wings stretch out in the wind, enjoying the feeling of air slipping and gliding across her outstretched wings. “I’m satisfied, so you don’t have to worry about it in the future.”

The Broadway talent turns around and offers him a hand, “for now, teach me how to fly!”

Eagerly, he takes her hand and brings her right to the very edge of the castle’s pointed roof––it’s highest point. “The winds are a bit strong today. Maybe we shouldn’t learn this now? We can wait until the wind is steadier. What about we learn about your other powers instead?”

(name) lifts a hand and feels the strong breeze, “I’m new to this, so I have no clue what you’re talking about. But don’t they say it’s best to learn from difficulty? Pressure either makes or breaks you, and so far, I'd say it's made me.”

“You... have a point, but still, I'm worried. Though, you sound confident in yourself, so I'll trust you. You don’t mind if I touch your wings, right?” Lucifer maneuvers to her back.

“Nope, go ahead.” (name) shrugged.

“Well, these things tend to be very sensitive. Especially on the base.” His hands glide to the tips of (name)’s wings. He pats them down, keeping them neatly folded. “Don’t leave them open when you’re walking around, you’ll bump into things easily, and air resistance will make them feel heavier.”

She shivers at the sensation of his cool fingers tracing across her wings, fixing her posture. A purr rises up her throat, but she stops it right where it starts. She wouldn't allow herself to put on such an embarrassing display. I shouldn’t let anyone touch them freely in the future. That’s dangerous.

Unaware of the Broadway talent’s inner struggles, Lucifer continues on. “There are two ways to take off depending on where you need to fly from. Ground take offs require more effort, which is why we’ll learn them later. Taking off from higher grounds is easier since the winds are stronger. Stronger winds means you can catch them easily, and glide with them. It's common to start by jumping with your wings tucked, then when you feel enough wind pushing against you, you spread your wings wide to catch the wind. Since my wings are different from yours, I don’t know much about what happens after in the air. According to the texture of your wings, I'm sure to keep yourself flying, you'll have to flap them a lot more than me. My wings are good for gliding and long flights while yours are very agile and good for sharp turns."

“Woah, Professor Lucifer~” (name) teased him. “Getting into the zone, aren’t you? You're certainly very knowledgeable.”

Lucifer’s cheeks flush at her teasing. He giggles softly and averts his gaze, “well.. I used to teach the young ones how to fly way back when. They were very cute and fuzzy little things, like ducklings!”

“That’s very sweet of you,” (name) compliments. “Now I’m very confident that you won’t let anything bad happen to me. I’m in good hands.”

For some reason, at (name)'s bold statement, Lucifer’s disposition straightens, and his lighthearted tone irons to firmness, “trust me. Nothing will happen to you when I’m here.”

He falls into silence, so she takes the time to earnestly look into his eyes, and she sees that there’s something terribly wrong. A spark of a storm whirling in his eyes, that shined and for a brief moment, looked past (name) and everything behind her.

Before she could speak up on her concerns, he broke out of his inward dilemma and held out both hands for her to take, “take my hands, (name). I’ll show you how to fly.”

She takes his hands and looks at him, waiting for more instructions, “and?”

Lucifer lets his wings show, spreading from their furled state. “I’m going to create a gust of wind for you, and you try to catch it, okay?”

He flaps his wings and a strong gust of wind blows past her. (name) stretches her wings out, attempting to catch the wind as he said she would. It came by naturally to her, as if it was second nature. A bright grin breaks onto her lips, curling up and wide onto her features. Her eyes glinted with light, the brightest Lucifer had ever seen from her–– and dear, oh dear was it an addicting expression he wishes to see more often. Wishes to be the reason of.

“I’m doing it! I’m really doing it!” She cheers brightly, her now rounded, almost childlike (e/c) eyes held at attention with Lucifer's own yellow ones.

“Yes, yes you are.” He says with such tender endearment it makes (name) freeze.

She knew well enough to know that the endearment in his voice wasn’t directly addressed to her. Rather, to someone else he used to hold so dearly. Yet, to know that she made him feel such a glimpse of such a strong, positive emotion was enough to cause the small twinge of guilt in her chest to eat her alive.

As her focus was averted away from her wings, they were left open wide, blowing her back onto the roof and pulling Lucifer down along with her. Lucifer reacts quickly. He uses his wings and wraps them around (name) and himself tightly, securing her in a protective embrace. He also places his hand behind her head and presses her head to his chest to prevent any whiplash. Lucifer, bless his sweet soul, had secured her so well as that when impact hit, it felt completely painless to (name).

Still, from all the movement and spinning, her head spun in circles and made it so that it was hard to respond properly to Lucifer, whom immediately hoisted her up and began fussing over her, checking for injuries. He looked so frightened when he was checking her, as if he’d done something terribly, criminally wrong.

His eyes shift to the Broadway talent’s. His worry dies down, replaced by a little hint of anger and a lot of exasperation. He reaches to pinch her cheek and scolds her, “(name)? Why did you stop? That was a very dangerous thing for you to do! You don’t get distracted when you’re flying unless you want to fall and die, or at least experienced enough to recover from a nasty incident.”

He locks her gaze. (name), to her own regret, quips back before she could stop herself, “well, I wasn’t the only one who was distracted.”

Her eyes widen and she immediately apologizes, “sorry, I didn’t mean that at all.”

Rather than the angered response she was expecting, Lucifer looks downcast and forlorn. “You’re right. I was stuck reliving some memories I should’ve let go by now. You’re not––you’re not who I wished you were, and it’s wrong for me to treat you like someone else just because you’re similar. It must’ve been off-putting to have someone you hardly know stare at you like that.”

His gaze meets (name)’s again, “but that still doesn’t change that you almost hurt yourself, you know?”

“I know, Lucifer. I let it get to me a bit too much.” (name) admits. “I”m sorry, for the person you lost.. Whoever it was.”

Although I already know who and why... Heaven, Lilith, Eve... how could you do this to him?

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

“Are you this nice to me because I remind you of that person? Because if that’s the case... It’d be hard accepting what isn’t mine.” Although (name) knew her words could completely stop all the good will she would be receiving from Lucifer, it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t bear the guilt of fooling someone so extraordinarily kind like Lucifer. Like I did before…

“No, I genuinely care for you, (name).” He shakes his head. “I care for you since you’re my… first friend in decades. We’re friends, right..?”

(name) couldn’t deny the hopeful shine in his eyes, “yes, my very first friend in Hell.”

Lucifer, at that point, was nothing but sparkles and rainbows. He gives a cheer and squishes her in a very, very tight hug whilst rubbing his cheek against (name)’s. So soft.. And so very squishy.

Taking her chance, she whispered into Lucifer’s ear, "as someone with issues letting go of the past, I get you. But don’t let it eat you alive. Don’t make that mistake. Because that's what.. Landed me here. At least, I’d assume so.”

For the first time in years, (name) lets the mask fall if only for a moment; the thin veil gone, and the performance was put on break. (name) never wanted to admit it, but her career as one of the most prestigious Broadway talents had devoured her whole. Took her heart, ate it on a silver platter, shit it out and forced it right back into her mouth for her to swallow and choke on in one endless, insufferable cycle. Most her life had been nothing but a comfortable lie.

The very next second, she finds herself laughing, because really, how ironic was it that the first time she chose to be honest wasn’t when she was alive, but rather dead in Hell, and to the King of Hell himself? Who, like her, was burdened far more by his past than he would ever show.

“I’m not laughing because it’s funny. More so that I haven’t been this honest in ages.” (name)'s laugh mellows down. “It’s a nice feeling.”

“I’m glad you feel as if I’m someone you can be honest around,” Lucifer mumbles gently as he pats her back. “I try not to think about it, but it ends up being a double-edged sword since I hardly remember anything.”

“I’m sorry,” (name) whispers back. There was nothing she herself could do to change the situation, or make it any better. All she can give is a well-natured, earnest wish. “I hope it gets better.”

“It just might,” he pulls away and steals a glance at (name). “Why don’t we move on and try flying practice again? Or are you feeling unwell after the fall?”

“No, you’re right. Let’s not sour the mood.” (name) tries to get up, but right before she does lift herself, she realizes that she was in a rather precarious position with Lucifer. “Um.. Lucifer?”

She steals a glance at his wings that were still tightly wrapped around her to give him a hint. It takes a while for Lucifer to realize, but once he does... the poor man combusts. His entire face was now a similar color to his natural red circular accents on his cheek. In (name)’s fair opinion, it was absolutely adorable to see him turn all red and blushy. Really, the cutest, most adorable sight.

(name) laughs at Lucifer, who looks like he’s on the verge of fainting from embarrassment. Her laughter probes him to unwrap his wings and scramble off of her. However, still a true gentleman by nature, he offers her a hand with his gaze turned away, too flustered to look directly at into her eyes.

She takes his hand with a grin as he helps her up, “let’s practice flying, shall we?”

She only holds his hand for a brief moment before letting go. She then rushes to the top of the roof, leaving Lucifer behind, and before he could stop her, she jumps off with a large, taunting grin on her face.

“Catch me if you can!” The Broadway talent calls as she dives off the tallest point of the castle, with her wings tucked in to increase the speed of her fall.

“(name)!” Lucifer was quick on his feet, immediatley rushing off the tower and jumping after her.

His wings furl around him, and he holds an outstretched hand to catch her. His eyes narrowed, brows knitted together and his smile pressed into a thin, almost downward line, solely focussed on saving (name). And, right before she would be pierced by a large, pointed rock that would have definitely made a skewer out of her, Lucifer swoops her into his arms.

“You’re seriously the most reckless person I know! Why would you do that?” Lucifer was reasonably extremely angered.

“Because no matter what, I knew you’d catch me.” She holds his gaze with more certainty and confidence than she’s ever worn her entire life.

What looked to Lucifer as a purely reckless decision on (name)’s part was instead a purely calculated move performed by the Broadway talent meant to create this very scene––meant to reinvigorate Lucifer’s faith in himself that he could indeed protect what was important.

Struggling to find it in himself to stay angry, the corners of his lips twitch upward, “I’ll catch you, always. No matter how many times you fall.”

The fruits of both Lucifer and (name)’s labor proved to be fruitful. After (name)’s “reckless” trust fall, as Lucifer called it, she was able to properly learn how to fly.

“I’m so proud of you! You’re a natural flier for sure,” Lucifer had a cute, dopey smile on his face that egged (name)’s urges to pinch his cheeks. She looks away to refrain herself from doing as such.

“What can I say? It must be my bat instincts kicking in.” She bites into the food plated right in front of her.

The pair, noticing that it had gotten quite late, returned to the castle for dinner. That day, from morning until late, had been filled with nothing but flying, obviously tiring out (name). On the other hand, Lucifer claimed to be completely full and surprisingly, energized.

“Demons don’t need to eat. I’m curious why you’re hungry, actually.” He gazes at her plate with interest. “But what you cooked definitely looks delicious.”

“Because it is delicious.” (name) proudly grins. “A recipe my friend shared with me back from Earth.”

“Ah, how wonderful,” he rests his chin on his hands, keeping his attention on me. “Do you also want to learn about your other powers today? Or another?”

“No, today is good. It’d be nice to get everything out of the way first. But.. How are we going to do that? Aren’t my powers just something I figure out along the way? I heard experiencing mentally stressful situations would urge someone to figure out their powers. That’s what the book said in the library!”

“The book isn’t wrong,” Lucifer nervously chuckles. “But it is oddly a very scary way to find out your own powers. Instead, I can just do it for you with my magic.”

“Wait, really? You can do that?” She looks at Lucifer with big eyes.

“(name), you seem to forget that it’s the King of Hell you’re talking to. Of course I can do it!” He crosses his arms and puffs his chest proudly.

You literally can’t blame me. You’re so dorky, so cute, so squishy, so mushy, so AAAA- (name) takes a deep breath to stop her inner dialogue and to mask her rather questionable thoughts, she stuffs her face with more of her own cooking.

“Well, you don’t exactly radiate that energy, do you? You’re very cute.”

“M- Me? I’m cute?”

“Totally.”

Lucifer takes off his hat and buries his face in it, letting out muffled whines, “you can’t say that to me!”

“But I can.” (name) leans in closer. “Cause you’re my friend now.”

“I regret it already.” He groans.

“Aww, no you love me.” She coos in return, which causes Lucifer to bury his head further into his hat. The poor snake that was wrapped around his hat slithered off, questioningly booping Lucifer to see if he was alright. “See? My point stands both here and in court.”

“Aghhh!” Lucifer slumps and completely goes still.

(name) looked at him with a raised brow, “you good?”

“Fine..” He manages to get out. He straightens his back and wears his hat again, finished recollecting himself. “Just give me your hand and I can already tell what type of magic you have.”

Thinking nothing of it, the Broadway talent reaches her hand over the table. What she least expected to happen, happened. Lucifer takes her hand and intertwined his fingers in between hers, pressed his palm against her own and gently squeezed her hand. He proceeds to pull her closer to himself.

“Two can play at this game.” He looks at me with a half lidded gaze, the edges of his lips curled up into a devious, taunting smirk.

“Oh, you devil.” (name) lifts up her other hand to hide her face and casts her glance aside.

“I quite literally am, amicus meus,” he giggles and he gives my hand another squeeze, which he proceeds to let go seconds after. “Okay, I know your powers now.”

“Really? You weren’t.. completely messing around?” (name) lifts her gaze cautiously, afraid she’d be duped again.

“Really. And by the looks of it, you have interesting powers! Much like that of a demon.. So it almost makes me wonder more than anything else how you even have divinity in you in the first place. And it’s even more curious that you don’t know the answer-”

(name) finds Lucifer’s tendency to ramble extremely endearing. She waits until he finishes before she says her piece, “I know, it’s a little weird. Though, could you tell me about my powers, please? I’m curious”

“Oh, right! That! So, to sum it up, you should have all the powers of a bat. Like echo-location, night vision and the like. I’m also quite surprised to see this since most demons don’t have magic, but you do. Get well acquainted with shadows, (name). I’m certain you won’t regret it.”

“Shadows?” (name) curiously tilts her head.

“It seems to me that you can hide in them and communicate? I’m not quite sure how the latter half works since shadows aren’t sentient, but I’m sure you’ll figure that bit out by yourself. You’re a smart person.” Lucifer gives an expectant smile. “Yeah, I’ll figure it out. Thanks Lucifer.” (name) nods her head in understanding.

She finishes the last bits of food and takes the emptied plate. Lucifer gives her a questioning look, “what are you doing?”

“Cleaning the plate..?”

“I can just do that with magic.”

“Oh.” She sets the place down. “Then could you please..?”

“Sure thing.” With a wave of his adorable apple scepter, the plate is now out of sight. He taps the table and he straightens up as a new thought pops up in his head, “we should get you some clothes, (name)! Let’s go shopping tomorrow?”

“And with what money?” The Broadway talent raises a brow, giving Lucifer an odd look.

“My money! Again, being friends with the King of Hell has its benefits~” he says in a sing-song tone of voice as he flashes me another charming smirk. “I have wealth and connections.”

“If you say so,” (name) returns an exasperated but grateful glance. “I’ll go test out my powers now, so I’ll see you next thing in the morning?”

“Yep, I’ll just jot it down so I remember.” Lucifer approaches her and looks at her expectantly.

“Yes?” (name) raises a brow.

“A goodnight hug.” Lucifer goes on his tiptoes and pulls (name) into a tight, warm hug. “From a friend, to a friend.”

She buries her face in the crook of his neck and gives him a quick tight squeeze before pulling away. I could never get used to your warmth, Lucifer. But it means more to me than you’ll ever know.

“Yes, from a friend to a friend.”

11.7 pages

4,094 words

status: edited

Notes:

i don't know why, but i sort of headcannon luci speaking latin? also GUYSSS LUCI KNOWS HE'S HOTTTT!!! LOOK AT THIS SHOT FROM EP. 8!!!

next chapter is luci's pov

#lucifer magne x reader #hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #alastor x reader x lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #alastor #radio demon #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader

58 notes · View notes

chestcongestion · 9 months ago

Text

Demon-to-Demon Ch.4/5: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings: Contagion, Mess (a lot of mess this time), Plot thread might be too close to current events for comfort even if it has nothing to do with current events

Word count: 7,312

This one managed to get away from me, I got a little too excited but this is definitely going to be 4/5 I think, and 5 might be even longer than this one. Thanks again for all of the support, this has been incredibly fun to write. Hope you enjoy ^^!

“G’Mbordi’g Pentagramb City… Ih’pshiEWWW… I’b Katie Killjoy,” the usually well-put-together anchorwoman for 666 News delivered her introductory line without an ounce of energy, her voice hoarse and her consonants butchered by her clogged sinuses.

Instead of filming the daily news from the 666 News station desk, Katie was tucked up in bed, wearing a lilac nightgown with her hair clipped to keep it out of her face, and was recording herself delivering the day’s news by using a slightly out-of-focus camcorder and a VoxTech Television Network intern’s laptop.

“I’b live frob mby… Yihh-hihh’TschiEwW!...Ih’TSHiEWWW…mby house to update you all on day number 24 of ‘The Red Spread’,” Katie said, her fingertips twitching as she fought back the urge to pull her blankets up to her chest, “Statistics are sayi’g that… SnFF!... arou’d 93% of the Pentagramb is currently infected. So far there have been no recorded complicatio’ds or deaths… and activity across the city has come to a halt …Ih’TschiEWW! ‘Tshhiew! ‘TSHIEWW!”

“93% of the Pentagram…” Vaggie muttered to herself as she peeked at the television from behind the sofa, “It’s been almost a month now… how are so many people getting sick?”

“I think a better question would be why we ain’t gettin’ any better,” Angel croaked, dabbing at his drippy nostrils with a tissue, blowing his ‘nose’ into the tissue with a quiet honk, shivering slightly under his blanket.

“Iih’pzZshIEW! Ih’pshuue! Ih’pshew!” Niffty sneezed from her bundle of blankets on the floor, drowsily running the back of her wrist across her face to swipe at the dense mucus leaking from her sinuses, “That’s disgusti’g… IH’PSHHIEW!”

“Bless you!” Charlie said enthusiastically, nervously handing Niffty a package of wipes so she could clean off her face, “It could be worse… at least nobody’s in any serious danger.”

“Yeah- snrK!- worst thing we’d ndeed ta’ worry about is runnin’ outta tissues,” Angel scoffed, tossing a soggy tissue into the trash can near the sofa, looking in front of him and smiling at Husk, who was sleeping peacefully while draped across his body.

“It’s still concerning, this has never happened before, and then out of nowhere something incredibly contagious manages to tag almost the entire city and clings to them for weeks?!” Vaggie pondered, “I dunno, it just feels like trouble.”

“You oughtta go out and investigate, since you’re immune,” Angel proposed- almost sarcastically- while stroking Husk between his ears, “A-ah… Ah’kshieww! Ah’kzxhhtt! Ah’kzZsChew!...’Shhew! ‘SHIIEW!”

“Bless you,” Charlie said, brandishing the thermometer and holding it out for Angel to take, watching him slide it under his tongue, “It is kind of worrying, but maybe everyone’s finally turning a corner!”

The thermometer beeped, and Angel squinted his eyes at the reading before sighing and handing it to Niffty, “Sti-i-ihh…Sti-IiH’Kshew!...snff! Still got a fever… 102,” he said, swallowing harshly against his throbbing, achy throat, the sudden pain making him cough.

Niffty pulled the thermometer out of her mouth and sighed, “Still 101,” she said, emptying her packed sinuses with a gurgling blow into a handful of tissues.

Angel quietly grabbed the thermometer off of the coffee table, shooting a glance at Husk, “Kitty Cat… wakey-wakey, we gotta take your temperature, and if you don’t get up we gotta do it vet style,” he whispered playfully, scratching behind Husk’s left ear.

Husk let out a hoarse cough, “You are not stickin’ that thing up my ass,” he grumbled, opening his mouth and letting Angel slide the thermometer under his tongue, removing it thirty seconds later once it beeped.

“102,” Angel announced, leaning forward to kiss Husk’s forehead.

“Okay… only one left,” Charlie said, turning and brandishing the ear thermometer, looking at Alastor’s curled up, unconscious form on the loveseat. Alastor’s breathing was noisy, the phlegm sitting in his chest rumbled on every inhale and crackled on every exhale.

Carefully, Charlie slipped the ear thermometer into Alastor’s right ear and pulled it out without disturbing him from his slumber, “104,” she sighed, pressing her cool palm against Alastor’s burning forehead, “I don’t know why his fever keeps getting so high… we’re all out of medicine.”

After a brief silence, Alastor’s breath audibly caught in his chest, a bubble of sputum popping at the top of his windpipe and tickling his throat.

Still asleep, Alastor began to cough- a wet, chesty cough muffled by his clenched teeth that were still forced into his trademark grin. The crackle of mucus in his chest grew noisier and noisier as congestion got trapped at the bottom of his trachea, strangling him and rousing him slowly from his sleep.

Angel held back a gag, “Oh that is nasty,” he whispered, shuddering at the sound.

Husk’s ears twitched, and he held a hand over his mouth, his lungs aching out of the sliver of sympathy he felt for his boss.

“I don’t know how to help him… it sounds like he’s choking,” Charlie muttered, biting her fingernails.

“I got it,” Angel said with a dense sniffle, getting up from the sofa and swaying on his feet, feeling deeply lightheaded but determined to help. Kneeling down next to the loveseat, Angel shook Alastor until he was completely awake.

Alastor stared at Angel with vacant red eyes, the rumbling in his lungs quieting down as he channeled all of his focus into breathing through his nose.

“Smiles, up here, can you see me?” Angel asked, waving his hand in front of Alastor’s face, noticing that Alastor’s pupils followed his hand on a slight delay.

Alastor nodded, a rough inhale through his nose making his clogged sinuses squeak in a way that sounded painful.

“I’m gonna help you get that crap outta your chest so you can breathe, okay?” Angel asked, pinching Alastor’s face and turning his head upwards until their eyes met.

Alastor nodded, still noticeably drowsy, blinking rapidly as his eyes watered and a weak cough echoed from deep in his lungs. His eyelids drooped slightly and his pupils wandered, desperate but exhausted as his body went slack to conserve energy… and oxygen.

Angel pulled Alastor upright by the collar of his pajamas, and sat behind him, one hand firmly cradling the radio demon’s quivering chest, one wound back with a splayed hand, and the other two holding onto his thighs for stability. “Okay, open your mouth- snff!- breathe in, as deep as you can,” he instructed.

Alastor choked back another coughing fit, taking a deep, wheezy, desperate inhale upon Angel’s request.

“Good,” Angel said, roughly clearing his throat, “I’m gonna pat your back, all you gotta do is focus on coughing that shit up, got it?”

Alastor nodded, held up his handkerchief to his mouth, and began to cough, the fit sounding infinitely more productive with the help of Angel patting his back. His eyes watered and his throat felt raw, and he was taking short pauses in between coughs to gasp for air, but Alastor could feel it working, the burdensome weight on his lungs was leaving.

After six long minutes, Alastor let out a final wet cough and spat into his handkerchief, his airways feeling a million times clearer and his handkerchief damp with sputum.

“There we go,” Angel sighed, wiping sweat from his brow and staggering over to the sofa, getting comfortable again, “Fuck, that was a workout…Ah-Hah-Hahh’ksheww! Hah’kshieww! ‘Ksheww! Ha-aah’Kshiewww!”

“Thank you,” Alastor croaked in a hushed voice, wiping off his mouth and reclining on his loveseat, his breathing still slightly heavy and his face still flushed.

Charlie stared at Angel, admiration shimmering in her eyes, not only at the lanky spider’s selflessness, but at the impressive skill she had never seen anyone perform in her 200 years of living, “How did you do that? That was amazing!” she cheered.

“Don’t mention it,” Angel replied, “Somethin’ I learned back on Earth that I never thought would come in handy.”

“Could you show me? I wanna be able to help,” Charlie requested, bouncing on her heels.

“Sure,” Angel said with a shrug, “I just cleared Fancy Pants out for a while-” Angel paused, pressing a hand to Husk’s back and feeling the low rumble of congestion trapped in his lungs, “-but Husk’ll do fine.”

Husk sighed, too drowsy to resist whatever Angel was plotting, letting the spider adjust him until he was sitting upright in Angel’s lap.

“It works just fine if they’re on their stomach or lyin’ down, but I do better when they’re sittin’ up,” Angel explained, “You hold ‘em up by their chest with one hand like this, and either get ‘em to take a deep breath, or just start whackin’ until you knock somethin’ loose.”

Angel stuck out his tongue, narrowing his eyelids to focus, and began patting Husk’s upper back softly, one pat after the other in rapid succession, as though he was attempting to speed through burping a baby.

Suddenly, Husk’s eyes widened and he held a hand up to his mouth, letting loose a productive-sounding cough that snowballed into a coughing fit as Angel’s gentle thumping slowed down.

“You just keep goin, not too fast that you tire yourself out-” Angel paused, swallowing against his sore throat, “- but not too slow, until-”

Husk let out a particularly nasty cough and plucked three tissues out of the box on the sofa, spitting out whatever Angel had managed to unearth and tossing the soiled tissues in the trash, “Didn’t even know that was in there,” he muttered, “HhD’TschHUHH! HrR’SCHUHHH!”

“There we go, it’s pretty easy,” Angel said with a triumphant smirk, nestling back underneath his blanket and repositioning Husk so the bartender was reclined along the length of Angel’s body and tucked under a second blanket.

“You make it look so easy… but I think I’ve got it… where did you learn to do this, anyways?” Charlie asked.

“Eh, my Pops burned through a value carton of smokes a day, if ya didn’t whack the crud outta him he’d choke on it,” Angel said with a yawn, fighting back a violent shiver as he curled up against Husk for warmth, “Ah’T-SshhiewW! H-hah’TSHHHIEW!... fuck…snff!”

“Bless you! Okay, on that note, I’m gonna go out and get you guys some more medicine… Vaggie, d’you think you’ll be okay keeping an eye on them while I’m gone?” Charlie asked.

“I’ll be fine, just be careful, Sweetie,” Vaggie replied, kissing Charlie on the cheek.

“I will,” Charlie said with a reassuring smile, “Anyone need anything specific?”

Angel reached into his chest fluff and pulled out a wad of folded-up bills, handing Charlie $100 in $20 bills, “Popsicles, please… snff!... my throat’s killin’ me,” he requested, running his soft fingertips along the length of his neck and swallowing harshly.

Charlie hesitantly took the money and stashed it in her pocket, “Gotcha, I’ll be back soon, see you guys later!” she said with a smile, waving the group goodbye and rushing out of the hotel’s front door.

Vaggie sighed, “I need to check on something, behave yourselves while I’m gone,” she said, turning on her heel and leaving the parlor.

“Can we watch Cannibal Cooking with Jeffrey Dahmer?” Niffty asked, kicking her feet, “I’m bored- snff!- I’d clean but my legs hurt every time I try to stand up.”

“You always-” Angel paused as his hoarse voice fizzled out, forcing him to roughly clear his throat, “- always wanna watch weird shit. I didn’t thig’k anybody watched that show.”

“I like it,” Alastor piped up from the loveseat, wrapped tightly in his blankets and attempting to suppress a shiver, “it’s one of the thi’gs on televisio’d I can tolerate…snff! Snff-snff!”

Angel rolled his eyes, changing the channel and leaning back against the arm of the sofa, massaging Husk’s ears with his slender fingertips, “Blow your nose,” he said to Alastor, tucking Husk underneath his blanket and stifling a yawn.

Alastor noisily blew his nose into his handkerchief, the release of air triggering a dense, congested-sounding cough, “Uch… H-heh-Ep-shiewww! Hehh’Tshhiew! Heh’ktshiew! Hehp’TshHieWW!”

“Y’know… snff!...this is the longest I’ve been off work,” Angel paused, swallowing harshly against his sore, scratchy throat, “Which completely sucks… I can’t do anythin’ cause I can barely stand up without fallin’ over.”

“Could be worse,” Husk commented from underneath the blankets, his face buried in Angel’s torso, “HrR’SHUHHH! Hnn’KTSHHOO! Huh’kTSshEWW!”

“That’s true,” Angel said, nestling into the blankets and cuddling Husk tighter, his eyelids drooping, “You two enjoy the show… I’b gonna take a nap…”

Angel quickly fell asleep, his and Husk’s heavy snoring creating peaceful background noise for Niffty and Alastor as they watched Cannibal Cooking together.

“Iih’pshuu! Ih’pshew! ‘Scuse be… SnFF!...Look, he’s scoring the flesh on the leg before he massages in his dry rub, that’s amazihh…ihh…IH’PSHEW!” Niffty whispered, staring at the screen in complete awe while blindly grasping around for a tissue to wipe her face.

“It is amazi’g isn’t it?” Alastor replied, rolling onto his stomach and kicking his legs, ignoring the deep rumble of congestion in his chest that was jostled by his sudden movement, “It’s such a big leg… I wonder where he gets themb.”

‘Rosie loves this program… I wonder how she’s fairing, I haven’t had the chance to speak with her… I miss her,’ Alastor thought, letting loose a wistful sigh that quickly became a heavy cough.

On the Southeastern side of the Pentagram, Charlie strolled cautiously through the empty streets, a reusable bag of medicine and groceries slung over her shoulder.

“I think I took a wrong turn on the way back to the hotel… I’m too far south… in fact, this place seems familiar,” Charlie pondered, looking at the red mist that filled the air, the particles tickling her nose, “Snff!... this stuff smells like flowers! Wonder what it is…”

Continuing on her walk, Charlie smiled upon finding a familiar sign, “Ohhh! I’m in Cannibal Town, I almost didn’t recognize it with this red fog… weird,” she said to herself, listening to the harsh whistle of the wind echoing through the empty roads, “Since I’m here… I kind of wanna see Rosie.”

Tucking her shopping bag away behind a bush, Charlie began the short walk to Rosie’s Emporium.

“The streets are so empty… nobody’s gonna take it… it’s kind of creepy how there’s no one outside, actually,” Charlie whispered to herself as she knocked on the emporium’s door, jumping slightly when a short robot answered, “H-hello!”

“Rosie’s Emporium is on temporary hiatus from any business inquiries, can I help redirect you to other resources?” The robot asked, blinking at Charlie with a sweet expression.

“I’m actually here to visit Rosie… not on business, just as a friend,” Charlie said, leaning down to get on the robot’s level, “Can I see her?”

The robot paused, before nodding, “Follow me,” it said, letting Charlie inside and leading her up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway, eventually leading to two ornate double doors that were decorated with roses- the door handles were even designed to look like thorny rose stems.

“i-Ih…IH’PSHEWWWW! Ih’pshhhiew! Ih’PssHEW!” squeaky sneezing could be heard behind the door, followed by a long, damp sniffle.

Charlie frowned, she knew from the news that it was more likely than not that Rosie caught the Red Spread virus like everyone else, but hearing her suffering- no matter how mild- still hurt.

“Miss Rosie, you have a visitor,” the robot announced, knocking on the double doors.

“Cobe idd- SnFFF!- Euch… Ih…I-ihh…IH’P-shiewww! Ih’psheww! Ih’psSHIEW!” Rosie croaked, her voice noticeably hoarse and her consonants garbled.

Charlie pushed open the double doors to Rosie’s bedroom and found the overlord in question tucked into bed with her duvet up to her lower ribcage. Rosie’s gorgeous satin bedspread was littered with used tissues, and the trash can next to her bed was absolutely overflowing with them.

Rosie sat up in bed, the robot rushing to her side to prop her up using some of her pillows, “Thag’k you Roland- SnFF!- such a ndice boy…IHH’PSHHIEW!” she croaked, patting the robot’s hair with her slender fingers before she noticed her visitor, “Charlie! Oh isn’t this a pleasadt surprise- snrkk!- you’re a sight for sore eye sockets, girl- snFF!- I’d idvite you to cobe sit but the last thi’g you want is to catch this… IHH’KSHHIEW! Ih’pshhuhh! Ih’psheww! ‘Tshhhieew!”

Charlie blinked, “Oh no, it’s fine, I’d love to… I think I’m immune somehow, if I’ve managed to beat out almost the entire city, I think I’ve got good odds,” she laughed.

Rosie’s feverishly jovial expression drooped, and she raised a curious eyebrow, “I’b sorry… wha?” she asked.

“Yeah, only 7% of Pentagram City is still healthy, everyone else is sick… they’re calling it ‘The Red Spread’ on the news,” Charlie explained calmly, “Did you not know that?”

“Wh- Uhb… No?!” Rosie replied, gesturing to the wall opposite her bed, where a beautiful replica of ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’ was hung in place of a television, “I’b ndot exactly the kinda gal to keep up with the ndews-snff!-” Rosie pinched a tissue to her face, blowing her ‘nose’ and tossing the tissue on top of the pile surrounding her trash can, “It mbust spread fast… it’s ondly been a few days.”

Charlie let out a nervous laugh, suddenly realizing that Rosie’s bedroom had no windows, “About that…” she began.

Rosie’s grey skin practically turned white, leaving nothing but the vibrant unnatural flush on her cheeks, her ‘nose’, and the undersides of her puffy eyelids, “Charlie… doll… what day is it?” she asked.

“It’s… the 27th,” Charlie said, reading the calendar on her phone.

Rosie tugged at her slightly-messy hair with her manicured fingers, giggling nervously until her laughter devolved into a hoarse cough, “I started feeli’g sick on the 3rd…” she muttered to herself, “The overlord mbeeti’g was on the 1st.”

Charlie cautiously inched closer to Rosie, wrapping the cannibal overlord in a hug, wincing internally at the heat radiating from Rosie’s body- especially her face- and the feeling of her exposed skin, which was clammy and damp with sweat, “I know this has to be frightening… are you okay?” she asked, rubbing Rosie’s back with a splayed hand.

“Everythi’g started getti’g fuzzy,” Rosie whispered, her voice still noticeably hoarse, “I’ve just been sleepi’g and talkin’ to that damn robot… for almost a month.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Charlie asked.

Rosie quietly wiped a few stray tears away with her thumb, inching away from the hug and composing herself, “Help mbe get outta this bed,” she chuckled, swinging her slender legs out from beneath her duvet and sheets, “I’b starvin’ and I ndeed to be somewhere with a window.”

Charlie grabbed hold of Rosie’s hand, gently pulling her onto her feet as she staggered upon leaving her bed, nearly falling to her knees before bracing herself against Charlie for support, “There we go, careful,” she said with a reassuring smile, helping Rosie walk out of her bedroom one step at a time.

Eventually, Charlie got Rosie all the way downstairs into her kitchen, sitting her down at the counter, “There we go, now you can see outside,” she said.

“I didn’t realize that red shit made it all the way over here- snff!- wonder if it’s gotten a’dywhere else,” Rosie pondered, scrubbing at her face to stave off a building itch, “Iih’pshhhIHH! Ih’PSHHEW! Ih’SsHhiEWWW!...Shit, I forgot to bri’g tissues.”

Charlie opened her mouth, about to offer to get them for Rosie, only to pause as Rosie whistled, summoning the little robot that greeted Charlie at the door.

“Can I help you, Miss Rosie?”

“Such a polite little thi’g- snff!- so helpful,” Rosie crooned, petting him on his head, “I ndeed a box of tiihh…IH’TshhIHH! IH’TShhiEww!...tissues, Roland.”

Roland zipped out of the room, returning promptly with a box of tissues, setting them down on the counter next to Rosie and waiting patiently at her side while she blew her ‘nose’, soiling three tissues in the process.

“Do you need anything else?” Roland asked, a dutiful look in his glowing eyes.

Rosie shook her head, waving Roland off with a smile and slowly pushing herself onto her feet once he left the room, her knees trembling underneath her black satin nightgown, “Huh… this bug took more outta me than I thought… I can barely stand on my own two feet,” she croaked, letting go of the counter and taking a deep breath as she slowly inched towards her sink, filling up a tea kettle with water and putting it on the stove.

“You probably just didn’t notice because you’ve been in bed resting for so long,” Charlie proposed, wincing when Rosie let out a hoarse cough, “While we’re waiting for your water to boil… maybe we should take your temperature.”

“Probably… but if I sit down I’m nervous I won’t be able to get back up,” Rosie chuckled, her nervous laughter quickly devolving into a coughing fit that left her winded, “Phew… sorry.”

“We can take it while you’re standing,” Charlie said, nearly jumping out of her skin when she noticed Roland had silently appeared next to her, holding a mercury thermometer with a kind smile, “Thanks, Roland.”

Roland nodded in silence before disappearing into the other room.

Rosie gently removed the thermometer from Charlie’s hands, giving it a good shake before placing it under her tongue, swaying on her heels and sniffling occasionally, desperate to squash a furious tickle in her sinuses that was threatening to turn into a sneeze.

By the time the thermometer was ready to be removed, Rosie was desperately scrubbing at her face to keep from sneezing and launching the thermometer across the room, quickly turning away when Charlie pulled it out of her mouth, “I-iih-IHH’PSHHHIEW! Hih’TSsCHHIEWWW! Ih’psSHiIEWW! Ih’pshhiew! ‘TssHIEW! I-IH’pSHHHEW!” she sneezed rapidly, unable to cover the germy spray with her hands paralyzed by the fit.

Charlie squinted to locate the stopping point of the mercury while Rosie noisily emptied her sinuses and groaned at the friction hurting her raw nostrils, the sensitive skin becoming red, chapped, and shiny with moisture from the slow trickle of mucus.

“Well, dond’t keep mbe id suspense- snff, snFF!- what’s it say?” Rosie asked, “SnfF- ih… I-IHH’KSHHEWW!...’Scuse be.”

“Almost 103,” Charlie announced, pressing the back of her hand against the side of Rosie’s neck, and then resting it against each of the overlord’s slightly bony cheeks, feeling the searing heat radiating from her skin, “You definitely feel hot… and that would explain why you’re so weak and dizzy.”

Rosie shrugged as she moved her whistling kettle away from the heat, “Can’t argue with that,” she croaked, bracing herself against the counter and grabbing a mug from her cabinet, setting it down next to the kettle and pawing around until she located a box of tea bags, placing two at the bottom of the mug.

“So… when did you hire Roland? He seems sweet,” Charlie piped up randomly, attempting to make conversation as Rosie sniffled and prepared her drink- adding a generous squirt of honey, a bit of lemon juice, and a refrigerated vial of blood into her mug before filling it up with hot water.

“Oh I didn’t hire him, he was a gift… I let a few of these little incubi come to Cannibal Town to do a few polls for a month, and when they left I got a big package in the mail from their boss… apparently these robots are popular for-” Rosie paused, letting out a guttural barking cough and rubbing her throat, “-sorry… popular for other purposes, but I’m not that kinda girl, so he mostly did little errands up until I caught this bug. He’s been very helpful.”

“Oh! I thought he looked a little familiar! He’s one of the robots a friend of my dad makes! You took off his little hat,” Charlie giggled.

“Thought he looked nicer without it,” Rosie replied, taking a few big swigs of her drink and sighing with relief, turning away to cough, the cough still sounding dry and deep, scraping against her raw throat, “Sorry-” another cough, “-think all this talkin’ is wearin’ my throat out.”

Charlie frowned, watching Rosie’s legs begin to wobble, and approaching Rosie to offer a supportive arm when it looked like she was going to collapse, “I think you should get back in bed,” she proposed, “You look tired.”

Rosie opened her mouth to object, but vibrated from an intense shiver that seemed to come from her core, her sharp teeth chattering and the flush on her cheeks practically glowing, “I am tired… a-and I’m cold,” she replied, her voice almost a hoarse whimper as she leaned against Charlie for support, her legs shaking harder than the rest of her, “I don’t w-wanna go back to bed… don’t wanna lose track of time again.”

Charlie nodded, “Let’s get you set up on your sofa,” she offered, walking Rosie out of her kitchen and into her den- the room in her residential space attached to the emporium that actually had a television instead of a giant painting.

Rosie collapsed onto the large velvet sofa, still vibrating with chills as Charlie helped move her into a more comfortable reclined position, propping her up with a few pillows and draping a heavy throw blanket over her shaking form, “Th-thank you,” Rosie sighed, relaxing slightly as the soft blanket brushed against her sensitive skin.

“Of course, I’m happy to help,” Charlie replied with a smile, finger-combing Rosie’s sweat-dampened locks away from her face, “I’m sorry you’re so sick… do you have any medicine?”

Rosie sniffled, “I think I have some fever reducer from when one of my teeth got infected,” she said with a yawn, whistling for Roland, who whizzed into the den holding a bottle of colorful pills.

Roland gently shook the pill bottle after popping off the top, sliding two pills out into his hand and letting Rosie pop them into her mouth, swallowing them without water, which made her cough.

“Thank you, Roland, you’re very helpful!” Charlie said, gently petting Roland on the head before he rushed away, leaving the room and coming back with a freshly-filled hot water bottle, setting it down in Rosie’s lap underneath her blanket, the warmth making Rosie relax.

“Mmm… that feels good,” Rosie yawned, her eyes beginning to droop as she hid a hoarse cough behind her wrist, “I think I’m gonna take a nap- ihh-Ih’PssSHIEW!- I’m exhausted, but I appreciate you visiting, Charlie.”

“It was my pleasure, I’m glad I was able to help, I hope you feel better!” Charlie cheered, giving Rosie a reassuring pat before she fell asleep, turning on her heel and leaving Rosie’s Emporium with a spring in her step.

Grabbing her shopping bag from its hiding place, Charlie began the trek back to the hotel- this time in the right direction- while taking deep breaths to enjoy the pleasant scent of the red mist hanging in the air in Cannibal Town.

“I’ve never smelled something this nice before… it’s like perfume,” Charlie said to herself, “Snff!- it’s such a pretty color, too.”

Absent-minded and focused on getting back to the hotel before the popsicles she’d purchased melted, Charlie swiped the back of her hand underneath her nose, sniffling infrequently as a slight tickle began to build in her sinuses.

Thirty minutes had passed by the time Charlie arrived at the hotel, opening the front door with one hand and scrubbing at her nose with the other, “I’m back!” she announced, setting down her reusable shopping bag on a nearby table.

“Welcome back, Sweetie,” Vaggie greeted in a hushed voice, hopping on her tip-toes until her face was at level with Charlie’s neck so she could pepper the area with affectionate kisses, “You were gone for a while, was the store busy?”

“Nah, I just got lost and realized I was in Cannibal Town, decided to pay the leader of the cannibals a visit- snf!- she’s sick too,” Charlie sighed, “Have any trouble holding down the fort while I was gone?”

“Nope, they’ve all been sleeping like rocks since you left, Niffty even tired herself out, look,” Vaggie snickered, gesturing over to the parlor, where Niffty was sprawled out on her back in her nest of blankets, snoring softly and holding a purring KeeKee as though she were a stuffed animal.

Angel was curled up on the sofa, snoring quietly, occasionally letting out a hoarse, throat-scraping cough or two before settling back into his comfortable slumber. Husk could be heard snoring like a busted lawnmower from his comfortable hiding place underneath the blankets and nestled between Angel’s legs, his clogged sinuses vibrating with every inhale.

Alastor, from his position on the loveseat, was fast asleep, his usual grin diminished to a slight smile, and his lungs rumbling from congestion once again.

“Oh- snff!- I got this,” Charlie whispered, leaning over the back of the loveseat and bracing one hand against Alastor’s chest before using the other to quietly pat his upper back.

Two minutes later, Alastor- still asleep- opened his mouth to unleash a crackling wet cough, swallowing the sputum that he’d managed to bring up…much to Charlie’s chagrin and Vaggie’s violent disgust.

“Euch,” Charlie muttered, fingers twitching near Alastor’s head, wanting to give the Radio Demon a reassuring rub between his fluffy ears, but ultimately deciding to respect the fact that if he wasn’t subdued by fever, Alastor would hate being touched, “At least you coughed it up… snff!”

Vaggie turned to face her girlfriend, “Charlie… you okay?” she asked.

“Mhm! Why do you ask?” Charlie asked, her pale cheeks flushing pink.

Vaggie glanced at Charlie, looking at the stream of moisture trickling down her girlfriend’s face, “Your nose is running…” she said, handing Charlie a couple of folded-up tissues.

“Oh! Thanks for telling me- snff!- it’s a little itchy,” Charlie rambled, wiping off her nose and wrinkling it to fight off the building itch.

Vaggie focused her eye on Charlie’s nose, watching her wrinkle and wiggle it like a rabbit in between wetter and lengthier sniffles. Charlie swiped and scrubbed at the trickle of cloudy fluid leaving her nose until she gave up and pinched a few tissues over her nostrils instead.

“I-snFF!- I think I’m gonna take a shower, I’ll be back,” Charlie said, vanishing upstairs, leaving Vaggie to her own devices once again.

“Well, I don’t feel like waking them up to give them the medicine yet… or staring at them while they sleep,” Vaggie pondered to herself, pulling out her phone and scrolling through some of her text messages, opening a link to a recipe and smiling, “I know something I can do to help… if I hurry I can be done before Charlie’s out of the shower.”

An hour later, Charlie- freshly showered and in her pajamas- entered the parlor to find that Angel and Husk were awake, and that a heavenly smell was wafting into the parlor from the kitchen.

“Eyy, look-” Angel paused to cough, “-look who it is, welcome back…Hah’TssHIEW! A-ah’TsSHHEW!” he said, his voice noticeably rougher-sounding.

“I’ve been- snff!- back for a bit, you guys were asleep, though,” Charlie chuckled, leaning over the back of the sofa and sneakily grabbing two tissues, wiping the underside of her nose, “H-hihh- how are you guys feeling?”

“Like shit,” Angel replied, stroking the back of Husk’s head from underneath the blankets, raising a fist to his mouth and letting out a heavy barking cough.

“Oh! I a-ahh�� almost forgot about the medicine,” Charlie cheered, rummaging through her shopping bag and handing Angel a bag of cough drops, “These should help.”

Angel nodded, “Thanks,” he said, unwrapping a purple cough drop and sliding it into his mouth, sucking on it and smiling as the soothing solution coated his throat.

“Hh’kzzht! Hh’Tshhh! Hih’ptshh! Hnk’tsh!”

Husk popped his head out from underneath the blankets Angel had draped over them both, “Gesundheit,” he said, still a bit groggy.

“I didn’t sneeze, Pretty Kitty,” Angel laughed.

“Hhnk’Tshh! Hh’Ddtsh! Hnk’zZt! Hhnk’tchew!”

“You didn’t, but somebody is,” Husk muttered, his sensitive ears twitching, “You alright over there, Princess?”

Charlie sheepishly moved her hands away from her runny nose, clasping them behind her back, “Me? Yeah, I’m fine! I didn’t sneeze, I’m okay!” she said, bouncing on her heels and struggling to ignore the moisture leaking from her nostrils, “Hh’Ktshh! ‘Tshh! ‘Kzxhtt!”

Husk’s ears twitched again, “You sure you didn’t?” he asked, staring at Charlie with a knowing expression, noticing that the princess’s hands were clasped over her face to cover her nose, “Why’re you coverin’ your face?”

“Uhb… just… felt sombethi’g id mby teeth, that’s all… ndothi’g e-ehh… Eh’pchiew! Eh’pshhiew! Eh’KSsHIEW! ‘Kshhew! ‘KshHiEWW!” Charlie said, doubling over from the fit of damp sneezes, dragging the back of her wrist under her nostrils when she finished, “Euch… snRKK!”

Husk smirked, “There we go,” he said, pleased with himself as he repositioned his head against Angel’s chest, “Gesundheit again.”

Angel raised an eyebrow, quietly offering Charlie his box of tissues, “You alright?” he asked, his throat feeling considerably better after his cough drop finished dissolving.

“Oh y-yeah, I’b fide!” Charlie lied, biting her lip and rubbing her upper arms, “Just…just a little chilly- Snff, snff!- satin isd’t the warbest fabric for PJs a’dyway.”

“You sure? Cause it sounds like you got a serious traffic jam up here,” Angel said, his tone teasing and jovial to avoid stressing Charlie out, tracing a circle around his ‘nose’ with a slim finger.

Charlie held up a finger to indicate pause, pinching a few tissues around her nostrils and letting loose a heavy, gurgling blow that soaked the tissues almost instantly, “Euch… I dunno how I got so stuffed up so fast,” she groaned, scrubbing at her nose with the heel of her palm, “E-Eh’DdTshhHEW! Eh’KSHHEW! Eh’KkzZshhiew!”

Angel stared at Charlie’s friction-reddened nose, her papery flushed cheeks, her watery eyes, and her streaming nostrils, “Maybe you should sit down, Dollface… you’re not lookin’ too hot,” he suggested.

Charlie nodded, walking over to the armchair and sitting down- fitting in it comfortably due to it being made for someone closer to Alastor’s height, “I don’t feel well,” she mumbled, her eyes welling up with tears and her sinuses clogging, “I thig’k I’b getti’g sick…”

“The words ‘think’ and ‘gettin’ are both doin’ a lot of legwork in that statement,” Husk said, “Sounds like you’re plenty sick already…”

Charlie sniffled, hugging her knees in her seat as she attempted to suppress a shiver, “Where’s Vaggie? I ndeed a hug,” she whined, dabbing at her watery eyes with a tissue before blowing her nose.

“She’s in the kitchen around the corner I think… whatever she’s doin’ in there smells amazing,” Angel said with a sigh, “I’d get up and give ya a hug but last time I stood up I was so dizzy I nearly split my skull open on the coffee table.”

“If I can walk over to you, will you hug mbe?” Charlie asked, her eyes pleading and a smile spreading across her face when Angel responded with a nod. Quickly, Charlie sprung to her feet, struggling to ignore the fact that she felt slightly disoriented.

After a few careful and deliberate steps, Charlie collapsed onto her knees next to the sofa, wrapping her arms around Angel and melting into the hug, “Angel… I really don’t feel good,” she complained, “Is this how you guys have beed feeli’g- snff!- for almost a month?”

“Pretty much,” Husk replied with a yawn.

“It’s hittin’ you like a ton ‘a bricks,” Angel remarked, slipping one of his arms out of the hug and pressing his palm against Charlie’s forehead, lowering his eyelids upon realizing why he felt no noticeable difference, “Forgot I won’t be able to tell cause I’ve got a fever.”

“If I don’t have one now- snff!- I probably will later,” Charlie groaned, slowly pulling away from the hug and walking back over to the armchair, collapsing into her seat and hugging her knees again.

“Alright, everyone sit up, it’s been too long since any of you had something other than drugs in your stomach so before you take any medicine, you’re gonna eat,” Vaggie instructed, walking into the parlor with five ceramic bowls in hand, setting them down one by one onto the coffee table.

Angel and Husk slowly removed themselves from their comfortably warm tangle of feverish bodies and blankets, sliding onto the floor in front of the sofa and sitting in front of the two bowls they’d claimed so they could sit together.

Angel reached over into the nest of blankets on the carpet and shook Niffty, who quickly woke up and began frantically looking around, sweat trickling from her hairline, “Relax, Niff, come sit… we’re eatin’,” he said, smoothing out Niffty’s bangs with his fingertips.

Niffty quickly dusted off her nightgown and joined Angel and Husk on their side of the coffee table, briefly turning away to cover a hoarse cough with her wrist.

Charlie- whose energy was quickly losing the battle to febrile fatigue- stood up from her curled position in the armchair and walked over to the opposite end of the coffee table.

“Alastor, get up,” Husk muttered, his adorable feline nose twitching, “hH’RRSCHHUH! HrR’SCHUHHH! H-huhh…HNK’TCHOO!”

Alastor stirred, peeling his head off of his arms and slowly leaving his reclined position on the loveseat, fever rouging his cheeks and exhaustion leaving dark rings under his eyes, “Mmm? What timbe is it?” he croaked, sliding off of the loveseat and joining the group on the floor, “I feel hot…”

“Mbe too,” Charlie remarked, leaning against Alastor and sniffling.

“Good, everyone’s awake,” Vaggie said, Razzle walking behind her and holding a large pot as she brandished a ladle, spooning a portion of something hot, fragrant, and red into each of the five bowls, “Dinner time… I’m using a soup recipe that a friend texted me once, hopefully I didn’t fuck it up.”

“EhH’KSHHEW! Eh’TsShHIEW!- Thanks Vaggie…SnFF!” Charlie said in a far more drowsy version of her typical cheerful voice before turning away to blow her nose.

“Of course, happy to help,” Vaggie replied, leaning down and kissing Charlie’s warm forehead before gently brushing her blonde hair out of her face, “pobrecita… I’m sorry you got sick.”

“It’s okay- SnFF!- I’ll be fine,” Charlie replied, rubbing at her left eye before picking up her spoon and taking a cautious bite of her soup, humming with a smile on her face. Warm broth washed down Charlie’s throat and the complex spice mixture made her sinuses leak, moisture trickling down from her nostrils that she had to swipe at with a folded-up tissue.

Alastor- a bit too loopy and out of sorts to feel comfortable using a spoon for fear of biting the metal- grabbed hold of his bowl and tilted it upwards, taking careful gulps of broth and pausing to chew on the spice-laden vegetables and shrimp without spilling a drop. Setting his half-empty bowl down onto the coffee table, he licked his lips.

“Mmm,” Alastor hummed, rocking back and forth as his mind wandered away from the present moment.

Savoring the spices on his tongue and the comfortable warmth filling his stomach, Alastor felt himself drift away until he was surrounded by the familiar smells of his childhood home. Sitting in a squeaky chair at a wooden kitchen table and massaging his sopping wet nest of curls with a towel, Alastor silently cursed himself for the visible flecks of blood and dirt on the ankles of his drenched slacks.

“Hh-Hih’KsSHEWW! Hih’TshHHuh!” Alastor pawed around on his person for his handkerchief- still lost in his own memories, he scoffed and attempted to fold the cloth over, wiping his runny nose on the side that wasn’t stained with someone else’s blood. Suddenly, a cool hand on his cheek made the scene feel so much more tangible, Alastor leaned into the touch and stared at a familiar figure with fever-lacquered eyes.

‘Silly boy, I don’t know for the life of me how you’ve grown so big and so tall and so smart without a lick of good sense… be lucky all you got from rootin’ around the forest in the rain was a cold. Alastor, it’s huntin’ season… I don’t want one of them hunters to hear you step on a twig and mistake you for somethin’ they can mount as a trophy,’

“Mm… sorry,” Alastor mumbled, a half-whimpering apology to the blurry visage of his mother that faded away in an instant, leaving his hellbound comrades in its place. Gathering himself and blowing his nose into his handkerchief, Alastor finished eating, “This is delicious,” he said to Vaggie.

“It’s amazin’,” Angel said after swallowing the spoonful that was in his mouth, the warm almost-too-spicy broth bringing him back to shivering in his childhood home on Long Island, his puffy winter coat hung over the radiator and a blood-soaked baseball bat leaned against the wall.

“Mmhm,” Husk muttered in agreement, savoring his last spoonful as he drifted into the comfortable memory of relaxing at his dining room table after a day of shooting loaded dice, the soothing feeling of warm broth coating his sore throat making him smile as the mirage of a familiar hand adorned with faux-jade bangles reached up to press a palm to his forehead.

“I’ve never had someone else make something like this for me,” Niffty sniffled tearfully, not nearly feverish enough for a familiar flavor to pull her head-first into her memories, but feeling sentimental enough to swallow a spoonful of broth and remember sneakily polishing off a bowl of soup in her old kitchen to clear her sinuses and soothe her throat before erasing any evidence of illness away with makeup and traipsing into the living room to do her due diligence as a wife.

“I’m glad you guys liked it,” Vaggie said, collecting the empty bowls and handing them to Razzle, who hurriedly took them to the kitchen and set to work washing them, “Alright, medicine and then I’m leaving you to your devices while I head to bed.”

Thirty minutes later, all five patients were back in their respective lounging areas of the parlor, dosed up with apple-flavored fever reducer- except for Niffty- and ready to doze off.

“Alright, see you guys in the morning, crossing my fingers that things finally turn a corner, G’night guys!” Vaggie said with a friendly wave before vanishing up the stairs.

“‘Night,” Angel remarked, his voice drowsy as he shut his eyes, still unconsciously massaging Husk’s head from under the blankets even as he fell asleep himself.

“Goodnight,” Alastor yawned, tugging his blanket up to his shoulders and curling up tighter on the loveseat, feeling more comfortable without febrile chills threatening to rouse him from his slumber.

“Nighty-night!” Niffty cheered, burrowing into her nest of blankets and shutting her eye.

“G’night Vaggie…Ehh’TsHHIEW!... I love you,” Charlie whispered, sprawling out in the armchair until she found a comfortable position, quickly falling asleep once she shut her eyes, snoring softly.

“I love you too,” Vaggie whispered from her spot leaning over the second floor balcony before turning away to tug at her face in frustration, “If things don’t get better soon I’m gonna have to get to the bottom of this, aren’t I?” she asked no one in particular.

“Yes, yes you are,” a familiar voice teased as it leaked out of a decorative radio that sat on a table in the hallway.

“Go to sleep, Alastor,” Vaggie scoffed, tapping the radio with her spear on her way down the hall.

“Way ahead of you,” the voice responded, the radio shutting off with an audible click as Alastor stirred in his sleep with a mischievous smile.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, walking into her and Charlie’s bedroom and shutting the door behind her, leaving the hotel dark, still, and quiet save for congested snoring and the occasional hoarse cough from downstairs.

Things weren’t exactly improving, but they were at least under control.

#snz #snz kink #snz fic #illness kink #ha/zb/in ho/tel #gingey.rtf

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i-think-i-did-it-again · 2 years ago

Text

Fuck buddies VII

Warning: swearing, drinking

Your heart is thumping, you’re sweating profusely and the room feels like it’s spinning. You can tell by the look on everyone’s faces that Rook definitely didn’t spill the beans. His date looks at Carly like she’s grown a second head. You’re glad someone else realises what she just did is fucked up. How the fuck does Carly know though? You look at Colson for…support? He’s clearly not going to give it because he’s just sitting there with that same smug expression, waiting for you to speak. Dumping it all at your feet to explain what you’ve both been doing.

You want to scream at him. You want to throw your drink in his face and the glass at Carly. You want to tell him what a smug son of a bitch he is and how he is pathetic. How no one will ever be good enough for him and that he will wake up one day, alone and sad because everyone else has grown up and moved on. Then something clicks in your mind. Did he plan this? You don’t want to believe it but suddenly all the pieces are falling into place and you don’t like the picture they’re creating.

Sophie spends 8 months of the year touring with this same group of men, why would one dinner bother her? Colson hasn’t seen Carly in over 2 years, why is she suddenly back in the picture? The only way she would know about Colson and you would be if he told her himself. The asshole planned the whole evening. The only thing he didn’t plan was Jacob but his little lap dog Carly is making sure to take care of that for him. Does she even know she’s just part of a game for him?

You take a deep steadying breath, a calm settling over you. Your heartbeat slows, your muscles untense and the room steadies. You place your hand over Jacob’s and he relaxes and begins to rub his thumb in circles over your skin. Your lips perk into a small smile and Sophie pales. Angry is one thing, calm is a whole other shitstorm of terrifying.

“Well, Colson made that pretty clear when he snuck out of my apartment in the middle of the night,” you answer her nonchalantly. Jacob whips his head to stare at Colson and he realises exactly where you’re going. “But I didn’t really have long to dwell on it because I remembered I owed Jacob a phone call after our kiss last weekend, so it gave me a chance to call him and make a plan to see him again.”

Colson’s face goes bright red and his jaw tenses. Jacob plays his part perfectly. His face alludes pride as a bright, beaming grin, showing off his full set of pearly white teeth. The glint in his eyes and the shine of his teeth, for some reason, remind you of a shark, spotting their prey from a distance. Carly’s expression is blank. She has no retort for your comment or Jacob’s reaction. Did she expect him to get up and storm out? Did she want you to get mad and stoop to her level? Jacob turns to you and kisses your cheek, trailing his lips to your ear.

“That’s the guy from last weekend isn’t it?” he whispers in your ear and you nod. “Well, ok then,” he kisses just below your ear and you giggle at the ticklish feeling.

Colson is clenching his jaw so tightly that it looks as though it may snap at any point. The clogs in Carly's mind are turning and you can tell she’s strategising a new way to make you uncomfortable or lash out. Everyone collectively breathes a sigh of relief as the silence stretches and they all return to their original conversations. Sophie moves to sit beside Slim and she joins their conversation. Jacob continues to whisper softly in your ear, every now again telling you something that makes you giggle. Colson’s eyes remained trained on the two of you, his stare full of rage and contempt. Carly is literally foaming at the mouth trying to think of how to get under your skin but you seem completely oblivious to everyone else at the table, at least that’s what you want them to think.

“Geez you two, get a fucking room,” Carly scoffs as Jacob pecks at your cheek again. You roll your eyes but otherwise ignore her, turning your body to face Jacob entirely.

“Yeah, fuck, some of us are trying to enjoy a meal here, not watch an orgy,” Colson spits at you and your fingers stiffen around the glass of your 3rd drink.

It’s the first time Colson has spoken in a while and the sound of his cool, distant tone makes your skin crawl. You try to make it look as though it hasn’t affected you but Carly spots your tension straight away. She may be a pain in the ass but she’s an observant one too. Her face stretches into that creepy smile again and you suddenly feel very queasy.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” you blurt out and quickly stand to your feet before she can open her mouth.

You push through the restaurant, finding the bathrooms quickly. You push open the bathroom door, glad to find it empty and you snip the door locked behind you. You stand in front of the mirror, holding the sink for support as you gasp for breath. Your eyes well up with tears and all you want to do is burst into tears but you don’t want to let them win. You’re tired of being that sad, pathetic girl who lies in her bed hoping for a man who is incapable of love to love you, to need you the way you need him. It’s never going to happen and you don’t want to spend the rest of your life wishing for it. A tap on the door makes you straighten and you quickly will your tears away.

“Y/N, open the door,” Colson’s voice rings through the door and your breath catches in your throat. When you don’t say anything, he pounds harder this time. “If you don’t open it, I will fucking break it down.”

You rush to the door and unlock it but push past him, trying to escape him before he can speak or even breathe near. You inhale his intoxicating scent as you pass him, a mix of weed and sandalwood cologne filling your lungs. You’re not pining for him but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy a few simple pleasures his presence permits.

“Stop,” he grabs your wrist and tries to drag you back towards him but you resist as hard as you possibly can. Eventually you think he’s given up when he drops your wrist but then he wraps his arm around your waist and hauls you back into the bathroom, locking the door. “STOP!” he roars and you flinch away from his booming voice in the small space. “I-I just want to talk to you.”

“Well, in case I didn’t make it clear, I don’t want to talk to you,” you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. You look pissed when you do that but really you’re just trying to hold yourself together.

“Don’t do that,” he begs and you falter.

“Do what?” you roll your eyes but find yourself leaning in to hear him better even though there’s only 5 feet between you.

“Pretend like you don’t care. I know you do and I hate when you act like you don’t,” and suddenly all that self-control you had with Carly finally snaps.

“You know what Colson, FUCK YOU! You don’t get to tell me how I feel or how I should act. What I do has absolutely nothing to do with you, which you made perfectly clear when YOU FUCKING SNUCK OUT OF MY APARTMENT AFTER HAVING SEX WITH ME! So take your pitty and your concern and go fuck yourself or better yet, Carly for all I care. You smug fucking asshole.”

You shove past him and this time he doesn’t try to stop you. You unlock the door and storm back to the table, grabbing your purse and jacket from beside your chair. Jacob stands and you link your fingers with his, mumbling a goodbye to the table before dragging him out of the restaurant. By the time you stop to catch your breath, you’re half way down the block, Jacob trailing behind you without a word.

“Can I order an Uber now?” he half chuckles as you gasp for air. You nod and he pulls his phone to order a ride.

You assume he put in the address to your apartment but when the driver makes a turn in the opposite direction of your place, you eye Jacob suspiciously. He simply smiles at you and turns his attention back to the window. You start to feel a little nervous as the streets become less crowded and the lights of the city start to appear further and further away. When the car stops in front of what looks to be an abandoned observatory, your concern grows. You start to think of an excuse for why you can’t get out of the car when Jacob turns to you and smiles softly.

“It’s not as creepy as it looks, I promise but if it makes you feel better I can ask the driver to stay if that helps you feel safer?” Jacob grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckles.

“It’s ok, I trust you, I think,” you smile at him and he opens the door, helping you out gently.

When you get to the front door, you relax a little as you see a busy diner about 15 feet away from where you are. When Jacob opens the door, you gasp. The room is filled with colourful graffiti and hand painted art on every wall. There are lights strung across the roof, zigging and zagging from one wall to the other. A projector sits on a large shelf, facing a blank, white drop sheet. There are chairs, couches and coffee tables set up in different areas around the room, an espresso machine, fridge and bar on one side and an old jukebox and record machine on the other. An assortment of records are laid about haphazardly as if someone has been going through them all.

“I found this place not long after I moved to LA and I noticed after a few weeks of no one coming near it that it’s completely abandoned so I decided to make it a hangout. I usually throw parties here or come here with my friends for movie nights,” Jacob explains as he walks around the room. He shrugs out of his jacket and throws it on the back of one of the chairs as he passes. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Just a soda is fine,” you say as you take your jacket off and sit down on one of the stools in front of the bar. “This place is incredible! I can’t believe I never knew it existed.”

“It’s pretty well hidden. I only noticed it because of the diner down the road that I just happened to stumble into after a late night modelling gig. Was drinking my coffee and eating my sandwich when I looked up and saw it nestled away.”

You find yourself so enthralled by his story that you just sit there, staring at him. As he continues to tell his story, he moves around the room pointing out different things that he’s accumulated over the years before finally landing in front of the record player.

“This was my grandfather’s, as well as most of the records that are here.”

He flicks it on and pulls out a random record. He places it on the turntable, gently dropping the needle on top of it. Frank Sinatra’s sultry voice fills the quiet space and you close your eyes as the sound of the music echoes off the solid concrete walls.

“The acoustics in here are amazing, especially with singers like him.”

You sit and listen to the record, occasionally talking but not really. At one point Jacob convinces you to dance with him, which you do for a song or two, then you go back to just listening. The songs are so calming that you find yourself closing your eyes and swaying. When the record finishes, Jacob finds another one of Sinatra’s and plays it. The music fills the space again and the world seems ok for a few more minutes.

“So what did Colson say to you in the bathroom?” Jacob casually asks as he sits down on the couch next to the record player.

“Oh just his usual fuckboy bullshit, nothing special,” you shrug as you get up from the bar to sit across from him.

“Are you going to tell me the story between the two of you or do I have to torture it out of you?” he grins at you and you throw your head back in laughter.

“You know how the story goes. Girl meets an exciting rockstar, gets swept up in his lifestyle, his charm and somehow ends up becoming his close friend, then after a stupid drunken mistake, his friend with benefits. Girl falls for rockstar even though she swore she wouldn’t and gets hurt because he’ll never be what she wants him to be. Instead, he stays his usual, self-absorbed manwhore and she feels thrown aside and used, even though that was the whole arrangement in the first place.”

You’re not sure why telling the story to a practical stranger makes you teary but you find yourself wiping away a stray tear as you talk. Jacob looks at you sympathetically and comes to sit beside you. He grabs your hand and draws random shapes on your palm. You just sit there for a while, the silence stretching on.

“Can I confess something to you?” Jacob is the first one to break it.

“As long as it’s not ‘I killed someone once’, then you can tell me anything,” you joke and he laughs while shaking his head.

“I was Colson once,” he admits and you’re slightly confused. “There was a girl I met not long after I moved to LA and we hit it off right away. She was smart and funny and I really enjoyed hanging out with her. We were really good friends and then one day, one thing led to another and we slept together. It was by far the best sex I’ve ever had. I found myself wanting to do it again and then, as if out of nowhere, it was happening 2-3 times a week. We thought it’d be a good idea to have some rules. We never stayed the night together, we wouldn’t hook up before 10pm, if we started seeing someone we’d end it, if one of us felt we were getting feelings we’d end it. We thought we had so much control over the whole thing.” Jacob shakes his head as if he’s trying to forget some distant memory before continuing. “She got feelings and I guess if I really think about it, I did too. I hated the idea of her with another guy, I would get so pissed if I wanted to hook up and she wasn’t available. It was like she became this drug and I wanted my fix whenever I could get it but I would never admit it, to her, to myself. I constantly tried to push her away. We stopped the friends part and were just ‘benefits’ by the end of it. One day she admitted how she felt and I freaked. I said horrible things to her, I made excuses for why it wouldn’t work, I told her I was damaged goods, fucked up and unworthy of her love. I got what I wanted in the end and she ended things but it wasn’t really what I wanted, I was just scared and I ran away.” You let his words absorb in and you try to understand from his perspective what he sees when he looks at you and Colson but you’re not sure you get the connection, not entirely.

“I don’t understand what that has to do with Colson and I?” you ask him honestly. You bite your bottom lip and tilt your head.

“Colson is me. Any sane person can see that he is in love with you but he has no idea how to say it. I don’t know the guy personally and I’m not sure where his insecurities stem from but the guy wants you bad and not just sexually.”

You don’t really know what to say to that. Part of you wants to believe everything he’s saying but like he said, he doesn’t know Colson the way you do and that sounds so far-fetched and so removed from the person you know that you just can’t seem to agree with him. You sit there for a while longer, just talking and holding hands and you feel a shift between the two of you. You know you’re not in the right headspace to date right now but you like Jacob's company. He feels safe and you feel as though you can tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge you. You feel as though you need someone like that in your life but you don’t want to string him along if you don’t want more than friendship.

“I guess I should probably just be honest with you then,” you start and you nervously twirl a strand of hair as you talk. “I kind of called you last night because I was so angry at Colson that I just wanted to hurt him. I wanted to try and move and forget about him and I guess I was using you to do it but I-”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain. I get it. After seeing the way you two act around each other, I definitely get why you called me but if you don’t mind, I do enjoy spending time with you, so maybe we could stay friends and if my presence makes Colson finally admit his feelings, then I guess win-win?” he chuckles and you can’t help but join in. His delusional thinking is kind of funny in a charming sort of way.

You say your goodbyes and apologise for the worst first date ever and order an Uber home. You’re so exhausted that every step you take feels like 20. All you want to do is have a hot shower, put on your sweats and crawl into bed but as you get to the last stair on your floor, you realise the universe has no concern for your plans. Hunched against your door is a very sad, very drunk Colson.

‘Well isn’t this the nightmare that will just never end?’ you moan to yourself before taking a deep breath and approaching him as if he’s a wounded animal.

“Colson, what are you doing here?” you scold, folding your arms over your chest.

You feel every nerve ending tighten as you try to remain calm but every single one of those nerves snaps as Colson looks up on you. His bloodshot, puffy eyes and damp cheeks makes your chest ache and every feeling of anger evaporates.

“Why am I so fucked up?” he begs and his voice cracks.

He doesn’t wait for your answer. Instead he buries his face in his hands and silently sobs on your doorstep, falling apart right in front of your eyes and everything you knew about this man completely flips and you’re left standing there, confused and heartbroken.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #mgk imagine #ttmdf #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #mgk angst #mgk x y/n #mgkxx #mgk fanfic

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innerpalaces · 7 months ago

Text

The Life of a Cannon Fodder Mother-in-Law - 1

Chapter 1: The Deceived Mother-in-Law 1

Even though she had died, Liu Yuniang still felt like her heart was clogged, and her thoughts were unbearable.

There seemed to be a child's sad cry in her ears. She couldn't let go and really didn't want to die. Suddenly, she found that she was standing in a room with simple but exquisite furnishings. For Liu Yuniang, who was born in a merchant family, all this was a bit too elegant.

A voice in her head asked: "Are you willing to help resolve the resentment of people who died unjustly like you? There are rewards."

It was all too sudden and Liu Yuniang struggled to understand. After hearing the last sentence, she immediately asked: "What's the rewards?"

The voice was cold and emotionless: "For example... returning to your world and doing things over again. "

Liu Yuniang: "..." Do things over!

She must go back and do things over again!

Before she opened her eyes again, Liu Yuniang heard the two men next to her singing a double act. The older one sighed: "When a woman lives alone, the gossip is always unpleasant, and rumors can be as murderous as knives. If the maid who deliverd the gift today was a little late, she might have only been able to collect your godmother's corpse."

Liu Yuniang opened her eyes and saw a young man of eighteen or nineteen years old asking anxiously: "What should we do? Not to mention that she is the godmother who saved me, even it were a stranger, this is also a human life. We should save it if we can..."

"Now, we can probably only..." The middle-aged man looked over and said: "bring the person back to the mansion."

The young man clasped his hands together and said, "I promised to provide for my godmother in her old age. Dad, I will send someone to pick her up later." After saying that, he looked at Liu Yuniang again: "Mom, please let someone clean up Fuyuan Courtyard and let godmother move in later."

Liu Yuniang didn't know what was going on, but the father and son in front of her were obviously putting on a show to get this so-called godmother to move into the house. She subconciously felt that there was something inappropriate about this matter, and was trying to find a reason to stall. When she looked up, she saw the sun was rising outside, it should still be morning.

It was too early to argue that it was too late in the day, and she was hesitating in her heart when the maid waiting beside her exclaimed in a low voice: "That's the eldest miss's yard."

If the servant dared to speak and objected to the eldest miss's yard being occupied, there must be something wrong.

Liu Yuniang immediately made a serious face: "Fuyuan is not possible."

"My sister has been married for four years and has never come back to stay. Why not?" The young man looked puzzled: "I was thinking..."

"Don't even think about it." Her words were quick and concise, since she was afraid of making too many mistakes. Liu Yuniang stood up and walked into the inner room with a flick of her sleeves and then sat down to recieve the original host's memories.

Her original surname was Liu and her given name was Huixin. She was born in Liangzhou, and the Liu family was considered one of the local famous families. This seemingly beautiful scenery of a noble family is all brought about by the main branch. The side branches are just ordinary people and are not very capable.

Liu Huixin had been well educated in the four virtues since she was in young and was loved by her parents at home. However, when she was fifteen, her parents died of illness one after another. For fear of delaying her marriage, her uncle at home made the decision and married her during her filial mourning period.

The marriage was so urgent, and the girl's parents had died, so it was not easy to choose a match. In the end, she married the son of a scholar. The scholar's surname was Qi. Her partner was Qi Zhengming, an only son. The family had dozens of acres of fertile land, so although he was not considered rich, at least they always have enough food and clothing.

At first, it seemed that the scholar had taken advantage by marrying the Liu family. In fact, for Liu Huixin's situation at that time, it was a good thing to have such a marriage. After the young couple were wed, they did live a loving life. Not long after her filial mourning period ended, Liu Huixin became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter smoothly.

Everyone thought her womb bloomed first and would then bear fruit (t/n: meaning it was believed that since she gave birth to a daughter, ie. the bloom, she would later give birth to a son, ie. the fruit), but in the following years, Liu Huixin had no good news.

There are three ways to be unfilial, the worst of which is to have no descendants.

Especially since Scholar Qi was eagar to have an official in their family. After discovering that his son was a piece of rotten wood and could not pass the examination no matter how diligently he taught him, he wanted to teach a grandson... He often urged the young couple to have a son, so Qi Zhengming came up with the idea of adopting a nearly three-year-old child from outside and named him Qi Hechen.

Qi Xiucai got his grandson as he wished, and as expected, the couple had a better life without any further urging. Liu Huixin thought about the fact that the child lost his mother at a young age, and since he was already her adopted son the two had a lifelong bond of mother and son, and she always took good care of him.

After more than ten years of this, Liu Huixin treated people with sincerity, her business was doing well, her family was prosperous, her daughter got married, and her son took a wife... Liu Huixin originally thought that she would be doting on her grandson and living a good life just like this. After a few years, she would hand over the family business and be able to retire in peace and quiet. Unexpectedly, Qi Hechen's godmother could not tolerate some rumors about her and hanged herself.

Fortunately, she was found in time and rescued.

Speaking of this godmother, it was quite mysterious. When Qi Hechen was six years old, he suffered from a strange illness and could not wake up. The doctor was helpless. Liu Huixin happened to hear from her maternal cousin that it was like being possessed by an evil spirit, so she asked the master to help her find a godmother to extend his life, and provided his birth date.

(t/n: There was a traditional belief that a child could be protected from evil spirits by the luck of an adopted parent or godparent. Sometimes a professional ‘godmother’ performed this role, and in some cases children were even adopted by trees or a large stones in order to gain protection from the attached spirit. In this case Liu Huixin believed that her adopted son was sick because of evil spirits and so wanted to find a godmother for him with an auspicious birth chart that could ward of the spirit supposedly making him sick.)

The woman they found to be a godmothe was actually about the same age as Liu Huixin. She was a very gentle young woman. Knowing that accepting this godson would save a child, she happily agreed. Strangely enough, Qi Hechen woke up from the the night after the ceremony. Even if you were skeptical about such metaphysical things, after this you had to believe. For Qi Hechen, it is not an exaggeration to say that it was a life-saving grace.

After showing such great kindness, the person was almost driven to death. Naturally, the Qi family father and son would not just watch, and quickly thought about bringing the person back.

Some things would not raise suspicion if they were placed in a dark place or were not frequent enough. Living under the same roof, Liu Huixin was not blind and soon discovered Qi Zhengming's unusual feelings for this godmother, Cheng Rumeng.

Needless to say, she was sad and uncomfortable. Later, she discovered that she had been living in lies spun by others for many years.

It is a lie that they were a loving couple loyal each other, the adopted son is a lie, and the adopted son's godmother is also a lie. She should be called the biological mother. Even the daughter-in-law who has just entered the house recognized Cheng Rumeng as her biological mother-in-law. They are the real family.

Liu Huixin was feeling sad, and her daughter was also living a miserable life. She was already feeling uncomfortable, and coupled with worrying about her daughter, she suddenly felt exhausted mentally and physically. When Qi Zhengming accused her of neglecting Cheng Rumeng, she finally couldn't help but question him.

Qi Zhengming denied it, and the couple had a big quarrel which ended with them both unhappy.

Liu Huixin came from a wealthy family and had been educated in the three obediences and four virtues since she was a child. No matter how unwilling she was, she was ready to admit it with her nose pinched. She wanted to settle the matter, but the two men were unwilling to do so. She fell ill within a few days and had been sick ever since.

Before dying, the young couple took the initiative to admit in front of the sickbed that they were afraid that she would make a fuss and affect Qi Hechen's reputation, so they killed her. The medicine that made her sick was given to her by her daughter-in-law herself everyday.

"You said before that Hechen and sister-in-law are the same in your eyes, and you are willing to risk your life for their safety. Now that you know these things, your life is always a hidden danger... It is good for all of us if you die. Don't worry, you will be my mother-in-law forever!"

This was the last sentence Liu Huixin heard before she died.

Liu Yuniang: "..." Meeting such a group of people was really eight lifetimes worth of misfortune. This was really tragic.

There was a knock on the door, and Liu Yuniang raised her voice and asked, "What's the matter?"

After Liu Huixin got married, her business grew bigger and bigger, and her temperament was also very different from before she got married. She was straightforward and spoke crisply.

There was a voice from outside: "Huixin, if you don't want our guest to stay in Fuyuan, then we will switch to Lanxie Courtyard. It happens to be summer and it's cool there, so it's not a sign of neglect. Remember to have someone clean it later."

Liu Yuniang opened the door: "Cleaning is fine, but it's not for guests. It's getting hotter and hotter recently. I want to move there to escape the heat."

Qi Zhengming looked at her disapprovingly: "This won't work, that won't work either. How about you tell me where to place her?"

Liu Yuniang was not annoyed and said calmly: "If you ask me, it is not appropriate her to move into our house."

"She tried to hang herself. Do you want to force her to death? " Qi Zhengming frowned: "Huixin, you have known her for so many years, and you are such a kind person. You are always willing to help everyone you know. How can you really watch her die?"

"It's not that." Liu Yuniang waved her hand: "She is still young and good-looking. If she is moved into the mansion, those who know the situation would say we took her in to prevent her from being troubled by rumors. But those who didn't know will think you have taken a concubine."

Qi Zhengming's face darkened: "Don't talk nonsense."

Liu Yuniang nodded: "I don't talk nonsense. In short, moving her into the house is not good for you or her. It's actually easy to stop outsiders from talking about her. She didn't have any children, so she shouldn't stay a widow forever. She might as well find a suitable marriage while she's still young." She clasped her hands togeter solemnly: "If she is shy, I will help her find a matchmaker."

Qi Zhengming was stunned for a moment and didn't understand how they had ended up talking about marriage. "She doesn't want to get married.

Liu Yuniang looked surprised: "Rumeng said it herself? When did she tell you?"

Qi Zhengming: "..."

He ground his teeth: "I guessed."

Liu Yuniang stepped out of the door and said, "She had a bad relationship with her previous husband. That sick man made her cry a lot, but she did her best to take care of him without any complaints until he passed away. She can be considered having done her duty by the Su family. It is said that women know women best. In my opinion, unless she has a sweetheart, she will definitely agree to marry again. You are a grown man, don't worry about these things, leave it to me." She said, and asked people to prepare the carriage, as if she was about to go out.

Qi Zhengming asked: "Where are you going?" He emphasized: "She hasn't said that she will get married again, so don't do bad things with good intentions. Let's bring her into the house first, and don't let her think wildly and commit suicide..."

Liu Yuniang was already walking to the door and she turned around after hearing those words: "I'm just afraid that she will still commit suicide, so I plan to send someone to keep an eye on her personally. Don't worry, in the worst case, I'll tie her up and she won't die."

What kind of method is this?

Qi Zhengming chased her outside the door: "You can't tie people up. We are not enemies. This is inappropriate..."

Liu Yuniang shook off his hand with a serious look on her face: "It's wonderful to be alive! She's just momentarily confused. She won't want to think about it later. She won't want to think about it later. If she's alive, she can choose a good husband to marry, and maybe she can have a child... By then, she will definitely thank me."

Qi Zhengming: "..." Thank your eight generations of ancestors!

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#the life of a cannon fodder mother in law

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