#I assumed it would be at least SOMEWHAT normal

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter Four|

Y/n couldn't seem to rid herself of that off feeling. Something wasn't right, and it was making her anxious. But was there really anything to get worked up over? Not really. And yet, the feeling remained.

She decided later that day, she would go and visit Michael again to calm her nerves. On the way, she had ran into Adam. At his side, like always, was Lute.

"Well if it isn't the mystical babe!" Adam smirks. "Where are you heading off to, sweet thing?" Y/n inwardly cringes. While keeping a proper attitude, she responds. "Hello Adam, I'm on my way to visit Michael."

"Psh, you two are totally fucking aren't you?"

"Is there something I can help you with?" Y/n says, choosing to ignore what he said.

"Didn't deny it." Adam mutters as he elbows Lute. Lute keeps her harden expression, her arms folded behind her back. Adam continues. "Nah, I don't need anything from you. Unless you're looking for a good time, if you know what I mean." He grins mischievously.

"No, thank you." Y/n says curtly. "How was your meeting with Sera?"

"Boring as shit." Adam answers simply. "I see. I assume everything is fine then? There wasn't anything strange that came up during the meeting?" Asked Y/n.

"That's between me and Sera, babe." Adam says, clearly bored with this conversation too.

"Alright. Well then." Y/n walked past him. "Pleasure talking with you, Adam, Lute." Lute said nothing, other than nodding her head.

"Oh trust me, the pleasure's all mine." Adam says, Y/n could practically feel his eyes on her rear. She rolled her eyes and speed up her walk slightly.

Y/n finally made it to Michael's home. She entered and made her way further inside. Normally, she would have needed Michael to portal her to where he was, due to how large his home was. But Y/n grew accustomed to the place over the years, she could easily find him now.

Michael was in the study, passing the time by reading. His head perked up when he heard Y/n approaching. "Y/n." He greets her with a smile. "What brings you by?" He asks, closing the book and setting it aside.

"I wanted to see you. I'm...a bit frazzled at the moment." Y/n answers, feeling somewhat selfish. Though, Michael was always open whenever she needed to talk with him. "What's happened?" He asks, concerned.

"Sera is acting off. Or at least it feels that way. I told her of a vision I had, and she barely question it. Normally the questioning would be non-stop until she's satisfied. But, she didn't seem concerned at all." Y/n explains.

"Is there a reason to be concerned?" Asked Michael. "Charlotte Morningstar will be meeting with Heaven soon." Said Y/n, causing Michael's brows to raise. "What for?" He asked.

"I'm not sure. But whatever it is, Sera didn't seem too concerned. But maybe she was, from how she basically rushed me out the door. She said she needed to speak with Adam about it."

"Is there nothing else you can see from that point?"

Y/n shook her head. "I can only see so far into the future. As time passes, the path will reveal itself further. We can only wait for now."

"I see." Said Michael. "Do you sense any ill intent from Charlotte?"

"No. Nothing like that. You've heard me talk about her. She's so...not demon like at all, despite where she comes from." Y/n crosses her arms. "It makes me think, could there really be demons down there who are like her? Is there any good in the hearts of sinners?"

"That I don't know, Y/n." Said Michael. "But if this Charlotte girl is only good that's down there, well then...That gives me hope that Lucifer has done something to influence that kind of mindset from her."

That made Y/n smile slightly. "You think so?" Michael smiles as well. "I do. And hey, maybe Sera's finally giving you a break. Take advantage of that while you can."

Y/n sighs. "Maybe I will. I might just be overthinking all of this. I'm sure everything's fine."

Everything was not fine. A truly awful vision came to Y/n one week after talking with Sera. Y/n was rushing to find the head Seraphim, desperate to tell her what she's seen.

And even more desperate for answers...

Once she arrived at Sera's residence, and knocked on the door quickly with shaky hands. Unfortunately it was not Sera who answered, but Emily.

"Hi, Y/n! What brings you by?"

Y/n tried her best to conceal her panic as she spoke. "I must speak with Sera right away. It's urgent." Emily's smile dropped as she grew concerned. "Is something wrong?" She asks.

"I...I don't know yet." Y/n lied, wanting to spare Emily's feelings. Emily agreed to let her see Sera, welcoming her in. Emily lead Y/n to Sera's office.

"Ah, Y/n. How can I help you?" Asked Sera. Y/n furrowed her brows, but she kept a calm tone as she spoke. "I need to speak with you Sera. I had another vision."

Sera looked to Emily. "Emily?" Emily nods before leaving the room to give them privacy. Sera folded her hands. "What's happened?"

"I am in disbelief Sera." Y/n began, her voice dipping as anger finally settled in. "How could you? How could you allow for something so cruel to happen?"

Sera narrows her eyes. "What are you saying?"

"The exterminations." Sera's eyes widened. "You allowed Adam and his angels to down to Hell and murder thousands of people! How could you, Sera?"

Sera's expression hardened. "Those people are dangerous. I did what was best for everyone in Heaven. They were uprising."

"Uprising? Sera, nothing in my visions warned of any sort of uprising!"

"Perhaps that is because I took charge. Hell's population is growing too large. One way or another, it was going to become a serious problem." Sera stood from her desk and turned her back to Y/n. "I for one am not going to sit by and do nothing, and just allow Heaven to fall into harms way."

Y/n was seething with anger. "I didn't allow Lucifer to bring harm to Heaven! Don't you dare insist I would ever allow anything to bring harm to us!"

Sera turned to face you, her eyes sharp with anger. "You had the chance to warn us about Lucifer's revolt and you did nothing!" Before Y/n could get the chance to argue back, Sera spoke again.

"We have souls to protect here, and I can not have any more mistakes that will put those souls at risk. And Heaven is safe, because of the tough choices I had to make. And if a few demons must die for the sake of everyone in Heaven's safety, then so be it."

"There are human souls down there Sera!" Y/n exclaimed.

Sera narrows her eyes and turns away from you again. "They were human, once. And they had their chance."

Y/n could have stormed out right then, but that was not the only vision she saw.

"Well. Because of your little exterminations, Adam will be killed."

Sera sharply turns her head over her shoulder. "What?"

"In six months, Adam will go down to Heaven for the extermination, but he will not return." Y/n glares at Sera. "So. Are you willing to send Adam to his death, Sera?"

Sera returns the glare, she looks away from Y/n again. "If you have nothing else to say, then you may leave."

Oh, Y/n had plenty more to say. But she would not waste her breath on someone like her any further. Clearly, Sera was in no mood to negotiate.

And she never will be.

So, Y/n turns and walks out of her office. She stormed past Emily, ignoring her as she tried to ask what was wrong. Y/n went back to her home, still furious, but trying to calm herself.

How could Sera have kept this a secret for so long? She's been lying to everyone, even Emily. Well, Y/n most certainly wasn't going to let her get away with this.

This extermination plot of hers is over, and Y/n was going to make sure of that.

As soon as she reach for the door, it swung open. And in walked Adam and Lute.

"Hey babe. Heard you and Sera had quite the argument." A wicked grin formed on Adam's face. "She sent me over to keep the peace."

Y/n took a step back as Adam approached her. Lute smirked as she shut the door and locked it.

"So. How about we settle it, right now?" Adam chuckles darkly.

Tags-

@bloody-delusion-expert

@simbalioness

[the-adventures-of-dave]

So I got this book from the library titled “Indoor Cat: How to Enrich their Lives and Expand their World”. Wholly expecting it to be about, y’know, indoor cat enrichment.

Y’all this book is WEIRD.

It feels like this author was asked “how do I help my cat be happy inside?” And their response was “I think indoor cats live a miserable existence and would rather die than live with you but I GUESS I can tell you how to keep your cat from going insane in the prison you call a home.”

Like look at this. This is just the first chapter alone.

[uncanny-tranny]

You know... it's okay to trust your body. If you are separated from your body to such an extent you feel you cannot trust it, I truly from the bottom of my heart empathize and feel grief for you, but you can trust your body.

It's okay to listen to your body and to heed what it is telling you. I wish you (and your body) well wherever you go. You deserve the peace of mind to feel able to do what you want.

[lonelyquail]

OK SINCE I SENT A DOUBLE BEFORE here's another!! um since you've mentioned sk recently hows abt your favourite order of no quarter member??

HMMM I don't have a specific favorite of the oonq so I am going to be resorting to semantics to twist this to a character I like (dark reize is like. he was Going to be made the last knight. it counts. it counts.)

anyway I love him so much and no one understands this 14 year old edgelord the way I do. not even the guy who he's technically just his oc. he's MY oc. (he actually is I took most of my interp of him and put it into a separate au and put That into an oc so if you're ever curious where nico comes from its him).

anyway (slaps this bad boy) he has so many identity debacles and also a shitty mom and so many fun possible interactions that. never happen. so I just threw that out and made my own au where he sticks around postgame (circumstances vary, he either splits off from nromal reize, is part of normal reize, or Doesn't get turned back and just stays Like This) and gets to sort out his issues starring: Lingering Memories From A Person You Don't Recognize As You, Finding A Purpose When The Thing You Were Conjured To Protect Is Gone And Said Conjurer slash Parent Is Effectively Dead, and also Just Generally Experiencing Emotions And Not Being Introspective Enough To Sort Them Out So Instead Just Being Really Angry That You Have Them And Causing Havoc. I like him

[twirlyleafs]

”Start of the season-drama”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: angst, assumed cheating

~~~~

“I wish you could come with me.” You looked over at your boyfriend next to you by the kitchen counter. He didn’t meet your gaze, face contoured in concentration as he formed the ground beef into patties.

“I know baby.” You agreed, reaching for a bowl to put the cut cucumber in. Max grabbed it for you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with? Bahrain is nice.” He softly bumped his arm against yours, offering a playful smile. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I would love to, you know that. But I have my thesis to write.”

“You can do that on the road.” He tried, but you both knew the answer. This conversation had been on repeat for the last few months and every time it ended with Max, somewhat disappointed, agreeing that it would be best if you stayed home. You weren’t surprised he tried one last time tonight.

“Even if I could Maxie, I still have to work and I can’t do that from Bahrain.” Even before he spoke up you knew what his next argument would be and if anything got under your skin, it was this.

“You don’t need to work though. You have me.” The way he said it so casually, like he always did, had your stomach twisting. You hated that he saw it like that, and no matter how many times you talked about it Max didn’t seem to understand your point of view. You clenched your jaw, physically biting your tongue not to say anything back. Instead you concentrated back on the work on the cutting board, brows slightly furrowed. Things were quiet for a few moments, Max being busy with the meat in the frying pan, and you had almost blocked him out completely, deep in your own thoughts, when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. Your back was softly pulled flush against his chest and a second later he nudged the side of your head with his nose.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pressing a few kisses against your cheek and down your shoulder. “Of course you have things to do here, I get that. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help but smile, the frown melting of your face in a second. How could you ever stay annoyed at him when he was this cuddly and cute? You placed the knife down, turning around in his rather tight grip to face him. Max looked down at you, tilting his head slightly as to ask if he was forgiven. You just reached up to grab his cheeks, bringing his face down to yours for a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You said when the two of you finally pulled apart. “But it’s just two weeks, right?”

“Hmm.” Max nodded, fingers pressing into the skin just above your hips. “Then I’ll come straight back home and I won’t leave your side for at least a few days.” You laughed at that, snaking your arms around his torso and leaning your head against his chest. Max pulled you even closer, a deep breath leaving his lips. You were going to miss him, but two weeks went fast and you told yourself that he’d be back, preferably with two wins under his belt, before you knew it.

~

The first race had been amazing. You had watched from home with some of your friends, absolutely ecstatic and somewhat tipsy as your boyfriend passed the finish line in first place what felt like hours ahead of the rest. When he called you after the win you had literally screamed into the phone how proud you were of him and hearing him laugh loudly on the other end had you smiling the whole night.

That was four days ago. You had been busy, work was more chaotic than normal and your limited freetime was spent in the library working on your thesis. Unfortunately, this also meant that you had missed a few of Maxs phone calls and when you’d called him back he had been busy instead. You texted a lot, but it had been a few days since you last heard his voice and you were starting to miss it.

Getting back late from the library, not at all happy with the work you had done, all you wanted to do was to call Max and have him tell you about his day. You knew he had been at the annual banquet in Jeddah last night, which he hated, and you were excited to hear all the gossip. You sunk down in the couch, making yourself comfortable as you searched up the results of the first practice round. You always wanted to know how things were going for Max before you spoke to him, partly to show him that you cared and partly because you wanted to know what mood he might be in. You smiled to yourself, pleased, when you saw him at the top of the rankings. Absentminded you begun to scroll down among the tweets, rolling your eyes at the people hating on Max and grinning proudly at all the people joking about how this season would just be win after win after win for him. Suddenly you stopped, a tweet written all in caps catching your eye.

MAX VERSTAPPEN LOOKING DAPPER WITH MYSTERIOUS BLONDE! DID HE LEAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND AT HOME?

You raised your eyebrows, not being able to stop yourself from clicking on the photos. Surely it was going to be something dumb, you were used to the rumors surrounding your boyfriend and you had simply learned to just tune them out. Scrolling through the pictures now, however, you could feel your stomach drop. It was blurry, but it was clearly Max. The photos were taken from far away but you saw him, dressed handsomely in a suit and bowtie, with his arms tightly wrapped around a tall blonde. Her back was turned against the camera so you couldn’t make out her face, but you didn’t recognize the body at all. The two of them seemed to be alone, standing outside what looked like the building where the banquet was held. In one picture Max was shown grabbing her cheeks, staring down at her. You squinted, as if that would help you distinguish his expression, but you couldn’t quite tell what was happening. You couldn’t deny that it sure looked like he was about to kiss her. Quickly locking your phone you dropped it in your lap, staring down at the black screen with wide eyes. That wasn’t just some rumor, something someone had claimed to see or made up. Those were real photos, photos of Max being way too close for comfort with someone who clearly wasn’t you. You knew you should calm down, take a step back until you could talk to him and let him explain. Surely there was an explanation that didn’t involve him actually cheating on you? Right? Before you had time to spiral further your phone lit up again, the picture of Max sleeping, drooling, in a cab you had as his contact photo illuminating your screen. Acting on reflex you picked it up, sliding your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Baby!” He seemed surprised that you answered but quickly regained himself. “Am I disturbing you? Are you at home?”

“I just got home.” You answered, frowning at the shortness of your own tone. You weren’t sure how to approach him, you weren’t even sure what to say. Were you mad? Sad?

“Good. Feels like we’ve just missed each other the past few days.” Max shuffled around on the other end and you assumed he was laying in bed. With a content sigh he spoke again and you could hear the smile on his face. “How are you my love?”

“I’m good.” You mumbled, clicking on the speaker icon and placing your phone down in your lap.

“How’s the thesis coming along? I assume you just came from the library?”

“Hmm, yeah I did. It’s fine.” Max obviously picked something up in your voice because he was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I hope you’re not spreading yourself too thin baby, you have to take a break sometimes.” His voice was full of concern and you don’t know if it was that or the pictures still haunting you but suddenly all you wanted was to be next to him. “Have you eaten today?”

“Actually,” you began, deciding what to say as the words were coming out of your mouth. “I was thinking about maybe coming to you? I think I can make it to the race if I leave tomorrow and-“ you stopped as you heard Max laugh on the other end, stomach twisting at the sound you usually loved. That was not the reaction you wanted.

“You know I miss you but that’s crazy baby.” He chuckled. You could feel the pressure take form behind your eyes. “You have things to do and I’ll be home in less than a week.”

“Yeah but I want to see you now. I thought you’d want that too.” You hated that his reaction, a very reasonable reaction at that, left you feeling so hurt.

“Of course I want to see you, but you shouldn’t come all the way here when we both know-“

“I shouldn’t?” His choice of words felt like a punch in the stomach and you frowned down at the phone. Max took a second too long to respond so you spoke again. “Why shouldn’t I? You don’t want me there?”

“What’s all this coming from?” The smile was far gone from his voice and now he just sounded bewildered. “You’re the one who opted to stay home because you had work to do.”

“Yeah well that was before I knew you’d cozy up with some other girl if I’m not there.”

You pressed your eyes shut, cringing at your own words the second they left your lips. You did not mean to put that out there like that. The line went quiet for a moment before Max broke the silence, voice as confused as it gets.

“What?”

You wanted to cry. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you say?”

“Nothing Max. Don’t worry about it.” You snapped, hating yourself more every time you opened your mouth. You really needed this conversation to be over, preferably before you started to cry. “I’m actually really tired, I think I’m-“

“No no no, you don’t just get to throw something like that at me and then hang up. What did you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You were rambling. “Just forget it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You heard Max say your name before you hung up, heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest.

[koinotame]

how dangerous the twst cast is as yanderes

content warnings: this is yandere stuff so plenty of relationships and mindsets of questionable healthiness. reader implied to be yuu. mentions of murder and violence (nothing explicit/graphic, but frequent. mostly not aimed at reader). most are pretty ambiguous wrt being romantic or platonic (though it’s assumed they have an at least somewhat close relationship with you). i don’t think there’s any explicit spoilers but this was written with mostly-up-to-date knowledge so maybe beware if you really want to avoid any spoilers

whole main cast is included, under the cut for length (near 4k words)! if you read ortho's section as incestuous or romantic in any other way i will shoot a laser beam at you.

fairly harmless overall ▸ i actually normally wouldn't put them together, but in either case i can't see either of the adeuce duo being too dangerous to others. yeah, they might beat someone up for getting too close to you or hurting you, but i really really can't see either of them going much farther. deuce in particular used to be a delinquent, and he does sometimes slip back into that mindset, and he does know how to beat someone up well… but he's a good boy now. your good boy. even in his delinquent phase he would've never actually killed someone, and the idea horrifies him a little too much to ever seriously consider. ace has a bit less restraint, but also a lot less experience. what he lacks in experience he does more than make up for in wit and quick learning, but… while the thought does cross his mind occasionally, he wouldn't be able to stomach actually killing someone either. he'll beat someone up if they hurt you or you ask him to though. unlike deuce, he'll probably brag about it to you if he knows your reaction would be positive.

▸ don’t you worry! your cay-kun would never kill someone! in fact, cater is very unlikely to get violent at all. when he gets jealous (which happens pretty often), he turns that bitterness inside. what do they have that he doesn’t? do you like quieter guys? is he too obsessed with magicam? do you not like the way he doesn’t let you in unless you push, because he’s too afraid you won’t like what you find and leave? is he not affectionate enough? do you not like his hair? it doesn’t matter what it is about him that you don’t like, about others that you do like. he’ll fix the problem; he’ll fix himself. he’s already used to putting on acts around others—this isn’t that different. even if it’s not him you like at this point, as long as he can stay by your side, it’ll be fine. there’s a desperate edge to his actions that’s hard to spot, but once you have is impossible to unsee. as long as you continue liking him, he’ll throw away who he is—just. don’t throw him aside once you’re bored of him, okay? keep him around forever. please. ▸ jack is another that’s fairly harmless. it’s in his nature to be overprotective, and he doesn’t see much wrong with that, but he has no issue with your friends and he’s pretty reasonable at telling apart actual threats from things like jokes. he’s much like your guard dog… or maybe he’s more like guard puppy, with the way you doubt he’d ever actually hurt anyone despite his big stature. he’s embarrassed when you tell him this, but the wagging of his tail gives away just how much he likes knowing you’re okay with—even like—his constant presence. he’s not… completely against going behind your back when someone is actually about to hurt you to deal with he issue, though. just… just occasionally, when it’s really necessary. he won’t make a habit of it. he just… doesn’t want you to see him like that. he’d never want to scare you. that’s all.

a bit less harmless but not by (too) much ▸ riddle is good and well behaved and refuses to resort to something as drastic as violence or murder, or at least he’s trying very hard to convince himself so. he’s definitely somewhat tyrannical to everyone around you even after he mellows out after his overblot, and he has no hesitation in punishing those who hurt or displease you, especially his own dormmates. even once both of you graduate, this habit of his never quite vanishes. he gets a little frantic if you show disapproval of his actions though, especially if you seem scared of him. he’s desperate to prove that he’s good and loves you and would never hurt you, and if that means toning down his ardour, he’ll try his best. the stress of possibly losing you just makes him all the more overbearing to everyone around him. he’s trying his best for you though, so… don’t you love him as much as he loves you? won’t you turns your eyes back to him and only him? ▸ kalim would never kill someone! nor would he have someone be killed. but his family's wealth and influence extends far, and anyone seeking to hurt you (or him through you) would be a fool to think otherwise. he'd never kill someone, but making sure they end up rotting in prison for the rest of their life is just doing the right thing! he might be a little blinded by his panic, sure, but— they tried to hurt you! if he's really jealous (something that doesn't happen often—he only has eyes for you, after all, so he tends to not think too much about others), it's not hard to just have them transfer. or be fired. or something. he won't tell you outright, but if you ask he sees no point in hiding it from you. if you don't react well, he gets a little frantic and insists that he really really really wouldn't ever go farther than that…! probably. ▸ epel getting into yet another fistfight for you is something you’ve grown unfortunately used to. you’re frankly convinced he outright wants you to see at this point, maybe in some misconceived idea it’ll make you think he’s tough, with the way he runs up to you like a puppy expecting praise afterwards. he’ll be torn if you fuss over him afterwards—on one hand, he wants you to think he’s tough and your coddling doesn’t really give the impression that you understand that, but it feels really, really nice when your attention is focused on only him. but as unrestrained as epel is, he’s not particularly dangerous. if you seem really put off by his actions, he might even rein it in a little (vil is glad for your cooperation, even if that wasn’t your intention). he’s more preoccupied with earning your attention and approval than he is with stuff like keeping other suitors away from you. ▸ i just think it’d be really funny if despite everything about him, rook is one of the most harmless. he’s the type of yandere to have a shrine (it’s not in his closet because he has no shame) and have his room covered in notes about you but who’d never actually kill someone. he’s also… the type who enjoys and loves everything about you. to rook, the journey is more important than the destination, and that includes you. the you on your own, the you around your friends (not that they’ll stick around too much once they notice rook), and the you around him are all different and equally worth loving. he’s not exactly shy about his stalking either, but once you get used to his constant presence, it doesn’t really get worse. maybe a little more intense, but not worse. he’s fine with pretty much any way you want to treat him, too—whether you treat him like a beloved pet or a plaything or act like you don’t know or notice him, he’ll love you all the same. forever.

holds themselves back… but not because of ethics ▸ when trey thinks about the future he wants with you, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like to be so wholly engrossed in each other that everything else might as well not exist. unfortunately, the two of you live in real life and not in a fairy tale, so he’s settled for the idea of eventually settling down and growing old with you. it’s… not entirely ethics that holds him back. he’s aware that most of the urges he gets when he sees you around others or when he sees you get hurt in someway are immoral, and he reigns himself in. aside from some people in your life suddenly finding it odd how the ever dependable senior suddenly doesn’t seem to like them much and has been giving them the cold shoulder, most people are very unlikely to realise there’s anything off about trey… including you. just let him be your normal (if fairly fussy) boyfriend, okay? and if he occasionally slips a bit of a sleeping potion into your food and masks the taste with his unique magic so you end up staying the night just so he can spend a little more time with you… that can be his little secret. ▸ it's definitely not ethics that holds ruggie back, but it would be a serious problem if he gets caught killing someone. or even just gets particularly violent with someone else. he'd do it in a heartbeat, especially for you (especially if you asked him), don't get him wrong, but, well— if he goes to jail, he's fucking his family over. if he goes to jail, he won't be able to provide for you in the future—or have any sort of relationship with you. his resolve might waver if you were to actually ask, but even then he’s determined to stick to actions he can reasonably get away with. it's not uncommon for him to use laugh with me to embarrass any guys he thinks are getting too close to you though, and it's not too hard to be discreet with his unique magic when someone really deserves to fall face down a flight of stairs. or three. oopsie. odd they don't remember it, huh? well, he had nothing to do with that. ▸ jamil is a bit more restrained. murder is fine (it’s definitely not his first resort, but it’s there as an option if he really needs it—he did kind of try to kill five people, even if it was during his overblot), but using snake whisper is just so much more convenient… most of the time. due to his position as a servant of kalim, he has to carefully consider any actions he takes unless he wants there to be dire consequences for his family. unfortunately for him, this means he can’t just beat up anyone getting too close to you no matter how much he may feel like it. his unique magic does work well for him here though—and he’s not opposed to using more force if there’s a good reason (like impressing you and getting complimented by y—ehem. making sure your bullies won’t bother you again). the one person he’d rather not use his unique magic on is you. what he likes so much about you is that you’re choosing him of your own volition, and that’s worth more than any force could get him.

not the worst, but… ▸ azul tries really, really hard to keep everything he does behind your back, well. behind your back. he doesn't usually get his own hands dirty, but it would be a serious problem if you found out about the students he's been tricking into unfair contracts just because he got jealous. and it'd be one thing if it ended there, but more than that… if anyone hurts you, the tweels haven't amassed a certain reputation for nothing. if azul’s this fond of you, there’s a very high chance they’re familiar with you as well—and even if they weren’t, azul being jealous enough to send them after people that aren’t even remotely threatening your relationship is amusing enough for them to comply. he won’t go too far though, no matter how envious he may get. ruining someone’s reputation, having the twins beat them up or tricking them into unfair deals is one thing, but even someone like azul wouldn’t resort to cold-blooded murder. ▸ remember when vil, pretty lucid, tried to poison neige? yeah. with his unique magic and social standing, it would be really easy to get rid of anyone causing you issues. of course, with you being aware of his unique magic, he’d have to be careful to make sure you don’t realise, so it’s something he’d reserve for only actual emergencies. it’s also a lot easier to abuse his influence and fame to keep others away from you, whether it’s by threatening them himself or getting others to do his dirty work for him. when it comes to you and keeping your attention on him, he finds it much more rewarding to keep working on himself to meet your standards and doting on you even much than he already does. keep your eyes on him and only on him, won’t you? he’ll make it worth your while. ▸ idia, as a yandere, is incredibly desperate. he’s already perfectly content (well, not perfectly, but content enough) to just watch you through his screen and maybe chat with you online (with your anonymous pal who you definitely don’t know irl, of course), so if he gets lucky enough to be with you for real, there’s very little he won’t be willing to do to ensure it stays that way. in practice this means trying to appeal to you more than anything else; if you seem even the slightest bit unhappy with him, he’s desperately trying to fix it immediately. do you think he’s too offputting? he’ll cover his mouth and hair and— are you mad because he tried to convince you to ditch your friends and just stay with him again? he’s sorry! he doesn’t have an excuse, he’s just scared that you’ll realise you could do so much better and don’t like him that much after all. sometimes he thinks about how he definitely has the resources for more forceful and permanent measures, but then you smile at him, or tell him his smile is pretty, or run your fingers through his hair, or laugh at a comment he made and his mind goes blank and gives him a 404 error. there’s no way he could ever give that up just for some measly certainty… though the same can’t be said for those who he gets too jealous of or those who hurt you. not that you need to know that.

not needlessly violent ▸ sebek is… very enthusiastic about the things he dedicates himself to. this includes you. if you thought his devotion to malleus was excessive, it’s even worse when it comes to you. while he has no personal issues with fighting if it means protecting you (whether that protecting includes only actual threats is debatable), he takes pride in his position as malleus’ retainer. this means that no matter how he feels, he has to consider how his actions would make briar valley and his lord look. he also doesn’t really get jealous. instead (and this is almost worse), he has his own idea of how everyone else should treat you and he does get aggressive with others if he doesn’t think they’re treating you right. you deserve a heavy amount of respect and he finds it very aggravating when others don’t give you that (see: treat you like a regular person). he’s not subtle either—if anything, going behind your back on this would go against his values. he wants to be useful to you!!! he wants you to know how much he cares and how you’re superior and the one with all the power in this relationship!!! the good thing is he listens to everything to ask of him, no matter how ridiculous he finds you insisting you prefer being treated casually by your friends and peers. ▸ silver, while less outwardly enthusiastic, is no less devoted. he doesn’t really get jealous (there’s a dull ache in his chest when he sees you with others and thinks about the possibility of someone being more important to you than you are to him, but that’s not jealousy, right?), and he’s fairly realistic about what counts as a threat to you and what doesn’t. the problem is that as soon as something crosses that threshold, he’s drawing his wand (or baton. or sword. he’s trained and prepared with all three). it’s almost scarier than if he were enjoying it, because you have absolutely no clue how far he’s willing to go for your safety—or if he even has any limits when it comes to you. he has a rather twisted view on relationships, and that extends to you. you’ve been so kind and accommodating and caring, and he needs to repay you for that. he’s insistent on serving you, because his entire self worth (and by extension any care you’ve gracefully granted him) relies on being useful. also doesn’t really see himself as your proper equal, though he’s less aware of this compared to sebek, and also listens well to just about anything you ask of him. if it’s for you, he’d do anything. ▸ you have a very different definition of "not needlessly violent" than lilia, but it’s at least true he doesn’t go around picking fights. he's not bothered at all by baby chicks clinging too close to you. if anything, he might pop into the conversation and agree with them—you are great and wonderful and adorable and so much more! it makes the conversation kind of awkward, and whoever you were talking to might not seek you out as much afterwards, but beyond teasing you there's never any indication that he goes any further. of course, violence is something he’s been very accustomed to over his long life, so when someone actually hurts you he has no issue with getting the message across in a more… drastic way. as soon as he's done, he's right back to coddling you. they won't be repeating the same mistake again, so don't worry too much about it and stick close to him from now on, okay?

very needlessly violent ▸ violent probably isn’t the best way to describe leona, but he doesn’t hold back when it comes to you. what, you think he’s just going to sit back and let you go? you’re the best thing that’s happened to him, like hell he’s going to not put in the proper effort in keeping you. …even if you’re not sure if you entirely agree with the sentiment. he gets jealous very often, so it’s common to see him glowering and scaring off anyone he deems too close to you. there’s no need to go further when he knows they’ll leave you both alone afterwards, but the threat only works as well as it does because he has both the magical prowess and social influence to make good on his promises. he’ll insist he doesn’t see them as threats so much as pests hanging around and leeching off of you, but there’s some part of him deep down that’s scared you’ll decide you like someone else better after all. he’s not sure he could take even you leaving him. any actual danger to you is also dealt with quickly, and while he doesn’t want to threaten you into it, you won’t have an easy time abandoning him even if you try. you were the one who wormed your way into his life—you don’t get to leave now. ▸ yeah. lol. the tweels are very, very needlessly violent. perhaps not the most Dangerous in the grand scale, but almost definitely some of the most unpleasant. for their victims, at any rate—though they do occasionally (or not so occasionally) nearly give you a heart attack. they’d never seriously harm you though… probably. or actually kill anyone. right…? floyd tends to be the most immediately dangerous. he’s quick to turn to violence (and to get a little too into it) when you’re involved, even more than usual. someone’s bothering you? someone’s getting a bit too close to you in his opinion? you just want him to? you’re not paying enough attention to him and he knows this’ll get your focus back on him, where it should be? :) he’s not too hard to pacify, at least when it’s you offering to let him rest on your lap or offering to spend the whole day with him. jade is usually clocked as less dangerous than floyd, but. well. you know that line he says when he ruminates on how he’d react if betrayed? yeah. unlike floyd, who’s very open about his misdeeds, you’re not actually sure what jade does behind your back. you don’t want to know. the way some people in your life pale and flee at the sight of you, the way you don’t see some of them again at all, and the way jade smiles when this happens tells you all you need to know. what would happen if you betrayed him? fufu, you’d never do that so there’s no need to worry about it. ▸ didn't he attempt to blow up the school once… 💀 yeah, as cute as ortho is he's not exactly built with too many stop guards. the good news is he's easy to dissuade! the bad news is he's also very quick to escalate to really ridiculous levels. you're his older sibling, it's only natural he'd want to protect you! are you sure you don't need him to blow them up? chances are the threat alone worked well enough to deter anyone from messing with you again. you might want to have a conversation with idia about limiting some of ortho's abilities though because his enthusiasm… is a little very concerning… he does get a little jealous occasionally, but it's much easier to insert himself in the conversation and steal your attention that way. isn't your little brother cute? won't you focus some more on him? please?

▸ malleus is… malleus. violence isn’t his first resort, largely because it just… doesn’t need to be. he’s one of the five most powerful mages in the entire world. that title alone is enough to scare off anyone who’d mean to hurt you or is getting too close to you, so he rarely has to intervene in the first place. he also doesn’t mind you having other friends (though he does get lonely in your absence… make sure to make it up to him afterwards), so he really only steps in when you’re in danger. he’s not particularly worried about getting caught by you, because he’s so out of touch that it doesn’t occur to him that you may not appreciate him turning anyone who hurt you into ashes. if anything, he enjoys showing off how capable of keeping you safe he is. he’s defending you, who he cares about most in the world; why would that upset you? if you try to spin it as being worried about him getting into trouble for killing someone, he’ll be very pleased you’re worried about him instead. the only thing that would crack his calm attitude is any sort of reminder that he will long, long outlive you… but it’s best not to dwell on that. fret not, he won’t ever let you go.

[oceansblvds]

petals ; coriolanus snow

pairing ; coriolanus snow x reader

words ; 1.7k

about ; "The harshness and brazen demeanor that enveloped him when you were around seemed to melt away with time, this certain activity that the two of you engaged in became more of a delightful reprieve than something to do to release tension."

warning(s) ; smut, fingering, p in v sex, not edited, just a short blurb kinda?

authors note ; hello! this is me putting myself out there as a snow writer bc im obsessed with tom blyth. so anyways. please feel free to request fics or headcanons or blurbs! i hope u enjoy :)

Life in the Capital was nothing but lavish for you. 

With your family’s status, extravagant balls were somewhat a staple in your life, along with all the beautiful shoes that you wore as you walked your way into the academy, or the five star meals you were allowed to eat every night. You didn’t know how to be poor, it simply wasn’t in your blood to have anything less than what your life offered you. And that was incredibly obvious for the way that you held yourself in the presence of others. Having been groomed by your mother and father to be the perfect heir to their fortune, they didn’t expect anything less than you. You were beautiful, you were intelligent, and you knew how to control a situation and a conversation as if it was the back of your hand. 

And that simply aggravated him. 

He wasn’t sure when it had really started, this loathing for you. Perhaps it was when you purposely had him suspected of cheating on a test when you two were in your first year of the Academy, or perhaps it was the fact that you knew that he hadn’t cheated, you were simply intimidated by his intelligence. Wherever you stood academically, Coriolanus was always on your heels, just behind you clawing at your back to get ahead of you in anything. And sometimes he did manage to do better than you, and that was when he felt the most happy around you. When you were an absolute mess, a stupid look on your face as you tried to come up with an excuse as to why you didn’t do as well as him. Oh, that was where he was happiest. But he hated you, he loathed you. At least that’s what he told himself in the midst of his obsessive fixations about you, how he would sit alone in his bed at night in his run down home and think about the fact that you were probably eating your second meal of the night and you were going to sleep in silk sheets that got changed every single week. 

And that simply aggravated you. 

How he always assumed that the only reason why you were as intelligent as you were was because of your family. You didn’t know that he was actually secretly poor, but regardless of it, the Snow's wealth had never reached the high peak that yours did in the past. That much was obvious, you could see it in the way that he dressed himself that he was lesser in status. And you took every opportunity to remind him of it, every single breath that was spent around him was an insult, a jab, trying your best to get into his head. And he did much of the same. You two hated each other, it had always been that way and it would always stay that way. 

That was, until the two of you had been paired up for a project together. Something about how to better raise attention for the Hunger Games, how to make them more enjoyable. You two had been at your house when you prepared for it together, the slight arrogance in your heart not even noticing the way that he had completely dodged all your questions about working at his place. It had gotten late, and despite the normal amount of bickering between the two of you, the bickering turned into a crude form of flirting. He said that your mouth could be used for such better things rather than to insult him the way that you did, and you were desperate to prove to him wrong. You wouldn’t fall for the flirtations of Coriolanus Snow, you were so sure of it. But soon enough, his lips were on yours and your clothes were on the expensive carpet of your room and you two had your limbs tangled in the silk sheets. A month passed, and like clockwork, the two of you would end up with each other with your clothes off. It didn’t matter the reason or the place, it always happened. 

He pushed you into the cold, almost sterile lab table, muttering something under his breath about how he only had a few minutes before he needed to go to lunch. You laughed, the sound getting cut off by his lips placing themselves on your own, like they always did. His kisses were bruising, like he was trying to prove something, and maybe he was. The harshness and brazen demeanor that enveloped him when you were around seemed to melt away with time, this certain activity that the two of you engaged in became more of a delightful reprieve than something to do to release tension. You paid no mind to it. 

“Then you better make those few minutes worth it,” You whispered, taking note of the footsteps that you could hear from outside the door. This wasn’t the first time that you had snuck around in the University, but every time it did fill you with a sense of urgency to get things started lest the two of you be caught. 

Coriolanus let out a chuckle. “I always do.” His lips pressed to the skin of your throat, teeth grazing against your pulse point before sucking on it loosely, enough to make a mark for only a moment. 

Cheeky. You thought to yourself, your hands finding refuge in his blonde hair, certain tufts of it retaining the curliness that you had known them to have during your time at the Academy. You pulled him closer, ever so closer, like you didn’t want to let him go. His hands helped to lift you up onto the lab table, your legs opening and his body slotting in between them, a perfect practiced dance. The University uniform was much more relaxed than the Academy’s was, a low cut black skirt making for easy access during these moments in between classes and lunch. His hips grinded against yours for only a moment, a gasp escaping your lips that was captured by another searing hot kiss, enough to know that he was telling you to be quiet. He continued to kiss you as his hand came down under your skirt, fingertips ghosting against your inner thighs before reaching where you wanted him most. 

He was met with a wet, sticky mess, an after effect of the fact that the two of you hadn’t fucked in over a week. Despite all of his brain power wanting to tease you for it, he found himself keeping this as a silent victory, the pad of his thumb coming in contact with your clit, slipping one finger in and curling it. You arched your back forward only slightly, already conveying the message that you wanted him inside you already. “Patience,” He whispered. 

You whined. He was the one who wanted to go to lunch anyways, and now he was stringing you along? You had half a mind to fight back, but the words died in your throat as he added a second finger, slipping in almost effortlessly. He continued to pump them in and out at a languid pace, his left hand holding your waist so that you couldn’t move. He was keeping the rhythm, not you. All the while his thumb kept rubbing against your clit, making you a squirming mess in his hands like putty. 

“Coriolanus,” You breathed. “Come on, please.” 

He hummed in response, acting as if he didn’t hear you. But he did, because soon enough he was withdrawing his fingers, hands working to free himself from his neatly pressed pants, his cock springing free in a matter of seconds. You wrapped your hands around his neck, his face coming into the crook of your own as he guided himself towards your entrance, the tip of his cock grazing as if to tease, before sheathing itself in. Once he bottomed out, he already started a fast rhythm, giving you little to no time to adjust. but you were so needy you didn’t care, not one bit because he was making you feel so good that you wished for this moment to last forever. and you were already so wet and willing, Coriolanus couldn’t wait a second longer. 

If he was tired from staying up all night to finish homework and studies, he didn’t even show it. Coriolanus fucked into you with such a frenzy that it was almost animalistic, which made you wonder how much energy this man possibly had. What you didn’t know was it was your moans what were spurring him on, your moans that kept him going. And you loved it so much that you couldn’t think straight. all you could do was try and keep yourself still, words stringing together into barely put together sentences of oh fuck yes and that feels so good. It was a moment of such pure bliss that you didn’t even feel yourself start to clench around him, noticing it finally when you felt every inch of him scrape against your willing walls, bringing you closer to that cliff into a sea of pleasure that only he could give you. What finally made you break was the groans that he was making, which were hot and heavy and like heaven to your ears that you knew you would be playing on repeat before you went to sleep tonight. 

His hand slipped between your legs, pressing up against your swollen clit and that was it. You were sent into a state of pure, fucked out bliss as you came around him, your moans being muffled by the shirt he was wearing, your mouth pressed against it to try and stifle all your noises in the moment. With a few more demanding thrusts, Coriolanus was spilling himself inside of you, a groan of contentment falling from his lips as his head dropped to your shoulder. Your legs were still wrapped around him, shaking from the change of pace, relishing in the moment that the two of you were sharing together. You barely had any time to refocus yourself before he was pulling out, a few remnants of his cum dripping out of you that you saved by pushing your underwear back into place. 

“Lunch better still be in the cafeteria,” He spoke, zipping up his pants and latching his belt. “If it’s not, you’re buying dinner tonight.” 

You cocked your head to the side. “Dinner?” Usually you two would never go out together. But before he answered, Coriolanus had already left the room. 

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I  𝑴𝒖𝒔𝒆

╰┈➤ ❝ rafayel x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : pwp (without plot), softdom!rafayel, but also kiiind of switch!rafayel, kissing and making out, teasing, guided masturbation, inappropriate use of a paintbrush, clit play, nipple play, slight overstimulation, slight edging if you squint, thigh riding, praise, cursing, dirty talk, use of pet names "my muse" "princess" "baby", lmk if i missed any tags !! ((unedited))

wc : 3.2k

taglist : @zaynesaurora @darlingdummycassandra (+ @seaofgoldensand mwah) | sign up here!

an : guys bc ,,,,,, i swear you never truly realize how daunting it can be to act as an impromptu live model for someone.. until you try it...

You underestimate the intimacy of eye-contact.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

There was nothing but silence in the air, only occasionally interrupted by a tap of his shoe on the floor, or a squeaking of the chair when he moved. There was the tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall, and the faint, hushed sound of delicste brushstrokes on the canvas...

These were the only things you could focus on, if not at the way that he looked at you.

Rafayel's stare was intense.

Anytime he would shift his gaze from the canvas and back to you; anytime you'd catch the way his eyes would take in the shape of your figure...

You wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt; this was just part of the process. He was only being professional, after all—of course an artist needed to look at his model!

...But it was less about what he felt; this was something that you, yourself couldn't take.

"Eyes up here, princess," came his voice, the familiar sing-songy tone to it triggering a bout of butterflies.

You were torn, somewhat.

You wished you could wipe that knowing smile right off of his face, but simultaneously felt that you could cave underneath even just that stupid, stupid gaze of his.

...And you knew that you had brought this upon yourself.

Whatever bickering had started with his whine about a "lack of inspiration" and a roll of your eyes in response, had settled with you offering to be his model.

You even recalled how surprised he was, the concern that etched on his features—

"Hm? But it could take a while, you know. Might be uncomfortable for you to sit for so long."

You figured it couldn't hurt. You were willing to get through it if it meant finally bringing your partner out of his rut, and in turn, his willingness to paint you—when he had sworn that portraits were never even his thing—felt like a little treat.

However, as much as you believed you'd have the upper hand in this situation, you severely underestimated it.

Now, you sat atop a cushioned chair, assuming a position you were comfortable with holding for a time unspecified. You donned normal, unnassuming clothing, just your everyday top and jeans. And in front of you sat a painter and his canvas, his hands moving tastefully over the piece he crafted, a certain twinkle in his eye that already had you reeling.

Rafayel was painting you, and by all means did nothing about this set up look the least bit intimate to either of you—

But you felt like it was.

It was a private moment, just the two if you in this room, gazes meeting with an intensity that made you want to squeeze something.

You didn't know if you had to owe it to how attractive he was, but staying like this, with nothing else to focus your attention on, you could only notice how pretty he was. Soft, layered hair so perfectly styled into place, his signature low-cut shirt framing his figure so nicely...

And his eyes.

God, his eyes.

Rafayel had the most captivating eyes you'd ever seen—A mix of a deep magenta and cerise, of mulberry and wine... So unrelenting in their allure that though the intensity had your heart beating wildly in your chest, you could never, for the life of you, ever tear your gaze away.

It was visceral.

It sent a tingle down your spine.

You could curse all the memories that would flood to your head just because of it, those images and sensations of your nights together. The way he'd look at you, with lust, and love, such passion imbued with every roll of his hips against yours... This wasn't the time to be thinking of such things, you knew that. They brought an obvious hue of pink to your cheeks that you knew he'd notice, but you almost couldn't help it—

Was a siren's allure truly so confining?

You had nowhere to run.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you could almost think this was...

Intentional.

"Little muse, you're blushing."

If you thought it couldn't get any worse, you were clearly wrong.

Rafayel's brushstrokes had paused, and the mirth that danced in his eyes set off all the warning bells that your brain could manage.

"...Shut up, you're imagining things," you mumbled, willing youself to turn your head away from him.

"Ah ah ah~ I'm not done yet, don't move, princess."

And to think that when you'd started, he'd been concerned for you.

Despite yourself, you fidgeted in your seat.

You couldn't take any more of this.

You'd been at it for close to an hour by now, the silence, the staring, the butterflies—

A slight shift in your position made you painfully aware of the wetness that had pooled between your thighs, and you wanted to crawl into a cave.

"Hey. You tired?"

Rafayel was searching your expression, reading you.

It wasn't helping.

"N-no," you managed to nearly choke out, your obvious fluster making your cheeks feel warmer.

And in all this time that you've known him, been with him—you knew that he could put two and two together.

A smirk spread over his features.

You were in for it.

"I'll allow some movement," he hummed, setting his brush down momentarily, "but it looks like you want something a little more... specific..."

"Rafayel, if you don't shut up—"

He grinned.

"Why? We can take a break, yeah? I'm just giving you free space to do as you want."

You watched his eyes rake over your figure, lingering over the way your legs were pressed more tightly together than you'd started with.

"Don't tell me you need me to guide you, princess..."

You wished you could slap that smile off his face.

Rafayel folded his arms, leaning back a little. The shine in his eyes didn't budge even a millimeter; his gaze remained steely on you.

"You know, if I didn't know any better, my muse, I'd say you've gotten a little needy."

You didn't know why you bothered to stay put in your seat, when the paintbrush was not even in his hands anymore.

And he noticed.

"Yeah? I'm right, aren't I?" he chuckled. "So why don't you release some of your stress before we continue? Since you're not getting up, you might as well do something for my motivation..."

The way he gestured towards the canvas, wearing that infuriating little smirk of his, had the heat rushing to your face.

"As if you could take watching me touch myself," you shot back, mirroring his pose and crossing your arms.

You cheered in silent victory at the momentary lapse in his expression, though it settled back into his smile within seconds.

"Mmn... Then we'll have to do something about that later, if it comes to it," he shrugged. "But this is about you, princess."

For a while there was no response from either of you, just staring silently at each other, daring one to make a move—

Until his gaze made you squirm, and he let out a snort.

"Oh, princess..." he started, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I'm not going to touch you when I still intend to get back to finishing this piece. So if you want to use our little break to do something about this... You'll have to do it yourself. Come on, now. Undress for me, yeah?"

He was infuriating.

A menace.

This was karma for all the times you've rendered him speechless, and he was enjoying it.

You clicked your tongue, the challenge in your eyes winning over the embarrassment that stirred in the pit of your stomach.

"Fine! Don't blame me if you'll never finish that painting..."

Frustrated though you might have been, and perhaps, ever determined to pay back his teasing, the look in his eyes remained bewitching.

It was foul play.

Your fingers trembled as you deftly pushed your panties to the side, your jeans kicked down to your ankles, your legs spread. Rafayel had seen you—used you—many times before... But there was something unnervingly intimate about doing this for him, when he was a number of laces away from you, watching, observing.

It was as if you were... a show.

"You're dripping," he commented, voice quiet and low, unable to keep himself from leaning forward as if to get a better look at you.

His words sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. You could only shoot him a glare, your blush betraying otherwise the effect that his heated gaze on you had.

"Go ahead, princess... I bet you're aching to be touched."

You almost didn't want to admit it, the way his voice played in your ear so sweetly that your heart could simply burst out of your chest. He made you weak, and you could barely think straight, and he could... see it all.

You chewed on your lip, shakily dipping a finger just barely into your heat, sliding up between your folds with a trail of obvious slick left in its wake.

"Shit..." you cursed under your breath.

You were almost scared to look back up at him, knowing you'd see those god-foresaken eyes again, so heated as they took in your every movement, your every action—

"That's it, princess," Rafayel murmured. "Play with yourself. Rub your clit for me, yeah?"

Your eyes closed as you found yourself doing exactly as you were told.

Soft pants fell from your lips, your middle finger drawing upwards to circle your sensitive nub. Just slow, gentle rubs, easing you into a rhythm of pleasure... You dared to open your eyes, catching the way his gaze remained fixated on your movements, his own eyes darkening, his lips parted slightly.

"You're so wet, baby..." His voice was hoarse now, clearly just as affected by the situation as you were. "Can you put a finger in? Please?"

Your features schooled into a small smile; victorious, in a way, despite your own obvious display of need. "But, why, Rafa?" you teased. "I don't wanna rush..."

The groan that he let out was delicious, and your eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

"C'mon, princess... I wanna see. Do it for me? Just one finger, yeah?"

"You're so easy to get all worked up, Rafa~" you found yourself cooing at him, taking note of his flushed cheeks, the heat in his eyes mirroring your own.You were the one touching yourself, and yet, he was the one begging. It was amusing, in a sense—how just the simplest things reduced him to this sort of mess.

"Just a little taste of your own medicine," you quipped.

But you did as he said, anyway.

The first push of a finger into your cunt had you moaning. The glide was easy, smooth, your walls accepting of your own intrusion, almost aching for even more.

"Fuck... that's it, baby, in and out, just like that."

It was almost amusing to hear him speak that way, so enraptured by the way you pleasured yourself, lost in the thought of you coming undone right in front of him. You didn't need his words of guidance; you knew exactly which spots had you keening, how to gradually bring yourself over the edge. Yet, he would still offer up words of such praise to you anyway, guiding you, telling you what to do, how to please yourself.

And there was something, just something, about the rawness in his voice that got to you.

Your eyes met as you began to buck your hips into your hand, sliding against the cushion, willing to give yourself more stimulation. Your breath fell out in puffs of quick pants, your heart rate accelerating, the pierce in his gaze so daunting and intimidating, yet so... arousing.

"R-Rafayel..."

Your eyes went hazy, unable to bring yourself to turn away from the hypnotic quality of his gaze.

"Keep going, princess, I'm here."

Your fingers moved faster, curling into your heat, emphasizing the obscene sounds of wetness that filled the studio. Your thumb moveed over to brush your clit, your other hand gripping the seat impossibly tighter, and then—

"R-Rafa!" You threw your head back, hips stuttering. "I-I'm close!"

In your peripheral vision you could see him lick his lips, his voice coming out hoarse, full of want. "Yeah? You are, huh? Come on, princess, just a little more. Work those fingers for me."

His words proved enough.

"Shit—fuck—!" A string of curses left your lips. You felt it as the pleasure rolled through your body, eliciting a gasp, causing you to nearly double over.

"There we go. Such a pretty little muse. That expression on your face is beautiful."

His words soothed you from your high, a gentle coo of praise as you took your fingers from out of your wetness. When you looked up at him, he was smiling, hand outstretched as if to beckon you. "C'mere, princess. You did so well for me, let me taste those pretty fingers of yours."

You almost clapped back at him, as if the urge to bicker—to one-up him—rose up just by instinct. Yet, there were those eyes again. That particular look that was magnetizing. It was more than a beckon. It felt like an allure. You were almost certain you'd moved on your own, slow steps into his arms, gently allowing yourself to be pulled onto his lap, the glisten from your earlier orgasm immediately coating the fabric of his pants.

He did as he promised, guiding your fingers into his mouth, looking straight at you with eyes full of lust. His tongue swirled over the pads of your fingers, and you twisted them for him. Watching him suck on your digits, slowly moving them in and out, promising him the taste he so desperately wanted... before you pulled them away with a wet pop.

"Give me one more," he whispered immediately, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "One more, before I finish this painting. Think you can do that?"

You'd nearly forgotten about the painting. It was behind you, your back turned towards it, your eyes only focused on the man before you. You didn't look back—didn't need to, not now. Not when his offer was so... tempting.

"'Kay," you mumbled. Your response was just as instant, your hips moving to glide over his thigh.

But he smirked.

A hand went to your back to support you, hold you in place, and your eyes widened when a clean, unused paintbrush found its way into his other hand.

"R- Rafayel...?"

"Just want to have a little bit of fun," he said breezily, gently trailing the brush from your jawline, all the way down over your collarbone. The sensation made you shiver. "Go on, princess. Don't mind me..."

Don't mind me.

He had the audacity to say that as he let you move all over his thigh, the bristles of his brush leaving a trail of goosebumps with every little stroke on your skin. Just light, feathery, teasing flicks, enough to add to your stimulation... It felt nice, and you'd never admit it to his face, but you could fold.

"You'd be so lovely to paint, look at you," he murmured. And he enjoyed the way your body jolted at his words, the chuckle enough of a testament. "Yeah? You like that idea, don't you, princess? Next time, maybe, I can have even more fun with you..."

The paintbrush began to venture lower, flicking against your nipples.

Your eyes went wide.

"W-wait—!" You gasped, gripping his shoulders, feeling him repeat the motions. Again, and again—the brush circled around your pert, sensitive nub, his gaze turning thoughtful, his little tool giving you more sensations than you knew were even possible.

"Hm? What's wrong?"

It acted like a soft caress, one so foreign to you that it made your head spin.

And he didn't dare stop there.

He must have gotten incredibly worked up, you thought, as he stilled your hips and leaned you back. You could guess where things were going; the way his hand supported your back from toppling into the canvas was firm and determined, your position already having your dripping cunt a little bit more on display for him.

"Look at me, princess," he whispered.

And you felt it—the paintbrush gliding lower and lower, gentle strokes over the skin of your abdomen, pausing just above your clit.

Your breath hitched.

Anticipation hung in the air, your eyes barely managing to stay locked onto his as your face seemed to fume with embarrassment.

"Rafayel," you huffed. "Seriously, you...!"

He circled the brush, a smirk tugging on his features. Feathery bristles brushed against you clit, and you let out a cry. There was a pattern, almost: he'd move the brush gently down the side of your folds, fluttering back up to your nub, pressing against it with a certain kind pressure he knew you always loved... Teasing, always teasing, never lingering for too long in a single spot.

It had you moaning almost immediately.

"What was that, my muse?" he grinned.

You'd never wanted to slap that expression off of his face any more than you did now, yet he had you helpless. You felt like putty in his hands, melting with every movement of his little brush, your thighs tensing over his. You didn't even need to move, anymore; the sensitivity from your previous orgasm had your senses heightening scarily quick, the coil steadily beginning to tighten in your stomach.

It felt as if he'd barely been doing anything.

Just that goddamned brush teasing you in all the right places, flicking against your clit, as he watched you clench around nothing.

"Please!" you swallowed your pride down deep enough to beg, the look in your eyes harboring a frustrated glare of want. "Stop teasing, Rafa, I need...!"

"Yeah? Need what, hm?"

Oh, he was having fun.

"N-need to cum! Need... Need something, Rafa, c'mon—!"

The brush set back aside, and he kissed you.

All tongue, even teeth, just messy, and deep, a pure display of the lust that had taken both of you hostage. His hands were in your hair, your body pressed so close against him, hips beginning to move again over his thigh. A few more soft, hushed, groans, and wet noises of passion, and you were gone.

You felt it snap, pulling back from the kiss only to fall forward onto his shoulder, muffling your moans into his shirt. It was insane, you thought, how he could rip out such a visceral reaction from you, a pleasure so overwhelming as you squeeze your legs over his thigh.

Easing you down, he rubbed soothing circles into your back, hushed words of praise tumbling from his lips.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

"My perfect little muse, so pretty, so beautiful," he sighed, hugging you close. "I can't wait to paint all your greedy desires onto my canvas."

⁺₊ / an: phew!! overdue and i feel like this isn't my best best work, but it doesss represent the chokehold this fish has on me 🙄 a girl's just gotta satisfy her rafayel cravings i guess!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[rubra-wav]

how do you think Hazbin Hotel characters would react to a demon with butterfly wings?

The main Hazbin cast x Butterfly demon reader

Part 2 >

A/N: This wasn't really specific with what charas specifically, so I'm just doing the main cast. I'll do a part 2 with more characters, though, if it's wanted (sorry)

Reader's wings are written as colourful and proportionate to their body, so they are pretty big.

Realised there's a 10 image limit per post, which is bs. Isn't how i normally would have liked it to be aesthetically bc of that 👎

Cw: Sfw, slightly suggestive stuff in Angel's, reference to decapitation and cannibalism 💀, kinda a bit angsty in Angel's and Vaggie's, gn! Reader

Charlie

- Charlie would be absolutely delighted by you, no doubt about it.

- She wants nothing more than to be in a place that's vividly colourful and (assuming reader is a somewhat colourful butterfly demon) you'd be that for her.

- She also probably just really really likes butterflies in general though, let's be real.

- I can imagine her just staring at your wings with absolutely starry eyes while complimenting them.

- "They're so pretty ohhh my gosh!"

- I imagine her being lightly jealous, she'd love to have wings like a butterfly.

- Would probably ask if she can touch, and look somewhat sad when told no due to how it would cause your scales to come off. (Assuming reader's wings are the same as normal butterfly wings)

- It may get somewhat uncomfortable if you don't like attention, she would definitely fixate heavily on them. Tell her to stop though and it's making you feel weird and she will tone it down though.

- If not, though, enjoy the attention you're gonna be getting from Charlie over them.

Vaggie

- Vaggie would likely be a bit uncomfortable about seeing demons with wings in general due to her history - let alone you with beautiful, delicate ones.

- I think she'd secretly be hiding some angst and jealously about your wings ngl.

- When she sees Charlie fawning over them though oh boy.

- Yeah she's not gonna be happy about them then. She doesn't blame you or anything for how she's feeling as it's her issue and she knows that, but it still hurts quite a bit - especially in the beginning.

- It gets less and less bad though the more she gets used to it, she kind of just becomes 'meh' about it - especially if you ask Charlie to stop being so gaga about them.

- When she gets her wings back, though, I think she'd come to think they are cool. A normal level appreciation though.

- I can half see you two helping each other out with your wings down the line if you two get closer though.

- There are some things that come with upkeep so wings don't become damaged and stuff, so the people who also have wings? Allies 100%.

Angel

- I'm gonna be fr, the first time your wings come out he's probably gonna be panicked due to his baggage.

- Especially if it happens when you're angry.

- He's probably gonna need reassurance you aren't gonna try hurt him tbh.

- As sad as it is, his trauma would definitely play a part in his initial perception of them.

- After he recovers a bit and stops immediately going into fight or flight and seeing you =/= Val though, the switch up is insane.

- He would be all over you about them.

- I can imagine him calling you a bunch of butterfly related petnames.

- If you remember the 'make those wings flap' comments he made about Husk, its gonna be that on a hundred.

- Even if it's just joking flirting about them, it's gonna be constant because he thinks they are beautiful and it's a lot of material considering you're a butterfly and he's a spider.

- I feel like he would touch them at some point without really thinking and pull his hand back to see your scales have rubbed off onto his hand and go ''oh shit.''

Husk

- I don't think he'd have much of a reaction to it at all - at least not initially.

- Of course he acknowledges that they are very pretty, but he won't comment upon it much at all unlike the others.

- Possibly may make reference to it when crafting bitter statements directed towards you, though.

- Down the line, if you grow closer to him, I can see him as actually being concerned about your wings.

- They are extremely eye-catching and unique for a being in hell, and due to that, it could lead demons to actively target you

- Whether with overt aggressive intentions to take your wings and sell them, or with more covert problems like you being scouted for modelling (ie. By Velvette)

- I can see Vaggie and you trying to set up a wing maintenance group and trying to include him in it. Him being vehemently against it to a level that's almost comedic.

- You eventually convince him even though he's complaining the whole way through it. (He is lying and actually enjoys it).

Pentious

- He wouldn't like them at all in the beginning.

- They're big and bulky and get in the way of everything, including him.

- The amount of times he's accidentally fallen due to 'tripping' on your giant ass wings is greatly irritating and embarrassing to him.

- Possibly thinks you keep trying to kill him by tripping him.

- Could also see his 'hair' (idk how to properly refer to it, haha), accidentally brushing up against your wings with how expressive it is and getting your scales all over him.

- Basically, he doesn't like them because he's clumsy but will take it out on you.

- I also get the vibe he'd be jealous because of how eye-catching they are.

- In his mind, if he had wings like that, then he'd surely have been acknowledged by the Vees in some way.

- If you change your habits with your wings to be conscious of him not being able to walk normally and start getting onto better terms, though, he will likely become appreciative of them and stop being so pissy about them.

- They are very cool looking to him, and once his poor attitude wears off about them, he'll come to admit that.

Alastor

- He'd actually be somewhat weary of you in the beginning.

- It's nature's law that creatures that do not bother to hide themselves are not to be messed with - especially in a place like hell of all places.

- When he sees that you just happen to be particularly colourful, he drops that, though.

- He'd honestly probably be thinking of what it would be like to eat a demon like you after confirming you are, in fact, not poisonous or dangerous at all.

- He doesn't much care all that much for the intrinsic beauty of things as long as they aren't utterly ugly, and as long as they aren't obnoxious and in your face.

- Depending on how bright and vibrant they are and how much attention you bring to them, he may actually dislike them.

- If not, though, he acknowledges they are nice to look at, but again, doesn't really care about them outside of theorising how they would be to eat.

- Would probably make comments about how he could "just eat your wings up," or ask you about how you taste just to try to freak you out.

Niffty

- When she sees them, her eyes grow wide in a mixture of surprise and awe. At the exact same time, an unhinged smirk spreads across her face.

- She then proceeds to leap at you, scissors or whatever sharp object is closest to her raised at your wings.

- She'd be absolutely trying to take a piece out of them for her 'collection' 💀

- You're gonna need medical attention after she's done with you because she's hellbent.

- Her obsessiveness over your wings would vary depending on your gender but either way, she'd be trying to get a piece of them for herself.

- Definitely abnormal level of appreciation of them in the absolute worst way.

- If you can get her to stop instantly trying to cut off parts of them, she's still constantly trying to touch them. You need to complain about your scales every damn time she tries to reach out to touch it without fail.

- it's like your wings are a beacon, and she's the insect gunning for it ironically.

[artingstarvist]

TGCF Vol 3 (eng), Chp. 43 - 44 (First "Kiss") Part 1 / 5 (next >)

First part of the comic is finally done! I chose this scene because I know the donghua/manhua will almost certainly censor it and also I feel like there's a lot of beautiful but also inaccurate depictions of this kiss and I just wanna do the full scene justice, including Xie Lian's reaction on the beach. I'm trying to stay as close to the novel as possible but some dialogue will be slightly altered to fit the flow of the comic. I should have planned it to be more vertically oriented to fit tumblr better but hell I don't actually know anything about making comics.

CW for those who don't know where this is going: The next part of this comic includes relatively non-consensual kissing. The purpose is the exchange of air & to keep the smoke spirit from entering, but Xie Lian does struggle against it in the beginning. If this might trigger or upset you, don't read any further.

A direct novel excerpt of this scene is under the cut.

[comic panel numbers] [1] It didn't take long before his throat itched, and that cloud of black smoke was retched back out! [2] Xie Lian covered his mouth with his sleeve, coughing nonstop and choked by tears. [3] His mind raced to find another countermeasure. Even after the cloud of black smoke was forcibly vomited out, it still swirled about and relentlessly clung to his body. [4] Xie Lian pushed himself onto the windowsill, raised himself up, and leapt into the lake outside. [5, 6] With a splash, Xie Lian plunged deep into the heart of the lake. [7] He held his breath, crossed his arms and legs, and assumed a meditative position, letting his body slowly sink to the bottom of that freezing lake. Once his heartbeat returned to normal, he looked up and could somewhat make out the black fog swirling above, blocking off the surface of the water. [8] Once he emerged, he'd have to gasp in a deep breath, and in doing so, he would surely suck the child spirit into his stomach. [9] A grown man with a fulsome baby bump wasn't the least bit funny to imagine. [10] However, his leap into the water had only been meant to give himself some time to think. It didn't take long for Xie Lian to come up with a counterattack. [11] So what if I swallow it? I'll just swallow Fangxin right after. [12] He'd learned that trick when performing on the streets. [13] Although it might hurt, whatever -- as long as the child spirit could be captured. [14] With his mind thus made up, Xie Lian released his arms and started swimming upward. [15, 16] A muffled sound of sloshing water came from above, and suddenly a vast expanse of burning, vivid crimson red flooded his vision. [17] A tangle of winding raven-black locks obscured his sight, though nothing could be seen through the splashing water and schools of air bubbles.

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

I finally came up with a request! Would you be able to write "Octatrio (separate) teaching reader how to swim" (inspired by the fact that I can't swim after a whole swim class and my family trying to teach me). I understand that Floyd's character is a little difficult to write, so if you need me to, I can request something different!

I love the Octotrio, they are along with Vil (my beloved) my favourite characters! I hope you enjoy this headcanon, especially since it's my first time writing for twisted

Teaching you how to swim

Characters: Azul, Jade and Floyd Established relationships, Reader is gender neutral

Azul Ashengrotto

When he learned that you couldn’t swim he was shocked to be honest.

He had just informed you that his mother would love for you and him to visit her and her husband in the Coral Sea so they could finally meet you. He left out the fact that his mom called you ‘the person that has our Azul wrapped around their finger’ you did not need to know the power you have over him.

Now don’t get me wrong, Azul is fully aware that not every land dweller is able to swim, but he just assumed that you would be able to.

Azul, being Azul, quickly tried to overplay his shock with a proposal (sadly not a marriage one).

He would teach you how to swim, if you swore to never bring up any of the baby pictures of him his mother was bound to show you once you were visiting her. Especially to the twins

This incentive made you giggle, he may have gotten slightly better with accepting his past self, but he still had a few hiccups about it. But of course you agreed, after all you wanted to meet the woman who raised your boyfriend! (and also wanted to see his baby pictured since they were bound to be adorable)

Now before he teaches you how to swim, he is learning things himself, obviously learning how to swim is very different if you grew up in the sea as an Octo-mer or are a normal human.

Azul wants to be sure he can be the best teacher possible for you so he throws himself into research, which of course makes him a big target for teasing from the twins.

When it comes to actually teaching you how to swim, no matter how nervous you are he will be 100 times more nervous.

Much to your disappointment he refuses to be in his octopus form while he teaches you how to swim.

But despite that he is an amazing teacher, making sure you are safe and that you understand everything.

If he has to touch you to correct your form, he will ask politely if he can do so, all while blushing furiously and dying from embarrassment on the inside.

With him as a teacher you get the hang of swimming rather fast and don’t need that many lessons, once you are able to swim fully on your own he will praise you for being such a good student.

Jade Leech

Unlike Azul he wasn’t shocked that you couldn’t swim, it was a small surprise sure, but nothing that would throw him off.

You told him you couldn’t swim when he told you about his plans to take you on a date in the ocean to look at Marine fungi (I googled they actually exist cause I was unsure lol) and then to go to the restaurant Azul’s mom owned.

Jade was quiet for a second after you told him, just looking at you which was rather unnerving to say the least.

He stared at you like that for a moment before giving you a close eyed smile “Well, we can’t have that can’t we my love?” he had his hand on his chin as he said that, still smiling.

You were just confused, what did he mean by that and why was he smiling like that? Despite dating him for a while his close eyed smile still was unnerving sometimes.

“I will just have to teach you how to swim. I would not want to go see the Marine fungi alone or with anyone else, so this is the only option, don't you agree?”

You just nodded, still somewhat confused. And that is how you found yourself in a pool alone with Jade a few days later. Did you want to know how he managed to get the pool to be empty for just the two of you? No.

He is in his human form, but he would change into his eel form if you wanted him too, but you may or may not have to beg for it.

Jade is not as good a teacher as Azul but still solid. He did not do research on how to teach humans how to swim, he just somehow knows how to.

 Also unlike Azul he isn’t embarrassed if he has to touch you to correct your form or to help you, on the contrary he will make you embarrassed.

He has his typical smile on his face as he holds you, and whispers in your ear, nothing dirty, just whispers about your swimming like what you can do better or what you are doing good, but it is enough to embarrass you and make you flustered.

 It takes a bit longer than with Azul for you to learn how to swim, mostly due to him flustering you nearly any chance he has, but he is still an adequate teacher.

Floyd Leech

You barely had the time to tell him you can’t swim until it was nearly too late.

He had somehow gotten the idea to take you on  a surprise beach date and as soon as you were at the beach he pulled you along to the water, school uniform still on and everything.

You tried to stop him, but the tall eel was stronger than you so you had to yell out to him that you can’t swim just as your feet were about to touch the water.

Floyd stool still in his tracks, turning around looking confused but then smiling wide. “Whaat? Shrimpy can’t swim? But you are a shrimpy, how can that be?” 

You tried to explain to him that you simply never learned it but he interrupted you.

“Well I can’t have a shrimpy who can’t swim so Floydie is gonna have to teach you!” You gulped at how excited he sounded.

If it were up to him he would have just taught you how to swim right then and there at the beach but you convinced him that it would be better to do it in a pool…once you wore swimming clothes and not the school uniform, he agreed but only if he could squeeze you on the way back from the beach.

Unlike his brother, Floyd will be in his eel form the whole time while he teaches you how to swim, which makes it a bit harder for him to explain things to you since he doesn’t have legs, but he refuses to switch back.

He honestly doesn’t know what he is doing, he is just going with the vibes white teaching you and it somehow works.

Though be prepared that he will splash you with water, especially with his tail saying it is to imitate waves of the sea, but you know he is just being a little shit.

If you thought you wouldn’t get squeezed while trying to learn how to swim, you are severely mistaken, he will wrap his tail and his arms around you, squeezing you against his chest, if it were anyone else you’d probably be scared of going down in the water but you knew you could trust Floyd in that regard.

But he isn’t a complete asshole and will genuinely praise you for the progress you are making, since that means you two are one step closer to swimming in the sea together!

It will probably take the longest to learn how to swim when Floyd is the one teaching you, but it also is the most fun, since he doesn’t take things so seriously and just wants that the both of you amuse yourselves.

[stevebabey]

somewhere only we know

a/n: i accidentally made this so long & ran with the request in whatever way my heart desired! hope this is enuf hurt/comfort for all ur needs <3 word count: 5.6k summary: You haven’t seen Steve in a few weeks, barely a couple phone-calls keeping your relationship beating. You assume the worst. Steve does his best to make it up to you. [hurt/comfort + miscommunication + established relationship]

It’s hard to not think he’s avoiding you.

Steve never seemed the type of boyfriend who would be foolish enough to ice you out without so much as a word about something being wrong. He wears his heart on his sleeve — more than anyone you know.

You’d also like to think you would know. That by now, all these months together, you’ve would’ve somewhat memorised the twists and turns of his emotions. But if he’s dropped any clues about being upset with you, you certainly hadn’t picked up on them.

You think you’d prefer his iciness to this odd avoidance.

It has to be that he’s upset, you reason. You would prefer he’s upset; that’s fixable, doable, and completely normal for a couple. The alternative is harsh, a cruel thread of insecure thoughts; perhaps Steve has suddenly decided he doesn’t have time for you.

And it’s a lot harder to pretend that thought doesn’t sting terribly.

And look, you pride yourself on being a logical person. You’re not jumping to conclusions and you aren’t overreacting — at least, you really hope you aren’t. The suspicions aren’t unfounded. It doesn’t stop you from feeling a bit too unstitched, like an obsessed girlfriend who keeps too close tabs on her boyfriend.

Maybe it only feels that way because Steve isn’t checking up on you as much as he used to. The healthy two-way road you both shared has suddenly become, agonizingly, one-way.

You’ve been trying not to count the days apart, nor note the shortness of the calls — just a couple weeks ago, he was talking your ear off and rounding up the phone bill, so what happened? It follows you around, a soft weight that presses your shoulders down, til it leaks in every second thought like a sleepy poison.

You don’t want to be jealous. You don’t want to be clingy.

It’s criminal how you don’t know that Steve would love nothing more.

When it gets to one week without seeing him, some of the worry transforms. You let it turn you away from him, some part deep inside that doesn’t want to get hurt putting up the defenses early, just in case, and you throw yourself into work. Worry about trivial things in your everyday life instead of about him. You give him his space.

One week becomes two. 

You’re not sure what mixture of feelings bubbles up when he calls on Tuesday morning. It feels like resentment, which you desperately shove down — combined with relief, with happiness, to be hearing his voice again. Even if it’s just down the phone line.

“Hi Stevie,” you say into the phone, the affectionate name slipping out, pure habit.

Your grin, an instant result of hearing his voice, fades a bit. You remind yourself to rein in it, an echo of thought that you’re too clingy forcing its way to the forefront of your mind.

“Hi, angel.” He coos back over the line, melting at the sound of your voice. It’s been too long since he’s seen you — he practically sags against the wall, gripping the phone tighter as if it’ll bring you closer to him.

It’s been hectic. He’s been training the new hire at work, since Robin back at school, all while hustling to get in his application for the local community college. On top of that, he’s trying to wrangle the moving details of the new apartment he finally managed to get his name down on.

Hectic feels like the understatement of the century to Steve.

He could tell you — and god, Steve really wants to. But a bigger part of him wants to see the surprise when you realise he’ll have a place that’s all his. No more sneaking through windows or quiet kisses interrupted by someone getting up in the night; an uninterrupted space for his love. Somewhere only the two of you get to know.

He ignores the part of his heart that wants to ask you, sometime in the future, not just yet, to come with him. To make his place yours as well.

For now, it’s all about the surprise. He’d planned it from the beginning, since the moment the keys to the apartment had been pressed into his palm. Steve wanted to treat you, to some swanky candlelit dinner for Friday date night, roses at the door, the whole nine yards, instead of a usual movie date.

The pet name softens you. Something inside eases and you wonder if have been being dramatic — he doesn’t seem different, seemingly unaware of the distance. Hearing his voice makes you miss him all that much more.

“How’s your morning been, huh?” He asks. He could ask how your last couple weeks have been considering how long it’s been since he’s found time to come to see you. He gnaws at his lip, trying to ignore the ache in his heart, and hopes it’ll be worth it.

“It’s been good! I mean as good as-“

A knock sounds at Steve’s front door and he curses, interrupting your reply. You pause, waiting to hear why he’s interrupted.

“Shit, I’m so sorry I’ve gotta— there’s someone at the door.”

Your throat tightens uncomfortably and you swallow it down, praying it won’t come out when you speak. Your voice is thankfully even when you say, “That’s alright. Go get it, just- just call me back later, yeah?”

“Later, definitely,” Steve promises, feeling terrible for having to hang up on the first conversation he’s had with you in too long. What kind of boyfriend is he? He has half a mind to ignore the door, just to keep talking to you — but the knock comes again, more insistent.

If it’s Henderson, Steve swears he’s gonna kick his ass.

“I love you.” His voice says down the line, voice sweet and it’s still enough to kick your heart into a flurry. You feel a bit more settled hearing it and grin, even though he can’t see it.

“I love you too.”

It’s not Dustin at the door— it’s Eddie, flaunting a grin and a gesture to his rust bucket of a van parked in Steve’s drive. Both are here at Steve’s request. Taking all his boxes in the beemer would ensure more than a dozen trips across town. And even with all his excitement to be out of the Harrington house, Steve’s sure it would take all but three trips to tire him out.

Eddie’s a bit early, a far cry from his usual tardiness, and Steve curses his sudden change of habit, today of all days. He tells Eddie as much as he tapes up the last of his open boxes.

Eddie, ever the charmer, let’s Steve direct what to grab and what to leave without much lip, much to Steve’s relief. They talk, a light banter thrown between them, and Eddie asks all the right questions; When’s the first party? What courses is he taking? What lewd favour does he have to do for Steve to let him host DnD there on occasion?

By the time the last box is in the car, Steve shoving Eddie for the mere suggestion — “you can host if you ask like a normal person, dude.” — the phone call is long forgotten.

It’s not his fault, not really. There’s a special frenzy in filling the hardwood floors of his cramped new kitchen with boxes of his stuff, a euphoric buzz that only comes with molding a new space into a home.

By the time he’s unpacked what little he owns into the space — the kitchen only has one pan, two mugs, both gifted to him by Dustin on separate Christmas’, and one or two plates he thought his parents wouldn’t notice missing — it’s late.

The only piece of furniture in the place is some shitty couch he and Robin had dragged off the sidewalk the day before. It’s a bit gross but not so much that he could refuse something free.

Steve sinks into it, drinking in the sight of the empty boxes strewn around his new apartment. Something in his heart glitters happily. For the first time since Eddie showed up at his door, Steve finally relaxes.

It’s 11.41pm and all he wishes is that you were with him.

The phonecall.

Just as quickly as it slipped his mind, Steve remembers it. The memory of it sinks into his stomach heavily and quickly, punching out a breath. His insides twist up with blackened regret as Steve thinks back to how many hours ago he’d promised to call you back. His eyes flash to the watch on his wrist.

He deflates a bit, seeing how late it is. Even though he would — he’d call you at 2am, hell, whenever you asked him to, just to talk — Steve won’t wake your whole family just to apologise.

Shit, he thinks softly and screws his eyes closed for a moment. There was no telling what reaction you’d have, given he’d accidentally blown you off like you were some one-time date, not his girlfriend — hot anger or maybe, icy silent treatment. Nancy had done that to him once; her jaw tight and narrowed eyes giving away her anger even though she insisted I’m fine, Steve, so just drop it.

It’s made all the worse considering he hasn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. Regret feasts in his gut. All of a sudden, keeping all this moving a secret seems colossally dumb. Steve knows you would’ve jumped at the chance to help him move.

It’s an anguishing thought to imagine — the fact the two of you could’ve been unboxing this next chapter together. You’d work up a sweat from the exertion of moving boxes, random fly-aways sticking up and god, Steve would think you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. And then he would’ve coaxed you down to the couch with his kisses til he was sure you knew it too. 

If he wasn’t so set on surprising you, maybe instead you’d be here with him now, nestled in his arms.

Instead, Steve’s alone and you’re across town thinking god knows what about him.

A groan fights its way out of Steve’s throat, dozens of thoughts spinning off each other on how to fix this. How can he make it up to you and make sure you knew he was still thinking of always.

But sleep had to come first.

— 

You’d never admit out loud how long you waited for the phone to ring.

After a certain amount of silence, you’d slowly bled back into your jobs around the house, never straying too far from the phone. You’re not sure what it is that fizzes under your skin but the longer the phone stays quiet, the more it stings. The distance between you and Steve feels yawning.

It rings, only once, and you leap for it — only to get your heart gets washed down the drain at the voice of one of your mother’s friends.

It makes getting up for your Wednesday morning shift seems an impossible feat.

He likely got busy, you have to remind yourself painfully. The Steve you knew would never, never purposefully leave you hanging. You hate the thought that pings into your brain, wondering if there really was anyone at the door. That he told you so he could escape the conversation quicker because he was avoiding you.

That, perhaps, this wasn’t your Steve anymore.

You have to repeat he called you to yourself firmly, trying to drown out the self-doubt. It doesn’t work.

It feels like something final has been decided by Steve and you’ve been left in the dark, grasping at straws. You can’t help but believe that the worst has been confirmed, that Steve doesn’t have time for you anymore. You feel grossly over-attached to him now and know that if you have to pull away, each thread connecting you to him will pull and hurt.

His phone call, Wednesday afternoon, right when Steve knows you’ll be home, doesn’t ease you much.

“I‘m—” He sucks in a huge breath, loud enough you can hear it over the phone. “—so unbelievably sorry that I forgot to call you back. Honest, I promise I had a really good reason to get distracted. I’m so so sorry, It won’t happen again, I swear, scout’s honour.”

The rambling words, tinged with nervousness, manage to persuade a smile out of you. The relief that washes over you feels charged, a bit overwhelming, so much that you can’t keep your voice even when you respond. 

“That’s okay.” You say a little weaker than you intend.

It makes the regret in Steve’s gut twist up a little tighter. It’s gut-wrenching to consider another reaction, that maybe you’re not angry with him but upset. Steve thinks that this is decisively worse. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, I—I’m really sorry.” He insists again, despair leaking into the words. He presses the phone closer. “Please let me make it up to you?”

“Sure.” You say, aiming for nonchalant but the word comes out too tight in your throat. Cursing yourself, you barrel on in hopes to keep Steve talking. You don’t really want to give away how much his distance has affected you. “What was it that distracted you, hm?”

“About that.” Steve chuckles light, beginning to feel his excitement wind up at the prospect of showing you the new place.

The original plan to wait til Friday, to do the proper date, is canned. The giddiness of his new place can’t be contained and there was no one he’d rather share it with than you. And fuck, he misses you.

It had been the last thing he had decided before drifting off to sleep, one of his last nights in his parents’ home. Rain or shine, whether you were angry or not, Steve needed to see you tomorrow.

“Are you free?” He asks, even though he knows you are. By Wednesday afternoon, you’re always free because he usually swings by and takes you out for shakes.

Eyes screwing shut, Steve holds in a wince at the realisation he’d missed that tradition with you for the last two weeks.

And you hadn’t mentioned a word to him.

His heart tears at the thought of you waiting on your doorstep like usual, while he’d been too preoccupied to even remember. He doesn’t want to think about how long it took you to realise he wasn’t coming.

“Can I come see you?” The words burst out before you’ve even answered his first question. It doesn’t matter — seeing you, feeling your touch again, and getting to deliver every kiss he’s saved over the past week takes top priority in his mind. “I promise I’ll—“

Steve thinks he might be cursed because this is the second time he’s been interrupted on the phone with you. This time, however, it’s a very specific hum of a car pulling in the drive; the engine sounding far too smooth to be Eddie’s.

Pulling the phone away from his ear, Steve whips around to peer out at the drive. A stone drops into his stomach at the sight. Beside his BMW, his parent’s car is parked in the usually vacant spot. Fuck.

They had told him they’d be gone a whole extra week and Steve had wanted to be out before they returned — to have everything he needed at the new place before his father decided he needed a lecture and a friendly rough-around on the way out as well.

“Steve?” Your voice warbles out the phone, pulled back from his ear. Steve jumps to attention, remembering himself.

“Baby,” he breathes into the phone, suddenly broken from his prolonged silence. You’re a bit concerned at this point, between his sudden cut-off and now hurried voice. “I- fuck, I have to go. I swear this—”

He groans, pent-up frustration leaking in as he hears the lock enter the front door, announcing his parents’ arrival.

How can he explain all this in the five seconds of privacy before his parents burst his bubble? Steve’s parents didn’t even know about you; dating was strictly a business prospect in the Harrington House. Steve had known from the beginning they would’ve never approved of you.

“Um, okay.” You sound a bit stiff and too casual. “That’s- that’s fine.”

“Please believe me,” He rushes out, eyes fixed on the front door as it opens. “I wouldn’t go if I didn’t absolutely have to.”

It doesn’t matter if they grill them about who’s on the phone, Steve needs to say i love you. Needs to hear it back.

Silence. No response from you. He’s talking to the dial tone.

— 

Your head is a storm.

Conflict rages wildly, a heavy thunder that might be your heartbeat — your anxiety has kicked it up a couple beats — and flashes of lightning, striking terrible thoughts, all contained within your head.

The fact Steve was the one to call you is too weak to keep your head straight. It hurts pathetically, to think you’ve been forgotten. Neglected by someone you hold in the highest regard — and he hadn’t even been able to tell you why. Another phone call where he’s clearly got more important things on his hands.

You didn’t want to hang up on him, not before the usual i love you’s; but if you had waited, then he would have heard how watery it was. Heard the quiver in your voice. And he’d drop everything, all his obviously very important plans, to come see you.

You don’t want him to come over because he’s made you cry — you want him to come over because he wants to see you.

It’s such a simple ask. The fact you think he’d deny you it, too busy, feels heavier than you’d ever imagined. Your pillowcase becomes well acquainted with the taste of your tears as you bury yourself under covers, trying desperately to keep your heart intact.

What happened to your clingy, always touchy, forever wanting you around, boyfriend? It aches to think that that chapter of your relationship may have passed.

Tiredness overtakes your misery at some point, drifting you off into fitful sleep that doesn’t provide any rest.

You’re drawn out of it a few hours later, soft touches that feel like Steve because you’ve felt them dozens of times before, memorised without thought — but Steve is busy or avoiding you, or some third worse thing you don’t want to consider. You shiver off the ghosting pressure in your hair.

A murmur of your name.

The touch of his palm, pressed against your hairline, startles you a bit when you realise it’s real. Your eyes pop open in your surprise, taken aback to find Steve before you. He’s here. 

Crouched by the bed, his hand pushes the strands of your hair back from your face with a gentle touch. He looks as upset as you feel, brows scrunched together in the middle— a frown pulls his lips down, eyes glistening with hurt. He’s upset to see you upset.

“Hi.” He whispers, all soft.

It’s dark out now. Hazarding a guess, you’d say you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours, aided by your exhaustion from crying. You can feel it, eyes stiff and nose still sniffly. It feels pathetic and so you roll in on yourself, tucking your face into your pillow for a moment.

You give yourself a moment to breathe, to gather words to speak to him without falling back to tears and asking outright why he doesn’t like you anymore. Steve’s hand, still stroking soft as ever, coaxes your face out of hiding, his thumb dipping to press warmth along your temple.

“What—“ It comes out too scratchy and you clear your throat. Steve’s hand still soothes your skin, thumb light and loving. “What’re you doing here?”

You don’t need to ask how he got in— Steve’s come in through the window enough times that the movements are all muscle memory. He chews his cheek in deliberation: where to start?

You’ve obviously been crying, a heart-wrenching fact that turns all the more foul considering Steve knows it’s because of him. Maybe even worse is remembering the conversations that had been clipped short, paired with his absence of the last couple weeks. He hasn’t been taking good care of you.

“Had to come see my girl, of course.” He says, low and sweet. His frown pulls up into a weak smile, fingers travelling down cup your face. His thumb catches the first tear that escapes, unbidden, and something alike to horror streams through his system.

“Sweetheart,” he dotes, emotion clinging tightly to his words — his thumb dutifully collects the next tear, as if it makes up the fact he’s caused them. “Wha—“

“Are we okay?”

You have to ask. You can’t handle another affection-soaked word out his lips if there’s still a possibility it may be the last time he’ll give them to you. Your heart aches unbearingly to ask, to even suggest the idea alone and tempt fate, but you have to know.

Steve’s eyes widen, lips parting and for a moment, he’s shocked into silence. It’s like each nerve alights in his body, a flush of physical pain at the mere suggestion you’re making.

You think the time apart is purposeful. Shame follows, scattered scolding thoughts at his carelessness for ever letting you think so. You won’t even look at him, eyes trained on the sheets. 

He faintly recalls being on the other end of this treatment; when Nancy had run around chasing monsters and left him to wonder why she’d decided to leave him out all of sudden. Like Steve, she’d had a perfectly good reason to do so — and yet seeing you like this still unravels the stitching of his heart which falls apart pitifully in his chest.

Every pet name soars to his mind but instead, he just says your name. 

You still don’t meet his eye. As gently as he can, Steve lets his fingers drift to your chin and coax your attention to him. Steve’s forever been about touch, he can think of a thousand different ways to apologise with a brush, a caress, a kiss — far better than he’s ever been at words. He leans in, slow and meaningful.

If you were upset normally Steve would wait, hover, and let you decide whether he’s allowed to steal a kiss. But right now you don’t need his hesitance, you need this; the sweet press of his lips that leaves no room for thinking anything else.

It’s weakening tender. You let the curve of his bottom lip come home to its place between yours.

He kisses you strong, so the fervor in his affection can’t be denied, to banish every thought that lead to your question of are we okay? All his pent-up kisses of the last weeks, all promised to you.

“Yes,” he breathes as he pulls back, still close enough to feel the heat of him. Steve watches your lashes flutter, eyes dance around his face, and settle on his own. “Please don’t ever think we aren’t.”

He kisses you once more and when you chase his mouth, he grants you another gladly, without thought. His lips graze up your face, a warm kiss to your cheek, to your nose, and a final one dropped onto your forehead.

“I’m sorry you thought we weren’t.” He murmurs into your hair. He’s all but encased you — nothing exists but the duvet and Steve before you, hands in your hair, lips on your skin, the scent of him curls comfortingly into your senses.

“I’ll forgive you if you come cuddle.” You grumble with a smile, happy to let yourself lean into his hand, soaking in the closeness. It’s not entirely true — you want answers, to know what has been eating up his time. But being in his arms, a hold you’ve missed for weeks now, will sate you if only for a bit.

Steve breaks into a smile at your words, eyes darting to your window momentarily. He licks his lips.

“Actually, I was hoping to show you something.” Steve suggests though it’s more a question than an insistence. “Show you what’s been keeping me from my girl.”

If you had said no, shook your head, or even just pulled back the duvet, Steve would’ve shucked off his jacket and had you bundled in his arms in an instant. He can see the ticking of your brain, eyes weighing up the tiredness alongside the curiosity of what’s kept your boyfriend from you.

Something in his poorly contained excitement, bottom lip cherry red from him he bites it, sways you.

“Okay.” You mumble, still softly spoken. You nod your head lightly, eyes scanning over his face to drink in the fondness you’ve craved for weeks. “Yeah, s’just wanna be with you right now.”

Your words manage to soften him even more, a ripple that melts through him. Torn between elation at the love and devastation that he’d been the one to keep you both apart for too long.

His thumb sweeps across your cheek once more, crowding back in to press a kiss to your forehead, murmuring his next words into the skin. “Course, honey. C’mon, lemme show you. Promise it’s worth it.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, strong and sure. The small time apart seems to spur you both closer, giggles spilling as you both clamber back out your window, Steve’s hands never parting from yours. The grass is cool against your ankles as you scramble out, stumbling into his chest when you lose your balance — relishing in how it only makes him tug you in tighter.

Even as Steve starts up the car, golden headlights illuminating the empty road, he only untwists his fingers long enough to put the car into gear. There’s nothing but the grumble of the engine, streetlights flashing past, and the cool leather seat beneath you.

At each turn, Steve lifts your hand and kisses along your knuckles, soft and warm. You think he’s still apologising. His eyes seem to be asking for forgiveness, glittering in the dark.

When your hands land back on your lap, this time you’re the one to lift them and brush a kiss along his hand. I forgive you. His grip tightens in your hand.

You’re not sure where you’re heading, too focused on your boyfriend to take note of the route — and it still doesn’t click even when Steve parks outside one of the downtown apartment buildings.

It all feels so juvenile, like giddy teenagers sneaking out, letting Steve pull you across the empty night-time streets with a giggle. The wind wraps around your bare legs, crisp and cool. You hadn’t changed before you’d both left.

It’s only when he spins his key ring around deftly, searching for a specific key, does something slide into place in your mind. Your eyes stare up at the building ahead, then at the keys on Steve’s key ring; he seems to be watching you in his peripheral, waiting for the shoe to drop. He’s smiling.

“Did you...?” You gasp quietly.

Eyes wide, you stare up at Steve and can’t finish your sentence. Your heart trips over itself in its excitement as you finally figure it out. Steve’s grinning now, only taking his eyes off you to insert the lock in the door to the building; he can tell you’ve figured it out now.

The lock makes a clunk as he twists the key, unlocking it. It feels like so much more than opening a door — it feels something akin to unraveling a thousand potential futures, all with you and Steve together in them. Everything about his absence makes sense, a jarring shift in perspective as you realise what he’s been doing all this time.

“What floor?” You ask, sounding a bit breathless already in your excitement. Steve pushes the door to the lobby open, holding it for you to pass through. There’s an elevator but you book for the stairs, clutching his hand the whole time. The lobby door snicks shut behind you, unheard.

Your footsteps clatter loudly, likely waking a few residents, but you can’t find it within you to care. Your thighs burn by the time you reach the top of the first set of stairs and whip around, finding Steve’s adoring grin following you. His hair is a little mussed from the rush.

He nods to the next staircase, fingers squeezing yours excitedly. “One more.”

Steve’s never been happier to let you drag him around, your excitement palpable in the energy of your run. It’s a far cry from your sleepy state earlier.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Steve takes the lead and your flurry of laughter follows him all the way to his new door. The pair of you crowd against it, tangles of arms and lips because you’ve suddenly decided it’s criminal to not kiss him right now.

It’s messy and rushed. You’re back is pressed against the door and Steve kisses you til your knees are weak, hot and hard, even as he tries to wiggle the lock open.

The moment it’s open, you both tumble in a clatter. You kick off your shoes and leave them at the door, spinning to drink in his new place. It’s barren, just a couch, not even a coffee table. You decide it’s already your favourite in the world.

Steve lets you go, watching as you zoom around the space, sliding into the kitchen with a gleeful sound that is far too noisy for the hour.

You’re pulling at every cupboard, leaving a row of open cabinet doors — it doesn’t matter that the apartment isn’t anywhere new, each of them seems endlessly interesting to you. Steve decided he’s had enough of watching, toeing off his shoes and skidding into the kitchen.

His arms around your middle surprise you, some yelp of shock that immediately fizzles into more laughter when Steve picks you up. It’s a halfhearted spin, more to hold you than anything and before you can spin and kiss him like you so desperately want, he’s taking you both down the hall.

Positioning you both in front of a door, Steve pauses. You think you know what door this is. A kiss on your temple. Another on your shoulder, one on your neck. He leaves his face there, nuzzled in closer, and gestures to the door with a jerk of his chin.

“Open it.” He murmurs, between another round of scattered kisses. Like it’s your new bedroom, not his.

Like the rest of the apartment, it’s more empty than not. A poorly made-up mattress against the back wall, beneath the window, and a few bags of clothes scattered throughout the room. You can recognise the forest green duvet cover on the mattress, familiar sheets.

It still smells like Steve when you bury yourself in them, Steve falling down beside you not a moment later. You relish in it all, being surrounded by all things Steve. You’ve missed it all in the weeks apart.

“You’ve certainly been busy.” You mean it as a tease— the fact he’s managed to wrangle down an apartment along with his job and organising college, it’s no wonder he hadn’t found time to see you.

Seeing how his grin dims, eyes drooping, you have no doubt it’s been weighing on him too. “Again, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. That last phone call—“

He sighs, rolling away from you and pushing the heels of his hands into his eyes. A groan rumbles out as he drags them down his face, remembering how you’d hung up on him just earlier today.

“Baby, it’s okay,” you hush him, dragging away his hands to cup his face with your own. His face still holds conflict, the tale of his day unwinding off his tongue before he can think.

“My parents came home early.” He admits, a bit weak. “I was trying to get everything out before they came back— you know how, uh, how they would’ve taken it.”

His eyes close, nose scrunched, just for a moment before he continues. “Eddie had just left to take the mattress over and I called you but that’s when… Well, that’s why we’re just on a mattress on the ground.”

Your light laughter hoists Steve’s mood upwards, feeling himself smile as he watches you beside him on the sheets. You shuffle closer, draping yourself across him so your cheek lays against his chest.

“We can get you a new bed frame.” You say like the prospect is more exciting than it is annoying. Steve adores how you say we — that you’ll come with him, pick things out for this next part of his life. Intertwine into the things he owns now, as well as in his heart. 

“I’m sorry for hanging up on you earlier.” You breathe a little softer, and then as if it’s just delayed from the call, you say, “I love you.”

Some part of him that Steve can’t ever seem to shake sighs in relief. Today is not a bad day at all. You’re here, in his arms, in his new place and you love him still.

“I love you too.” Steve hums, arms pulling tighter around you. “And I’m sorry for making you worry.”

When you look up at him, really look, his eyes are shining. His shirt is rumpled, hair ruffled from your tangle onto the bed and he looks utterly beautiful. It just won’t do. You shift upwards and when you kiss him, it’s hard and fiercely loving. Too much saved affection coming out in one go.

Steve sighs happily against your lips, arms tightening and when you break apart, Steve nearly asks then and there. Come with me. Make this our bedroom instead of just mine. We’ll make this somewhere only we know.

It’s not the time. Instead, he whispers his i love you’s onto your lips and when he spills all his half-baked plans for dates and the endless possibilities of the new space, when he promises to never worry you like that again — you’ve got no choice but to believe him.

His endless kisses won’t let you believe anything else anyways.

tags below!

@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf​ @televisionboy

[mrslankyman]

Oh Darling

Alastor x (fem) Reader

word count: 2K

Fluff / more of a friendship

based on pilot alastor / slightly out of character

Working on part 2

✩⋆｡‧₊˚⭑˚₊‧｡⋆✩

Wasn’t everyday just so grand in Hell?

No.

It wasn’t.

Working at the Hazbin Hotel sure wasn’t making your days any grander. Being a room attendant and a good friend to Charlie was starting to get to you.

At least Nifty was there to help. Even though she mainly tried to kill the bugs she at least helped clean the place up. You had become accustomed to her weird and somewhat insane antics. It was Hell after all. You couldn’t really judge.

Husk was as fun as ever. Giving snarky comments but he at least listened when the night wound down and you needed a drink.

Angel Dust would joke around and tell you how awful you looked after scrubbing one of the rooms.

Vaggie didn’t say much since she knew you were friends with Charlie. She rather enjoyed your company stating you were one of the most sane sinners in the hotel.

Alastor on the other hand. Didn’t say much about you nor did he really say much about anyone. He would greet you just as anyone else. Something about him felt weirdly off.

You didn’t question it too much and just went on with your work.

“Hello Darling pleasure to be seeing you this morning!” That radio like voice echoed into the hotels kitchen. You were busy making breakfast.

Someone had to do it and it sure wasn’t gonna be Nifty. No one wants roaches in their pancakes.

“Good morning Alastor.” You answered not looking at him as you flipped the pancake. “Making up a lovely breakfast I do suppose? My mother used to make the most splendid ones in her time.” He remarked as his shadow loomed over you from behind.

“I’m sure she did. I’m not so positive mine will beat your mothers but it will beat your hunger.” Your joke was met with that signature smile as you turned around.

“Ahaha Im sure it will.” He laughed as he stepped aside to give you room. “I came to see if you were able to dust my radio tower? It has accumulated quite a bit of dust.” His question wasn’t really a question. You’d have to do it. It was your job. Though it was nice that he wasn’t demanding.

“Yes I can. I’ll just have to finish up breakfast.” You stated as you went back to cooking.

“Lovely. Oh and {Y/N}.” He cooed making you turn to look at him. His eyes turned dark and black, red static glitched around him. The room turned dark. “Don’t mess with my things.” He warned his clock eyes appearing and his smile widening.

You nodded quickly and looked around. You had seen him do this before but never to you directly. “Yes sir. I won’t.” You answered quickly and sighed with relief as he went back to normal.

“Good.” He clapped his hands together and turned away. “I’ll be back once breakfast is done.” He waved and hummed as he walked out of the kitchen.

You went back to cooking. Just forgetting about what just happened. It was best to just act like it was normal.

——

With breakfast done. You headed off to do your job. Or well request in better words. You grabbed your dusting supplied and went up to Alastors radio tower.

Doing as asked you just dusted. Not moving much of his stuff just the things that needed to be moved to dust. Hopefully he wouldn’t be too mad about that.

Surely he understood if you had to move stuff to be able an do your job. If not I guess you would have to run to Charlie and hide.

While dusting two figures on his desk caught your attention.

A small deer next to a bigger one. Which resembled a doe. Apart if you just assumed he kept up with the deer aesthetic he had going.

Shrugging you dusted them and headed out of the room. Closing the door and headed down stairs to put your supplies up.

——

Nifty was off cleaning somewhere. Husk and Angel Dust were chatting at the bar. Charlie had gone off with Vaggie for the night and who knows where Alastor was.

Deciding that cooking dinner sounded like a good idea you found your self in the kitchen again. Perhaps Charlie should’ve made you the chef instead. Though you just picked up both the jobs. Cleaning was easy and cooking was fun.

Humming you skimmed through a cook book. Unsure of what to cook for the night. That was until a shadow appeared behind you and Alastor appeared.

“Hello Dear!” His enthusiastic voice echoed through the kitchen causing you to turn around and look at him. “I saw you finished dusting. Thank you.” He leaned again the counter. Checking out his claws with a smile. “Need help cooking?” He questioned before looking over at you.

“Just having trouble picking what to cook for tonight.” You answered with a shrug. Making him stand up straight and clap his hands together.

“Why I know just the thing!” He snatched the cook book from you and threw it behind him. A loud thud echoed as it hit the ground.

“Hey-“ he put a finger over your mouth and laughed.

“My mother once showed me a lovely recipe for jambalaya! Who needs a flimsy old cook book when you have memory darling.” He chuckled and nudged you aside as he grabbed all the things he needed.

“I can show you it. If you wish.” He titled his head. Offering to let you in on one of his favorite things.

Something you didn’t suspect but found it rather kind of him.

“Sure. I’d love to learn it.” You agreed and stood beside him as he instructed you on things and gave insight on how to make the ‘best jambalaya you’ll ever eat.’

As he stated.

—

“My mother loved cooking this. Said it was her favorite dish, yes it was.” He smiled wide. A rather genuine smile. Not like the one he always wore. He looked down at the finished dish. A sigh of content escaping his lips.

“I’m sure she was a lovely woman.” You commented grabbing a plate from the cabinet.

He didn’t answer, just hummed. The silence was rather loud. He just stood there for a moment. Lost in memory.

“She was..she really was.” Though his voice sounded rather sad he still held the smile. The never erasing smile.

His reply was late but you put some of the finished jambalaya on a plate. His tone shifting to one of excitement.

“I’m sure you’ll find it splendid.” He turned to you and titled his head. Waiting for you to take a bite.

You moved the spoon up to your mouth and took a bite. Your eyes widened and a smile spread across your face.

It tasted lovely, better than you expected.

His smile stretched further as he watched your reaction.

“Oh I knew you’d love it! It’s very splendid don’t you think? Yes yes, a rather grand recipe the best recipe!” He wrapped his arms around your shoulder. Stretching his arm out in-front of you both and curling his fingers into the palm of his hand.

“I’m sure you agree this is better than some flimsy thing from that old cook book. I can show you many other recipes my mother showed me.” He leaned into your face a smile stuck on his face.

He had never been this touchy so he must be excited.

You nodded in agreement. The idea of having someone to cook with wasn’t a bad one.

“I’d like that.” You laughed and he joined in. Laughing with you for once not feeling like he had to be towering over someone to be seen.

——

So cooking together became a daily occurrence. Wether it be breakfast lunch or dinner. It didn’t matter.

He found cooking with you pleasing. You were one of the only demons he could stand in the hotels.

He slowly began to tell you more about his life. How he and his mother were close. Though it seemed he dodged the questions of his father. Never wanting to talk of him.

Which was understandable from what you could possibly piece together it seemed his dad wasn’t the best.

You decided not to push its.

“So my dear, have you considered being redeemed?” His question made you think. You were both outside looking up at the sky. Dinner was done. And everyone had went to their rooms. You on the other hand weren’t tired and Alastor didn’t have any plans for tomorrow so staying up with you didn’t bother him.

“I suppose it would be nice. Though I’m not sure I would fit in up there.” You shrugged leaning against the railing of his balcony.

He hummed and looked down. “You’re a rather charming demon belle. I don’t see why you wouldn’t fit in.” He chuckled to himself. He didn’t believe in that wacky nonsense of being redeemed.

How could a sinner go to heaven? They had chosen their path in their life time.

He learned that you had killed your husband at the time. Caught him cheating and decided to take his life as well as the other woman. You made your choice in that moment.

Dooming yourself to a life of sin. Just as he had when he committed all his murders.

Though a part of him feared the idea of redemption now. He knew he sure as hell wouldn’t be redeemed. He didn’t feel bad for his crimes. Nor did he care.

But apart of him knew you regretted your actions. You were a soul who would deserve to be redeemed if there was a way.

That scared him.

Knowing he wasn’t in control. Knowing that you could slip out of his hands.

He wasn’t being selfish with his want of keeping you. He just liked having someone around who enjoyed his company. Someone who wasn’t scared of him or only chatted with him cause they didn’t wanna be killed.

Though that is rather selfish isn’t it? Not wanting someone to succeed and be a better version of themself because you want them to stay as they are.

“I’m sure you’d fit in just swell so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He flashed a smile your way. Teeth not showing this time. It seemed almost fake. You shrugged.

“I guess. I would miss everyone here though.. mainly you.” Your words hit him like a brick. He hasn’t suspected you to really truly care about him. Sure you said you two were friends but.. this meant a lot.

“Oh come now. You wouldn’t miss me once you see all the.. heavenly things up there.” He chucked. His voice sounded off and his radio effect faltered.

“Are you okay Alastor? It’s not like I’m gonna be redeemed and even if I was I would miss you. So don’t say I wouldn’t.” You were slightly annoyed at him now. Of course you’d miss him. No amount of heavenly items or ideals would ever top him and his terrible old timey jokes.

“Don’t lie. We’re in Hell why lie? You’re already here! It’s not like it’s gonna send you further down!” He seethed his claws digging into the railing.

“Alastor calm down. Why are you so upset?” You stepped closer to the demon. His ears bent back and his pupils went small. His smile crinkled and his teeth bared.

“You! You have me so confused!” He ran his hand through his hair. Closing his eyes.

“I’ve never felt like this before.. it’s all so frustrating. I’m supposed to make you scared! Don’t you fear me?” He dropped his hand and laughed. A hysteric laugh.

“Alastor..I don’t fear you.. I see you for you.. you’re an amazing friend.” You laid your hand on his shoulder. Calming him down slightly.

“I’m just here to watch these souls suffer and try to climb up only to fall into the fiery pits of failure.. but the pleasure in watching others fail isn’t fun when it comes to you.” He turned his head to look at you.

Your eyes met and for once the smile that was on his face didn’t match what was showing in his eyes.

“A part of me just wants to be with you forever. Just blissfully cooking or chatting like we are now. I’ve never had that.. I have friends but not like this.” He sighed and leaned back against the wall letting himself slide down.

You sat down beside him. Looking at the sky.

“Are those deer figures on your desk you and your mother?” You asked softly.

“Yeah..” he answered.

“They’re lovely.” You held his hand. Smiling as he squeezed yours.

“I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You can relax. I’m gonna be here with you. So stop being all sad. It doesn’t suite you.” You leaned against his shoulder. Receiving a sigh from him.

“Did I ever tell you about my first radio show appearance?” He asked after a few moments of silence.

“No I don’t believe you did.” You smiled and listened as he began the story.

[torturedpoetemotions]

People miss the point about Dean's interaction with Marta the post office lady in 14x13 so hard and it's FRUSTRATING.

No, it's not a reversal of the running gag about older women finding Sam attractive (which is gross anyway because it usually involves playing his obvious discomfort at being touched without consent for laughs). It is also not just Dean trading on his looks and flirting to get what he wants.

The point is to illustrate a significant difference between the brothers!

Specifically how they interact with the community of Lebanon, and what that says about their characters.

At this point in the show, Sam and Dean have now lived in Lebanon for like, six and a half years. And yet Sam approaches this woman like he would approach any stranger or witness in any random town in the country. And she reacts to him like any witness would to a strange man asking questions--with caution and some level of suspicion. It is incredibly clear that they don't know each other at all, despite how long they've been living in the same community.

But Dean knows her! And not just by sight and in passing. He's on a first name basis with her! He asks about her grandson and she readily answers! She knows his first name, too! They very clearly have an established report and have talked many times, enough times for her to have complained to him about her "spoiled little jerk" of a grandson!

This scene establishes that Dean is a known entity to at least some of the people of Lebanon. A known and LIKED entity. Trusted, even! He has truly put down roots there in a way that Sam has not, despite them living there for the same amount of time. He's bonded with people he sees regularly. He has little interactions with them offscreen all the time. That tells us something about Dean as a character!

And if it's a reversal or play off of anything, it's 1x11 (Scarecrow) when Dean fails to convince a couple who is in danger to let him fix their car so they can leave town sooner. Dean assumes (incorrectly IMO) that it's because HE specifically comes off to "normal people" as abnormal and dangerous, whereas Sam would be able to convince them with just a sincere look. In reality, of course, it probably has more to do with Dean being a total stranger, with no obvious credentials for car-fixing other than his word, in an unfamiliar place, than it does any inherent quality of Dean himself.

Because the key is, Dean isn't putting in any special effort in either scene. The way he approaches the couple is a contrast to how he usually handles cases. There's no costume, no subterfuge, and no alias. He isn't trying to fool either the couple in 1x11 or Marta in 14x13 into liking and trusting him. He's just being himself and telling the truth in both scenes (maybe not ALL the truth, but the essential basics). It works on Marta because she already knows and likes him. It doesn't work on the couple because he's a stranger to them.

So in 14x13 (and at other times in the show too) we see that Sam is not any better with people than Dean, especially when he makes no effort. He in fact gives off somewhat alarming vibes to strangers when he doesn't present with some kind of subterfuge that engenders immediate trust (i.e. being an FBI or insurance agent). (Think of Amelia's initial reaction to him in season 8 for example.) And this is true even for people who have almost certainly seen him around before, in the town he's lived in for over half a decade.

And the fact that he has made no effort to get to know his neighbors is telling in itself. Sam isn't any more automatically trustworthy to regular people than Dean unless he puts in specific effort to be. Costumes and aliases, fake credentials, even that specific face and voice he uses to talk to witnesses are all effort he has to put in. And that effort is not something that comes naturally to him or occurs to him outside of the context of a case. (I think we also see in season 6 exactly how much conscious effort those things require of him, given that without a soul he not only lacks personability but is downright impatient with and insulting to people.)

It's actually Dean who's good at building bonds, establishing casual report, and eliciting trust from people. And moreover, it's Dean who thinks to make the effort to do so. Sam is better at leading hunters specifically, but that's a whole different story and meta.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

Heyyy love you’re work! I strive to be a good writer like yourself one day! I was thinking how would the mercs react to a goth person like myself:) it’s okay if you don’t wanna do this! Have a love day!

I think to sum it up, all of them are completely clueless and stupid but could care less.

The TF2 Mercs reacting to a reader who is goth

WARNING: stupid idiots

Scout:

- Huh… A little interested occasionally, looking up and down you while he thinks you’re not looking. Not really much of a reaction other than the typical awkward glances people give goths to admire them for a spilt second.

- Has no fucking clue what kind of style that is. It isn’t his preference for sure but it looks good on you and that’s all that matters. Bullies you for something completely unrelated to the fact you’re goth probably.

- “Hey! Nice fuckin’ shirt chucklehead! Where’d you get that one? Grandma’s couch?” He says when he sees you in a somewhat ‘conforming’ outfit for once. He’s gotten so used to you wearing your usual, that he doesn’t hesitate to pick on you for not being edgy enough. It’s a pride issue for him. Normally Scout would wear stuff shamelessly and the fact you aren’t yourself right now is giving him vibes that you might have grown insecure in some way. He genuinely thinks this’ll help you. Backwards elementary school logic.

- He can’t show appreciation without being a massive fucking dickhead. It’s a certified scout L moment. At least his heart is in the right place I guess?

————————————————————————-

Solider:

- Ingeniously freaks the fuck out because he thinks you’re one of Merasmus’ weird ghost apparitions. Nearly grabs you and beats the shit out of you in fear because he owes that wizard around $200 after a grenade-down-the-toilet incident and he doesn’t want to pay. Engineer and Pyro have to pull him off you. I am literally so sorry.

- “MOTHER OF JUDAH, PRIVATE! YOU LOOK LIKE A MORTUARY ASSISTANT BATHED IN BLEACH!” He announces. You have no idea if that was a compliment or not. It’s hard to tell. Soldier then quickly assumes you’re a weird offshoot of the hippie culture and you’re here to sell him weed. Aaahh there it is. Blissful stupid ignorance.

- After promptly explaining what you are, he nods slowly. Slapping you on the back heartily. “ALRIGHT PRIVATE! You’re clear. Didn’t know there was such thing as a goth.. Hippies sure are getting creative.” Idiot. Complete moron. Still thinks you’re a weird looking hippie. Just one who won’t sell him weed nor harbor the evil tendencies of one. What are these evil tendencies he speaks of? He can’t answer you.

——————————————————————-

Demoman:

- Ignores you completely. You’re just another person to him with their own preferences in attire. This guy still gets stares in the supermarket for being a massive black dude. He knows what it’s like to stand out, explosively. Get it?

- Well.. At first he ignores you. But if you insist on wearing your style on the battlefield he’ll be a little impressed to say the least. Demoman likes confidence. He whistles to get your attention from the backlines and raises a drink to you. “Keep at it! Show ‘em with your damned fangs! Maul those wee willy fucks straight to the—“ He gets hit by a train mid taunt. You stare blankly at the sight. Deadass no clue how to respond. You’re in awe at his lack of self preservation for one thing.

- Demoman is in the kitchen that night drinking god knows what brand of alcohol this time. He sees you and goes “AAAYY! There’s that crazy son of a betch wit’ the victorian thing goin on. Cheers to you.” He compliments. It’s not a heckle. It’s genuine admiration for your shamelessness. Being weird in that way is the easiest way to get on his good side.

——————————————————————-

Engineer:

- No response. Much like Demoman’s lack of response. Looks at you for maybe two seconds then looks away to avert any suspicions he’s trying to be rude. Calls you stupid nicknames like ‘ghost getter’ and “Weirdest display of caltholicsm he’s ever seen.’ …. Wait a second that last one wasn’t a nickname.

- You’ll rarely get any comments about the matter to him. He’s too busy with other stuff to make fun of something so particular. Especially something that doesn’t concern him. (Not to say he doesn’t love insulting people’s looks from time to time. But you’re a teammate! You’re on his side!) If you have a counterpart on the enemy team then by god he won’t hold back on the roasts. Everybody gets fuckin’ spat upon regardless of who they are. He makes fun of everybody equally.

- Asks you if his creations are nifty. For some reason he mistakes you with Steampunk full on old dad style because he’s “heard about ‘em darn tootin kids and their crazy fashion in the newspapers.” And thinks he’s somehow relating to you. That you have a common interest. You have to suppress your laugh here. Same energy as pokey-man. Cornflake’s confused but he has the spirit. The whole culture explained to him is when he starts fucking assuming you’re catholic by the way.

———————————————————-

Heavy:

- Concerned at first. “Who in your family is died..?” He asks after awkward silence on the bench. He has his eyebrow raised in intrigue. “Was it murder? Heavy will crush them for you.” He offers. He had good experiences with you beforehand so he has no reason not to offer such things. Heavy mistakes your attire for mourning attire.

- You sheepishly explain to this old dude why you were sporting full on black. Expecting a weird or strong response back. To your surprise he just shrugs and looks away again with a gruff “Hm.”

- He then looks at you again after a few more minutes and sluggishly asks you a barrage of typical old man questions when they don’t understand something dark and gritty. “So do you live in a big haunted mansion?” “Do you have some pet bats? Do you like scary music?” “What do you do as a hobby when you’re this?” And other things in broken english. Each answer seems to get through to him and make him either nod or shrug. He’s very cooperative and trying to understand. Seems to not like the idea of himself sporting such things and feels the need to mention that to you for some reason. Give this guy a makeover and he’ll begrudgingly cooperate.

——————————————————————

Pyro:

- Pyro gasps childishly when he sees you. Each little spot of black or dark hue on you is showing up the direct opposite in their point of view. You have rainbow hair, rainbow everything. They think you’re a candy princess/prince/monarch that’s come on a white stallion. They’re giddy with excitement and jump up and down. Clapping their hands.

- You’re throughly confused. But you figured it was because Pyro had never seen someone wear something like this before. “It’s goth, Pyro. You like it?” You ask. Pyro glomps you. Straight up fucking hug tackles you and spins you around like an unfortunate house cat who’s just been spotted in the street by a stranger.

- You’ve become the rainbow unicorn candy ruler of all imagination and happiness and you don’t know how or why but you accept your fate. Pyro has made you a throne out of candy wrappers and you feel guilty often if you don’t use it. You got to admit a lot of unnecessary work went into that thing. Same with the crown he provided you. (It’s an actual crown made of diamonds and you don’t wanna know where they got it.)

—————————————————————————

Sniper:

- You swear you just saw a shocked blush crawl across his face. But he looked away before you could take a good look behind those sunglasses of his. Sniper’s unironically attracted to the aesthetic on other people and he secretly thinks it’s a fine piece of art but isn’t willing to admit it. He always had a thing for edginess and overall darkness. Sniper listens pretty frequently to early rock on his camper’s radio and doesn’t shy away from the occasional greaser jacket.

- “Nice look, mate..” He says on one of his good days. He plays off as indifferent and nonchalant but you can tell he’s hiding his slight interest in being your friend. Every little attempt to ignore you reeks of ‘come get me.’ Sniper’s social ineptitude is just sad at this point. Eventually you just shake your head and smile lovingly and accept his stupid efforts. Your suspicions are eventually proven correct when he accepts a drink with you.

- Hyperfixates on you like you’re some sort of fucking anime character. Can’t get the way you express yourself out of his head. You’re the most colorful thing in this godforsaken desert and that says a lot because you wear black.

—————————————————————————

Medic:

- No. No. no. Anything but him. ANYTHING BUT HIM. DEAR GOD PLEASE!!

- Prepare to get bombarded by a tsunami of questions that extend into two hours. Medic cannot control his curiosity and at one point asks you multiple times if you’re a demon or something because of how excited he is. The others rarely see him act like a puppy this much. His evil autism is activated. Turn tail and run. He’s sort of bouncing on his heels. It kinda reminds you of Pyro.

- “Oohohohoho! What an extraordinary specimen! Your oddities will surely aid in my understanding of how psychology works! Here! Sign this paper that says you acknowledge any drugs I pump into you aren’t supported by the FDA!” He hands you a clipboard and bounces again wildly. His happiness is rather contagious and you blindly sign it because you’re too focused on his child like energy and how adorable it is. He’s like a teenage girl who’s seen her fucking idol for the first time. “You see our aesthetics and personal preferences for color appear quite differently from person to person and depending on how you grew up—!” He goes on a psychology rant.

—————————————————————————-

Spy:

- He’s judging you. It’s as clear as day. He’s walking around you and examining your attire with his hands behind his back. As if you were some prized show breed who was being accessed for the finals. He lifts an arm up, tsks when he sees the seams in your clothing and disappointedly glares at you. Then just straight up walks away. By far one of the weirdest responses you’ve ever gotten. But then again should you be surprised? Spy is a drama queen and all you needed to do was take one good look at him to know that.

- Next thing you know, you have an entire box full to the brim of more gothic clothes off to the side of your bed when you wake up the next day. There wasn’t any letter nor indication of who it was. Which rather indirectly told you who it was. All the clothing was super, super expensive and straight up unreachable in some way. You find it especially alarming how it’s basically an entire box of things you personally expressed wanting to the other guys but couldn’t obtain due to the price. You swore Spy wasn’t there during that time.

- Ugh.. Of course. It’s all clear to you now. He hated the state of your current clothing and to save his poor snobbish eyes he bought you an entire wardrobe of it, he even bothered making outfits folded nearly together and they made sense. Which made you hate him more.

[highlandwhackamole]

A Grand(ish) Theory of What the Heck

I love the utterly unhinged, super detailed theories about what's going on in Good Omens, especially in season 2. I hope one or more of them turn out to be true, as some kind of glorious puzzle-box-hidden-code monstrosity. And also I think that there has to be a simpler explanation for things, for the people who are at least Somewhat Normal (tm) about this show. (... I assume such people do exist somewhere...) This is what I have been pondering recently.

The thing that started me thinking about this was this post, containing some promotional materials for season 2 that feature main characters with scenes in their heads. Like this:

Seeing this created a very similar situation in my own head, but with a nice shiny lightbulb.

All the weirdness: the car, the sideburns, the clock, the behavior of the folks of Soho, the vanishing storefront signs. The absence of God. I think this is all because everything we see is in their heads.

I don't mean it's made up. At least not entirely. Memory is already a plot point. Why not explore it on a deeper level? I've read theories emphasizing the minisodes' stories being retold by Aziraphale and Crowley. I think the whole season is like that.

You know that sort of conventional-wisdom-fact-concept that you can only dream faces of people you've seen before (or variations therein), because your brain can't make new faces up? So it just fills in what it thinks is close enough? I think that idea, applied to remembering or recollecting things, could explain so many things that are wonky in this show.

Wonky Things

Crowley parking in an impossible London location? He definitely remembers it was in London, so his brain just stuck some obvious London landmarks in there.

Awkward clattering happening when Crowley throws the stacks of books he's inexplicably carrying around the bookshop? He wouldn't actually throw Aziraphale's books! But he'd like to think he's cool and nonchalant enough to do that, and if he did it would definitely make Some Kind of Noise.

Jim walking toward the bookshop from somewhere mysterious? Maggie and Nina saw him first, and he came from that direction, so he must've walked all that way. They don't know about the elevator in the Donkey.

Aziraphale remembers tartan hills and the Loch Ness monster because he was having a jolly time driving through Scotland, so obviously the scenery must've been whimsical Scottish things.

Nina put the Honolulu roast sign up, so she remembers its presence, but perhaps the occult/ethereal visitors to her shop do not.

Maggie really did text Aziraphale about the rent, but a note through the mail slot is a much more dignified way for a scholarly angel to imagine he received a message.

On the Fallibility of Recall

This season is loaded with unrealistic inclusions. The colors are turned up to 11. Some of the scenes are more caricature than believable interaction. Remembering things never copies or reproduces them with what one might call high fidelity.

Scenes recalled by separate memories will inherently vary. One person's hefty jigger might be another person's dash. Who knows for sure where the sun was that day? You and I might recall an event having different lighting or a different color palette, sort of like viewing something with different lens filters.

According to Neil, Crowley is an unreliable narrator of the story of his Fall. He labels the variations in clock times as a continuity error in a show where Everything Is Meant, but he doesn't say whose continuity error it is. He insists that the Bentley is the same through the whole season; maybe it was the same, but remembered differently. Maybe this is part of why there's more CGI but it's harder to spot.

So What?

Is this all there is to it? I sure hope not. I like my Good Omens with enough layers to put to shame an onion wrapped in a cake and covered in a parfait.

Is this possibly the fancy footwork that's distracting from the real magic trick? I wouldn't put it past Our Gaiman. There are a lot of things one could hide in the narrative of unreliable memory.

Is this going to stop me from rewatching and repondering and remaking theories for the next couple years? Not even at gunpoint.