#I would die if someone looked at me like this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

liveontelevision · 2 days

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Hello hello! If you are still taking requests I've been dying for an Alastor x reader where the reader was married to him when he was alive, and she outlives him quite a while before they reunite in hell, only for him to nearly die again when the angels attack. I love your work!

I've been wanting to do this prompt for a hot minute, sorry it took so long Anon :')

But here's a good long fluffy, angsty, fic to balance out how much of an ass Alastor is in Suffer lol

Curiosity Killed the Cat | Reader x Alastor

What caught your eye first, was how much whiskey he could down before losing his composure. You found yourself in awe, watching this charismatic stranger go round after round, only to end up on the dance floor with more energy than you had when you were sober. Truly a spectacle. Why don't you go tell him that?

"Excuse me-" You say in a sing-song voice, slipping by the stranger to beckon another drink your way. You may or may not have brushed your body against him in some sort of attempt to get his attention. It went unnoticed, but that's alright, that trick didn't usually work on the ones who had one too many drinks.

You decide the next best action is to sit at the seat next to him, despite there being multiple unoccupied stools at the bar. That’s something he has to question, right?

Of course not. You spent far too long trying to get his attention in any way, and he's either humming a song to himself or chatting with the plump, noisy, owner who would come by. They seemed to be close friends.. but she definitely wasn't his type. She looks like one to cause trouble.

You get a good scope of his character. He came in wearing a pristine trenchcoat, shielding an expensive-looking vest and tie combo. But, by now the tie had come undone and was draped across his neck. The heat of the whiskey might've gotten to him, he left his top few buttons precariously opened. You didn't mind that one bit. Next thing you spot; slightly messed hair and smudged glasses- bingo.

"Hey, birdy-" you finally muster some courage to get his attention. "-may I?" You pull out a handkerchief you usually have on hand, in case handsome strangers with glasses need a quick clean. It took you a good half hour to finally speak up, but he's looking you up and down as if you had just walked in. It takes a moment, but you see him finally decide you aren't a threat. He sits silently. Taking another swig of his drink, he looks at you with a smile. Does he want you to.. no harm in trying.

You bite at your lip, hesitantly reach out to his face, and carefully pluck the glasses from the bridge of his nose. He shuts his eyes as you do so. A man hasn't made you blush in quite some time. You decide to blame the drinks. Luckily, you have a task to keep your mind preoccupied. You're carefully swiping any smudges clear from the lenses when you hear his voice for the first time. Or so you thought.

"Mimzy, dear, do tell me who this little kitten here is. A regular?" You're assuming he's speaking about you, he's gesturing in your direction with his empty glass. The owner of the speak-easy, who you now know as Mimzy, trots behind the bar to top off his drink.

"For sure! What do ya say, kid, you're here.. on most weekends, ain't ya?" She turns to you, and you take a moment to confirm. You didn't think she'd notice, you don't come here that often. That's what you tell yourself at least.

"Got an eye on her tonight, Al? Sounds like someone's not goin' home alone~" She teases him with a quick jab, and he's quick to roll his eyes.

"Now now, she's been perched here for quite a while and has barely said a word to me, I doubt she's getting any more than a free drink." He sounds snarky, yet.. familiar..

"Al… as in Alastor? That radio host fellow? Well, I’ll be damned! I wasn't expecting a celebrity such as yourself to frequent little joints like this one." You comment, finally joining the conversation. You hear a throat being cleared dramatically and turn to the owner behind the bar. You laugh nervously.

"Not that- it's still a good bar- I.. Sorry." Good recovery. Your attention is taken to the hand outstretched to you, and you instinctively lean away from it.

"Kitten-" He beckons his hand, and you follow his eyes to his glasses that were still in your grasp. You let yet another nervous laugh and quickly pass them over. He slips them on with a satisfied hum.

"If I remember correctly, Al-" you attempt to mock the nickname you picked up from Mimzy. "- You have a broadcast tomorrow morning, no? You really think drinking like a sailor tonight is the best idea?" You weren’t concerned, really. You wanted to tease him a bit longer.

"Props to you for knowing my schedule." You realize how strange that might've sounded and quickly finish your drink to prevent any more embarrassing thoughts from slipping from your lips. "Are you implying I can't handle my liquor, dear?" He scoffs, beckoning the bartender over. He has them refill your glass.

"I'm sure you can, birdy, but you've been pounding down more drinks than I can count." You respond. You weren't one to flirt effectively. That, or he just happens to see right through your nerves.

"So, you've been counting, hm?" You realize you had outed yourself to watching him all night. You curse yourself quietly, hoping the music filling the room will cover your frustration. "Appreciate the concern, but I promise you, I'm more than capable of doing my job. No matter the circumstances."

While he seemed to be reading you quite easily, you had picked a few things up yourself. For one, he watches everything. And he seems to only drop his intel when he needs to. Or to mock you. And two, he's a bit of a narcissist.. quite an ego on this one. But that could work in your favor tonight.

"Well, fine then. I'll be up bright and early to listen to your broadcast. I doubt you can get through it with a hangover. Especially considering how much you've been drinking." You state proudly. He lets out a chuckle, and despite how quiet it is, you can't help but appreciate his sultry laugh.

"Is that a challenge, kitten?" He purrs -ha- leaning his chin into his hand and slouching his body towards the bar.

"I mean if it is, there must be stakes." You say it as a matter of fact. "Let's say.. you cover my bill next time if I catch you slip up."

"Hm. Seems fair. You better be listening close, though, I'm very good at what I do." He enunciates his final sentence and it sends a shiver down your spine. For a brief moment, you consider this could be a bad idea.

"And when I win, what will be my prize?" He asks. You let out a little giggle at his cockiness.

"I'll tell you my name." He cocks his head to the side, an intrigue hitting him. Did he really manage to get this far without a proper introduction?

"I see your little detective game going on, I'll give you that. You are quite the observer. But you won't find my name just by looking." You say smugly. That's true for a number of reasons.

"I suppose you did leave that information out, hm?" He let's his eyes drop, as if he was trying to piece it together with what little information he had.

"I must say, you've got me hooked, kitten." He lets out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and finishing off yet another drink.

"Deal?" You hum, holding your hand out to him. He smirks, taking it into his own, not expecting a firm shake, but receiving one. He went on to press a quick kiss to your knuckles.

"Deal."

You went home alone after that night, but it was likely for the best. You were sure you'd see him next time, anyway.

Now that you had to tell him your name.

You thought for sure he'd at least stumble through a sentence, but no. He went through the entire show, even an interview with some big shot, and spoke perfect English. He talked like he'd never had a drop of booze his entire life and got a full night's sleep, which you both knew was far from the truth. You almost dreaded the next encounter, but at least you didn't wager anything too crazy. Sure, he'll see you differently after this, but if this were to go any further - what are you on about? You only met him once and listened to him on the radio occasionally at best. He's a perfect stranger to you. Let's not get too excited.

You find yourself seated in the same spot as before, shrinking into your seat and downing a few drinks to build your courage. You told him your mark. An awkward introduction, first and last name, made you feel like a new student at a children's school. He perks up, which is what you expected.

"Ah! So you're the famed physician! It's almost silly of you to call me a celebrity, you're the talk of the town, kitten." You groan, of course, he recognizes you. Everyone in this damned small town knows your name, your family.

You were one of the first women to complete their studies and practice medicine from your hometown. But to attend such high schooling in this time, your family had to be well off. And you were, in fact, well off. When it came to your love life, men were either disgusted by your pursuit of knowledge or took it like some fetish. You haven't approached anyone for years.. not like this, at least.

"You know, I spoke with your father a few-" You groan at the mention of him, cutting Alastor off mid-sentence.

"Don't be a fool, I heard the little interview on your show.. Can't say that was my favorite broadcast." Alastor had a certain segment where he would chat with some of the richer and more.. stuck up.. men in society. It wasn’t titled as such, you just noticed the trend of guests being pompous and wealthy. And your father was the perfect fit for that.

You didn't know this at the time, but Alastor was suddenly hit with some mixed emotions. There was more than one reason as to why your father was chosen to be on his broadcast. Alastor used his interviews to initiate close ties, and make powerful allies. If they weren't complying how he hoped, he would usually cut ties. Permanently.

Your father was definitely not a reasonable man, in fact, you made it a point to avoid him when you returned home. But did he deserve death?

"I didn't expect just the sight of me walking the streets to be as interesting as it is." You mumbled, leaning forward on the counter and drinking something much stronger than you expected. But the mentions of your father called for a hard hitter.

"You didn't?" He asked bluntly, twirling the liquor in his glass. You hum in agreement. Gossip spreads like wildfire here.

"Well, you've picked up some interesting feats. If you were hoping to go unseen, I would've put some more thought into my rags." He gestured to your clothing. It was definitely of higher quality, but it was something you were used to wearing while attending your school in a high-class city. You felt a bit embarrassed, placing your hands in your lap to subtly hide your body.

"And a beautiful doctor like yourself just 'walking the streets'? Some might be concerned for your safety." You tilt your head to the side at his words. Your confusion makes him smirk.

"I'm sure you're aware, kitten, but there seems to be a killer on the loose." He seems far too excited for the subject at hand, and it's almost noticeable.

"Hm. Guess I shouldn't be going out alone and talking to strange men, should I?" You say with a smile.

"I suppose you shouldn't." He shrugs off your words, getting another drink. You didn't even see him finish the previous one. "Though I must say, I'm glad you did. You've been quite the conversationalist." It's barely flirting, but it seems to leave you blushing a bit.

You went on to chat throughout the night, your drunken rambling turned to complaints about your father, and morbid details about what you'd learned in medical school. Both topics that you didn't realize intrigued Alastor to a personal extent. Later on, the rambles started to become incomprehensible. He decides it would be best for you to leave, considering you were refusing to do so and thoroughly embarrassing yourself in the process.

A giggling, stumbling mess, you were carefully lifted from your seat and brought to your feet with his assistance. He helped you out to the streetside, calling a taxi and bringing you into the backseat gently. He then went ahead and paid the driver, and turned at his heels to head back inside.

As he was reaching for the bar's door, a loud call forced him to turn back to the cab.

"Buddy, she's too sloshed to give me an address. You know where she lives?" Shit. Alastor looks to the bar’s door, then to the cab, where he spots you leaning your head against the window in the backseat. He sighs.

After insisting the driver keep the fair, Alastor brought you back out. He kept you standing with a hand on your lower back, as you gripped onto his shirt, far too small to reach your arm over his towering figure. He was cringing at the sight of his clothes becoming disheveled.

"Alright, kitten, where are you staying? I doubt you'd appreciate me taking you to your family home.." He was talking in a hushed voice, in the hopes that you'd have enough conscious to respond, but knew that likely wasn't the case. He looks around the area as if the answer would be in plain sight. He lets out a sigh of defeat when it clearly wasn't.

"Didn't even get to finish my drink.." He mumbles, pulling you closer to keep you stable enough to walk a few blocks.

There, sat a charming little motel. However, calling it charming was.. optimistic. Your memory, to this day, is in small flashes. Only certain things come to mind when trying to picture what went on.

You remember Alastor talking to the older gentleman at the desk. It seemed like they were acquaintances. Maybe they've done business in the past.

You remember him giving up after finding that the room he booked was on the second floor. Unwilling to deal with the staircase, he hoisted you up quite easily. You definitely remember that. How such a slender man can hold you in his arms with no strain.

You remember the room, it was cleaner than you expected. He seated you on the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you to remove your heels. He didn't seem to go much farther than that. He could've removed your entire wardrobe with your state of mind, and you'd be none the wiser. How awful it must be, to live in a world where a man not making a pass, surprises you.

As far as you know, you drifted to sleep almost right after. You're pretty sure he wrapped you in the blankets, and you remember the faint touch of hair being brushed from your face. His hand was far colder than you would have expected.

Being in your occupation, you don't exactly have time to confront all the horrific sights you've seen. So, your body deals with those emotions in other ways. A common occurrence, you were plagued with a number of night terrors. Something seems different in tonight's regularly scheduled program, though. A radio static overwhelms your senses, and any horrifying disfigurations that were taunting you seem to fade into nothing. A yellow grin and glowing red eyes are the last thing you can see.

You woke up the next morning with an excruciating headache, an ache in your stomach, and sore feet. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you barely care about the makeup that you'd smudged beyond repair. You try to recall your dreams, which usually stay vivid in your mind for most of the morning, but.. there's nothing. And despite the killer hangover, you feel more awake than you have in ages.

The panic settled in after you ran your hands across the unfamiliar sheets. With a soft gasp, you observe yourself. Still fully clothed, you spot your heels set next to the door. You look around the room next, and you almost feel relieved, seeing Alastor seated in a lounge chair in the corner of the room. He had his nose in a book. It was better than seeing him lying on the other side of the bed.. wait, was it?

You let out a pathetic little sound, your voice too weak to form any coherent words. He sets the book on his lap, and your sad attempt at a greeting seems to catch his attention.

"Good morning to you, too, kitten. Sleep well?" You were sure he drank as much as last night. If not, more. How dare he look so put together?

"Morning. I-um.. I suppose I did.. I-I hate to ask, but did... did we-" you stammer out, and he quickly holds his hands up in defense.

"Heavens no, dear, I wouldn't dare defile a woman who can't handle her whiskey." You scoff at his insult but still feel disarmed by his reaction.

"So then.. the motel room?" You question. He cocks his head to the side, only now realizing that your memory must've gone from the previous night.

"Ah, so you really can't handle your whiskey.. Well, not to fret, dear. You weren't telling me where you were staying, and Mimzy seemed keen on me taking you elsewhere." In actuality, she was trying to play matchmaker. Thanks for trying, Mimzy.

"I'm sorry for the trouble, Alastor, I hate that you bought a room just for me.. I can pay you back." You sit up, running your hands through your mess of hair and letting out a pained groan.

"I'm sure you can, but I simply can't accept." He stands, tucking the book under his arm and walking to your bedside. You swing your legs over the edge, only to notice how close he seems to hover over you. You look up and realize how statuesque he was. You hadn't seen him in daylight. And his height is much more intimating when he stands.

"It was my pleasure, getting to witness you thoroughly embarrass yourself." He bends at the hips, a taunting smile across his face. You try to recall anything embarrassing you might've done the night before, but you can barely recall a thing. That did little to ease your mind.

"You'll have to tell me about it one day." You grumble, standing with his assistance. He offered to escort you home, and you happily accepted.

The two of you stand on your small porch. It's a quaint duplex you've been renting, you go on about how how the family who lives here travels for the summer and was more than happy to offer their home to such a sweet thing.

"Well, since you insist that I can't handle my liquor, it might be a better idea to find each other.. somewhere other than a joint..." you say sheepishly, your eyes wandering to anywhere but his gaze. When he steps closer, you finally fix your wide eyes on him.

"You don't want me to court you, kitten. You're a lovely, educated, pretty little thing, you'll be wasting your time, unfortunately." He doesn't sound insulting, he says it very truthfully. It only makes you want to see more. To ask him to come in, and stick around awhile. But you're aware he has a broadcast coming up soon. You wonder if he would've stayed by your side if you slept through it.

"I'll be the judge of that. Besides, getting coffee doesn't waste too much time." You decide to stand your ground. You aren't sure why he's refusing if he thinks all that of you. You see him look you up and down, then let out a sigh.

"Hm. I suppose. I'll be back here tomorrow morning since you're so insistent. Just remember I warned you-" He says playfully as he makes his way down the stairs.

"Curiosity killed the cat, my dear!" He calls out before giving another heart-melting smile. You nervously bite your lip and watch him walk off through the cracked door. Like a damned puppy, you couldn't help but watch him walk off. You quickly shut the door, after realizing how hard you were smiling.

This was supposed to be for fun. You were just supposed to be some extra company on occasions. And he knew you came with your perks. You were an heir to a decent fortune, it only made sense for him to befriend you. You were knowledgeable and smart, he could definitely benefit from your skills if he needs to do so. There were plenty of ways Alastor could use you if necessary.

But with every little dance, every little coffee, or walk home from the bar, it was making him nervous. Of course, he would never call it that, he's too disgusted by the pangs in his chest he gets around you. Unfiltered, yet still delicate and professional. Incredibly intelligent, yet still makes the silliest mistakes. You were flawed. You came from such a slob of a man, and the fact that you are so kind despite that amazes him more than you realize. You are more than willing to stand for your beliefs. For one of the first times in his life, Alastor admired someone.

He's not sure what conversations led to him agreeing to cook yet another dinner in your home, but here he was; standing at your door with a bag of groceries.

"Oh- you didn't need to do all that, you're always free to use anything in the kitchen." You greet him as he comes inside, where he sets the bag at a nearby counter space. You reach up and pull his trenchcoat off his shoulders, which he willingly surrenders to. It was a little action you took, taking his coat for him when he would stop by. He's come to expect it. You hang it up on the rack nearby.

"Nonsense, I'm sure you have plenty to work with, but I'm following a special recipe tonight." He insisted, already unpacking things, setting up pots and pans, and rolling up his sleeves. He pulled an apron from the bag last, and the sight of him all prepped for cooking leaves you weak in the knees. You want to see this every night. You want him in your kitchen every mealtime. You shake the desires from your head, pushing aside the dreams of domesticity that have been plaguing your mind recently.

"Can I help with anything?" You chime in, peeking around the corner to smile at him through the doorway. He shakes his head.

"If you feel the need to help, you're more than welcome to get the table set, but I am quite in my element here, kitten. So, not to worry." You were mostly listening to him, but one part of you kept your focus on his skillful knife practice, watching him chop vegetables in a nearly professional manner.

"Kitten? The table?" His words and his moving on to something else snapped you from your funk.

"Oh! Of course, yes." You stumble a bit but do as he instructs. It wasn't anything special, but the space was more than enough to give the ambiance of a good date.

Damn, this man could cook. He's cooked for you before, but something you couldn't quite put a finger on left you swooning at the sight of the still-steaming gumbo in front of you.

"Damn, you can cook." You're muttering, between bites. You almost can't taste all its decadence, digging in before letting it fully cool.

"Slow down, dear, we have all night." He says softly, despite bringing a spoonful to his own lips. You catch yourself staring at the sight of him eating beside you, enthralled by his enthusiastic hums.

"So where did this come from? I'm a bit suspicious of the finery if I'm honest." You place your elbows on the table, perching your chin on top of your hands. He scoffs in response.

"How rude. All my meals are of the highest quality. I simply haven't made this in quite a while, I thought tonight would be a good time to do so." He replies.

"A recipe for special occasions, hm? Would you consider this.. a special occasion?" You tease, looking at him with a cocked eyebrow. He looks confused, letting his eyes wander in thought for a moment. Was this a special occasion? Is there any specific reason he wanted to bring his own mother's recipe to some girl he's befriended? He pushes the thought aside, planning on mocking you like usual.

"Any night with you is plenty special, kitten." He hums, popping another spoonful into his mouth. He doesn't see your face turning red, but his oblivious flirting always leaves you flushed.

"In that case, when are you inviting me to your own home? I won't lie and say I'm not curious, Al." You set your finished plate aside and notice his eye twitch. You've been staring at him long enough to notice even his smallest ticks.

"Someday. I've a bit of a mess to go through before considering bringing any guests over." He brushes clean his already pristine top, as you stand and take his empty plate to the kitchen. With a sigh, you take yourself over to the sink to do a quick clean. It's the least you could do after such a lovely meal.

"If you say so." You try your best to sound calm, but you're slightly hurt by his constant rejection of letting you into his personal life. It wasn't all the time, but there were clearly things he refused to talk about. You want nothing more than to know him.

Lost in your mildly upsetting thoughts, you recklessly take one of his knives the wrong way, the blade slicing surprisingly easily down your finger. The shock takes you back more than the actual pain. These are far too nice for everyday cooking.

Letting out a quiet curse, you feel his hand brush over your own, his shadow casting over your entirety. "Such a clutz." You hear, his voice causing you to tense. You let him guide your hand under the water to rinse it, effectively caging you in place.

"Be careful, will you? These are my nicer tools." Interesting way to say it, but you were too focused on the fact that you could feel his breath heating the back of your neck. You simply nod, before turning the water off with your free hand. You turn your body around, leaning your back against the edge of the countertop and effectively facing Alastor. His hands stay planted on either side of you, making it a bit of a tight squeeze. You weren't sure what you were trying to accomplish here, but here you are. Neither of you seem to be moving away, though. He drops his head to look into your eyes. You're lost in them.

You reach your arms upwards, holding them around his neck as best you can, and you feel him willingly lean within your grasp. The moment is heated, you feel his breath against your lips as you pull him impossibly closer. His breath is quick, almost shaky. You've never seen this side of him. You'd never associate Alastor with the term nervous.

Nearly closing the gap, you feel a hand come to your throat and fingers gently holding your jaw. With a quick turn, he places a soft kiss on your cheek. It lingers for a moment, and even if it wasn't what you were expecting, you're gasping beneath his affection. The room seems to cool down for a moment. He steps away silently, pulling his things all together.

You may have made a mistake.

"Oh, Al- I'm sorry I didn't think.. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, i-if that's what happened there." Your words quicken, suddenly becoming anxious that you may have upset him.

"No, don't fret." He waves his hand dismissively, his back still turned to you as he keeps himself busy with a bit of tidying. "I'd be an idiot to not expect that, eventually." He almost sounds insulting, a little cocky.

"Why's that? Are you used to women just throwing themselves at you?" You tease but keep yourself from his eyeline.

"Well, yes- but, you've been especially touchy recently. And you seem to be acting like I make you.. nervous. Fidgety." His little observations leave you a bit embarrassed.

"It's not nervous.. exactly. Never mind that, though.. Does.. that interest you..? At all?" It takes you a while to get the question out and it still comes across shaky. You're response is silence. Fill it.

"H-How about a drink before you head off, hm?" You quickly shuffle to your liquor cart, looking for anything to drown out your essential confession.

"It does." You freeze in place, missing the cup entirely with your first pour. That was an answer neither of you were really expecting. You finally turn to him, seeing that he had looked away just as you did.

"So, that means-" you want him to elaborate. You want to hear him say all the things you've been dreaming of. That he wants to spend his free time with you, hold your hand, and kiss it with more than just a greeting in mind. To call you anything other than kitten. Well.. that last part you didn't mind as much.

"I've not prepared myself for such a conversation, but I.. enjoy your company. And your brains.. and you certainly aren't terrible to look at." He said he didn't prepare himself, and it was pretty obvious. This wasn't his usual taunting, his usually eloquent beats. He's pausing between phrases, to come up with the best words on hand.

"Jee, thanks." You roll your eyes, your smile still shining.

"I suppose you leave me speechless, kitten." You leave a radio host, a man who talks for a living and is quite good at it, speechless. This time, he sees the freshly pink hues across your cheek. He lets out a devious chuckle, one you recognize when he's about to do something you'd consider nefarious. He starts to approach you, his clean shoes clicking against the wooden floors being the only sound. You knew you weren't in danger, but you find yourself walking backward until you hit the table. Continuing to lean away from him, he towers over you, only following your avoidance until you are straining to stand upwards.

"Well?" You let out, your words barely a whisper. "Are you going to kiss me or not?"

That seems to shock him a bit, you see his shoulders tense just slightly. You watch him contemplate his next action. He let his hand snake around your waist, not exactly to pull you closer, but his touch still left you weak. With a soft kiss on your lips, he gave you no time to truly enjoy it.

"I hate to repeat myself, but I warned you, kitten. Curious little things like yourself deserve.. more." After processing his words, you're still melting to his touch despite how fleeting it was. He steps away.

"W-What- No! I thought you said you were interested! And that kiss- W-What were-" You throw a bit of a tantrum, but quickly calm yourself. "I don't understand, help me understand. Please.." You sound a bit defeated. He sighs, clearly pained that this conversation has to continue.

"Hm.. I don't believe I'm able to give you everything you need. But, you deserve everything you need. It's as simple as that." He's pausing between words, and his expression shows that he's still not exactly satisfied with how it came out.

You shrank in place and held your arms, your mind trying to scrap together any little hints to what he means. Maybe something he's mentioned in the past. But as elusive as ever, it still just doesn't make sense to you. He catches a glimpse of your upset appearance, then takes in the rest of your state a bit longer. You can feel his eyes on you, forcing you to nervously bite at your lip.

"Okay. Let's forget all that, then." You said softly, smiling the best you can and waving your hand dismissively. He obviously knows that you wouldn't lose these feelings as quickly as he'd hoped. He'd reassure you, you'll get over it.

But you couldn't. You tried, you did. You went on other dates, considering how many men were throwing themselves at you in the right bars. You kept your distance for a bit but still saw him at Mimzy's bar on the weekends. Despite all your potential suitors, you still only seemed to look forward to those nights with Alastor. You'd go as far as to complain about some unruly men to him. His disgusted reactions were a comfort.

You kept trying to pry his real reasoning as to why he wouldn't be with you. He'd admit to not being trustworthy, which you would always dismiss. He'd go on about the other men that would be a much better fit, and all with good reasoning, but you still wouldn't stop pestering him. Then, after a few too many drinks, he finally let slip his disinterest in intimacy. And from everything he's told you, this seemed different. It wasn't an excuse or an avoidance, it was the truth.

"So, you don't find me physically attractive?" You ask him, swirling your half-empty cup.

"It's not that, I assure you. I'd just prefer to shower you in other affections, I suppose." He seems a bit unfiltered tonight, still avoiding your eyes.

"Other affections, hm? Like what, birdy?" You were already enraptured. But you were kicking yourself for getting your hopes up at all. You can see his immediate regret in his words.

"Kitten-"

"Please? I'm just curious." You say sincerely, placing your hand over top of his. You hesitate for a moment, but he seems to not mind the touch.

"Well.. I'd like to buy you the finest things. Any book you're slightly interested in, any frock that draws your eyes, any accessories that would bring out your natural beauty- you deserve it. I want to keep you proudly on my arm throughout the streets, showing everyone that you belong to me. I'd like to cook you every meal, until the day I die." His drunken rants leave an obvious sparkle in your eyes.

"Well that all sounds lovely to me.." you say softly, twisting and turning his hand until your fingers are comfortably interlocked with his. "Simply put, you're not interested in sex?” He was taken aback by your bold words, looking around as if he were nervous someone would hear. “I’ve read about it before, there’s an interesting essay that describes this sort of phenomenon. I'll have to lend it to you.” Your calmness surprises him.

“Well.. Thank you. That puts an end to that, then. Go on and find a man who can properly bed you.” He tries to act just as calm, but his voice still seems a bit frustrated by the idea. You make an act out of tapping your chin and humming in thought.

“No, I’d much rather spend my time with you.” You say bluntly. He quickly chimes in.

“But, I-”

“Alastor, I’ve never met someone as arrogant as you.” You let out a frustrated groan, pinching the bridge of your nose. “If you’ll have me, however you want that is, I’d love nothing more than to spend my days with you.” You speak slowly, almost mockingly, trying to get this damned point across after so long.

He’s still quiet, opening his mouth to respond, then letting his lips shut again. He smiles at you. You couldn't ask for a better response. It was the sweetest smile you've ever seen from him, no sign of teasing or mocking you, no hidden intent, and just slightly bashful. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, in a sweet sign of acceptance.

Things went on after that without a hitch. Mostly. There were some kinks to work out, sure, but you were absolutely head over heels for him. No one’s ever brought you this much joy, and having this more intimate side of him, despite its physicalities, was more than you could ever hope for. He’d finally let you into his home after a while. It was near spotless and he was more than willing to show off the space to you. You wondered why he felt the need to stall this for so long. But you’re together now, hardly anything else matters.

As the summer came to an end, and you had to find somewhere else, you were invited to stay with Alastor. After walking freely around town, as promised, with his arm around yours, gossip spread as it always does. Another talk of the town, two unwed youths in the same place, sharing the same bed assumedly. It made you two snicker at the rumors. Living with him was heaven.

Following through his previous statements, he showered you in compliments, cooked every meal for you, and spent as much of his free time with you as he could. He offered little physical affection, little pecks here and there, and had no issue with sharing his bed. It wasn't long before you popped the question. Neither of you were really interested in the big fancy wedding idea, he was even comprehended by the marriage itself, but if anyone could wear down his nerves, it was you. That being said, Alastor did get you a ring that you were sure cost far too much. He brought up the idea of eloping. A little vacation just for the two of you. It sounded perfect.

“Birdy~ You let out in a sing-song tone, opening the door to your shared home. Every time you’d walk up to the house, you’d slow down, taking in your flawless reality every day. You’d hold your hand out to yourself, looking at the still newly polished ring, then finally entering your perfect home.

Although, it wasn’t perfect today.

You call out his name, no response. You know he should be home, so you peak around corners to no avail. You checked tables and counters, no note to be seen.

After setting down your bag, slipping your heels off, and hanging your coat after your quick search, you head to your room to at least change for the evening. You and Alastor usually go visit Mimzy on these nights, an unspoken routine.

On the way to your room, your tights hit a wet splotch on the floor. With a groan of disgust, you finally realize what you had stepped in.

Blood.

Of course, you’d recognize blood. It trailed from the door in front of you.

Alastor assured you this was his office and showed it to you on occasion. The door was always open when he wasn't home, and although you never felt the need to intrude on his personal space, something was clearly wrong. You swung open the door.

“No.”

You cover your mouth after your quiet refusal. You're silent, unwilling to believe what you're seeing. Your darling husband-to-be, kneeling over a stained and still wet corpse wrapped in canvas. His hands are covered in blood. Actually, his entire body is covered in blood.

How he managed to get in and out of the house without making an entire mess was a thought that managed to cross your mind in your state of shock. You glance up for a second to notice one of the heavy bookshelves pushed aside, a sort of patio doorway leading to the swampy area behind the house.

You look at the door, then to Alastor. Who’s giving you a wide-eyed face that pains your chest.

Say something, Alastor. Say something that’ll make this all okay. You're a deer in headlights.

He notices your eyes dart to the right, then back to him, staring for a moment longer. One thing is on your mind without his reassurance. You’re in danger.

Run.

You book it down the hall, clearly going to the exit. Both your feet soaked in blood at this point are tracking through the house. The moment was such a blur, that you hardly remember how far you got before feeling the pain of hitting the floor. You look down after scrambling onto your back, seeing Alastor’s hand wrap around your ankle.

“Hold on! You’re covered in blood, you’re a mess, just-” He sounds deranged. Who is this man? Surely not the one who’s been treating you so well all this time. He sounds anxious and angry. You’re face is stained with tears as he essentially drags you across the floor briefly, not considering his heightened adrenaline in these moments. You kick. You scream.

“Listen to me!” He grabs you by your arms, giving you a good shake. That seems to calm you down.. or at least quiet you down. You’re staring at him wide-eyed, your breath rapid. He has your attention, yet he’s not sure what to say. A pained expression grows on his face. You’re leaving him speechless, again.

“Let’s.. clean you up.” He scoops you up, and maybe it's the shock that leaves you so lenient. Or maybe it's all the good times blurring what you've witnessed. When you come to, you’re sitting in the bath, Alastor by your side, and running a sponge across your arm, thoroughly staining the water with blood. The sight brings a gasp from your lips, that feels like the first breath you've taken in hours.

“A-Alastor-” You let out weakly, your frightened expression now burned into his mind. “Was that real..?”

“It was-” He lets out a pained sigh, seeing if he could soften the truth. It's not possible. “-It was.” no words can save him from this.

“W-Why..?”

“He was rather unpleasant. A man with too much money, who wasted most of his time on hitting his women staff. He had his chance to make things right, I assure you, this is always the last resort.” That doesn't help for obvious reasons. You pull away from his gentle washing.

“Always? You've done this before?” Your voice squeaks as it comes out. You don't want to know the details. But you can't stop the words from spilling from your lips. He stands and rings the sponge out into the sink, watching the red-tinted water swirl down the drain.

“Yes.”

“How many times have you-” You stop yourself finally. You don't want the answer to that one. You don't want the answer to any of these questions. Unconsciously, your mind still seems to piece together every strange thing he’s done and said to you.

Your half-sentence is replied to with silence. He goes on to finish cleaning you up, helping you in and out of the tub, and drying you as best he can. He wraps you in his own robe and brings you to the bedroom. You’re mortified when you notice him guiding you by your shoulders to avoid the bloody footprints still on the ground.

Some time passes. You sit empty-minded on the edge of the bed, your eyes gazing down into nothing. Alastor leans against the vanity across the small room from you. He runs his hands through his hair, pausing and clenching some strands in his fists before moving on.

“I can..get all your belongings together, find you a place to stay. I’ll do what I can to keep you safe.” He finally says, breaking the silence and your endless train of thought. His offer seems reasonable, but you still feel hurt.

“You want me to leave?” You ask quietly, gripping the edges of the robe and shrinking into yourself. He’s shocked by your response, you can hear it in his voice.

“You want to stay?” He asks in response.

“I.. I love you.” You say weakly. It stings to say it out loud. And even more so to hear it. “Will you hurt me? I-If I go to the police? If I rat you out..?” What are you doing? You can’t ask a murderer that. Your mind is running on fear, especially after what you just said. You feel his hand lightly lift your face to his, flinching slightly considering you hadn't noticed him approaching you.

“I would never hurt you. I’d spend my days rotting in a jail cell if it meant you’re safe..and happy. I love you, kitten.” You aren’t used to seeing this face. It’s almost emotionless. You start to picture this face carrying out his murderous intentions. But there's a crack in his psychopathic mask. There's a hint of softness and anguish at the sight of you.

“I don't.. I don't want to leave.” You take a hold of his hand, still shaking and clearly unsure of your words. You hear a soft hiss leave his lips, clearly trying to conceal his reaction to the unexpected. “I don’t want you to be in jail- or.. I suppose I don't want you to be caught..?” You groan, holding tightly onto his hand. “I’m so confused, Alastor. I want things to be normal. I want to go back to when you cooked for me, and.. And go back to planning- o-our elopement…” You let out weakly. He doesn't respond at first, you force your eyes up to meet his. He looks heartbroken at the sight of you.

“I just want to pretend that none of this happened..Please, stop this. F-for me, please don't do this anymore.” Your voice becomes a whisper. His hesitation only makes it all worse. He responds once he feels your grip on him loosen.

“Okay- okay. I’ll clean up this mess, and- I’ll stop. For you.” You manage to give him a weak smile, before resting your head against his chest. After holding you for a moment he settles you into bed after you had essentially fallen asleep in his arms. He does as promised. Mostly. He cleans up the mess at least.

The next morning, you wake up and hope everything that happened before a nightmare. But, you feel his robe still wrapped around you, then notice Alastor’s side of the bed empty. It's real then. It was too vivid. And if it's real.. Then he’s stopping. Because of you. It’s almost touching.

You go on about your day, and he greets you as if nothing is wrong, making your breakfast as usual. He’s chipper and goes on to chat about his plans for today. He’s pretending that nothing went on. How often has he done this? Convincingly pretend that he didn't take a life less than twelve hours ago?

It takes you a few days. A few months.. years, actually. To accept what he had done. You never forgave him, but you accepted it. You had to go on and enjoy your newly wedded life together, didn't you? Alastor had a broadcast to work on, an audience to appease, and you had to work as a physician, helping locals from within their homes. Besides, he stopped the murders after you caught him that one awful night, didn't he?

Didn't he?

Police are at your door. A nightmare of a sight. You open it, putting on your best face. It wasn't as easy as it used to be, but your smile still convinced the public. Leaning against the open door and batting your lashes you greet them sweetly. your face instantly fell to their words. You almost hoped that he had gotten caught. But he didn't.

He's dead.

“Shot in the woods, ma’am. A hunter mistook him for a deer in the dark.” you'd recall these words later, but for now, your ears were ringing and your mind was absent. You thanked them and shut the door.

You can't recall how loudly you screamed and sobbed, or for how long that went on. You need to be held. You need him to hold you and that only pains you more. You mourned for days, canceling appointments, and not answering any guests who were there to offer empty condolences. You rotted in his home. He was so young. You were both so young, there was so much to look forward to in your future. It's all gone now.

The first place you went to was Mimzy's bar. A few months had passed, and all your good liquor had run out. Plus, a familiar face could be a good change of pace right now.

“Oh, hun!” An immediate greeting at the door, Mimzy brings you to the bar. It's a late night on a workday, it was essentially empty. “I'm so sorry for your loss. Everyone in town is worried bout ya! I'm sure you don't wanna hear this, but how are you doin'?” She was right. You didn't want to hear that. You hated that question.

“Fine.” You say squeakly. It was the first word you had spoken in weeks, you realize. She slides you your drink and you immediately down it. She tops it off just for it to be finished off even faster than the last.

“Slow down, hun.” She says, sliding a glass of water to you next. When you drink it thoughtlessly, the absence of alcohol has you scrunching your nose. “I'm sure this isn't the best time, but.. I got somethin’ for ya.” She disappears into some backroom before reapproaching you and your barely touched glass of water. She places an enveloped letter in your hand. Your name written in neat cursive fills its front and your hands start to shake.

“It's from Al. He wanted me to give this to ya. If he ever.. well, if this ever happened.” as she's speaking, you've already opened it and begun reading.

It was instructions. And a large wad of cash. Above the instructions, A small blurb about how sorry he was, how much he loved you, and prayed that you'd never have to read this. Then a list of how to thoroughly clean and dispose of all evidence in his shed.

“Did you know?” you ask Mimzy, your hands crinkling on each side of the letter. She nods. “He never stopped, did he?” You say in a hushed tone, mainly in disbelief to yourself.

“Well- not exactly, no. he was finishing somethin' up in the forest that one night.” Mimzy talks as if she's practiced this conversation. He must've kept her up to date with all this.

“He told me he would stop. He said he was doing it for me-” You grip at your heart, letting out a shaky breath.

“What important is that he loved ya, right? He was an equal opportunity killer, hun, he only did what he had to. It was for the greater good, ya know?” Mimzy was speaking far too calmly about this. you let out a flurry of curses, shoving the crumpled-up instructions into your purse before standing at the bar.

“You're all fucking psychopaths!” You yell out to the empty bar and leave the building in a huff.

You needed to leave town. The two people you were closest to were both criminals. And being in this house was only hurting you more. You packed as much as you could, hand hovering over the phone to call for a taxi. You freeze in place. Then see your ring. You look at it for a moment, the light giving it a beautiful shine. With a defeated sigh, you set your bags aside and pull the instructions back out from your purse, straightening it out as best you could.

After finishing a very thorough cleaning, and questioning your actions through it all, you did everything on the list. You burned the letter alongside some other items that he told you to dispose of. You still aren't sure why you did it. He was never caught before and he must have cleaned up his job in the forest before getting shot. Maybe it was for the best. Let his radio persona live on. Let it be the last nice thing you ever do for him. You finally leave that hellhole behind.

You went on to live another sixty years, quite a feat if you must admit. You weren't much of a religious person, so passing in your sleep and waking up in the streets of Pentagram City, was a bit of a shock. After accepting the idea of an afterlife, you put the little details together. You were sure after all that went down in your youth, you would end up here. And if you're here, then maybe..

There are more important things right now. Lucky for you, you fell right in the middle of a bustling street. You scramble to your feet and quickly escape the speeding cars. Why were there cars in Hell? Why did it look so much like a big city you would visit at some point, how is it so human? There was so much to question, but you were desperate to find any sort of sanctuary.

You weren't sure why your first thought was to find the nearest bar, but something seemed to bring you in. You're almost disappointed in yourself for stepping into a club decorated as a 20s speakeasy. But it was familiar- nostalgic. A shrill voice draws your attention.

"Oh my stars! Get over here, doll!" The shriek brings your attention to the bar, where a slightly familiar face greets you. “What are ya gawkin’ at? It’s me! Mimzy? Get that tail over here!” Mimzy owns a club even in Hell? You approach her after some more beckoning.

"Long time no see! How long you been in?" She goes on. You observe her appearance as she speaks. She looks almost the same. The red eyes and sharp teeth were definitely new. You realize you hadn't had the chance to take in your own appearance, but clearly, it must've been similar enough for her to recognize you. Still questioning your position, you finally process her words.

"Oh- I just arrived actually. Lucky me to walk straight into your bar, hm?" You lean against the counter as she pours you a drink, a flurry of trauma and nostalgia turns to confusion.

"Wow! You had quite a life after old Al got you outta town, didn't ya?” She teased. You let out a nervous chuckle. Good old Al. You haven't thought about him in years. You were so young, so head over heels for this man you barely knew. You somehow managed to suppress all the bad times as you aged. Mimzy notices your face droop a bit.

"I suppose I did.." a brief smile meets the wedding band still on your hand.

"Well? Finally gonna reunite? Ooh! How romantic! You'll have to update me, sweetie!" Mimzy bats at you, letting out an excited giggle. You quickly shake your head, not processing any other way to respond.

"I-I can't- I mean.. Not after everything he’s done.” Your hands clench at even the thought.

“Sorry to break it to ya, but we’re all for a reason. You got plenty of time to forgive him, with the whole eternal punishment of it all.” Mimzy’s tone drops to a more serious one as if she’s heard that line before. “Not everyone’s lucky enough to rot in Hell with someone they love, you should see what he’s up to!” Her tone seems to immediately switch to something more chipper.

“Still, I uh.. I shouldn't. He’s been dead for so long, I’m sure he’s got some other dame cleaning up his messes.” Excuses. You didn't want to see him, because this is his fault. You're here because you helped clean up his space after his unfortunate death. Even when you had no idea, he relied on you. He trusted you to carry this burden for the rest of your life. Your rage was suppressed when you heard Mimzy's voice chime back in.

"Nope! He's been busy with uh.. his work. Still wears the ring, though~" She hums, tapping her finger to emphasize her words. You look down at your own hand. Why did you still wear yours, again? You never remarried, but mainly because of the trust issues that were instilled in you for the rest of your life. Maybe it wouldn't be a terrible idea..

“N-No, I just cant..” You let out louder than you meant to. Mimzy shrugs off your panic. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare room, would you, Mimzy?”

Mimzy did in fact have a spare room. You stayed in one of the ratty rooms about the bar, alongside some of the demons that rented the rooms for their own business. You realized, after finding a mirror, that you were portrayed with some feline features, nothing too disfiguring. Once you saw your new form, Alastor’s voice, every single time he beckoned you with kitten, rang throughout your mind. You couldn't bring yourself to look at yourself for the first few months. This was Hell after all. Eternal punishment can manifest in several ways.

Mimzy was still a clear supporter of Alastor, so she had a radio set up in your room already. No matter how hard you tried, you realize pretty early on that Alastor had some power over the radios that force his broadcasts to be the only thing streaming. You heard it all. The screams of souls being torn apart, his constant gossiping and cruel words making fun of other demons.

But damn, if it didn't feel like living again. Waking up every morning to the sound of his voice on the radio, before you can truly decipher what he’s talking about, it almost feels like a normal life. But then you hear the pain in those demons that he’s mercilessly tearing up. Sometimes, you see Mimzy cheering at the radio like some sports game is being narrated. You try to avoid her when she’s doing that.

Things were comfortable for many years. As comfortable as Hell can be, at least. Alastor became a distant part of your daily routine, you'd hear his broadcasts all the time, but only in addition to the other bustling city noises. It all seemed to cancel out after a while. You worked with Mimzy, picking up at the bar when she had to run off. In exchange, you stayed in that room indefinitely. You two seemed to become friends again, despite your living history. It became clear to you that what happened when you were alive really didn't matter down here. You all made the same degree of mistakes and you all learned that you’re here for the same reasons.

You went through extermination days as best you could, only having one face-to-face interaction. That day, you were already on the verge of death from falling debris and trying to escape a specifically insistent exorcist. She had you cornered. You shut your eyes, wincing at the upcoming angelic weapon you saw her raise at you. Only feeling a slight sting across the bridge of your nose and cheek, you open your eyes to see her flying back towards the portal to heaven. You can't believe you got that lucky. You’re still in disbelief at the entire scenario, but unlike most wounds down here, your face was permanently scarred. It was small, barely noticeable! Mimzy says.

But you knew not everyone had this much luck on extermination day. After noticing the silence on the streets, during the most recent extermination, you nervously left the bar. Everything was empty. The portal had opened closer to that hotel you’d heard of. And the exorcists were going straight to it. You scoffed, walking back into the bar. They’d finish off those demons there quickly, so you still wanted to hide. As you barred yourself up in your room, you remembered Mimzy telling you about her visit to that hotel. About why she visited the hotel. Alastor's there. You try to not panic. It’s been decades, why are you worried about him? Besides you know how powerful he is, you've picked up his whole radio demon shtick from others. He’ll be fine.

Then why are you so restless?

A loud knocking at your door shakes your entire core. You keep yourself hauled up in the corner of your room, covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You still hear a voice call your name from the other side of the door.

“You gotta come see this! The angels are gone!” It's Mimzy. it's far earlier than usual, you were almost worried it was some new tactic they picked up. You crack the door open just slightly, and her small frame pummeled the door open. She paces your room, rambling words that you barely catch, and she shoves her phone to your face. You have to take it from her shaking hands to get a glimpse. It's hard to see, but it's very obviously footage of Alastor fighting Adam. His body is warped through the drone’s camera, and you watch him fade away into nothingness after one blow. There was no audio, You couldn't hear what happened. Considering you weren't familiar with his shadow antics, you had no idea what actually happened to him.

“You gotta find out if he's okay! I can't go back to that hotel, you gotta do it!” she sounds frantic, taking her phone back. “What? Absolutely not! I'm sure he's fine.” You wave your hand dismissively, despite the hesitance in your voice. Everyone's in Hell for the same reasons. Your mind goes back and forth on the possibility of forgiveness.. of mending burned bridges.

“The videos from a few hours ago, those angels are gone! Ooh.. He's just gotta be okay..” You didn't realize how much Mimzy actually appreciated Alastor. Whether it be the protection he offers or their actual friendship, you aren't sure. But she's clearly worried about him. You just aren't ready.

Mimzy spent the next few days begging you to go down there and find him. And you refused every time. She mentioned going to Cannibal Town to visit his "Gal Pal" and even she hadn't heard from him. He's disappeared before, just recently too, You're sure it was just like his last seven-year absence. Even if you were getting a bit worried, you'd never admit it. There were no broadcasts, there was no public trash-talking from the Vees, it was just.. quiet.

“Didn't you love him?” You stare at Mimzy, in disbelief that she just said that.

“Excuse me?” That seemed to strike a nerve. And maybe she meant to do that.

“I remember you two in my bar, you were two peas in a pod! I've never seen him like that with any gal, hun. That's not somethin' that just goes away.” Mimzy takes your hand from across the bar. “Please, go check on him. Maybe it'll be like a final hurrah, but I just gotta know if he's okay.” You look around the room as if someone would offer to go in your place. But she's right. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't missing his broadcasts. You let out a dejected sigh.

“Okay.. okay! Fine.” You huff. An immediate change in attitude, Mimzy lets out an excited exclamation and pours the two of you drinks, to celebrate her pushy victory.

You take in a deep breath, looking around the new hotel's exterior. It was much larger than the previous one and more lavish. You hesitate before knocking on the door. A series of whispered voices, then scrambling feet, follow the door opening. It's the princess of Hell. You weren't expecting Alastor to greet you, but you still feel a bit disappointed.

“Hello! Welcome to the Hazbin Ho-” You quickly interrupt.

“No! Nono, sorry.” You laugh Nervously. “I'm not here for the whole.. redemption thing. Is.. uh…” You peek around her shoulder, seeing a few demons you recognize from the commercial, but no Alastor.

“Is the radio demon here..?” You finally ask quietly. Charlie still seems a little hurt from the interruption, but just because you're not interested in redemption doesn't mean she won't try to convince you.

“Alastor? Sure! He's been in his tower since we reopened.. So, he's probably up there.” She explains, pulling you into the building despite your refusal. “I can go get him for you! What's your name? I'll tell him who-”

"That's actually okay! I was sent to check up on him, so.. if he's alive, then that's all I need to hear!” Mimzy will just have to be satisfied with that. You're chickening out. If they're saying he's fine, then that's good enough for you. The longer you're here, the more anxious you're becoming. You're worried he could pop out of nowhere. Which is a legitimate concern apparently.

“Charlie!” A greeting comes from behind the blonde, and you see a red-clawed hand engulf her shoulder. “Already a new resident? How exciting! What unfortunate sinner has found themselves here as a last resort.. today…”

You know that voice. Of course, you know that voice. He looks fairly similar to how he did when he was alive, the hair was new. Ditto the antlers. A deer? They turned him into a deer down here? You almost want to laugh. Maybe being in Hell for so long has turned your sense of humor that crude. You're staring with wide eyes. He whispers your name so quietly that all you can really take in is his lips forming the word.

“Hey, Al! She was just looking for you! I think she might be worried, right?”

Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up-

“I.. was! But I see he’s clearly fine now, so! I should get back to Mimzy’s-”

“Mimzy? You're with that trainwreck?” a low voice comes from the bar, interrupting the conversation. The cat demon behind the counter scoffs at you. “Nice ears.” They fold down involuntarily from embarrassment.

“Kitten.” You immediately turn at the sound of Alastor’s voice, shivers thoroughly covering your body. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but it clamps shut. His eyes widen for a moment, looking around the room to see how almost every resident had gathered to witness the new face. You start to back away to the door.

“This may not have been the best idea.. T-thank you, princess, it was nice meeting you.” with a blink of your eye, Alastor’s arm is around your shoulder.

“Why of course! Thank you for visiting! I'll escort you out!” His chipper attitude startles you, and you feel almost insulted by his eagerness to have you leave.

“Oh! Well.. come back anytime! Our doors are always open!” You hear Charlie call out as Alastor takes you outside the building. Before you even have a chance to protest, you're suddenly in a recording room. Your mouth is still open ready to scold him, but instead, you examine the dizzying change in scenery. Your eyes finally drop to Alastor, who had taken both your shoulders and let his head drop from your view. He startles to mumble.

“W-What are you-”

“Why didn't you tell me you were here?” His head finally lifts and you catch his perplexed expression. Pained eyes paired with a strained smile, it's almost frightening.

“W-Well, I.. it was just-”

“When did you arrive?”

“A few.. decades ago..?”

“Decades?” His voice goes low and static. You pull away from his grasp as his voice changes. “You shouldn't be here. There has to be a mistake.” His voice returns to normal, and he starts to pace the room. Mumbling more nonsense to himself, he starts gripping at his hair.

You watch this for a while, before finally approaching him. You take hold of his arm, effectively stopping him in place. Pulling down his arm, you feel the grasp on his hair loosen.

“Calm down. You're pulling your hair out, again.” You say softly, brushing his hand clean of stray hairs he had torn out. Reaching forward you attempt to brush his hair back into place. Your hand pauses, hovering just by his cheek. You want to hold him. He seems to follow your hand when you decide to quickly distance yourself.

His eyes look bloodshot and demonic. How could you still possibly be getting lost in them?

“You shouldn't be here, kitten. You’re here because of me.” You flinch at his words, despite how true they are, you manage to feel some underlying guilt.

“Yeah.. Mimzy just wanted to know if you were alright. And you seem just fine. I should go.” You say bluntly, taking hold of your arms and going towards the door.

“Why didn't you find me?” His words cause you to stop.

“Sorry, you weren't exactly the first thing on my mind when I woke up in Hell.”

“Kitten, I-” His voice seems to drop the radio static. It sounds entirely too familiar.

“-don't call me that.” You snap, biting at your lip unconsciously.

“I'm sorry.” He finally says. “It was.. irresponsible of me to lie to you. I made a mistake.” He sounds more embarrassed to admit he messed up. His ego makes you scoff.

“Yes, it was irresponsible. It was downright cruel, Alastor. I had to live with the burden of your murders and had to die with the consequences.” You turn back to face him, a rage that had been boiling for decades finally spilling over. “I did so much good after you died. It has to be your fault I'm here. I never told the cops, I followed your ridiculous instructions, and it was the worst decision of my life! And now I'm paying for it. For being too far in love to realize that you were just using me!” You've had this conversation in your head so many times, that you have no issue saying exactly what you want.

“No!" He stops himself before he can shout anything else. "I assure you, that isn't the case at all. I love you more than I can put into words, kitten, can't we just-” Alastor reaches his hand out to you and you quickly lean away. You spot the ring on his finger.

“Love? You used me to make sure your record stayed clean! That's not love.” You hiss.

“I did it to protect you. I gave you everything you needed to remove yourself from the situation if anything were to happen to me. You said you went on to do good, and I believe you. That was because of me! The letter and the money were both for your safety- I was helping you.” He isn’t exactly shouting, but his tone is certainly sending chills down your spine.

“You don't get to take credit for my life! I should have never come!” You fling your arms up, turning back to the door. He grabs your arm and turns you back to him, a tight grip on your shoulders. He opens his mouth to seemingly scold you, and you're ready to bite back. You notice him scanning over your facial features, and his expression seems to falter.

“What happened to you?” He runs a clawed finger delicately across the scar on your cheek. It had faded but was still visible. You wince at his touch, which makes him pull his hand back.

“Oh, don't act like you care.” You mumble.

“Of course, I care.” His soft response forces a pained groan from your lips.

“All these sweet words you’re saying.. I-I don’t know what to think with that ridiculous smile.. I can't take you seriously!” Your voice is beginning to crack, losing the strength to have this go on.

“About that-”

“I hate you.” He flinches at your words, Out of everything you’ve said, you don't understand why that seems to silence him. He grips onto his chest, his coat and shirt scrunching into his fist. You watch him drop his head, bracing himself on his desk that he had stumbled to. You’re sure he’s being dramatic. Hamming it up to get some sort of pity. A sigh passes your lips.

“Um.. Alastor… I didn't mean to-” His act only fools you a little bit. You wonder if you’ve let out too much steam. If he really-

Before you can finish any other thoughts, he collapses to the floor.

“Fuck-” You quickly move to his side, flipping him to his back and helping him at least prop himself up against a wall. “Should I get-”

“Don't tell the others.” He breathes out, putting his hand up dismissively. With the wave of his hand, you see the blood across his palm. Your eyes follow the source to a continuously growing stain on his top. The sight of blood didn't seem to bother you after everything. “Just help me up.”

“O-Okay.” You do as he says, helping him stand. Almost feeling like an instinct, you pull his coat off of his shoulders. He struggles to keep up with the movement but still gives in. He quickly loses his strength and stumbles to the small couch nearby. You almost enjoy watching him stubbornly refuse your help.

“I.. might require.. some assistance.” He says it so softly you almost want to ask him to repeat himself. Even if you understood him just fine.

“You're asking for help?” You correct him, placing your hands on your hips.

“I don't need help.” He snaps. You would've been offended if you knew he was just to flustered to admit it.

“Then what do you need?” You sit beside him on the couch, placing your hand on his blood-stained shirt. He immediately winces.

“For.. you to stitch this up.” You start unbuttoning his shirt, your hands grazing the fluff of his chest with a mild curiosity. You finally get the full scope of a completely untreated slash that would've surely killed any human if left untreated. But for an almost immortal demon, it was just a painful nuisance. Very painful.

“From your fight with… You want me to help you stitch this up?” You ask because that it seems near impossible to do so, even with someone of your medical history. It's wide and seems to be covered with specks of gold. It feels like small shards of glass when you swipe your hand over him.

“.. yes.” He says quietly. You let out a breathy chuckle, shaking your head at him. He’s reckless, too stubborn to have looked at the wound because of its reminder of his defeat. And you know that's exactly why it got this bad. No matter how small, Alastor sees the smile growing on you.

“I missed your smile.” He says softly.

“Please stop saying things like that.. You're confusing me.” You make sure to speak your words quietly as if you don't want them to be heard. A small demonic creature rushes to your side, holding a tray up with the essentials to properly treat the slash. It stays perfectly still once in your reach.

You went to work, after some proper scolding, trying your best to keep the process as painless as possible. Every so often, you wonder why you are being so careful with him. He doesn't deserve your tenderness. Your thoughts are stopped when you see his hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you away. His face is scrunched, a hiss passing by his tormented smile. You must've hit the wrong spot while lost in thought. Your eyes fall to his ring, again.

“Why did you keep this on?” You ask, examining his hand that’s still engulfing your wrist.

“It reminds me of you. And yours?” His voice is hushed, still recovering from the pain. You realize he has a full view of your own hand, your wedding band sitting just as clear to him.

“It.. reminds me of what you did to me.” You hear a quiet groan in response to your words, and he releases your arm, gripping the couch in its stead. You keep going.

“I'll admit, I was worried about you.. after the battle with Adam. Maybe it was Mimzy getting me all worked up..” You finally admit. You don’t want him to think you’ve spent your whole life and death hating him. But why would it matter either way?

“I can't be killed, you had nothing to worry about.” He replies, not willing to comment on your sudden vulnerability. Not in this position. All you can do is laugh at him. He's clearly talking out his ass.

“Looks like you got pretty close to it.” You scoff. His ears flatten, and he looks away like a stubborn child.

You finish up after an hour. It felt much longer. The silence with quiet quips mixed in, the surprisingly intimate moment, it was suffocatingly uncomfortable.

“I didn't want to come here. I was perfectly content in being in Hell. I didn't expect this form of torture.” You say, setting everything back onto the little tray presented to you. That little demon had been standing there this whole time. You notice it started shaking a while ago.

“Come now, you're being dramatic. You chose to find me, did you not?” He says, sitting a bit taller with the regained strength.

“I'm not being dramatic! You try to avoid Mimzy's constant nagging! I hear your voice everywhere, see all the ads for this hotel, and they made me a damn cat, Alastor!” You feel yourself starting to lose your composure, gripping your hair and letting out a pained laughter. “H-how unfair is that..?” You let out a weak chuckle, feeling tears well in your eyes. He pulls your hand away from your hair, brushing his thumb across your ring as he holds you for a moment longer.

“Completely unfair. Your appearance may be.. unappealing … to you, but your face is still the same. Your eyes still bright as usual, your smile just as sweet.” His sincerity is muddling your thoughts. Those thoughts that warn you he’s hurt you before. And now he’s a cruel overlord, he’ll hurt you again tenfold. You feel his thumb drag along your lip after realizing you had leaned in towards him.

“Still biting your lip, hm?” His static fades again, and you wince at the raw skin he's brushing over. Old habits apparently don’t die hard.

“N-nervous tick, I guess..” His closeness leaves you a bit breathless.

“Do I make you nervous?” His tone confuses you. There’s an underlying sense of worry, a genuine concern for your well-being. But you’re still distracted by his strange smile. You don’t have much time to think any further about it before you’re startled by gentle lips against yours. It’s quick but is more than enough to let out a flood of feelings you’ve been suppressing since the day you left your hometown. He looks at you with a sly smile on his face.

“I’m still mad at you.” You say quietly.

“I know.” He kisses you, again.

“Y-You don’t have to-” He interrupts you with another kiss.

“I know.” Still holding your face you barely take in his next words with a clear head. “I miss you.” Another kiss, just to throw you off this time, “I miss having you at my side.

Stay.. please.”

There was no way you would drop everything to live with a man you were barely married to in life. That didn't stop you from seeing him more, though. You were actually.. kind of glad to see him. To patch things up, even just a little. You’d visit, sneaking around at first to avoid any interaction from the other residents of the hotel. They were all more than intimidating to you. Especially considering one of them was the king of Hell. Alastor was more than happy to keep you away from him, though.

You updated Mimzy on how he was when you left that first night, but you left out the unimportant bits.. Like the giant angelic slash across his chest. You didn’t need Alastor to tell you that you shouldn't be going around spreading that information. A true accomplice. When Mimzy noticed you were visiting him to the point where you couldn't cover the bar when she needed you to, she was more than happy to kick you out. You knew exactly what she was doing. She didn't want you homeless, but you were essentially left with nowhere to go. Except for the hotel.

It wasn’t the worst thing to happen.. Things almost seemed normal. Alastor had lots of sucking up to do, even though he wouldn't call it that. He was definitely working at it. Making you breakfast like before, treating you like even higher royalty than he ever could while alive. He has the power to do so now and he fully intends to use it. And it’s working.. A little bit.

Okay, a lot.

You’re shocked that he still seems the same after becoming the powerful overlord he is. You’d love to convince yourself that none of that mattered, his status in Hell or what happened when you were alive. That you could just forget mortality to look forward to the potential future facing you. It’s easier said than done.

You're still struggling with your nightmares. Even more so in Hell, likely another form of punishment. Something about the hotel seemed to subdue some of them actually. As if the air were clearer here. It only helped most nights, though. Whenever you woke up in a cold sweat, struggling to breathe, clutching at your heart, there was only one thing to calm you. The radio at your nightstand would play a specific song. One that Mimzy was fond of, so you heard it most nights at her bar on Earth. Whenever you heard that, you knew he was there. He was waiting for you.

"Birdy?" You knock on his door, which seems to open slowly just from your touch. Alastor is sitting contently in front of his firepit. This wasn't the first time you've found him in the middle of the night.

"Another one, my love?" He tilts his head up slightly, the book he had in his hand shutting immediately. You nod your head slowly, already approaching him. Your blanket still wrapped around your shoulders is dragging across the ground. You give him a look he recognizes, and he nods at the implications. Without caution, you let out a tired whimper and plop into his lap. He pulls the blanket over your entirety.

Getting completely comfortable, he adjusts his arms to pull his book back to his eyeline. With your head nuzzled against his shoulder, you're too tired to conceal your little habit of purring. He doesn't mind, though. He loves it.

♡♡♡

Another big boy for ya 🫶

Human Alastor is really fun to write for, I had to do some research tho lol

I tried to keep Alastor's sexuality in mind, so I hope I represented it well. That's always something that makes me nervous when writing for Al 😬

Taglist!

( @vififofum / @thornwolfy235 / @tinywolfiegirl / @chipper-chip / @bat-boness / @misfitgirlwrites / @nayomi247 / @lonelynmisunderstood / @escapistoftherealworld / @b4ts1e / @hamthepan / @kyo-kyo1 / @looking1016 / @polytheatrix / @littledolly2345 / @lillianastuff / @yourlocalcryptidbee /@0strawberrysorbet0 / @themageofblood / @jayyyayaysblog / @floralsightings / @azmosposts / @8har0ley8 / @actuallyspiderwoman / @sirenetheblogger / @christineblood / @kaytemchugh / @cimadreamer / @simpdevil66 / @azmosposts / @m3ow1 / @acrazyartist / @redfoxwritesstuff / @4k1to / @meesachan / @corvusskid / @alientee /@xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @alon3lylov3r /@sapphireravensworld / @mjmdragons / @catticora / @carrie0-1 / @shamblezzz / @cassandras-nest / @the-maladaptive-daydreamers /@str4wberry-t00th-anon / @voxrei / @raythegay / @whoknowswhoiamtoday )

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fan fiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin fanfiction #hazbin fanfic #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x you

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flowerbritts · 1 day

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A little detail you might not have noticed in Dead Boy Detectives.

So, I was encouraged by some lovies over on the DPDAS (Dead People Detective Agency server) to make this post about how I think we've seen more than just Death and Despair of the Endless in Dead Boy Detectives. If you look behind the boys who are pelting rocks at Charles before his death, you will see someone watching the crime happen. The figure is shadowed by a single overhead light, a streetlamp that seems a little out of place; they seem like they are wearing a robe/a cloak as you can make out little to none of their features. They also look like they are holding something.

"oh, but that may be the night nurse!" you say.

The night nurse was holding her book to her chest, a small lamp light hovering over the book itself. For further proof, it isn't her; here, the figure is in the same shot as her.

Though they are harder to make out, you can tell someone is still standing there and watching through the fog. And remember it's the night nurse who is going through Charles's memories; as she works for an endless, she would be able to see any who were there during the event

I believe this figure to be Destiny, as the description matches what we've seen so far. He wears a cloak, and he carries something, the book of Destiny.

Maybe it was destiny for Charles to die on that day to meet Edwin.

Thanks to Kos for getting the screen grabs and encouraging me to write this post.

We all just found it interesting since apparently there was an easter egg that we had missed.

I am now going to sleep; thank you for reading!

#tdbd #dead boy detectives #sandman #the sandman #charles #charles rowland #the endless #night nurse

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cheeseburgersinparadise · 2 days

Note

Why is death feederism ok? It is objectively self harm, as one is doing something that will result in them hurting themselves and eventually dying (as fetishized). I just can’t understand it… I am someone in this space that likes being stuffed and full, and doesn’t mind a little biy of wg… but I just don’t understand why gaining until death is encouraged so much when it’s so extreme and life ruining.

Like if there was a feeder and feedee couple that were into it… what would happen if the feeder had issues and couldn’t help the feedee that is reliant on their feeder? What happens if they break up and the feedee is dependent enough where they need family or something to help?? I mean it’s just… they could literally die if they were so dependent and forced to live on their own.. encouraging people to ruin their lives because it makes their private part excited is encouraging self harm.

This is my opinion and I seriously want to know what you have to say… I brought this up to someone else and their response was to block me and say “I think death feeding women think more critically about the fetish🤔” without response. And just so you know this isn’t fatphobic, i never once said I find fat people gross or anything, I just find the idea of fetishizing self harm gross. It’s fetishizing being disabled and or dead.

TW for death feedism, kink talk, self harm/suicide

so general disclaimer - I am not a death feedist and so I don’t know that I’m a good representative to speak on this topic but I’ll share some brief thoughts.

I think it’s okay to look at extreme fetishes and feel uncomfortable with them, so I’m not going to try and tell you that you can’t feel the way you do. I was very critical of people who practiced this fetish in ways I personally didn’t like and this community helped me realize it’s not my business to do that. There is no moral superiority in kink.

The thing is though - in order to be sex positive and an ally to our fellow feedists (yes, even the ones we disagree with or don’t like how they practice the fetish) we have to respect their bodily autonomy and allow them to make whatever decisions they think is best for them. It’s not our job nor our place to tell folks what they can and can’t do.

I would maybe agree that it’s a slippery slope and in a very extreme case, you could argue that this line of thinking would allow us to excuse a suicide fetish, for example (unsure if that’s a real thing). But there ARE disability fetishes and a fetish isn’t inherently bad as long as there are informed consenting parties and you are practicing RACK.

I don’t know if that line of thinking is even worth arguing because it could only serve to slip the other way up the slope back to overt purity culture. I want to validate your thoughts and questions because its important to critically analyze things and i want to believe you are coming from a place of good faith (and I have it in me to try and discuss this).

Regarding the statement of “death feedists think more critically about the fetish” could be true, as realizing you’re a death feedist DOES require reflection and understanding of yourself and of fatphobia in general. I haven’t had at length discussions with folks about this but the death feedists on my dash that post about fat lib seem to know their shit.

At the end of the day, why death feedists enjoy that aspect of the fetish is not for me to debate with or without them present. It’s not for me to tell them what they can and can’t do with their bodies. That aspect of the fetish isn’t for me, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to tell others what they should get off to. I also think death feedists are a smaller portion of the community and it’s easy to block the tags they use if you don’t want to see their content. I know a few death feedists and I like them (at least their online persona) and they are probably more equipped to discuss this if they want to. So please feel free to add some comments if you’d like, death feedist friends.

My advice is practice radical acceptance. It feels uncomfortable but I think ultimately it makes you a better person when dealing with things you think are weird or gross or bad.

#chzburger answers #death feedism #death feedist #tw suicide

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silkscream · 3 days

Text

CHAPTER 11: POISON ROOT

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a fiending addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, drunk sex, threesome, oral sex, cumplay, phone sex, mentions of depression, angst, descriptions of mild gore

ੈ✩ wc: 7k

ੈ✩ a/n: here's a nice and fat chapter for you before we enter The Dark Ages <3

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

“Sorry, what?”

Yaga scowls at you and you’re unfazed. Mostly, you’re exasperated.

“I’ve repeated myself twice already,” he says calmly. More so brusquely, but you didn’t care enough to gauge his reaction. You’re too busy processing his words.

“I—I know, I’m sorry,” you mutter. “But why me? Shoko’s technique is way stronger than mine.”

“Shoko’s technique is not your technique. And unlike her, you actually engage in combat.”

“Because the boys forced me—”

He brings a hand to your shoulder in an attempt for reassurance. You freeze.

“Your technique is remarkable. Stronger than you think,” Yaga sighs, almost in resignation. He doesn’t seem particularly enthused about what he’s proposing to you, but you consider that you’d probably worn him down over the past half hour.

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face. Mouth parted like an animal struck with fear.

“But—”

“There hasn’t been anyone with a technique like yours in over ten years. I remember it. I had a family friend as a teacher here first—she talked about a boy that could regenerate cells. Practiced on plants and small animals as a child until he was able to resurrect bigger ones at your age.”

“That boy isn’t me,” you protest, your brows furrowing.

“He isn’t,” Yaga snaps back. “He died, and his death could’ve been prevented. This is why I want you to do this. I want you to be strong enough so that the same thing doesn’t happen to you.”

You swallow and look down, pretending to be interested in your thumbs. Your hands are delicate compared to anyone else’s. You had always admired people who could make something out of nothing, people who sculpted, crafted. Sometimes, you often wonder if what you do could be considered the same.

You haven’t told anyone, but it’s easy to destroy things with your hands. Much easier than it is to build anything up, to heal.

You’d tried it during long walks through the forest. On your way back from solo missions, you’d take routes that were less traveled, needing to clear your head. Once or twice, you remember finding animals that were victims of hunting. Broken limbs, bleeding out too much for you to save. You’d practice the darker parts of your technique, letting quick rot take away their misery.

“For how long?”

“Just two months. July and August.”

You take a deep breath. You could be alone in Kyoto for two months. The boys would survive. At least, you think Suguru would.

When you tell Satoru the next day, it’s a disaster.

“You’re what?”

“Satoru,” you warn, crossing your arms.

Dealing with him is arduous. You knew he would react this way. He looks at you with irritation, nipping at your bare thigh just to see you pout. You were in the middle of reading when he had barged in, craving the scent of your moisturizer on your inner thighs. Needed the whipped softness of your flesh squeezed in between his hands after some heated sparring with Suguru.

“You can’t.”

“That’s not your decision—”

“You can’t. What did that old man say? Some other guy had your technique and died?”

“I’m not going to die!” you huff, rolling your eyes.

Satoru frowns, his blue eyes glowing. He was free of missions for the past week, treating you to dates whenever he could. It seems that you’ve ruined his bliss. That ugly thought in his head festered in his mind again — the need to possess you. Trap you in a glass cage to stay alive forever like you were his enchanted rose.

“Like hell you won’t,” he mutters. “Which is why you’re staying.”

“I want to get stronger, Satoru.”

“You didn’t even want to be a sorcerer in the first place! And now you’re desperate to train with your little cell regeneration? Are you gonna dabble in necromancy?”

You frown at his condescending tone. He isn’t taking you seriously. He never does. Satoru has always had his way of belittling others, but he’d sworn to never do that to you given your history. You take a deep breath.

“It’s just… an independent study, alright? This could help me in the future. I could go to medical school with Shoko or something, you know? If you’re so scared of me dying because of combat, then I could just focus on the regeneration part and—”

“And what about the other part? How you make things rot and disintegrate?” he asks you incredulously, nearly snarling.

“That’s another thing I can learn to control.”

“But–”

“I didn’t have private lessons like you! I’m not a prodigy like you. Can I just have this one thing?” you plead with exhaustion. You can see the way his eyes flicker with a quiet rage, his mouth turned down into a pout. Petulant even at his big age.

Satoru sighs heavily. He nuzzles his face into your hand, kissing the heartline. You almost feel proud of yourself for not giving into him before the conversation began. He’d come into your room wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves messily cut off, exposing the hard lines of his stomach. Just a gaze had ripped away your autonomy, brain dumb at the sight of him.

You wanted to lick him clean before he opened his damn mouth.

“I won’t tell you what to do,” he says in defeat.

“Thanks.”

You sit with him for a while, staring at the ceiling, hair strewn around your pillow. Silence fills the air save for the sound of his breathing. Eventually, he curls into you, nose into your bare shoulder as he mumbles unintelligible things. His mouth in the shape of I’ll miss you.

“I know,” you murmur. “I will, too.”

Suguru copes by getting buzzed in the daytime. He liked the hope on your face, how the light hit your eyes in a certain way. It meant something more. He knew that you were worth more.

Lately, Suguru feels like less.

Not particularly less than anyone else, though he knows that he’s certainly less than Satoru just by default. He remembers the mission all too clearly—it’s the only thing that haunts his nightmares. The blankness on Satoru’s face, his willingness to kill a group of people just for the sake of it.

He thought he’d lost Satoru forever, that he’d fucked up the mission by letting a bullet go through Riko’s head. But then, of course, Satoru survived. Of course Satoru found a way to bring himself back to life. Everything should be fine, because Satoru came out alive, and so did he. So did you.

It didn’t feel like enough. The taste of curses started to get worse, if that was even possible. Suguru has been starting to believe that he didn’t deserve anything palatable. That the universe was working against him maybe, because his depressive spirals last longer now.

And you’re fucking leaving.

He knows he can have you whenever he wants, but he likes to lick the taste of you out of Satoru’s mouth.

He bites Satoru’s lip and it makes the boy yelp.

“What the hell was that for?” Satoru pouts. Suguru only grins wolfishly.

“Thought you wanted me to make you feel better. You don’t like it rough?”

“Of course I like it rough,” Satoru grunts. “But you know I hate teeth.”

“On your dick.”

Satoru pauses, rolling his eyes, then sinks his teeth into Suguru’s neck instead.

“You smell like a dive bar. It’s fucking 3 pm.”

“Day off, bitch,” Suguru mutters.

Satoru pushes Suguru against the mattress and spoons him, rutting against his ass. It’s always a little violent with them. You used to joke about it—something about dogs and masculinity. Satoru kept wanting to fuck like it was a cage match. Bull-headed, annoying. For Suguru, intimacy always felt like a car crash no matter who it was with.

“You’re not fucking my ass,” Suguru mumbles.

Satoru whines childishly, of course.

“Ran out of lube.”

“Spit?” Satoru begs, his eyes comically large.

“Fuck you, dude,” Suguru scoffs.

“I’m trying!”

Suguru turns to fall onto the bed facing Satoru, then shoves his head downward. He feels numb despite his throbbing cock. He knows Satoru’s mouth is probably watering for him.

“C’mon,” Suguru slurs, unzipping his shorts. “You need to work on giving head.”

“Hey!”

“Not my fault she does it better than you.”

Satoru huffs but leans over the end of the bed anyway, his limbs too long to crouch on the bed. He spits on Suguru’s cock and pumps agonizingly slowly, coaxing out guttural sounds vibrating out of the boy’s throat.

For once, Suguru feels a little powerful when the Jujutsu world’s boy-god chokes over his dick. He looks down and pushes his head down, reveling in the sound of him gagging, throat slack. Not as good as you, but getting better. The drool makes him look pretty. It matched the glazed look in Satoru’s eyes.

Suguru nearly finishes right then and there, the barbed wire inside of his body starting to untangle until there’s a knock on his door. Of course you knock—the polite girl you are.

“S’unlocked,” he calls after you. Satoru makes a noise. Something in between a moan and a sound of protest.

Suguru likes your wide eyes. You’re out of your school uniform, dressed in a white number with embroidered flowers at the hem that hits halfway above your knees.

“Oh… I—”

“C’mere, baby,” Suguru rasps, his hand reaching out for you. He’s so close, threading his fingers through Satoru’s hair before pulling at his snowy mop.

Satoru coughs, his throat raw. It makes Suguru laugh. You watch like you’re outside of your own body, eyes wide. It was easy for them to get you under a spell.

It doesn’t take long for their hands to grope you, have your dress pooling at your waist so that your bare ass is on display. Heathens. Being with them was always like throwing yourself to the wolves.

“So wet,” Suguru groans, circling a finger in the heat hiding behind your underwear. “Wanted a proper send-off, angel? Gonna miss us all the way in Kyoto, aren’t you?”

You can’t respond when your head is already so dizzy with Satoru’s teeth on your collarbone.

“Don’t talk about that, I’ll lose my boner,” Satoru huffs.

“What a baby.”

“Stop arguing,” you roll your eyes.

Suguru decides to be selfish, his dick already out and pulsing from the tease of Satoru’s tongue. He slides it along your folds, wetness pooling right underneath him. It makes him groan, his insides white-hot. He’d been craving this since he’d woken up this morning. The heat was making his moodiness deliquesce into desperation burning like acid in his stomach. He needed you and Satoru like a bullet begging to be lodged, piercing out of a bannister.

“Not fair,” Satoru grumbles, his knees bent as he gropes you. Rutting against the mattress pathetically as he whines, his desperation puppy-like.

His mouth is salty, leftover from Suguru’s precum. His hair smelled like Suguru’s too—he must’ve been copying his hair routine for the hell of it. It was enough to keep him close without asking to sew himself into the boy’s skin.

Suguru looks down at you and your blissed-out face, vulnerable before he’s even entered you. Your mouth is wet from Satoru’s kisses, spit drooling out of the corner of your pink mouth. Suguru smears it around and already imagines himself pulling out of you to finish there instead, just to see it on your lips. He’d like to see you cry again one last time.

You hum when you’re filled with him. Stuttering hips hitting slack thighs. Soft despite the violence inside him, the little voice in his head taunting him to wreck you.

He likes you like this, first. Daisy-soft, his fingers in your mouth until you gag. Yelping in time with Satoru’s stupid whines.

“Twigs,” Satoru breathes, his hot breath fanning your jaw. “Can I put it in your ass?”

You groan, shaking your head as Suguru howls with laughter.

July, 2010

Gakuganji has you on a leash. It hasn’t even been a week and you’ve already gone on two missions, each that ended with you covered in blood, but luckily unscathed. Satoru would have a fit if he knew. The ghost of him hovers on your shoulder at your weakest moments — taunting you, challenging you. You know he wouldn’t be as cruel if he was with you physically, but your psyche conjures him in a way that feels like punishment.

You can’t escape him, either. He’s needier than you expect — visiting you during off times during your weekends, treating them like serendipitous encounters. You don’t believe him, and you shouldn’t.

(He warps to you when he gets in fights with Suguru. When he gets too horny to find someone at a bar, because if it’s not Suguru, it’s you. But he could never tell you that.)

You like to keep yourself busy in Kyoto. Whether it’s immersing yourself in your studies or practicing your technique, you can occupy yourself easily, even if you’re bombarded by images of veiny hands, long black hair, pink mouths. Blue eyes that are too bright, even in your dreams.

You spend most of your time by yourself, anyway. It’s what you need. If not that, then you’re at the local bars with Utahime-senpai, who transferred to Kyoto months before.

“Are you their little plaything?” she teases. You’re loosened up after a few beers, all on her tab, but the mention of the boys sobers you up immediately. You scowl.

“What?” She holds her hands up in surrender. “Everybody knows… Shoko kind of already told me.”

“Of course she did,” you snort.

“I’m just saying, you should be careful. They’re insatiable. And never in their right mind. I could advocate for Geto-kun, but I’m sure Gojo’s already corrupted him.”

Corrupted. It’s a funny notion. You wonder if you’ve been corrupted by both of them. Satoru as your first didn’t bother you. To have Suguru as your second only complicated things. You haven’t known anything else but them. You aren’t sure if this should concern you until Utahime talks about it.

“They’re kind of the same in that way,” you mumble.

“Are they both your boyfriends?” Utahime giggles.

“N-No…”

“So it’s not serious? I know I’m not much older than you, but I still went through a few flings. You shouldn’t let them keep you on a chain.”

“They’re not–”

“Are you sure?” she laughs. “You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. It’s like they brainwashed you.”

“Hime,” you frown.

“I’m just saying,” she shrugs. “There are lots of men around here staring at you.”

“No, there aren’t.”

“Someone is staring at you right now. Behind you. Blonde. Tacky if he wasn’t like, a little hot like he is.”

“Shut up.”

She gives you a pointed look that causes you to look over your shoulder. Lo and behold, there is a man of that description making glances at you with a cocky smirk. It reminds you of the way Satoru looks at you. It makes your stomach flip.

“See?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you mumble.

You move past the crowd to the single stall, plastered in posters from vintage porn magazines and graffiti. Your phone’s about to die, but the group chat with you and the boys has unread messages. It’s mostly Satoru complaining, arguing with Suguru about things that you couldn’t care less about. There are separate messages from them, too. Satoru’s suggestive selfies and Suguru’s words of affirmation. You scoff at the difference between them.

When you return, Utahime grins at you like she’s plotting.

“What did you do?” you narrow your eyes.

“He came over here! I knew it. He was interested in you,” she beams.

“What?”

“Relax. He’s a sorcerer. And I gave him your number.”

“Hime!” You shove her arm lightly, groaning when she laughs.

“You need to get laid by someone who isn’t an idiot.”

You roll your eyes. The many beers are making your head swim too much for you to actually be angry. If anything, your cheeks feel warm at the prospect of someone else being interested in you. It’s not something you’ve experienced in your youth, or now for that matter, since Satoru had sunken his teeth in you so quickly.

Images of him talking to other girls at parties flash in your mind, making you grimace. Maybe Utahime was doing you a favor.

The bachelor in question is nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not getting a good look at him. A pit forms in your stomach at the idea of him texting you – a handsome stranger who watched you babble drunkenly to Utahime. It occurred to you that you hadn’t even considered yourself something desirable in a context that wasn’t bound to Satoru or Suguru.

On the walk home, the thought consumes you. You aren’t sure if you even know yourself without them. During most of your life, you’ve only known obedience. Intimacy with Satoru was no different, you realize. You were wrapped around his finger since you were children – it didn’t matter that you were apart for years. It would always be him.

You aren’t sure if this bothers you or not. You try to push the thought away, shaking your head slightly as if daydreams of him would fall out of your head. It doesn’t work, not really. You’re drunk. Naturally, you think of his pink mouth. The veins on his hands.

You unlock the door of your room. When you enter, darkness envelops you, which you’re used to, if not for the bright blue eyes that stare back at you.

“Jesus!” you mutter, cursing to yourself once you can get the nearest lamp on.

“What? Not happy to see me?” he slurs, flashing you a sloppy smile.

“Can you at least give me a heads-up before you show up randomly?”

“That ruins the surprise, baby,” he purrs, walking over to you to set his hands on your hips. Trapping you gently.

“You’re drunk.”

“Hm?”

“You’re. Drunk. Why are you here?”

“Had a mission nearby. Then I went to a bar to relax. And then, I thought, warping to Tokyo would take too much for a drunk. Why not stay here?”

“I’m not a motel.”

“C’mon, baby,” he pouts. “You’re not gonna kick me out, are you?”

You scoff, moving past him to sit on your bed and take off your shoes.

Satoru chuckles, taking a seat right next to you, thigh touching yours. “You’re drunk, too. I can smell it.”

“I haven’t even been here for a full month and this is like, the third time you’ve surprised me. What’s going on with you?”

“What? Can’t miss my lover?”

He says lover like it’s an inside joke. He never says girlfriend. Never partner.

“You’re so needy.”

“You like me that way,” Satoru says, his voice velvety. He’s not in his uniform, but a light blue button-down and slacks. You wonder if he’s planned this or if he dressed up for someone else, running to you as the safest option because you’re always there. Always willing.

You’d been ready to sink into your shitty mattress and dream of him. You hadn’t been anticipating the real thing in front of you. It was stupid, how he took your breath away, as if he was still something new to you. As if he hadn’t been in the back of your mind since you were a little kid, always.

“I’m tired, Satoru,” you sigh.

“You sure?” he grins. “You smell like beer. Still trying to have some fun tonight?”

You narrow your eyes at him and he laughs. He comes closer, pinching the meat of your thigh right under the hem of your skirt, chuckling when you swat his hand away.

“So short. Who’s this for, huh?” he taunts.

You swallow back an insult the moment you look down at the way his large hands play with a loose thread of your skirt. How large they are compared to your thigh, the calloused tips of his fingers running circles in your skin.

“No one,” you breathe.

“You cheating on me, Twigs?”

“Yeah, with Utahime,” you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that. Sounds hot, to be honest.”

Your cursed energy flares. You hate when he belittles you, but you could never do anything about it. You could only fall into his trap, giving into him the way he knows you will. You don’t even notice that he’s caged you within his arms, his hands settling on your hips as his body backs you into your bed. The back of your knees hit the mattress.

His breath smells sweet. It usually does, but it’s something sour this time. Something citrusy, along with the smell of something much too alcoholic. One of those whiskey sours, you guessed. You don’t realize how drunk he is until you look him in the eyes, his blue irises unfocused despite the desperation in his gaze.

“Of course not,” he grins, leaning in to inhale your scent. “You’d never. My sweet girl. My best girl, right?”

“You say that like I’m one of many,” you scoff.

“Are you jealous?” he rumbles, laughing. “As if there’s anyone else I like as much as you…”

He says girl and you think of Suguru. An exception, just barely. You realize how much you miss him, too.

Your eyes flutter closed as Satoru backs you into your bed, teeth grazing your earlobe. You aren’t sure if it’s him or the drunkenness of your brain. You don’t even notice his fingers massaging your thighs, trailing up to hook your underwear to the side to tease your dripping core. It’s his teasing laughter that snaps you awake.

“So wet… did you know I was coming, baby? Or were you expecting someone else?”

You don’t answer. Your breath hitches at the contact of his eager fingers prodding you, pushing upwards into your pulsating cunt before you can protest. The wounded noise you make only spurs him on further.

“You went to a bar, right? Were you thinking about me when you were there? Got yourself all wound up?”

You don’t reply. He’s too busy pushing his fingers to the very edge, stimulating the spot that makes your knees buckle before you can even form a thought.

You gasp, your mouth parting. Slack-jawed, eyes rolling back as you get closer to the edge before he’s even inside you. It could be pathetic if you cared, but Satoru always made everything around you melt, like you weren’t in your own mind anymore. You accepted being a body that belonged to him, nothing more.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he breathes, his lips tickling your jaw. “You’re so quiet.”

“Satoru,” you sigh. His other hand rubs the small of your back, touching the bare skin underneath your thin shirt.

He digs his fingers in further, knuckle-deep until he hears you make a pained noise. He grins at your broken moan like he’d just won a prize. He doesn’t stop, either — he wanted to hear more of those sounds out of your mouth. It was proof that you were still his, wrapped around his finger.

You try to catch your breath as you lay back on your bed, his strong arms hoisting you up to the wall. You hiss at the feeling of his teeth on your thighs, biting desperately. Satoru was already sweating despite only coaxing bliss from you once.

He claws at you, pulling at the buttons of your blouse and tugging your skirt down until you’re left bare for him. He groans at the sight of your silky skin, the way your chest heaves in anticipation. Everything about you is ripe, ready to break underneath his hands.

He’s less vocal this time when he takes you, pushing into you before you can say anything. He doesn’t realize how drunk he is until he does this, considering every sense of his was numb until he entered you, igniting his synapses on fire.

You whimper from the abruptness, aching between your legs. You think that you would’ve bled if you weren’t so in love with him, but you knew better. Anything from him made your entire body warm and pliant, wet beyond your comprehension. You hated it, sometimes.

But you couldn’t hate anything about it now. You were doused in bliss.

“My girl,” he slurs. “So fucking perfect. Say it.”

You mutter nonsense under your breath.

He bends you in half, your calves resting on his broad shoulders. He chuckles at your pathetic whines.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Fuck — I – I’m your girl,” you sob.

“My perfect girl,” he mutters, correcting you. He groans when he looks down at you, his hips stuttering. His thrusts are harder than usual on purpose — he’d rather die than tell you that he’d only warped to you because he was having a panic attack in his room alone.

He thought he could get his mind off of you, off of Suguru, who he’d assumed was angry with him all day. There were only dry texts from the both of you. No woman at the bar could compete, even if he managed to get a decent handjob in the bathroom. He could only think of you.

Satoru knew you’d hate him for it. He was disgusted with himself. He feels it now, aching inside the cavern of his chest when you moan his name, knowing he doesn’t deserve a praising word out of your mouth.

He whines, on the verge of tears as he rides out his orgasm in your cunt.

“Shit,” he hisses into the skin of your neck.

You can barely reply before he kisses down your stomach, licking himself out of you with his nails digging into your thighs.

“Satoru, what are you—oh, fuck—”

“Cum for me,” he slurs, lapping at your clit as he pushes his fingers into you. He pauses, mesmerized at the way his cum drips out of you, only for his fingers to push it back into the hilt, up to his knuckles.

You sob in protest, your thighs shaking as he plays with you. He doesn’t stop for a second. It’s almost as if he doesn’t realize you’re there, his heavy-lidded gaze fixed on the way your pussy swallows his fingers.

“S’too much,” you whine, grasping his wrist tightly.

“Fuckin’ love you,” he murmurs under his breath. You don’t hear him. Your body convulses as he continues to play you like an instrument. He only stops when he looks up to see tears pricking your eyes.

“S-Satoru…”

“Fuck,” he mutters. He finally retracts, licking his fingers as he looks at you intensely. “Mine… you’re all mine.”

The glassy look in his eyes is from the alcohol, you assume, but there’s something tantalizingly too real about the expression on his face. Raw with something he only buries inside his gut. He snaps out of it like it’s not something you’re supposed to see.

He grunts when he lays his head on your lap, his fingers digging into your skin possessively as you tremble. You prop your head up on your pillow, trying to catch your breath as you stroke his hair.

“Why’d you get so drunk?” you ask quietly. “Were you alone?”

“Of course I was,” he scoffs, almost defensive. But he smells a sweetness on his skin that isn’t from you, and he knows you’ve already picked up on it.

“You could’ve texted or called me instead of breaking into my dorm.”

“You just hate fun,” Satoru mumbles.

Despite his attitude, he rubs his cheek against your thigh like he’s a pet. He thinks about taking you again, just to shut you up — enough to have both of you sweating, the musk of your sex drowning out any remnants from the bitch that Satoru had tried to use hours before.

Nothing could replace you and he had to live with that.

He nips at your thigh, his mouth getting dangerously close to your core. You whine as you pull him back by his scalp, like the scruff of a dog. Satoru is always insatiable when he’s drunk, which is saying something considering what he’s like sober. His cravings for you are always intense. When he’s not in his right mind, you’re more considered prey than a craving.

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. His warmth satiates you for now as he locks his arms around your bare waist. The light breathing fanning your stomach calms you.

When you wake up, he’s nowhere to be found, but there’s a small floral arrangement on your desk. White orchids and blue hyacinths.

___

August, 2010

You hate bringing anything back to life as much as you hate desecration.

It’s unnatural — though you know that nothing about the Jujutsu world is natural. Everything to you is a myth you have to deal with. After knowing Satoru for so long and seeing what nasty curses humanity could birth, you shouldn’t be stunted.

It makes you feel a bit ill when you realize how much power your hands wield. As ordinary as you’ve always been, these days you often wish that you were the true epitome of it. Only human, unable to see the horrors of the world. Left in the dark when it came to sorcery. Perhaps you aren’t cut out for this, despite how much you tried to convince Satoru you were.

His voice echoes in your mind. His pleading. The ways he wanted to protect you. He’d belittled your technique for a reason, maybe. You aren’t sure you’re cut out for this shit.

Necromancy is only exciting the first couple of times. After that, it’s the reanimation of body parts that freaks you out. It doesn’t matter that it’s the revival of small birds and rodents on a lab table. You feel like you’re playing God and not even doing a decent job of it.

It catches up to you in your dreams. The image of you getting held down, leaving you to resort to your technique. Rotting flesh. Even in your unconscious, the smell is somehow striking, as if you’re really there. Other times, you find horror in the reanimation of corpses under your hand. Split limbs coming together. Limbs that belong to people you love.

Tonight, you’re shaken by the image of Suguru mauled beyond belief. Sacrilegious violence that makes your stomach turn.

When you wake up in a sweat, gasping, the alarm clock on your bedside table reads 1:12 am. You dial his number before you can even come to your senses.

“Twigs.”

“I told you not to call me that.”

You hear Suguru chuckle, deep and sweet like teeth sunken into cake. You’re filled with warmth almost immediately.

“What’s up? Isn’t it past your bedtime?” he breathes.

“Had a nightmare,” you mumble.

“You wanna talk about it?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Fine. What are you thinking about, then?”

“You,” you mumble.

There’s silence on the other end. Despite this, you can still hear his grin. You can see his little smirk perfectly in your head.

“Yeah?” his voice lowers. “What about me?”

“Y-your hands,” you mumble. “You make me feel safe.”

“Is that right?”

You make a small noise that shows your agreement, but it’s noncommittal. You hum at the thought of him. You’re sleep-dazed, partially wishing for this moment that he was more like Satoru. Able to talk your ear off without any effort from your end.

Suguru had always known you differently. He had you memorized as much as Satoru did, but uniquely, given the similarities between your personalities. He knew how you worked and he never held it against you.

Satoru would probably try to pry it out of you. Suguru would already know.

And at this moment, he knows. It’d be infuriating if you didn’t see it coming.

“You’re upset,” Suguru says.

“No.”

“You are. Or you’re pent up, which is also like being upset. Need some catharsis?”

“Maybe,” you mumble.

“Tell me what’s wrong, then. Or tell me about your nightmare.”

“No.”

He laughs.

“Stubborn as always,” he purrs.

“I just wanted to hear your voice,” you whisper.

“You want to hear me be mean to you. You like not being in control. That’s what makes you feel safe, isn’t it, princess?”

“Shut up.”

“C’mon, baby,” he laughs. “Give me something to work with.”

Your eyes nearly glaze over as you watch the flickering lights outside of your dorm. A broken street lamp flashes on and off, shadowing your room in darkness only to illuminate seconds later, back and forth. Unpredictably so. You aren’t sure what else you should look at while you’re still so drunk on Suguru’s voice. You think maybe you’d handle this phone call better if you were far from sober.

“I fucked someone else yesterday.”

The line goes silent. Your heartbeat picks up.

After almost an eternity, you hear Suguru’s voice again. It’s soft, almost cooing. It feels awfully dangerous despite this.

“Yeah? Who?”

You swallow thickly.

“This guy who got my number last month. Like, I didn’t give it to him — Utahime did,” you ramble. “But then we started texting and stuff and he’s… funny. He, uh, came over yesterday.”

“Did you like it?”

You imagine your throat closes up. Part of you wishes it would, that you’d just pass out immediately for no reason just so you didn’t have to have this conversation. You curse yourself for even bringing it up.

“Y-Yes.”

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” he chuckles.

“I am…”

“You don’t have to be so scared, baby. I know that Satortu took away your virginity, but he’s not some kind of god watching over you.”

“I know,” you huff.

“But you feel guilty, don’t you? Like you’re betraying him?” he teases.

You open your mouth to say something, then close it. You notice how he talks about Satoru and not himself.

“Do you care?”

“I know how you feel about me.” His answer is simple. Blunt. It almost sounds sarcastic, but Suguru often talks like he’s cock-sure about everything. Even if he isn’t, he’s always held a certain confidence that was different from what Satoru exuded.

Satoru was a bad liar, to you, at least.

“Tell me about your boy. What’s his name?”

“He’s not–” you gruff. “Naoya. His name is Naoya.”

“That Zenin brat?”

“Huh?”

“He’s in the Zenin clan. A right bastard, I’ve heard.”

“He seems fine,” you mumble.

“Someone’s defensive,” he teases.

You pause, staring at the darkness of your ceiling. You fix your shorts, your fingers grazing the wetness of your core. You didn’t even realize you were aroused.

“I should go back to sleep,” you whisper.

“I thought you couldn’t. That’s why you called me, right? You need some help?”

“I don’t need help,” you scoff. “I just… I had a nightmare and wanted to talk to you.”

Suguru smiles. He knows you can’t see it, but he’s beaming in the darkness of his room. He’d been restless for the past few days after some disagreements with Satoru. He tried to blame the heat on physical altercations — the sun burning down to rev up the irritation in their shared systems like they were still boys. Always wanting to pin each other to the ground.

They didn’t have you to mediate, so they’d come out of arguments with bruises. Marks from skin tugged too harshly. The ghost of teeth biting down on flesh.

“I wish you were here, babygirl,” he sighs, his tone desperate. You almost cringe at it — you always assume he’s playing with you.

“Yeah?” you snort.

“Mhm. It’s funny. You didn’t even wake me up when you called. I was already awake, thinking of you.”

“Were you, now?”

“Mhm,” Suguru hums. “I just kept thinking about your thighs. How small your leg is compared to my hand.”

Your breath hitches and he almost laughs when he hears it.

“Can you do something for me, baby?” he asks. “Want you to touch yourself. Tell me how wet you are.”

You gulp. Your fingers prod at the hem of your athletic shorts, the nylon riding up as you squirm in your bed. Your index and middle fingers prod at the center of your core experimentally. You’re fucking dripping and it makes your breath hitch.

Suguru calls your name.

“I”m…” you stammer. “I’m wet. Why?”

“Poor thing. Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep, no?”

“I-I’m fine… I just—”

“You should play with your clit. Since I can’t be there to do it for you,” he breathes.

“What?”

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can tell my favorite girl just needs to relax. That’s why you called me, right?”

You whimper. It was maybe half-true. Suguru had stopped answering his texts as frequently as he usually did, and you missed the sound of his voice. The odd ache in your chest wasn’t something that you felt like exposing to anyone else, not even Satoru.

The silk of Suguru’s voice brings you back. You wanted to breathe him in, but he hadn’t visited like he said he would. Didn’t have the warping feature that Satoru had, which to this day, still startled you whenever it happened. Ocean eyes whipping your senses from thin air, like a lightning strike.

Despite your recent gripes about him, you needed the both of them like you needed air. At least to make it all more bearable. It disgusted you a little bit, needing them like a finding addict. Living with yourself and yourself alone was starting to get old, though you aren’t sure how much left of you feels whole. You were always fruit split in between a blade, all the gory parts splayed out by the hand of someone greater than you.

You needed Suguru’s musk, his hair in between your fingers as he rocked into you. Your hands were too small compared to his.

He has you panting, sweating through Kyoto’s mugginess. The dorms were in even worse shape here than on the main Tokyo campus, probably why Gakuganji was such a vapid old man. Everything was too hot and falling off the bone.

“I feel like I’m hallucinating. It’s like I can smell you through the phone,” Suguru murmurs, his voice like a mirage. You’d laugh if you weren’t so deep in your cunt, fingers pruning and pushed to the knuckles.

Suguru knew you would do anything for him, so he made you torture yourself because he wasn’t there to do it himself.

Your groans are muffled from you smothering your face in the sheets, knees pressing down and ass up. Willing to humiliate yourself without him even being there.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” he chides.

“I’m not,” you whine.

“How many times have you cum?”

“None.”

He laughs. “What are you thinking about?”

“You know what.”

You’re close to tears by the time he lets you cum. The sound of his voice hitting you deep in your core, insides permeated with the thought of him. Sweeter than smoked sugar.

It was the sound of his grunt that tipped you over, imagining him with black strands sticking to his high cheekbones with sweat. The apples of his face candy-pink. Where Satoru looked cherubic, Suguru looked like a girl’s first wet dream.

“Were you touching yourself?” you pant, coming down from your high. You don’t bother putting on your underwear again.

“Obviously,” he groans. The vibrations of his voice made the speaker blow off-kilter like the audio of a shitty VHS. “Came all over myself.”

You could fall asleep to the sound of his static hums. The chaos in your gut is settled by the time your alarm clock strikes devil’s hour.

“How are things?” you ask sleepily.

“With me?” Suguru asks. “Fine. Same as always.”

“You sound tired.”

“It’s three in the morning, sweetheart,” he chuckles dryly.

“Mm. My phone bill’s gonna be so high.”

“Get Satoru to pay for it.”

The bastard probably would, if you asked.

You don’t get much out of Suguru for the remainder you’re awake. His answers are deflective and clipped. He hangs up by the time he hears you breathing, knowing you’ve fallen asleep.

He sighs in his room, rummaging for his pills. If nightmares didn’t keep him up, then the sheer unwillingness of his brain’s tranquility was often enough for him to run a graveyard shift. Stumbling in the dark, half-dead. He’d gotten productive in finishing the video games he’d started with Satoru by himself. Not much else.

His throat feels dry. He couldn’t differentiate the tastes of anything anymore. It all tasted like curses.

___

You keep having dreams about Suguru.

Tonight, there’s two of him.

One is the image you’re used to – hair swept up in a bun. Broad chest in his Jujutsu Tech uniform. Eyes crinkling into half moons.

The other seems to be an alter ego. A cursed version, one with eyes to kill and blood on his hands. Hands that are trying to tear you apart.

When you grip his wrist, you can see the imprint of your hand on his skin. Flesh falling away, much too easily. The air around you splinters like you’re in a glitched matrix. The Suguru you know and love falters beside you, his skin suddenly sallow. Pale as bile.

When you scream, nothing comes out.

Pseudo-Suguru smiles as your Suguru fades away into ash. You stare into his cat-like gaze, the familiar of his mouth.

“Come with me,” he says.

It’s the last thing you hear before your body wakes you up in a sweat. You gasp as you jolt awake, fingers curling your damp bedsheets. You’re further startled by the crack of thunder as a torrential downpour occurs without warning — unusual for late August, considering the rainy season had died down weeks prior.

You sit up and reach for your phone almost automatically, your hands shaking as you go through your contacts. Your fingers hover over two names as you swallow thickly.

A few beeps follow the push of the call button.

“We’re sorry. The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

#gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #geto suguru x you #geto x you

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infernally-fond · 2 days

Text

Orb of Infernal Envisioning - Unused Lines

I hadn't seen this mentioned prior - but there are some (to my knowledge) unused lines for the Orb of Infernal Envisioning in Helsik's shop for any interested.

Disclaimers, disclaimers -- if something doesn't make it into the final text of the published work, it's perfectly reasonable to ignore it for the sake of implications/theories that result from what is explicitly in the text/game itself.

This is just for fun. As is, you know, *all* of this. So.

If Raph's alive:

Narrator: *Your reflection looks back at you, smiling. As the skin burns and peels from its skull, the smile grows wider and wider and wider...*

Narrator: *The ball shows you a vision of yourself so lewd and blasphemous that your soul feels stained.*

Narrator: *Within the crystal, you see the devil Raphael sipping from a goblet of blood-red wine. He smiles as he catches your eye - can he see you?* [[the line we normally encounter]]

Narrator: *The image within the ball drifts through the corridors of an elegant house. Corpses hang from the walls.*

Narrator: *With the clarity of truth, you see an image of yourself laid out on a table like a suckling pig, ready for the carving.*

If you've been a Bad Client (TM):

Narrator: *You see the corridors of the House of Hope. Bloated flies buzz lazily around the corpses of imps and debtors.*

Narrator: *The ball replays the final moments of Raphael's life over and over and over and over...*

Narrator: *Within the ball you see Raphael, broken and bloody, dangling above the maw of the archdevil Mephistopheles who is preparing to devour him.* [[the line we normally encounter]]

Screenshot of the above:

I'm by no means a lore repository - no amount of hyperfixation can make digesting it en masse particularly easy for me. But! I'll tie my thoughts to this nonetheless.

First, we have our canon line: "...He smiles as he catches your eye - can he see you? *denotes: final phrase as incredulous and a little scared"

So we have the writers prompting us to at least entertain the idea that Raphael is placidly aware that you (or someone) is looking in on him - and he smiles! No big deal, favored client! Cheers to you, etc, etc. You're meant to be ill at ease here. I doubt any of us do - but, you're meant to. The average person would.

We'll block these out temporally because it was my first instinct to do so. :)

Past Events -

We have the play-by-play of Raphael's last moments. (GLaDOS voice: "You know, after you murdered me?")

To any player who would have seen this, this is real. Verifiable. The orb is showing you a true thing that happened, and you know because you were there. Doesn't get better than that.

Even if he doesn't ultimately die and there's some grand plot hitherto unseen, the beatdown replayed on the big screen is correct. You'd know if it wasn't.

Premise 1: The orb can show you accurately represented events.

Current 'Events' -

Example: Your reflection has a lab accident moment.

The use of reflection is critical to establish the point in time. You move to the left, it moves to the left. It's right now. And, right now, your skin seems to be melting off your face.

Unless there was an intended accompanied face-melted ending that would have accompanied this dropped line, this was written to be scary and provably false. Tav, touch your face. Exactly.

So:

Premise 2: The orb can show you grotesque illusions not bounded by fact.

Future Events

Ex 1: "*With the clarity of truth, you see an image of yourself laid out on a table like a suckling pig, ready for the carving."

'With the clarity of truth' is an obvious bid to double check any accusations of falsehood, and we're diligent enough to play along.

The only condition to checked to trigger this text is for Raphael to be alive -- regardless if you take his deal, go to his home, etc.

For all roads to lead to Player-Character-buffet seems unreasonable. Impossible, even. Unlawful. I'm calling a lawyer, hang on-

And so we hit a debate on how to interpret the sense of 'truth' you feel from the orb. I think this line reads best from the equivalence of failing some Wisdom check -- you are very sure it's true, but it's an Orb of Infernal Envisioning. Click again. You just saw your reflection melt.

So I think this is a lie.

So we expand Premise 2 a little.

Premise 2, v2: The orb can show you grotesque illusions not bounded by fact. This includes false visions of the future.

Ex. 2: The Blasphemy.

*The ball shows you a vision of yourself so lewd and blasphemous that your soul feels stained.*

Right.

So this has to be the future, because unless you are electing to do some very wild shit while looking into the orb, this is not the current situation.

There is a lot of vagueness here - but, I think that because it is so vague and any variety of Tav/Durge/Origin character can see it and have this response. This is a run-of-the-mill, customized vision of torment meant to get the desired reaction.

It's not about truth, it's not about warning. It's just the infernal variation of a jump scare.

If the content of the vision can be customizable in this fashion, it reveals something else - it's not a specific lie, a specific truth, or any quality of the content itself that 'matters' to the orb. No, what matters is the reaction. Your soul feels stained, doesn't matter how.

Varying Perspectives

Across these, we see the vision in the orb take the perspective of someone following/viewing Raphael (Wine-Snob-Hour, Looped-Death, Saturn-Moment), following/viewing you (Lab-Accident, Dead-Dove-Do-Not-Ohhh Yikes), some unanchored POV that isn't dead-phael ("You see the corridors of the House of Hope. Bloated flies buzz lazily around the corpses of imps and debtors.")

The visions mostly occur in the House of Hope; Cambion dinner is in Mephistar, your reflection is presumably in the Devil's Fee on the Material Plane.

We're not fixed to see any specific time, in any specific realm, to see any specific person. And we're not even guaranteed to see any specific degree of lie.

So what's the point of this fucking thing?

Provable fact is used one time across this set - the first thing we covered. You killed Raphael.

The only time the orb tells you the verifiable truth, it does so "over and over and over and over..."

Because it hurts you. Or, well, it's intended to.

That's it, that's the whole thing. The only time it evokes the (known) truth is when said truth torments you. Otherwise, it's scary what-ifs, cheap jump scares, and the corpses of imps and debtors you had a hand in creating.

All of this can be context to slightly reframe the vision of the moment before filicide with Mephistopheles. All of these visions are brief and so what one selects to provide details of is very revealing.

In this vision you're granted two adjectives:

You see Raphael, broken and bloody, about to die again.

If we stick to the expanded interpretation that the orb shows only what will get the desired reaction, this isn't narrative to resolve a loose thread. It's not closure. It's shown because the orb manifests what is expected to make you suffer - or at least take pause and sort of steep in the disquiet of the consequences for a moment.

Reaching waaaay across the narrative and very out of my lane for this post, so much of the tone in the HoH arc is campy humor, but I don't think this was meant to be.

The specific call out to watching him die 'over and over and over and over', to his 'broken and bloody' form is not flippant language. It's certainly not campy.

I think the tonal shift for this conclusion (while pretty jarring, I gotta admit) is meant to be pretty somber for Raph.

But many players have just bounced down the sequence of "lol he's a bottom" to "Haarlep said that's twice as long as-" to "omg he sings his own song" to victory and, then -- "wtf someone's eating him?"

It's an odd pivot. People have to be primed for sympathy, and I certainly didn't read the writing for the orb as intending to pull at something uncomfortable in the player post-HoH when put in context with the high-score-streak of chamberpot-humor. I can only back into that interpretation when looking at the full set of narration the orb was set to provide at some point.

Kinda wild.

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael the cambion #house of hope #bg3 house of hope #bg3 mephistopheles #I'm not gonna reread this now and resign to the fate of finding some sort of indecipherable screed tomorrow in its place

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cinaerii · 2 days

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MR. TELEPHONE MAN — sim jy. x fem!reader

✧ syn : in which, your boyfriend jake calls you late at night, but you don’t answer. he then jumps to multiple conclusions.

✧ cws : a few kisses, mild profanities. typos & grammatical errors.

on your line though, a last minute notice about the power outage shutting down for a while as they try to figure the problems about the electricity that were issued by many residents.

you panicked as you checked your battery percentage on your phone going lower, it was supposedly the time to be calling jake and telling him about your day and random miscellaneous events.

as soon as jake finished showering and drying his hair to avoid making puddles on the floor, he immediately jumped on his bed and scrolled through his contacts to find yours, clicking the call button.

now it’s unusual for him that you’re not picking his call up right away. he thinks that maybe you’re just dealing with something right now, so he waited patiently for your reply.

but it’s already been 10 minutes since he started calling. jake starts to fidget with his phone, spinning it around as he continues to wait for your callback. his patience was worning out each passing minute.

‘what if she’s not home yet?’

‘what if she’s calling someone else?’

‘what if she got into an accident?’

“nooo, jake don’t think that. get yourself together.” he finished, his eyes glowering at his phone. before he could make a decision to find out what you were up to, another what if statement appeared in his mind.

‘what if she’s ignoring me, playing games without me, watching or listening to music without me?’

by now, he didn’t know why he was suddenly outside of his apartment building and heading towards yours which was only a few blocks away. his walk wasn’t exactly normal, he was practically stomping slightly.

it’s rare to spot a sulky sim jaeyun.

your house was dark, all of the lights were off so what kept you from being able to see a bit was your lit candle that you were able to find. leading your phone to finally die because of using the flashlight feature for too long.

you were constantly cautious for anything that might happen without you knowing. whilst you were wearing a cardigan, there was little to no warmth you could feel, the goosebumps crawling on your skin quickly.

an abrupt knock interrupted your tense figure from negative thoughts coming into your mind. not just a knock, multiple knocks in a pattern to which you recognized as your boyfriend.

you ran to your front door, the prettiest man standing right infront of you. “jake? what the hell are you doing here?” you opened the door wide enough for him to come inside.

“a power outage?” he ignored your question, as he looked around your apartment, being only lit by a single candle.

“so you weren’t doing anything without me?” he added.

“sim jaeyun.” you snapped, wanting an explanation from his unexpected visit.

“sorry, love. i just thought something happened, so i got worried and.. yeah.” he confessed with a hint of guilt.

you reluctantly nodded at him but asked again, “and?” he tilted his head low, mumbling things that you could not hear.

as much as you wanted him to speak louder, you decide not to request him to repeat what he said. instead you took a step closer towards him, closing the gap between the two of you.

“you can do better than that.” you commented on the volume of his voice which was quieter than his usual normal tone.

taking a deep breath, “i was looking forward to our call the whole day, it was all i could think about. and then you didn’t answer right away like you usually do, so even if a few minutes have passed, i was already getting impatient—“

he blabbered on until he was cut off by a pair of lips over his for a second. he blinked once, twice, and thrice. you let out a chuckle when you saw his face being shock over a single peck on the lips.

though that didn’t last long, jake made sure that you would be the one who was shocked now. “are you calling that a kiss?” there’s your boyfriend back into his senses.

the apartment was dimmed, but the two were igniting their own lights in the room, beating the small candle that was put on the kitchen counter.

— end. thank you for reading!

written by; @cinaerri ⋆ do not steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

special tags.

@ikeubi

#sim jaeyun #jake fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen au #enhypen fluff #sim jake #𐙚🐰#sim jaeyoon #jaeyun fluff #jake x reader #sim jaeyun x reader #jaeyun au

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bylerismyeverything · 3 days

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People who say Penelope should’ve picked Debling are missing the entire point, of everything.

Did you even watch the same show? First of all we all knew this season was about Colin and Pen and we all knew in the books they ended up together. But let’s not even look at that factor. Lord Debling has told Penelope that he probably would never have feelings for her, that he would leave for 3 years (and probably wouldn’t come back cuz of where he wants to go, he’s probably doomed) and yes while he has a title and she would get to sit alone forever writing lady whistledown, that’s still a very boring life. And help me understand this please, you all want her to choose a life of loneliness as someone who spent her whole life feeling neglected and isolated (and she was by literally everyone but the Bridgertons), then you have clearly never felt like a wallflower because that would just be torture. Instead Pen has the opportunity to pick the person she’s been in love with most of her life and now confesses his feelings for her like he would actually die if he wouldn’t have her, and the feeling of making him feel like that alone, Pen would never. Ofc she would choose her happy ending over staying lonely. Also need I remind you lord Debling rejected her before she had the opportunity to say yes to his proposal so she couldn’t have “chosen him” anyway.

#bridgerton netflix #Bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin x penelope #polin bridgerton #polin #polin endgame #nicola coughlan #luke newton

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jnnul · 1 day

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peaches

sum.: when you pie your [really-hot] neighbor in the face on accident, you never imagine that you’re gonna have to be wheeling him to the hospital because who the fuck is allergic to peaches? yang jungwon, apparently. but you come to learn that yang jungwon is so much more than his unfortunate allergy to peaches and his pretty face and you’re stuck wondering if falling in love with someone you can’t have is worth it.

word count: 2.9k

tags: this one’s sad bois, bullet fic, like ngl, when i was planning this one, i teared up a little bit, sorry in advance tw: major character death, terminal illness, just...not meant for the weak-hearted

a/n: literally all i can say i’m sorry :( can’t believe my first fic for jungwon is this sad nonsense i conjured up literally last year

you didn’t mean to pie your extremely attractive neighbor in the face

and you definitely didn’t mean to have to take him to the hospital because apparently, your hot neighbor was allergic to peaches

who’s fucking allergic to peaches?

yang jungwon, apparently

you didn’t even know what he looked like until you had to drive him to the hospital in your stupid beat up toyota bc his face was bright red and splotchy

and he kept itching it

which then meant that you had to swat at his hand every so often

it was not the first impression you wanted to make on such a pretty man

you vividly remember sitting in the waiting room, knee bouncing in fear that you may have accidentally killed the hottest man you’ve ever seen in your life

or that you would have to pay his hospital bills for the rest of his life

fuck american healthcare (and the collegiate system)

only to find out that he was absolutely fine. in fact. he knew the doctor there. not only did he know the doctor. he worked for the doctor.

he had insurance.

you had been betrayed.

not really. you didn’t exactly give him a chance to tell you that you didn’t need to take out a debt creating loan to pay his hospital bills

you were too busy trying not to cry as you sped down the interstate in hopes that your decision to take the toyota instead of paying another $4000 for the ambulatory fee was the correct decision

it was.

so when jungwon walks out with an itemized bill and a sheepish, almost silly smile, you nearly fall to your knees in gratitude in the middle of the waiting room

you’re pretty sure that some of those people are convinced jungwon beat cancer bc of the relief on your face when you see the 0 next to copay on the bill

you could kiss jungwon but his face still looks a little too splotchy to be doing that

and you tell him as much but he just laughs, shaking his head a little bit

“so you’re saying you would kiss me if i didn’t look so splotchy?”

“i’m saying i’m going to kiss your insurance provider and i’m switching mine to yours today.”

anyway

after nearly losing your hot neighbor to justin bieber’s hit song, you finally start getting closer to him

it turns out that you had meant to pie yours and jungwon’s mututal friend and down the hall neighbor, jake sim, from whom he was renting out the apartment for the summer

but jake had the reflexes of a fucking ninja and had ducked and jungwon had the privilege of being pied instead

you had knocked on jake’s door and as soon as someone opened the door, you pied them with no thoughts and no turnback

jungwon had opened the door though, and the rest was history

you guys had a very neighborly relationship

jungwon would come home after a long day of summer classes, internships, and work and you cook jungwon (peach-less) baked goods that he could die for

and when you would complain abt your broke ass, he would buy enough groceries for the two of you and you would go to his place or he would come to yours

the stubborn struggling artist in you always protested

“i can’t let you buy this for me! groceries are so expensive nowadays!”

“if it makes you feel better, these aren’t organic. in fact that avocado looks like it’s on life support.”

“...”

but you also end up coming over to his place whenever he has a quick repair or smth bc the landlord doesn’t know a screw from a lightbulb

so he insists that it all cancels out in the end

but you hates taking jungwon’s help (or any help in general you stubborn ass)

so you got onto the summer job hunt grind

but it was pretty late, almost the middle of june, and not many places were hiring

thankfully, jake sim was loaded

and he was going to europe for the rest of the summer

randomly

bc apparently that’s what rich people do

so you were able to take his role temporarily at the local dance studio that jake taught at

not that jake needed the money

but he said smth about “passing on the passion” and “encouraging the next generation of dancers”

you kinda stopped listening once you saw pics of him in leotards that left nothing to the imagination

scrubbing the mental image from your mind was hard enough

you weren’t the best ballet dancer, but you had danced for 10 years in contemporary before a foot injury knocked you out of dancing for good

so you definitely had the experience (and a semi-healed foot) that you needed

and besides! as an education major, you needed experience with working with students anyway

or at least that’s what you tell yourself

because you forget how terrifying little human beings are until you step into the studio

and every single one of them is wearing some lululemon or aritzia variation

and you’re...kinda just wearing your old tights and a loose shirt

not in a quirky “i’m not like other dancers” type of way

a more humble “i can’t afford luxury brands” type of way

no shame in the college grind game

but other than the fact that you felt like you were on an episode of dance moms every day, the classes weren’t that bad

the kids were pretty polite and they generally didn’t really mind that they had a new teacher - although one of them did say that jake was really good eye candy

and that you were gorgeous but not really their type

hey. you’re gorgeous. you’re everyone’s type. in fact, they’d be lucky if you were one’s type.

but you’re also thankful bc it’d be really awkward if your prepubescent students had a crush on you...

speaking of crushes

jungwon was fucking oblivious to yours

he says shit that makes you think that he’s caught on

that he knows that you would cosplay anastasia steele for the rest of your life if it meant he went for a roll in the hay with you

or you know, took you out on a nice, romantic date

you don’t really know how it works nowadays

but every time you think you’ve been discovered, he proceeds to completely do a 180

one time, the two of you were sitting on the couch watching, aptly enough, the notebook

when jungwon leans over incriminatingly, close enough to kiss you and you’re just about to turn your head, excited that jungwon has decided to make the first move

only for him to grab the remote and turn up the volume

which, in hindsight, does nothing to confirm that jungwon feels the same way about you as you feel about him

but it doesn’t really matter

we live in a delusional world and you’re the reigning monarch so it all works in your head

but other than the fact that you were most definitely crushing on your neighbor

the two of you were basically inseparable

it was like some higher being wanted you to suffer

bc you and jungwon got along SO WELL

and he just...didn’t even connect the dots

or if he did, he didn’t say anything about the tension between you two (that you might’ve accidentally somewhat have made up)

but all in all, jungwon and you had a pretty nice summer

some days you’d go to the beach and just watch the stars while drinking beers

some days you’d go to the little kiddie theme park that the neighboring town has just because their fried ice cream was insanely good

“we’re probably going to get diabetes, three different heart conditions, and certified obesity from these things.”

“...well the universe shouldn’t have made the human body too weak for fried ice cream then.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that fried ice cream simply should just not exist?”

“never.”

that summed up pretty much your entire friendship with jungwon

but no matter how close you became with him, it still felt like he was holding himself back a little bit - although, it killed you, you understood

for starters, he’d disappear off the face of the planet for two or three days before coming back to you with the same calm yet insane energy that only jungwon could carry

on top of that, he seemed to be losing a lot of weight lately - which was probably what was leading to the hair loss as well

and whenever you guys weren’t hanging out, he was pretty much always at the hospital

you’d mentioned gently a couple times that you were worried for him bc you were worried that his job was working him too hard (so as to not tip him off)

(hence the long hours at the hospital and the weight/hair loss)

but jungwon always gave you a tight smile and changed the subject

so you slowly learned to just drop it and not push him

you had no clue that jungwon was struggling with how to tell you the truth behind all those hours and the weight loss

you had no clue that jungwon was head over heels in love with you

you, y/n l/n, were completely unaware that jungwon knew exactly how you felt because he felt the same exact way

you had no clue that you were catching feelings for the terminally ill jungwon yang - according to jungwon yang

jungwon had liked you from the beginning, honestly

the almost comical way you fretted over him when you accidentally pied him, only to see rashes on his neck

the way that your eyes would light up when you were talking about how you wanted to teach

the way that your nose crinkled when jungwon brought home asparagus for you to experiment with one day

the way your eyes fall to his lips and then back up hurriedly, as if you’re scared that he’s going to find out you like him the same way that he likes you

which he does.

but jungwon yang also has terminal cancer.

which meant that he was absolutely never going to tell you about his feelings and let you tell him about yours

because he didn’t want to know that when he left this earth, he left someone who loved him behind on it

he’s scared

he’s scared that you wouldn’t move on (was that his ego speaking? perhaps)

or that you wouldn’t understand why jungwon had taken so long to acknowledge his feelings

or worst of all, jungwon was so fucking terrified that you would leave his side if you knew that he had terminal cancer

because that’s a burden that not many people were willing to take on voluntarily

so he stuff his feelings down deep into his stomach, where his heart can’t reach them

and it is the one thing that he regrets most

little does he know that you’re well aware of the fact that jungwon had cancer

jake had called you one day, out of breath and shaken to the core with worry

his friend jungwon had called jake and collapsed mid-call, three days before you met jungwon officially, and the line had gone silent

jake had begged you to drive jungwon to the hospital

which you obviously did, the second you found jake’s spare key

and managed to haul jungwon into your beat up toyota

and even in his semi-conscious state, you couldn’t help but think that he was the most gorgeous person that you’d ever seen in your life

and that you really wanted to get to know him

jungwon never knew that you were the one who had driven him to the hospital, since jake was the only one in the room when he awoke, finding out from the doctor that he had collapsed due to the toll of treatment on his body

you’d instructed jake to keep the news of you driving jungwon a secret

jungwon’s cancer wasn’t exactly public information, and you hated to think that jungwon would have a certain impression of you and that you’d never be able to speak to him normally

which is why you figure that jungwon simply just doesn’t want to want anyone at this point in his life

but you can’t help it

you like him so much that it starts to hurt

and you have to let it out

you have to tell him just how much you love him

before the love starts eating you from inside out

jungwon is silent when you blurt it out one day, while the two of you are standing in the kitchen, cooking with a random louis armstrong song playing in the background

you’re somewhat aware of what jungwon is going to say before he says it

but you let him say it anyway

“i’m not sure i want to get into a relationship right now.”

“that’s fine. i didn’t tell you because i wanted you to respond; i told you because i wanted you to know that i like you. a lot.”

the louis armstrong song just continues to play and the two of you continue to cook in silence

it never grows awkward between the two of you

even with your feelings out in the open, everything stays the same

the two of you still tiptoe the line of friends and something more without ever crossing over to the other side

until that one day

jungwon had planned to finally put his big boy pants on and tell you how he feels

fuck the cancer

fuck his hesitation

fuck everything

he just wanted you to know that he liked you too

and that you were the reason why he was still smiling and dancing his way through this summer, even though he’d thought that he wouldn’t be able to smile like that anymore

he was all ready too

he’d gotten you flowers, put on your favorite song and cooked you your favorite food

he pushes down the funny feeling in his stomach that had been bugging him for the past couple of days, chalking it up to nerves because he was finally acting on his feelings

but that would be the nail in the coffin

the last thing that jungwon remembered was the feeling of swaying before falling to the floor, seeing jake sim’s shoes run over to where he was

and then everything went black

when jungwon woke up, the doctor had to inform him once again that he had collapsed

that the funny feeling in his stomach was no silly joke, but the cancer attacking him from inside out aggressively

they tell him that they had to perform emergency surgery to replace his kidney, which was damaged beyond repair, something that no one had been able to trace previously

he was lucky, the doctor said to them

there was a patient who was in a car crash in the operating next to him and the kidney had been in perfect condition

the doctor continued, saying how lucky jungwon was that the kidney had been compatible for his body, stating that the likelihood of his body being able to beat the cancer that had been destroying him increasing significantly

but jungwon isn’t listening

everything felt wrong.

jungwon could feel it in his heart

it wasn’t right

he swallows and asks the doctor the name of the patient

but he knows the doctor cannot reveal information like that

it doesn’t matter

once he sees jake burst through the doors, tears streaming down his cheeks, jungwon knows

“it was her, wasn’t it.”

jake just falls to his knees, sobs wracking his body and the doctor sees himself out

“she wanted me to tell you that she was happy that it was her before you.”

jungwon just falls back against the pillow, staring up the ceiling, unable to feel or think of anything

he just felt numb

even at your funeral, just a week later, jungwon is unable to think

he’s numb

completely frozen

unable to move on

and when he’s asked to pay his respects, all he can do is touch your coffin, his tears finally falling

“i’m so grateful you pied me in the face that day, y/n. i wish i had - i wish i had told you, i like you too. and i’ll get pied in the face with a truckload of peaches if it meant that you could come back to me. to come back to me to at least let me tell you that i like you. the same way you like me.”

he laughed cynically through his tears.

“you don’t have to respond. i just wanted to tell you because i wanted you to know that i like you. a lot.”

jungwon never falls in love again after that, unable to forget the memories the two of you had shared in that short but sweet summer.

and every year, on the year that you’d given your life to jungwon, he eats a peach pie, wishing that you were there to chide him and eat it with you, louis armstrong playing in the background

#jnnul #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #jungwon headcanons #jungwon scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen #jungwon fluff #jungwon fic #jungwon #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #jungwon angst

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lady-of-endless · 3 days

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Risotto Nero romantic headcanons (sfw+nsfw)

Author's Note: Sorry for being an old-school romantic and writing headcanons like these, don't come at me. I wanted to take my time with Risotto as he is so complex. I really hope that those are not too far-fetched. I hope you'll enjoy it! The lovely gif is not mine, I'm thanking the owners for it.

P.S. Prosciutto will be next. I just have to calm down from the feels I have for the husband, I mean Prosciutto.

SFW

- The most beneficial context for your relationship is for it to start off as a partnership, a team. This way, you go through many critical and dramatic experiences together and that will only bring you closer and strengthen your connection. Even after confessing, this dynamic remains, you are still a team, watching for each other.

- Everything about him indicates a slow burn. From obtaining his trust first and then his heart. Even after those two are won, he's still reluctant to the new dynamic. He will never deny those feelings even if he thinks that someone in his position should. Risotto is not just rationally intelligent but also emotionally intelligent so he knows that such desires of the heart cannot be stopped. He doesn't deny the feelings but he suppresses them. He knows how complex those emotions are and that's the problem, it complicates everything around him and you. But little by little, he starts giving in and surrendering to his love.

- At first, he analyzed you only from a strategic point of view (regarding your abilities and how you can work with his team) and in time, it escalated into a deeper and more emotional point of view. Because of this and because Risotto values other opinions and perspectives from his teammates, he seeks advice. No, he won't ask directly but he'll be more attentive when the others talk about you. However, the only one who Risotto might ask for an opinion is Prosciutto because he shares some morals and principles with him. Surprisingly, Prosciutto will put his rational arguments aside a little bit because more than the respect and admiration he holds for Risotto, he wants him to experience this sort of happiness.

- Risotto will not know how to react when receiving your affection, at first. There are many thoughts and morals that don't let him receive affection right. Many of those thoughts are regarding his line of work. He has made peace with the fact that he's not a good man, that he doesn't deserve good things. He's okay with it now, he did what he had to do.

- His preferred love language is acts of service. He's used to doing things for others (but even so he doesn't see how selfless he is) so acts of service are his way to show his feelings. He would do anything for his close ones so for you, his loved one, he would die for you, kill for you, protect you, anything, you name it. Plus, Risotto is always very observant and because his interest is your well-being, he pays extra attention to your needs. About receiving, it can be anything. Again, he doesn't see himself worthy of love.

- He rarely smiles so when you finally catch a glimpse of this rare occasion and compliment him, Risotto is lost. Any sort of comment like this will have him feel things he never felt before, in a good way. As a result, he starts smiling softly more at you in privacy.

- If you get severely injured on a mission, he still keeps his composure in your presence while helping you, patching you up, and even trying to heal you with Metallica. He's serious while doing it but it will be the only time in which his hands start trembling. After helping you, while you rest, he's still there watching over you fully neglecting his need for rest. As you sleep and he looks at your injuries, that's when his composure breaks. The guilt he's feeling is heavy in his heart, thinking how this way of life is not what you deserve and it's his fault.

- He's capable of many things, he's also a strategist but that doesn't mean that he doesn't have moments in which it all gets too much to process. That's where you come to the rescue. He doesn't want to pass his difficulties to you so it will take a lot for him to let himself tell you what's wrong.

- Secrecy and subtility are a must. But he'll get you (he'll make it), a dainty and thin silver bracelet with a charm that resembles some sort of blade. Whenever he's thinking of you and wants to let you know it, you'll feel that bracelet move a bit from his magnetism, as a reminder.

- As subtle as he thought he was, in time, every member of La Squadra will know what his feelings are towards you. Melone was the first to notice the way Risotto looked at you. Since his discovery, Melone couldn't keep it for himself and since then, they all started behaving suspiciously. They smirk every time you talk to Risotto about missions and other formal details, they try to let the two of you alone more, and so on.

NSFW

- Contrary to popular belief, he's not rough (not every time at least) or freaky behind closed doors. His usual and favorite approach is slow and deep. He likes to take his time with it as he sees sex as not just a way to get pleasure but a moment of deepening the connection you have already.

- He never wants to use sex as an outlet for his pent-up frustrations and stress but if you give him the green light, he might give into it when things get too much to bear. But he still holds back a little bit, worried about how rough he can easily get. If you're into this rough approach as well and it's noticeable, he'll feel less guilty but still careful.

- He can go on with the foreplay for hours. Risotto likes to feel the tension build. Enjoying the reactions and the growing desire gives him the most pleasure, more than the act itself. Because of this, he might sometimes slip into trying orgasm denial with you.

- At first, he doesn't see the point of experimenting with kinks because he's so touch-starved. He only needs you. However, gradually he will start asking you for consent about some ideas he has. Watch out for your hands. If you get them close to the metal bars of the bed, your wrists will get caught in metal bindings in the blink of an eye.

- Quiet in the beginning but soon you'll see him losing his composure and start grunting and growling close to your ear as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. Not only that but you'll hear sweet words of affirmation, unheard before as he gets lost in the feeling of you.

- Aftercare is obligatory. It always gets intense, sometimes even rough, and he's aware of his size too so calming you down and taking care of you is both a way of showing his gratitude and also a duty (don't get this one wrong, he sees the act of aftercare as important as the rest of his duties, that's it). The aftercare always ends with him holding your hand and kissing it as another silent expression of his gratefulness and adoration for you. It's his unbreakable habit.

- He has to admit, he likes to mark you. Not in a possessive way, that's why those marks will only be on parts that are not usually visible. But because he loves the image and concept of your skin reacting to his affection. You can leave marks on him as long as they're not visible, again, it's about secrecy and subtility. He might feel a bit proud, just a bit, when he looks in the mirror at the scratches you left on his back.

- Doesn't get bored of being on top. After all of that slow burn and build-up of your deep connection, of course, he wants to look into your eyes when you both let yourselves be engulfed in the pleasure. Might even get a little mischievous with it when he's in a good mood. "If you look away, I'll stop."

The only situations in which you are the one on top are when you simply ask for it or when you tell him you want to help him relax. Hearing those words coming from you while you start touching him with care and warmth is going to be the death of him.

- Not a fan of quickies. He needs the whole thing. As mentioned before, he needs to feel the tension built and loves taking his time with it. But also, above all, he wants to treat you right so a quickie will never be enough for this.

#jjba #risotto nero #jjba risotto #risottonero #risotto nero x reader #la squadra #la squadra esecuzioni #jjba part 5 #jojo bizarre adventure #golden wind #vento aureo #jjba x reader #jjba headcanons #jjba fanfic

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polin-erospsyche · 3 days

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So I did a full analysis/reaction to the trailer because it dropped as my plane was about leave and I was going out of my mind and I needed something to do. Thank you @polinsated for sending the video of the trailer for me to obsess and hyperventilate over while stuck on a tiny chair in a very public place.

Also I apologise for how long this is going to be. I literally had to break it down in parts because tumblr can’t process it but also I had so much fun making this that I just really want it on my blog 😂😂😂

She seems way to happy with herself for someone’s whose carefully constructed life is hanging by a thread. Pen what are you up to?

Everyone is so happy and Eloise is just holding on for dear life and some sense of normality. She’s carrying such a heavy secret from her favourite sibling and she’s loosing Pen in a whole new way. The very fragile ground she’s been walking on is collapsing right under her feet. But also please El be kind to Pen and understand that this girl has been wanting this boy her entire life, finally has him and now is being put against the clock to drop this huge bomb that will destroy everything. It’s terrifying and understandable, give her time.

Give me more of mama Bridgerton with baby Pen. This girl is about to receive so much motherly love she’s been lacking her whole life. Violet has probably been waiting for this moment since Colin was like 5. She’s so happy to welcome the 5th daughter she never had into her home and her family.

Tbh their reaction at the engagement was my reaction at the trailer drop, jaw on the floor, choking on my tea. Also Finch is just the happiest brother in law??? Like let this man and Rae be the best man and bridesmaid at the wedding at this point. You know it would make his entire year.

Pen is dressed entirely, from head to toe in lilac, she’s so in love and we love to see it ❤️

Pen, love, please be happy about your upcoming nuptials. Why do they all look like they’re about to go to a funeral and Portia’s the one planning it excitedly?

This is the moment we all started to die. Like the fact that we all collectively lost our shit precisely at this moment??? The way they just gravitate towards each other when everyone is going outside? I have always loved you Colin, there’s nothing that makes me happier than being with you??? The way there’s a huge grin on his face and he proceeds to twirl her around?? Just both of them happy and so so in love??? Oh god it is too sweet in here for me to breathe properly.

Then we collectively just kept loosing our shit but for another entirely different reason

El, darling, I know you’re stressed and unhappy but please be kind to your bestie. It’s hard, it’s terrifying, she just got the boy of her dreams and you’re giving her a clock to drop the bomb that will destroy her dreams. Although we all agree with El, Pen you really should tell him before he finds out on his own and kisses you in the dark alleyways of London

#part 1 of trailer reaction #my shit posts have taken on a whole new level of unhinged #I AM SO SORRY #but also I am not #it allowed me to process the bomb #that just fell on all of our heads #and I had so much fun making this #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3

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quarterlifecrisis-activated · 2 days

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I find it interesting that Stede is the unintentional cause of all 3 deaths of characters that represent toxic masculinity. Symbolically and thematically it’s just *chefs kiss*.

First take the Badminton twins. Stede is the opposite of toxic masculinity, he’s soft and picks flowers and cries and creates a safe space for meaningful male (for the most part) friendships. When Nigel and Chauncey die it’s because they were berating and attacking Stede and this form of masculinity. They also die by their own weapons unintentionally killing themselves. Toxic masculinity will always destroy itself because it’s hollow. If Stede and the crew are family and joy and connection the British navy is the system. There is nothing there to actually help people. But it’s so pervasive, one falls and someone else steps up. Same face, different name (literally). OFMD says that attacking this new way of life is meaningless because it is built on something more and trying to combat it will only turn inward. The Badmintons die alone and no one notices or cares.

Which brings me to Izzy Hands. I have a soft spot for that little nightmare (affectionate), he’s the character that I still haven’t pulled apart fully. Yes it’s Stede’s plan that leads to Izzy’s death but I don’t think Stede’s involvement is the same like for the Badmintons. It’s Ricky that’s important in the thematic meaning of Izzy’s death. Izzy is the toxic masculinity of the pirate world. It’s pretty clear that Izzy is the stand in for piracy and the old way of doing things. And he hates Stede! He also wins at the end of season 1. He removes everything touched by Stede from the Revenge and boy does it backfire. Raids for the sake of raids and no interpersonal connection sucks. And it was everything Izzy fought for in season 1. Continuing the idea of self destruction, I find it interesting that Izzy tries and fails to shoot himself. By his own hand and all alone. I believe it was Con who said that that moment was the death of Izzy Hands as we new him. Upholding a system just for the sake of upholding the system costs you everything and leaves you with nothing. And Izzy sees that and he changes!

If someone had told season 1 Izzy that he’d lose his leg that man wouldn’t bat an eye. But if you told him his new leg would be a gold painted unicorn hoof he’d go into cardiac arrest. But it’s his acceptance of what the crew made him that brings him into community. It’s a visual representation of what is going on internally and it culminates is his full look during Calypso’s birthday. He’s fully turned away from what was and put on this softness and femininity that makes him part of the crew. And I think that’s such a beautiful sentiment and I tear up every time I watch that scene.

Which brings me to Ricky. I mean, fuck that guy amirite?! He’s the worst and I wish we would have seen more of him. I think his conversation with Izzy is also so fascinating. It parallels nicely with Izzy meeting Chauncey in season 1. Izzy could’ve saved his own skin if he worked with Ricky like he did with Chauncey, if he upheld the system and played along. But he doesn’t and I love it. It’s so impactful to give Izzy that speech because every other member of the crew was already with the program. Having a character that was on the other side go actually fuck you you’re wrong is amazing storytelling. Izzy has learned his lesson and while he’s far from perfect he’s doing better every day. And that’s profound especially when you talk about trying to change people who upheld these toxic ideals. But it’s because of this rejection of toxic masculinity that Izzy dies. There’s no loyalty in the system; just because you helped them once doesn’t mean that it won’t spit you out and discard you. Even the people who have power in the system (white men) are not valued by it. But true community gives value. Izzy dies this time not alone but surrounded by people who care about him. The people around him when he dies pretty much all wanted him dead in season 1 and now they mourn and remember him fondly.

Izzy’s arc with crew is wonderful because it’s the shows thesis on unconditional love and the willingness to be kind even to those who don’t deserve it. Because look at how it helped everyone. To be loved is to be changed and it’s no surprise that the last shot of season 2 had Izzy and Buttons together changed.

#ofmd #gentlebeard #stede bonnet #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 #izzy hands #he was a nightmare (affectionate)#ofmd meta #the izcourse

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fantasylandbitch · 1 day

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Summary: While Danny is out with Ethan to get a few of his favorite snacks, he doesn't realize that Ethan is setting up to kill one of your friends. At the apartment Sam tries her best to apologize and accommodate you while you both try to hide your relationship not realizing some of them know but soon secrecy brings jealousy.

Warning: Long Chapter, Fluff, 18+ A Little Spicy 18+, Self Deprecation, Family Therapy, Creepy Ethan

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 Chapter 9 ( Chapter 9.5 Coming Soon)

"Y/n..I'm sorry for leaving you in the bathroom so abruptly" Sam apologized to you before looking down at the ground and then up at your e/c eyes. Then your eyes surprised her. What about them that surprised her? It was how your eyes looked, they held a certain level of judgment but also held understanding and comfort for her. "I wasn't expecting you to recall what happened to you so soon" she voiced as she tried to hold eye contact with you but under the kitchen lights, your gentle gaze made her nervous.

"Sam" you spoke softly, taking her hand and guiding her to sit on a stool with you near the island. "I don't remember a lot of what happened to me...just bits and pieces, I can't make sense of them yet" you voiced as you thought of your next words carefully. "However, you could have told me how you felt instead of leaving me to wonder if I had done something wrong," you told her with honesty, and just as Sam was going to open her mouth you stopped her. "I don't blame you for what happened to me and you shouldn't feel responsible for whatever transpired before."

"But I do, Y/n, because if I hadn't left Ethan with you, you wouldn't be here wounded and trying to piece together what happened. If only I had known Ghost Face was going to target you...I would have stayed," Sam confessed, her leg bouncing with anxiety before she averted your gaze once again.

You let out a light sigh as you look at Sam. "If you had been there instead of Ethan then I feel like the outcome would've played out differently," you said to her. Your words bounced in every corner of her mind as Sam turned her head to you, she thought about the worst outcomes had she switched places with Ethan that night. She knows that Ghost Face would have played dirty like using one of you to lure the other out as one of you would have to watch the other die in some way or suffer much worse. The thought brought tears to Sam's eyes as she nodded in agreement, nevertheless, you reached out to comfort her. You place your hand on her thigh, unaware that Mindy was observing the interaction.

At the couch, Mindy's eyes widened as she watched your hand touch Sam's thigh to comfort her. Then she turns her head to Tara who's sitting next to her before whispering "Tara? Tell me how do you know someone is gay without telling me they're gay?" making the little Carpenter turn her head to her sister and you because she thought who else would Mindy be talking about.

Then Tara saw your gentle squeeze on her sister's thigh, Sam covering your hand with her own before pulling your stool closer to hers, making you laugh. She then watches as her older sister leans her shoulder against you, then uses your shoulder as a pillow before you say something to Sam that she can't hear. Tara watches as her older sister lifts her head to look at you and how you move your right hand to wipe something off her face before slowly leaning in to kiss her. Tara believes your exchange with her sister was supposed to be private. But in the end, it brought a tiny smile to Tara's face. She was reminded of the days when she and Amber were seeing each other, calling each other up to see how the other was doing and making plans to go on a date, and how she would call Amber to come over to the house so they could try some alcohol that her mom forgot to lock up as they listened to music while dancing. Some part of Tara wishes she could go back in time to see Amber again but she also believes that is where her love for drinking started. She was curious at first about everything about love and the adventures of drinking, but now, she wants to forget, forget the mental and physical scarring that she had to endure in Woodsboro two years ago.

But what brought Tara back to the present was when Chad had asked a question from her lap "Hey Sam, are you or Danny cooking tonight?" He asked from the couch before sitting up. The creaking from the couch caused you and Sam to separate quickly before he could see you both exchanging your love for one another because you and Sam wanted to keep the relationship a secret until Ghost Face was dealt with.

"Uh I was planning to cook tonight," Sam says aloud as she slowly gets off the stool to walk around the island and open the fridge. "I was thinking of making chicken with rice and vegetables" she announced before checking the freezer, only to realize that she forgot to buy the vegetables.

"Vegetables, Chicken, and Rice don't sound horrible" Chad voices as he lays back down putting his head back on Tara's lap as she slowly starts touching his hair.

"Damn it! I forgot to buy the vegetables" she says annoyed because she was looking forward to eating the vegetables.

"Hey hey Sam, it's okay maybe I could make dinner tonight" you chimed from your seat as you watched your girlfriend simmer down before closing the freezer door to look at you.

"Nope! Not a chance. Sam, she might kill us through our stomachs!" Chad yells, about to get up from the couch causing Tara to sigh knowing an argument is about to start.

But Mindy pushes his shoulders down before he can and slaps his forehead "Chad, if Y/n wanted to kill us, she would have done it a long time ago." She said showing whose side she was on before continuing her thoughts "And Chad? I will support almost any relationship you get into because as you know I'm gay and I’m your sister, but how deep in Ethan's ass are you in or is it the other way around?" And your brows rose at Mindy's choice of words.

Her actions caused Chad to rub his forehead as he started to sit up on the couch to face her. "What kind of question is that!?" He yells before standing up causing Tara to scoot over to the other end of the couch as she exchanges a look with her sister from across the room. "Nothing is going on between me and Ethan and as your older brother, could you refrain from asking me questions like that?!" Chad asks, yelling at his sister once again. Sam crosses her arms and gave a heavy sigh before looking over at you as she notices how you're leaning your head to the side so you can better listen to the conversation behind you.

"As if, I'm the oldest! But whatever, whoever came out of moms coochie first is irrelevant right now Chad, the point is why are you all up Ethan's ass and not having a mind of your own? We're all supposed to be on the same team because Ghost Face is coming after all of us, he's not cherry picking here" Mindy said sternly, mad that her brother is still up in arms about you attacking Ethan and now he thinks you're going to kill everyone at dinner time.

"I'm not up Ethan's ass. He's my roommate. I care about his safety and knowing he was knocked out in that basement and then attacked by Y/n makes me feel protective." Chad voices honestly as he gave a heavy sigh before dragging his hands down his face "We already lost Quinn and I don't want to lose anyone else so forgive me if I don't trust Y/n right now."

"Is this related to your ex?" Mindy questions her brother, the smoke leaving her ears as she calms down. "Is it because you couldn't save her that now you feel responsible for your roommate?" She asked another question, seeing a connection between what happened then and what is happening right now.

"Now why would you bring up my ex like that Mindy? That was two years ago." Chad asked back, hurt but open to hearing what his sister had to say.

"Because for some of us, two years ago.." Mindy starts before looking over at Tara and then at Sam. "Felt like yesterday, I was at Amber's house party and sucking faces with a girl before settling on the couch later that night to watch Uncle Randy on TV before Ghost Face showed up. But that party that ended in a shit show? It hasn't stopped me from going to other parties and meeting people which is how I met my beloved Anika."

"That's the thing Mindy," Chad said earnestly. "You handled what happened two years ago differently than I do. I still go to parties too, with you, Tara, and now Ethan. But I can't shake the fear of losing more people I'm close to." His words hung heavy in the air causing you to turn your head toward the island, your expression portraying a sense of defeat. Without a word, you reach for a piece of paper and a pen on the island, writing something down. Sam watched as you pushed the piece of paper toward her, your disappointment was evident on your face.

Then Sam picks up the piece of paper reading it over as she realizes that it's a recipe for dinner that she would be able to make "It's called Blood Pasta uh?" Sam asked you, amused by the name while you pouted on the other side of the island so she walked over to you. Then Sam places her hands on either side of your body, caging you between herself and the island before lightly pressing her chest up against your back and lowering her head down. "Why don't you help me make it? '' She whispers into your ear as her breath tickles the little hairs on your skin making you smile and her smile widens. She wants to know you in every way possible and seeing your smile means a lot to her.

"Well, technically I could but Sam it's a fairly simple meal to make," You tell her, causing Sam to take her hands and place them near your knees as she begins tracing circles in thought.

Then Sam stops moving her hands, allowing you to pay attention to them as you anticipate her next move before she slowly drags her hands down your thighs causing you to take a deep breath. The feeling of her hands on your thighs is soothing and light to the touch but you don’t realize that she is intentionally teasing you until after she takes it up a notch. Sam starts to drag her nails down the rest of your thighs making you lean back into her chest as you spread your legs, mistakenly, Sam thought you were giving her more access to do what she wanted to you until you quickly clasp her hands when they get closer to your crotch and stand up.

"Fine! Fine, I'll help you make the damn Blood Pasta!" you said aloud, feeling flustered while behind you Sam stepped out of the way watching you hurriedly get up from the stool with a smirk. But when you turn around to face your girlfriend you catch her smirk at the last second before she changes it to a smile, and when you go to look up at her you find half lidded eyes looking back at you. You can feel the blood rush to your face, it's because you can almost imagine what dirty thoughts she might be thinking while gazing into your eyes. "Saaam" You stretched her name and she smiled. Sam won’t admit it to you but she's always loved the sound of your voice whenever you say her name or become talkative because your voice sounds smooth yet husky to the drums in her ears. But it didn’t stop her from watching you take a walk around the island passing the front door as you made your way over to get the pot from the drying rack. "There are children in the apartment..behave yourself" you giggled while trying to keep your cool in front of her family as you brought the pot to the sink.

But Sam couldn't help herself as she walked in the opposite direction and towards the cabinets. While walking over to you, her eyes gravitated toward a place that held one of the knives you threw at Ethan earlier, and for a minute she wondered. ‘How much strength did you use to have a knife sticking out of a cabinet door?’ she thought before she took residence near the sink, waiting for the pot to fill up with water alongside you. "Y/n '' she calls your name, studying your side profile before you turn your head to look at her and even then she tries to burn your face into her memory. "Try-" she started when she noticed the water in the pot was about to fill up so she leaned over to turn the faucet off before pulling on her hoodie that you're wearing "Not to take it personally."

Sam said next which made you scoff, the sound making her smile drop a little because she understands from personal experience what it feels like to be the bad guy in everyone's eyes. "I'll try not to take it so personally...Also six feet Sam," you told her, making Sam tilt her head like a dog as her brows furrowed with confusion. "We can't keep this" you smile while pointing your finger at her and then at yourself "a secret if you're always trying to touch me."

Your words cause Sam to smile "True but can you blame me?" She asks you, her brows relaxing as she looks at your eyes and then at your lips. With Sam eyeing you this way, she only makes your smile widen as big as hers and you nod repeatedly in front of her. Then you both hear the couch creak again making you both turn your heads to see Tara stand up before Sam asks "Boundaries right? Then can you take a step back for me? I don't want to spill all this water and make you wet now. That would be a lot to clean up."

You hear her say, her words making you laugh “Yeah, okay, sure” you say mid laugh before you accidentally snort. The unexpected snort made Sam laugh after she put the pot on the stove and you laughed even harder while covering your face as Tara walked into the kitchen.

"Hey you two, need any help with dinner?" Tara asked you both with a smile after witnessing you and her sister laughing in the kitchen.

"Um sure," you say to her as you look over at Sam briefly, your girlfriend shrugging before you open the fridge to find one package of chicken. "Here, take this chicken please," you say to Tara, handing her one package to put on the island. "Thank you...now I just have to find the last one…but uh make sure you take off the skin" you say aloud trying to find the last package of chicken but Sam steps in by putting her hand on your shoulder.

“Here, let me get the last package for you so you don't open up your stitches” Sam voices, concerned about your wounds reopening before she bent over to find the package of meat for you in the fridge. However, when you turn away to find a butter knife to open the package of chicken ahead of time Tara opens the freezer to get an ice pop then forgets to close the door. Upon finding the package of chicken for dinner, Sam goes to stand up when her head makes contact with the freezer door. “OW!” Sam yells causing you to whip your head around to look at her “Tara! What is with you and not closing doors lately!?” She yells at her little sister before handing the package to you.

"Oooh, please! That was two times Sam I’ll make sure to close the door next time" Tara spoke back to her sister. Her backtalk makes Sam walk over to her to flick her in the forehead but you stop Sam by stepping in front of her to talk to Tara.

“Tara, all your sister is trying to say is that she would appreciate it if you would be mindful of others in the apartment and close the doors..” you started and Sam who is behind you is secretly mouthing.

‘You are so lucky that Y/n is standing between us’ Sam mouthed to her sister as she made faces at her causing Tara to smirk and you to turn your head briefly to Sam before looking back at Tara.

“Do you understand where she’s coming from Tara? She just wants everyone to keep their limbs intact and their heads on their shoulders” you say next causing Tara to nod in agreement.

“Fine, I will take that into consideration” Tara replied before taking the butter knife from you to open a package of chicken while you look for another butter knife to use when Sam offers one in your peripherals. Then you turn to reach out and grab it from her but are met with some resistance so you look up at Sam only to make eye contact with the same dark figure behind her eyes from the other night.

“Sam?” you called her name before you saw the dark figure in her eyes take up most of her irises slowly bringing you into a trance as if the dark figure behind them was testing if you would submit or stand your ground. But much to the dark figure’s dismay in Sam, the creature that occupies your irises stands tall and fierce. Your expression gradually shifts from curious to pissed off and quizzical, unsure of what to make of Sam’s eyes. But unlike Sam’s darkness, which is rooted in the twisted legacy passed down from her father through blood, the creature within you is an enigma. You know of the creature within you from attacking Ethan, yet its origins remain a mystery, a shadow lurking in the corners of your mind.

"Sam, are you and Y/n having a staring contest right now?" Tara asks from behind you as you come back to your senses, the creature in your eyes retreating quickly, you turn your head to look at Tara before looking back at Sam’s eyes as you watch the light walk back into them.

"Uh? Um, we were I think but um here you go Y/n" Sam replied to Tara confused, handing you the butter knife before she noticed the water was boiling on the stove so she tended to it. "SO what do we throw into the pot first?" She asks out loud before picking up the piece of paper from earlier "Okay first the salt" she says to herself as she gets the salt from the cabinet before reading the little paper again like she was working at a restaurant.

But you just momentarily stare at Sam before turning your back on her to open the other package of chicken she gave you wondering what to make of what just happened in the kitchen as you skinned it."Clear the way!" Tara yells, making Sam step out of her way while Sam watches Tara and you bring the chicken over to put into the pot to get boiled.

"Now" you paused as Sam turned to the sink to turn on the faucet so you and her sister could wash your hands "We wait," you said last as your eyes wandered to Sam’s face.

While you, Tara, and Sam are waiting for the chicken to boil, you three hear someone using their keys to unlock the front door to the apartment as Chad makes his way over to the kitchen to get a drink after talking to his sister while you throw the skin from the chicken into the trash can.

“Took you guys a long time,” Chad says aloud as he watches Danny and Ethan walk into the apartment with some grocery bags.

“Got lost?” Sam asked Danny before her eyes shifted to Ethan, her instincts telling her to watch out for him as he might be a threat to you.

“No, not necessarily, while walking to a bodega nearby Ethan and I were talking about life until we lost each other in the middle of a crowd. It turned out his shoelace had come undone so he found refuge in an alleyway to tighten his shoe while I tried to find a vantage point to see where he was” Danny answered her before noticing you walking over to the pot to examine the water with Tara and then looked back at Sam.

“Yeah that was my bad, I should have said something sooner to you before stepping out of the way to fix my shoe. I’m sorry about that.” Ethan apologized to Danny, feeling bad for giving him a freight before looking at you and Tara at the stove.

“Hey, Sam, can you get the chicken bones from the pot for us?” Tara asked, causing Sam to turn around to look at what was going on.

“Sure,” she says, putting a mitten on so she wouldn’t burn herself from the steam, and then got a large spoon to hook the chicken bones onto “Wow look at the color of that water,” Sam says aloud smiling at the pot before breaking the spaghetti noodles in the box and emptying the contents into the pot.

Then everyone in the apartment waits at their respective spots for dinner such as Danny, Chad, and Ethan hanging out in the living room to watch whatever Mindy had put on while Mindy, Tara, Sam and You hung out around the island in the kitchen and every so often look at the TV when a scene happens to catch one of your eyes.

But there was a particular scene that caught Sam’s eye on TV, it depicted a serial killer running after a girl down a hallway similar to what she believes might have happened to you at your apartment. The scene causes Ethan's story to resurface but as she thinks more about it, his story doesn't make much sense to her 'Why would you have hit Ethan over the head if he was trying to help you restore the electricity?' she pondered, unable to reconcile his account with her perception of you. Though she felt your gaze on her, her thoughts continued to race. 'Ghost Face wouldn't spare anyone...Did he not see Ethan in the basement with you?' she continued, questioning the consistency of Ethan's narrative and Ghost Face's true intentions.

While across the room, Ethan is replaying what he did to you at your apartment while watching the same film on TV. The scenes on the screen slowly make him smile at the thought of deceiving you by being your semi dependable friend to becoming Ghost Face and making your blood run cold in front of him. Ethan can practically feel himself getting excited all over again from remembering your earlier encounters and the expressions you’ve made but the feeling soon disappears when he remembers the amount of strength you revealed to him on two occasions. The first is when you slammed him against the corner of a wall to save Anika and the second one is from when you disarmed him and then tried to kill him earlier that morning. The very thought causes him to lock his jaw and look over at you, as he contemplates how to get rid of you before you can do further damage to a much bigger plan that has yet to be set in motion even though his foreman would rather have you join them despite what they did to you. Ethan believes that if his boss truly wanted to have you join their team of killers they would try to convince you themselves and not have him the shy and dorky guy to be the middleman when he's supposed to remain shy, irritated and scared for his life so Chad could take care of him.

But Ethan's gaze on your figure doesn't go unnoticed because Sam glares at him from across the room even though you're sitting right in front of her, she can't help but feel protective over you. However, despite how she feels about Ethan's story she doesn't like that his stare seems almost predatory so she pulls your stool closer to her body.

The sudden movement of your stool moving beneath you causes you to have a mini heart attack because your body for a second fell backward but to counter the loss of balance you hook your right leg around Sam’s left and place your left hand on her right thigh. “Holy shit Sam, a little warning would have been nice,” you said to her and Sam lowered her head a little with a tilt before looking up at you.

“You're right. I’m sorry for doing that to you” she apologized to you before she purposely moved her left hand to rub the side of your right thigh, making sure that Ethan was aware and watching her as she briefly looked over at him, her hand settling on your calf next as his jaw grew tight. “Got something on your mind, Y/n?” she asked you, as she turned her head before noticing how quiet you were while examining her face, specifically her eyes.

“Mm,” you started, taking a deep breath as you paused to think of what you were going to say, your mind still wondering about the phenomenon that your girlfriend’s eyes went through an hour ago. However, you were at a loss for words as if your brain had left your body, your eyes shifting from her onyx brown orbs to her lips and then back at her eyes again before taking the opportunity to turn your body fully toward the island to hide your red face as Sam started to smile at you.

“Oh, cat got your tongue Y/n?” Mindy asked for both herself and Tara because they were paying attention to how you and Sam were conversing just moments ago as you sat there baffled in front of them.

“Yeah and what did I say about hanging around my sister?” Tara said afterward as Mindy and she exchanged a look before giving you a shit eating grin.

“Ha ha,” you say scoffing at them, “I can be quiet when I want to Mindy and Tara I’m not interested in your sister…we’re just friends” you countered with a smile as you looked over at your girlfriend making sure she's not offended in any way as you watch her prop her head with her hand, watching you with amusement.

After overhearing you demote yourself from being Sam’s girlfriend to friend, Danny takes the opportunity to get up from the couch to get himself a drink from the fridge but first he stops by to hug Sam from behind “What you girls are talking about over here?” He asked as you watched him snake his arms around Sam’s torso and her waist before squeezing her, causing Sam to bring her hands up to rub his toned forearms in front of you, and for a minute you felt a little jealous.

‘Maybe we should tell everyone we’re together’ you thought to yourself not noticing that Mindy is watching you intently, eating up every visual information she can pick up from you so she can tell Anika over the phone later. Tara on the other hand looks worried that you might intentionally take the closest pen near you and stab Danny in the jugular several times. However, you know in your heart, that Sam is interested in you because she’s always trying to find ways to touch and kiss you. You just don’t know if Danny knows that because he sort of acts like he’s still together with Sam in some way even now while he’s giving Sam a forehead kiss as she looks up at him, you know it's just a cover.

Then Tara clears her throat several times to get her sister's attention as she watches you intently look at Sam unable to pull your eyes away from the fake couple but her attempts don’t work.

But Tara’s throat clearing doesn’t go unnoticed because it certainly catches Mindy’s attention, so she watches as Tara tries to cue her older sister in on what she’s doing. Mindy looks between you and Sam when she finally picks up on what's wrong. ‘Ooooh’ Mindy thought, realizing that maybe you’re jealous of Sam for giving Danny attention and not you, which makes Mindy smile before thinking about what question to ask you. “Hey Y/n” Mindy calls your name as soon as she thinks of her question, making you turn your head to look at her.

“What's up Mindy?” you respond to your friend with a light smile because you know that Mindy could do you no wrong or so you thought.

“What were you doing before you went to Gale’s rescue?” She asked you knowing that Sam’s ears would perk up sooner or later because Kirby sort of filled everyone in while they packed themselves into your car after finding Ghost Face’s location.

“Oh um I was meeting up with a client at a restaurant called Rancho Tequileria near Gale’s home, she actually picked the place,” you told her not knowing that Mindy was going to use what little information you just told her as ammunition to spark you into a heavy conversation and make Sam get jealous.

“Oh, who's this mystery client that took you on what could have been a cute date?” she asked you, smiling to herself because not only did she get Tara to stop clearing her throat but she had Tara looking at her with a grin and Sam giving her the side eye before looking at you.

“Oh uh,” you smiled at Mindy thinking about that meeting “Her name is Melanie Rodriguez she wanted some help with designing her website for her Slay the Day salon so Erika and Luna recommended me to her a few weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah, was she pretty in looks as well as personality? Also, Erika and Luna are the same couple who runs a Mothers Love, A Woman's Bakery right?” Mindy asked you as she became immersed in talking with you, making her forget why she was talking to you in the first place.

“Yes and I’ve been working with them for two years now going on three in September” You nodded at Mindy’s second question with a smile before talking about your client. “As for your first question, yes she was intimidatingly pretty and she was patient, decisive, and surprisingly easy to talk to despite me being initially nervous.” You say to Mindy feeling animated in front of her while Sam moves her head to get a better look at you while you talk about another woman in front of her. “It was kind of funny because at some point Melanie was looking in my direction while licking her lips…well technically it wasn’t funny I was just really confused, I couldn’t tell if she was looking at what I was eating or someone behind me.” You said aloud as Mindy’s smile grew as she remembered why she was asking you questions in the first place before looking over at Tara who was shocked by the information you just revealed.

“What were you eating at the restaurant?” Sam asked you with a tightened jaw hoping she heard you wrong as you turned your head to her.

“I was eating this dish called um…give me a minute to look up the dish because I don’t want to butcher the name.” You told her as you pulled your phone from your pocket to look up the dish you ate from the restaurant while Sam watched your facial expressions go from focused to happy as you handed her your phone.

Sam takes your phone and looks at the screen “You ate a Molcajete de Rancho uh?” she asked you and you nodded at her with a smile as she kept her eyes on your phone before highlighting the text and searching for a photo of it. ‘This dish does look good’ she thought to herself before looking up at you briefly “What was Melanie eating?” she asked next and you thought about it.

“Well I don’t believe she was eating a lot but she had a dish called Azteca Fajitas” you replied not missing a detail as Sam looked away from your phone and at you fully. “I thought the dish sounded very cool and it smelled really good which is why I remembered the name” you explained as Sam looked down at your phone to look up a photo of Melanie's dish.

“Are you sure Melanie wasn’t looking at you when she licked her lips?” Sam asked you, her eyes narrowing at you a little as she gave you your phone back because the dish that Melanie had although delicious looking didn’t look like much to Sam in her opinion. In fact, Sam felt that the reason why Melanie didn’t eat a lot is because she was sizing you up to eat you out later that day but you just shook your head with a shrug at her question.

Danny on the other hand was impressed by your client for being so bold around you because he knows that if a man did that to you that you would have probably retreated and honestly he wouldn’t wish that on anyone. But his thoughts couldn’t protect him from Sam’s anger and jealousy that was burning through her skin because he felt that the temperature underneath his arms was similar to a furnace which he found very unusual. Because he can’t recall seeing or feeling that kind of reaction from Sam whenever he would talk about other women in front of her assuming Sam knew he wouldn’t leave her for another person so he slowly unwraps his arms from around his ex before stepping to the side so he can get a drink.

“Sam, unless she’s a cannibal I don’t see why she would look at me and then lick her lips,” you say to your girlfriend not understanding why she was heavily focused on Melanie’s habit of licking her lips as you recall another detail. “I wonder what attractive being behind me she was undressing,” you said next, causing Tara and Mindy to cover their mouths while Sam narrowed her eyes fully on you.

“SHE DID WHAT?” Sam yelled, startling you. She knew that the cogs in your brain were working but she didn’t expect to hear those words come out of your mouth “How can you not see that Melanie was interested in you? She was practically undressing you with her eyes!”

“I don’t see why you are so alarmed about Melanie licking her lips and undressing someone with her eyes. It’s not like it was toward me” you replied, getting frustrated because you were confused as to why your girlfriend was getting mad at you.

“Mindy, what have you done?” Tara whispers to her and she watches as her childhood friend shrugs.

“I was just trying to help Y/n get payback” Mindy replies to Tara as she shakes her head “I didn’t think it was going to end up in their first argument'' she whispers to the smaller Carpenter sister honestly.

Sam’s eyes widened, taken aback by your response. “How can you not notice something so obvious!” Sam starts yelling again but she doesn’t realize that you don’t necessarily understand social cues all that well.

But with the TV volume a little too loud for your liking, the heat of the room from cooking, you having a hard time understanding what Sam is trying to say and Sam yelling at you, you don’t realize that you are being overstimulated. With a clenched fist at your sides, your voice trembled with anger “News flash, Sam! I’m not you! I’m not this bodybuilder or trackstar built woman that people are conventionally attracted to. I know in my bones that Melanie is not interested in me by any means because of that!” you yell back at Sam which leaves everyone in the apartment stunned.

As Danny slowly opens up the fridge to get a drink from the door, he leans over to look at the chicken and pasta that you and Sam made in the pot before quietly clearing his throat. “Dinner is ready,” he says in the relatively quiet room except for the TV that's on as he turns off the heat underneath the pot.

You try to take a deep breath while holding back tears from frustration. “You guys can eat. I'm not hungry right now.” You say to Danny as he nods before reaching into the cabinet above the stove to get a few bowls “I need a quiet space and time to calm down.”

You said as you looked over at Danny before turning your back on Sam, standing up then walking to Danny’s room, he chimes “You can use the spare room that I have down the hallway…because it's cool and less noisy.” Danny said a little awkwardly “It's down the hallway passed the bathroom to the left..you can’t miss it” Danny suggested to you which you followed immediately.

When the door slammed shut behind you, Sam sat there on her stool in the kitchen, speechless. Her mind raced, trying to process the sudden outburst. She had no idea that you felt that way about yourself no one in the room had. The anger and hurt in your voice echoed in her mind. It hurt her to hear you, the woman she loved talk that way, her heart sank, a mix of guilt and sorrow washing over her. She had only meant to educate you, not hurt you.

“Um, you want me to go talk to Y/n, Sam?” Tara asked her sister, getting ready to get up from her seat to get a bowl of Blood pasta as Chad and Ethan started shuffling into the kitchen waiting to get a bowl of their own quietly. But all Sam could do was shake her head while looking down the hallway as she tried to think of something to say to you that felt genuine but she couldn't. Nothing in her head sounded right to her so she got up from her seat causing Mindy to look up at her.

“Do you have a plan to get back in Y/n’s good graces?” Mindy asked, curious to see if Sam had any idea on how to apologize to you considering that she has never brought a girl home as far as she knows.

Once again Sam silently shook her head as she looked over at Mindy hoping just by looking at her that she could absorb some knowledge on how to apologize to you without the risk of losing you. Because even though it’s not Sam’s first time being with a woman in the capacity of loving a woman, understanding what a woman wants, and how a woman feels. It’s certainly her first time being in a committed relationship with a woman, especially a woman who she believes might be neurodiverse and she doesn’t want to fuck it up.

“Even though I still don’t trust her. I say talk to Y/n as if you're talking to any of us Sam,” Chad voices making Sam look over at him by the front door eating the Blood pasta that you and her made together. He gives Sam the much needed push to get her away from the kitchen. “My god this dinner is so good” he whispers to himself as Sam secretly smiles at his reaction to the food before she slowly makes her way down the hallway.

In the bedroom that you reside in at the end of the hallway, you are berating yourself for how you reacted. “Y/n why did you do that!? You should have just agreed to what she was saying to you! You had one job to not fuck this relationship up and you can’t even do that correctly!” you say to yourself as you walk back and forth in the small room. “Sam is going to leave you because…because you're too much,” you say to yourself as Sam stood outside the room with her hand hovering over the door knob not understanding why you would say such things to yourself when she knows you were just voicing how you felt to her at the island.

Then Sam knocks on the door to get your attention “Y/n, can I come in?” She asks through the door hoping to hear a reply from you but she doesn’t. It makes her wonder what you might be doing in the spare room. Like if you're standing still on the other side waiting for her to leave or perhaps waiting for her to bust the door down. “Y/n? Y/n, I just want to talk. I’m not here to yell at you” Sam said next hoping you would understand that there is a gentle third option before hearing you shuffle towards the door and slowly unlock it for her.

After you unlock the door Sam gently enters the room before closing and locking the door behind her, the clicking sound entering your ears as you turn around to face her but not before turning on the lamp in the small room you both occupy.

“Oh, you didn’t have to put on the lights Y/n. I would have been able to see you in the dark” Sam says as she turns around to face you with gentle tired eyes. She then notices the tear stains on your cheeks and the glassy look in your eyes. It is clear to her that you might be more sensitive than most people, especially with how quickly you became frustrated with the topic.

“I’m sorry,” you both said at the same time, inadvertently making you both laugh as you tried to dry your face with your hands. You sniffle before saying “You go first…because I don’t know what to say to you” You voice softly to your girlfriend unsure of what to say when your body is full of anxiety.

Sam can see this very clearly because you're breathing a little heavily and you're playing with the bottom of her sweater. Sam knows the signs all too well because even though she’s calm in front of you right now she is also experiencing anxiety just like you, except she's playing with her hands. “Y/n…I’m sorry for upsetting you earlier. I only meant to educate you about the signs of how someone like Melanie might like you, however, I got so caught up in being jealous about another woman hitting on you that I didn’t realize that I had frustrated you.” Sam said thoughtfully to you as she looked down at her hands that she started messaging out of nervousness.

After Sam was done talking it was your turn to speak even though your mind raced on what to say back to her. “I uh“ you started, trying not to cry in front of her “I’m sorry for yelling at you in front of your family” you continued as you found your voice even though it was shaky “That wasn’t cool of me to do” you finished your thought before sitting down on the bed.

“I appreciate you for saying that, however, I don’t think you should be sorry for speaking your mind,” Sam says back to you as she walks over to join you on the bed. But Sam sees you getting comfortable, spreading out on the bed as you avert your gaze elsewhere. Sam smiles for two reasons at you, the first reason is because you're opening up more to her and the second reason is because she's always wanted to straddle you in bed.

Without looking at Sam another thought came to mind that you felt that you needed to apologize for “It still wasn’t cool of me to do Sam and I’m also sorry for being jealous of yo-” You started to voice to Sam before you paused midway as you felt the bed dip near your hips, you immediately looked up. Your heart almost left your chest as you witnessed Sam getting comfortable climbing on top of you, her eyes half lidded like she was going to eat you right up beneath her.

“You? Y/n jealous of me?” Sam inquired in a whisper smiling down at you while realizing why you would have been jealous while she slowly moved your hands above your head. “For giving him attention?” she says next as she watches your breath pick up beneath her.

“Whoa Carpenter,” you said aloud with a nervous smile but also with surprise in your voice, You started to breathe heavily now. You watch as Sam leans down to your level her soft lips start kissing your neck. “I don’t know if it’s safe for us..to be in the same room together..” you started breathlessly as Sam was kissing near a sweet spot on your neck “Anymore,” you said last, a light moan leaving your lips.

Your moan encourages Sam to kiss you more even though initially she just wanted to let you know that you are beautiful just the way you are by reminding you with a few kisses to your neck and lips to prove her point. However, Sam would be happy to settle for making you moan and groan below her as long as possible “All I want is you Y/n” she says out of breath, tempted to rub herself against your thigh while kissing up your neck. “Only you,” Sam says to you as she starts feverishly kissing your lips while pulling at the hoodie you're wearing, unable to stop herself until she has to rip herself away from you so she can breathe as you chase her lips for more affection.

“Sam” you whisper her name, unable to take your half lidded eyes off her as you start to drag your eyes slowly up and down her body. For a moment your eyes settle on her chest, watching as her chest rises and falls each time she breathes in more air while you try to catch your own. Sam notices and smiles down at you lovingly. Neither of you knew how absolutely crazy you both are for each other mind, body, and spirit. It was almost like you were made for each other like lost lovers in time. A compliment to the other. It drives you nuts inside how crazy you are about Sam, it turns your crazy into something adventurous because you want to know what loving Sam and getting lost in her feels like.

While you admire Sam from beneath her, Sam watches as the cogs in your head start moving. It gets her excited for more because she loves being able to see the different sides of you whether provoked sexually like this or seeing you naturally in the presence of her family and with her alone. But as quickly as the spark began she could see the lust in your eyes waning because she knows you're hesitating, you’re careful. Too careful. Too cautious to express that you want her in her entirety, she knows you’re new to the world of love but it makes her wonder, how many people have you met already? How many people have you met, whether platonic, familial, or romantic? How many of those people saw the love in your eyes for them that they acknowledged and told you in their own ways that you were too much? Because Sam knows that you aren’t too much, you're a woman who needs attunement, affection, and a place to grow, and thrive. In her own way, she wants to help you grow as a person because unknowingly you've helped her grow too.

As Sam’s half lidded eyes looked back at your own, filled with questions and thoughts about your love for her and being able to grow together, she didn't realize that you had moved until she was lying on her back. Sam looks up at you with surprise, the lust that was waning before is now illuminating. That's all she could see in your eyes before noticing you blushing as you place your hands on either side of her head, climbing on top of her before you carefully lean down to her level on the bed. Your face is hovering over her own. Your noses touch as she gazes into your eyes. Your lips are just inches apart. You look at your girlfriend's lips and then at her eyes waiting for her to give you permission to kiss her as your breath feathers over her skin. Your heart is beating so fast you can practically hear it in your ears. You scan Sam’s face, noticing her half lidded gaze, her long lashes, and then her plump lips that you don’t notice right away her slow nod of approval for you to kiss her until she caresses your face with her hand to focus on her. ‘She’s lying to you’ the voice said in your head ‘She doesn’t actually want you’ it voiced once again. It was the anxiety talking to you and for a moment you closed your eyes trying to hold back what little tears threatened to come to the surface. You back away from Sam but within her reach she lightly swipes her thumb across your cheekbone to comfort you.

“Shhhh” Sam says to you in a calm but low voice trying to be soothing to your ears so you would relax “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” Sam voices to you so you know that you don’t have to continue, giving you an out as you nod against her hand before leaning into it causing Sam to caress the other side of your face. Sam decides to sit up, you sitting up along with her as she examines your face seeing the light scars that litter your face from your first encounter with Ghost Face before lightly kissing them. “You are so beautiful you know that Y/n” Sam said to you with love as she littered your face with kisses “And handsome and super kind..” she continued kissing your forehead. “Your well of love must be so so deep just like you,” she said next as she kissed your lips before backing away to say something else but something about Sam’s kiss made your hands gently take hers away from your face to bring her closer so you can kiss her.

Your kiss takes Sam by surprise as she slowly melts into you because when your lips touched hers it was smooth and gentle just like you, your hands roamed her body while her arms wrapped around your neck. But as gentle as your kisses started they gradually got rough and hot. Your lips gravitated down her neck not hard enough to leave hickeys but enough that you started to hear Sam moan in your ear. You swear it’s one of the hottest sounds to grace your eardrums as her moans make you moan into her skin, you kiss down to her clavicle and then give her chest some attention as Sam allows you to lay her down on the bed. Continuing your course you bite Sam’s tank top lifting it up as the bottom of it rises causing it to reveal her muscles underneath making Sam breathe more heavily as she anticipates what you might do next. But she is impatient, Sam rolls her lower body into you trying to find friction against your thigh, however, you stop her movements by pressing your hands down on her hips as you kiss down her stomach inching ever closer to her hips, and Sam moans with anticipation.

“Baby” Sam whines to you while trying to catch her breath as she feels herself grow wet at the thought of you between her legs.

You end up giggling at her whines, the vibrations from your giggles making her even wetter at the thought of you bringing toys into the bedroom. Then you lick just above the waistband of her jeans, before propping yourself up as you drag your hands up her thighs about to unbutton her jeans. However, before you can unbutton Sam’s jeans the light in the room flickers making you and Sam look at the corner of the room before it goes out causing you to flinch away from Sam. You end up having another flashback. You remember hearing the light bulb at the corner of the main hallway in the basement break as if someone had hit the bulb with a hard object leaving shattered glass on the floor before Ghost Face appeared in front of you in the dark and then hearing a voice say ‘Why is it so hard to kill a roach like you?’ It didn’t make sense as it continued, you felt a series of painful waves as Ghost Face sliced the side of your ribs and then punched your side as if it were happening in real time. “Agh,” you say aloud panting against the wall before another flash ‘I have to keep going’ and then noticing Ghost Face in an alleyway.

The last thing you remember hearing was Sam and Tara screaming from your phone ��Y/N!” before Sam touched your hand as you opened your eyes to see her phone light illuminating the spare room. “Did you have another flashback?” Sam asked you in a whisper, you nodded in front of her tiredly making her scoot closer to you so she could embrace you as you covered the larger wound with your hand before she kissed your cheek. “The light bulb must have been old which is why it broke so suddenly,” she says as she kisses your lips next before taking your hand in hers as she tries to calm down.

“I wouldn’t put it past the universe to give us a sign that now isn’t the greatest time to be intimate” you respond to Sam’s explanation making her laugh as she nods because she's sort of religious but isn’t opposed to there being something higher than her god or perhaps believing that it’s just the way of the world like you do.

“Maybe,” she says to you with a smile before taking your hand and pulling you up with her. You both slowly make your way to the bedroom door for Sam to unlock. She opens the door for you so you can walk out first before exiting herself. “Y/n” she calls your name once again making you turn around to face her as she lifts her hand to caress your face before leaning into you so she can whisper something in your ear making your mouth open just a little as your brows rise. “I just thought I would tell you that” Sam explains to you as she backs away from you with a smile.

You were so shocked by what she told you that you were overcome with joy but you also didn’t know what to say back to her but her name “Sam I-I-...What do I?” you stuttered, having a hard time forming a coherent thought before she stopped you with a kiss.

“You don’t have to do or say anything right now Y/n. Only when you feel ready to say it” is what she tells you before a loud noise interrupts your moment causing you and Sam to run to the living room. “Is everyone okay!” Sam yells as she scans the room hoping it's not Ghost Face until she hears you sigh with relief before following your gaze to the kitchen.

“Don’t worry I just dropped a bowl in the kitchen!” Danny announces before standing up to let everyone know he's okay. “Okay well maybe everyone should worry,” he says taking back his previous statement “No one comes into this kitchen until I’ve cleared the floor of sharp ceramic pieces and please only wear shoes if you plan to step in here” Danny informs his guests before looking over at Sam “Sam could you give me a hand?” he asks.

“Yeah I can,” she says to him with a little smile before turning to you. “You hang out at the coffee table with the others and when I’m done helping Danny, I’ll bring over the dinner we made okay?” She asks you and you respond with a nod and a smile which widens Sam’s smile, her nodding back “I’ll be over soon.”

Sam says last but before you can move from your spot to join your friends Kirby calls your phone.

“Hey Kirby, I feel like it's been a while, what's up?” you ask your sister in law before you pull the phone away from your ear.

“Y/N, WE NEED TO TALK!” Kirby yells through the phone letting you know she's angry with you.

“Uh, about what? I don’t understand?” You reply not understanding why your sister in law was angry and now yelling at you.

“God you are so lucky that I have a lot of paperwork to deal with. Anyway tell Sam I’m stopping by the apartment tomorrow,” Kirby said to you before continuing. “You better not go anywhere,” she says last in a threatening tone that leaves you a bit alarmed.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 2.5 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 4.5 Chapter 5 Chapter 5.5 Chapter 6 Chapter 6.5 Chapter 7 Chapter 7.5 Chapter 8 Chapter 8.5 Chapter 9 (Chapter 9.5 Coming Soon)

Stay in my mentions crew: @daddy-jareau @lummaland @screechcat @sluttyhorrorcharacter @f4riedimples @darkangelxoxo @stickydefendorpersona @werewolfbansheelove @fanboy7794 @grandpatrolnut @alphawolfstabs @rainbowmess823 @womenofmarvellover @inactivecabbage @msboules @bowergirlwitch

Scream 6 : A Love so Understanding Playlist

#sam carpenter x reader #sam carpenter #sam carpenter imagine #core four #a fantasylandbitch presents a story: scream6 #autistic!reader

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a-killer-obsession · 3 days

Text

Shared Smiles [Heat x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

Despite being forced on board against your will, you find yourself connecting with a commander, and finding solace in your shared traumas.

CW: wounds, off-screen amputation, loss of limb, comfort, trauma, mentions of mutilation, fingering, p in v sex, afab reader

WC: ~6k

Masterlist || AO3

The chains holding you creaked slightly as you swung back and forth, blood running down over your face and dripping to the floor below you as you hung upside down. Your ankles were bound together in metal cuffs, your hands tied to your torso with chains, and your body bare save for your panties and the many fresh wounds that littered your body. Two Supernovas of the Worst Generation stood in front of you, Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid and his first mate, Massacre Soldier Killer. The captain pressed his boot against your face again, letting back off and making your body swing, the ankle cuffs digging into your skin at the added pressure the movement created.

“Last chance,” the redheaded captain gloated, kneeling and grabbing a handful of your hair to force you to look at him. You could barely keep eye contact, not out of fear but, because you'd been upside down for so long that you were nearly unconscious. “I don't usually give out mercies like this, but your skills are useful to me, and my girls enjoyed your company before you fucked up”

Said fuck up was simply rejecting the large man of his sexual advances. You'd met some of his crew, a couple of girls named Hip, Hop, Quincy, Emma and Dive, at a bar nearby. You'd seen a lot on your travels as a for-hire mercenary, but female pirates were not common on the Grandline. They'd made you laugh, a rarity for you, and hadn't judged your unusual mask that hid your mouth and the end of your nose. Of course they hadn't, they were used to a first mate who covered the entirety of his face in white and blue stripes. They didn't even ask questions about it, which was a breath of fresh air for you, only commenting on how cool the sculpting that decorated it was - a relief of a open lion's jaw, with large, sharp teeth and a lolling tongue, trimmed by a nose and cheeks curled mid roar. The whole mask gave you the appearance of having a lion's snout, and along with the clawed gloves you wore during combat, was the guiding force for the moniker the marines had given you: ‘The Lioness, [Y/N]’.

Now, had your rejection perhaps been a little harsh? Maybe, by normal standards. A large, attractive man with such infamy as him was probably not rejected often, let alone with such sass. You knew you had a knack for being too brutally truthful, never filtering your words or pulling your verbal punches. It'd gotten you in trouble on more than one occasion, but you were a talented fighter, fast and agile, you didn't usually get caught in situations like this. When the Massacre Soldier snuck up on you in the alley outside though, you found you were no match for him, he had such a high bounty for a reason.

“How bout it little kitty?” Kid purred in faux sweetness, bringing you back to reality, blinking as you fought the pull of unconsciousness. “You can join my crew, or you can stay here and get tortured till you die. This is the last time I'll ask”

Did you want to be a pirate? No, you liked running solo, you liked having the freedom to go wherever you wanted and take whatever jobs were convenient. Having your life dictated by someone else was the last thing you wanted, and being around the same people every day would make it hard to avoid forming attachments. You had sworn to never get close to others again, after your last relationship resulted in the unforgivable reason you wore the mask. Making friends you'd never see again in bars was one thing, but you weren't looking for long term relationships, platonic or not. On the other hand, you liked being alive. You would not let a man be your death, not after everything you'd been through.

“Fine,” you spat. The single word was a struggle to push out, your head felt like it was in a vice and the rest of your body was going numb as a new droplet of blood rolled down your face and caught in your eyelashes.

“Wise choice,” the first mate noted from behind his unreadable mask. “One of our commanders is gonna love that pretty little smile of yours”

“Bite me,” you spat back, voice laced with venom.

“Tell the girls to clean her up and get her settled,” Kid addressed the first mate as he used his devil fruit to release your bindings, dropping you to the hard floor unceremoniously. He threw your mask at you, bouncing with an audible clunk off your already sore head, and you grabbed it greedily. Killer watched you with empathy as you desperately covered your mouth back up, he knew that feeling well and felt like an asshole for knowing what you hid underneath. You shot daggers up at him as the mask was settled in its rightful place, the room brightening for a moment as the door opened for the captain to leave before returning to its barely lit state.

As the months passed, you found yourself feeling surprisingly comfortable amongst the Kid Pirates. It'd taken you a while to heal and stop being so jumpy, but it came as no surprise to learn you were not the only crew member who had been hired via torture after pissing the short-fused captain off, and they all thought it was hilarious in retrospect. You hoped one day you'd find it funny too, but for now you still had aches from where new scars pulled taut on your skin as you moved. You found yourself at home among the other girls, and learned that Kid protected them with fierce loyalty. You had expected to have to reject more advances from him, but as it turned out, he treated the girls on his crew like sisters, and after months of getting past the violent way you were brought on the ship, you found yourself able to laugh in his presence. You never expected to enjoy the life of a pirate, but in truth it was nice to not have to fight for everything and take care of yourself, it was soothing to know someone had your back if you got into trouble. The girls had been diligent in tending to your wounds and nursing you back to health, and you'd gotten to know them well over the last few months. At first you thought about running every chance you got, but now you felt a pang of guilt whenever you thought of leaving the women you'd come to call friends, and ultimately pushed away the idea of leaving all together.

Much like the first mate though, you never removed your mask in front of the others. They'd allowed you to put up a curtain around your cot so you could sleep without it in privacy, you ate your meals in solitude sitting on the figurehead skull of the ship, and thankfully the showers were built as separate cubicles with doors. Nobody asked why you wore the mask, they respected your privacy the same way they respected Killer's, to ask what lay underneath would be a disrespect against both of you. As for the two that had seen, Kid and Killer kept your secret, even from the other commanders. Their word was gospel, so nobody pried, and it helped to make you feel safe here. You hadn't gone this long without someone asking about what the mask hid for months, the only questions you ever got from the crew were in regard to the mask itself. How was it made? Why a lion? Where did you get it? Is it annoying to wear? Curiosities that you couldn't fault, but always asked in a respectful manner.

This evening, like many other evenings, you found yourself drinking with the crew. It was a crew of around thirty, and although there were a few members held higher than the rest - the captain, first mate, and four commanders - it was clear the whole crew were friends, and there was no divide when they drank. You found yourself sitting next to Heat, a quiet, tall man with an almost grey skin tone, thick blue hair that fell in waves, and an almost perpetually sad expression. He was sweet, and easy to be around, and you often found yourself seeking his company. He didn't pry about your past as long as you didn't ask about his, and he was okay with a comfortable silence, making him one of your favourite people to spend time with, along with his best friend Wire, another commander who was similar in personality, though a lot more stoic, an a significant amount taller. Heat looked tough, but on a more personal level seemed far too soft to be a pirate. He didn't have a devil fruit, but he could breathe fire, and his long thorn-like tattoos fascinated you. He was an interesting man, someone you could see yourself opening up to in the past, if you hadn't sworn to close your heart from all men after the betrayal you experienced with the last one.

For obvious reasons, you didn't actually drink around the others, you just took part in the conversations. Unlike the Massacre Soldier, who could thread a straw through the holes in his mask, your mask was one solid form, the only holes being a mesh for ventilation hidden under the top row of sharp teeth, and the holes in the lion's nose where there the anatomy dictated, again so you could actually breathe. You enjoyed the company none-the-less though, and you'd never been one for drinking before the mask anyway so it was no loss. You didn't like the way alcohol made you feel, you preferred to keep your wits about you. That was another thing you enjoyed about Heat, he was your comrade in sober arms, also preferring not to drink. Apparently last time he got drunk he accidentally set fire to a bar, so he chose to stay sober for everyone's safety.

You laughed wholeheartedly as Quincy fell victim to a well planned truth or dare, admitting she'd had a raunchy sex dream about another crewmate, Bubblegum, the crew erupting in laughter as the two of them flushed bright red. The laughter died down and it was Quincy's turn to ask a question to the next victim, and your breath caught as you thought she was going to pick you, only to move one more over and pick Heat. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Truth or dare Heatie!” She coughed out, trying to quickly divert the crew's attention.

“Truth,” he replied calmly.

“Okay, mmmm,” she pressed a index finger to her mouth as she thought, “tell us who you have a crush on!”

A few of the crew went “ooooooh” as Heat turned bright red, and Kid sat up, his attention piqued.

“Look how red he is!” Kid barked, “there's definitely someone!”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Someone called out.

“It's… it's…[y/n]” he finally stuttered out, finally breaking, curling in on himself and trying to hide his flushed face from you. Your own face went pink at the admission, you hadn't expected it at all and there were butterflies in your chest. Heat quickly picked the next victim to move the attention, and you quietly excused yourself from the gathering.

“I didn't mean to offend you,” Heat said softly as he approached where you sat on the figurehead skull, facing the ocean. You quickly wiped your tears and sniffed, replacing your mask which you'd removed to keep it dry from your crying. “Were you crying? [Y/n] I'm so sorry, please forget I said anything, it's just a dumb game”

“It's not that, Heat,” you sniffed, “it just… brought up some not very nice memories is all. It's not your fault”

“Oh, well I'm sorry anyway,” he shifted awkwardly on his feet, “do you want to talk about it?”

“The last man I was with was not kind,” you tried to explain, “he… decided I was no longer worth the trouble, and he did this,” you pointed at the mask.

“Can I… see?” He asked shyly.

You looked out to the ocean, thinking hard about whether you were ready for that, ready to let someone past that heavily guarded wall. If anyone would understand, it was him. In truth, you didn't want to carry this burden alone anymore, and you knew he was more than willing to carry it with you. You looked around the deck for spying eyes, and seeing no other life you gave him a small nod and patted the figurehead next to you, inviting him to come sit. He climbed up and sat beside you, cross legged and patient. You sighed nervously as you unlatched the mask with shaky hands, turning to him anxiously.

“Oh,” he said softly.

Staring back at him, stretching from the corners of your mouth to the apex of your jaw, were the jagged scars of a Glasgow smile, just like his own. His heart stung when he saw it, he knew the pain you'd been through, physical and emotional, and the way you no doubt feel every time you look in the mirror. You turned away from him again, replacing the mask and looking back out to the ocean.

“Did you kill him?” He asked, shuffling a little closer so your shoulders touched, staring out to the sea with you.

“Yes,” you replied flatly.

“Good,” he huffed. “How long ago did it happen, if you don't mind me asking”

“Three years,” you idly picked at the cuticles on your fingers.

“The dysphoria will pass, in time,” he assured you, then pointed at his own scars, “rival gang, eight years ago. I wore a scarf over the scars for five years before I finally got comfortable with my own reflection. It'll pass, and nobody here will judge you when it finally does”

You nodded quietly and rested your head on his shoulder, and the two of you sat in comfortable silence till you started to fall asleep and decided to head to bed.

“MOVE, GET OUT OF THE WAY!” Heat shouted at the other crewmates that had crowded around your fallen form.

In a blink of an eye, everything had gone so very wrong. The crew had been raiding a marine base, rampaging through it as they always did, cutting down marines left and right. Nobody could have known the building you were fighting next to was structurally unsound, closed off from use years ago, scheduled to be demolished before it could collapse on someone's head. One small shake of the ground from a nearby explosion and the whole outer wall crumbled, burying you in heavy cement faster than you had a chance to register what was happening. The crew had been quick to dig you out, working together to move the large slab of concrete that was crushing you. Heat took in your seemingly lifeless body with baited breath, the limbs on your right side twisted in unnatural positions, deep purple bruises already forming on any skin that was visible, blood running from your nose and ears.

Your body moved just a little, and suddenly you were screaming. Awaking in absolute agony, everything was on fire, you could barely think through the pain. Only one coherent word escaped you, a shrill, desperate scream of his name, before the world went black again. Thankful that you were unconscious again so you didn't have to feel your injuries, Heat carefully lifted you, holding you close to his chest as he carried you back to the ship, tears silently rolling down his cheeks and neck as he tried his best to keep it together for you, to get you somewhere safe and start the long, hard process of healing.

For five days you slept in the infirmary of the Victoria Punk, and for those five days Heat never left your side, sleeping in an old metal chair next to you, his head against your arm and your good hand held gently in his, praying to whatever god that would listen that you'd wake up. His back ached from sleeping upright, he had deep, dark bags under his eyes, and he smelt as bad as he looked, still covered in the grime and blood from the battle, refusing to leave your side for long enough to shower. You needed him here, he needed to be here when you woke up, because you had to wake up, and he fought tooth and nail against anyone who dared to try and drag him away.

When you finally awoke, you did so with a small whimper, unable to remember what had happened, or understand why half your limbs weren't reacting the way you wanted them to. Heat had been asleep next to you, but was quickly at attention, standing over you and making sure you knew he was here before you had time to question whether you were all alone.

“Shh, don't try to move,” he said softly, stopping you from sitting up too fast with a firm but gentle hand against your chest, “you got hurt real bad, but you're safe now, you're gonna be okay”

Your hand flew to your mouth, feeling for your mask, looking up at him with wide shocked eyes when you found it was missing.

“Shh, shh, it's okay,” he took your hand back in his and removed it from your face, “only the doc saw, nobody else except Kid and Killer have come in here, and they said they'd already seen”

Your breathing calmed down again as you accepted his assurances, squeezing his hand and trying to sit up again. You wanted, no, needed to know how bad the damage was, you needed to see for yourself. You felt heavy, no doubt from painkillers, but you could still tell something was very wrong, your right arm and leg still not responsive. Heat saw your efforts and sighed, he knew there was no keeping you from it any longer.

“I'm gonna help you sit up okay?” He slid his arm around your shoulders and held the other against your chest, “But I need you to not panic. Your injuries were life threatening, Emma did everything in her power but she couldn't save everything”

You tried your best to stay calm but you couldn't help but start to hyperventilate as he sat you up and pulled the blanket that covered you aside, finally seeing the damage for yourself. Your right arm was in a cast, from your armpit to your hand, set in a bend. Your pinky and ring finger were missing, only stubs of them remained. You were wearing nothing but your underwear, your entire torso wrapped in bandages, healing graze marks and yellowing bruises peeking out from wherever the wrapping didn't cover. But the worst of the injuries was your right leg. Or rather, lack thereof, because from your mid thigh down was just empty space where your leg should have been, a bandage wrapped tightly around the short nub that remained.

Heat held you tight to his chest as you took in the damage and started to sob, your tears soaking into his corset shirt and rehydrating some of the blood and dirt on his chest. You weren't sure how long you cried for, at some point he climbed up on the bed and sat behind you, rocking you back and forth and cooing reassurances in your ear until you were able to settle your breathing and your sobs turned to teary-eyed hiccups.

“It's gonna be okay,” Heat assured, his arms around your torso as he pressed a kiss to your dirty hair, “Kid is already working on a prosthetic for you, Emma said the amount she was able to save is plenty to learn to walk again with one, it's gonna be okay, I'm gonna be here the whole time”

You nodded as you let yourself rest back against him, the weight of your emotional burden too much to bare alone anymore, letting him support your exhausted body and keep you afloat.

A few days had passed and Emma, as the ship's doctor, had cleared you to leave the infirmary. You couldn't walk given you would need two working arms for crutches, and with your dominant arm out of action you struggled at even the most basic tasks, so Heat insisted you stay with him. He'd pulled a spare mattress from the henchmen's quarters and was sleeping on the floor with it, leaving the entire queen size bed for you. As a commander he had his own room and a small humble bathroom, nothing compared to the grand rooms Kid and Killer had, but it was private and it was comfortable, and it kept you from embarrassing yourself in the middle of the night whenever you needed to go to the bathroom. He'd even rearranged his room for you, and made Kid install metal railings, all you needed to do was hop a few supported steps to make it to the toilet. If you had to travel any further he didn't hesitate to carry you, he didn't even need to be asked, all you had to do was look at him and he was moving.

The first thing you needed after leaving the infirmary was a good wash. Emma had done her best with Heat's assistance to sponge bath what they could to keep your wounds clean of the blood and debris you'd been covered in when Heat had carried you in, but you really needed a soak to wipe away the thick layer of grime. You couldn't wash yourself though, you needed to keep your casted arm out of the water, which meant a shower was out of the question - not that you'd be able to stand in one - and with only one hand there was no way you were washing your hair on your own. Even with the one working arm, your chest and side were still aching from the deep bruising you'd received as a result of being crushed, you were lucky you hadn't broken any ribs, but every movement hurt badly.

Emma had offered to wash you, but you'd surprised yourself and Heat by asking him instead. Somehow you felt more comfortable with the idea of him seeing you naked. Not that you had anything against Emma, you just felt safest with Heat. He'd carried you wordlessly to his room, wrapped in the infirmary blanket, and sat you on the closed toilet seat in his bathroom while he ran the water. Emma had given you the all clear to remove your bandages, though the one on your amputated leg would need to be replaced afterwards, so you worked on removing them while you waited. When the water was ready he helped you to your… foot… and held you steady while you used your good arm to manoeuvre your underwear past your hips, letting it fall to the floor at your ankles and leaving you entirely naked in front of him except for your cast.

He lifted you gently and lowered you into the water, your good arm around his neck for support. Using the old bandages he fashioned a sort of sling hanging from the curtain railing to keep your other arm out of the water, so you wouldn't have to worry about holding it up yourself the whole time. He was so careful and methodical as he washed you, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks the whole time, unable to look you in the eye for shame of how much he enjoyed seeing your naked body, how much he enjoyed touching you, when such horrible circumstances had led to this.

He avoided your genitals, letting you wash them yourself, and you sighed as his strong fingers worked shampoo into your scalp, washing away thick layers of grime that a sponge bath couldn't touch. It was quiet and intimate, the only words shared being him asking consent and you granting it as he worked on the different parts of your body, wiping away the blood and dirt. You whimpered as the cloth ran over your stump, burying your face in his chest for moral support as he diligently cleaned the old blood from it, the conditioner in your hair transfering to his skin.

Finally finished, he discarded the cloth and held you close while he knelt next to the tub, and you couldn't help but cry more at the awful state of your body. He didn't question your need to cry, he just held you while you got it all out till you took a deep breath and pushed yourself away from him, nodding that you were ready to move on. He rinsed the conditioner from your hair and drained the tub, wrapping you in a soft towel as he picked you back up and carried you to the bed. He held you in his lap as he dried you with an extra towel, patting dry your hair and wiping the dewdrops from your limbs. He held you firm to his chest, your arm around his neck, your head tucked under his chin as you listened to his rhythmic breathing. It was enough to lull you to sleep, so he carefully slipped an old baggy t-shirt over you, trying his best to not wake you, and tucked you into his bed, leaving you to rest.

It'd been close to six weeks since the accident. Your arm cast had been removed a week ago, so you were now able to get around on your own using crutches, though the distance you could go before tiring was limited. Kid had built you a beautiful prosthetic leg, even going so far as adding a lion's clawed paw for the foot to match your mask, and Emma had given the go ahead for you to try using it in a few more days. For now, your stump remained covered in a compression sock, to promote healing and make sure it was ready for the prosthetic to be fitted. Kid had become an unlikely ally in this battle, having lost a limb himself he understood how you were feeling, and had helped you through more than one dark episode while you mourned the loss of your leg.

Mostly though, it was Heat that was there for you. You were still staying in his room, even though you assured him you could manage on your own. He insisted you would be more comfortable here, and try as you might he refused to share the large bed with you to at least alleviate a little of your guilt, telling you over and over that he was more than comfortable on his mattress, even though it was clear to everyone that his back was hurting and his eyes had heavy bags. You could hear him toss and turn at night, his quality of sleep significantly diminished because of his chivalrous sacrifice, but he'd give up anything to make you even slightly more comfortable. You had to admit though, having the privacy to sleep without your mask without fear of peeping toms was a luxury in itself. You didn't wear the mask in the bedroom, more than comfortable without it in front of Heat. He still helped you bathe, but it'd become significantly less awkward, now a time for conversation and laughter. You no longer had a cast to keep dry, and you really didn't need help anymore other than getting in and out of the tub, but neither of you had said anything about it, so he happily continued to help you, and you graciously accepted the help and his company. Subconsciously, neither of you wanted to let go of that time alone together, and you secretly enjoyed the feel of his hands wandering over your body, and the way he silently scanned your curves, a quiet hunger in his eyes that never left no matter how many times he saw you naked.

On this night, the ship was on route to a winter island, the long reaching weather system already chilling the air significantly as Heat helped you into bed. He stole a chaste kiss on the top of your hair, as he often did these days, before excusing himself to his mattress on the floor.

Hours passed, and he woke as he often did, sighing to himself and twisting his torso to crack his sore back. He strolled in his sweatpants to the bathroom to get a glass of water, thankful that his natural abilities kept him well heated, so he didn't feel the chill of the snowy weather outside. You, however, were not a fire breather, and were very much feeling the cold. You were shivering in your sleep, hunched in on yourself to try and conserve any heat from escaping but failing miserably. He felt a pang of guilt at your shaking form, and opened a cupboard to get you another blanket, only to discover you were already using the extra one. What was he to do? His own blanket was barely anything, more of a thin fabric to cover him for comfort than for warmth, it wouldn't make any difference to put it over you. Should he go find you another blanket? Where from? Maybe he could wake Wire and see if he had a spare? Everyone else on the ship felt the cold the same as you though, they were no doubt all using their blankets.

Stressed that you would fall ill, he pulled at his hair, trying to find a solution, till a small whimper escaped you and the solution was abundantly clear. He lifted the blankets and slid in beside you, wrapping himself around your body, covering as much of your icy frame as he could with his hot skin. Your shivering quickly stopped, and a small smile formed on your face as you settled into a deeper sleep. He let go a sigh of relief and shuffled till he was comfortable, laying so close that his head was on the same pillow as yours. It felt like a violation of your personal space, but he couldn't bare to watch you shiver anymore, and he felt butterflies at being able to hold you so close in what was really his bed, even if it mostly smelt like you these days, not that he had complaints.

You were so warm when you woke up, wrapped in what felt like an army of hot water bottles, your skin sticky with sweat but you were too comfy to care. It took you an embarrassing long time to realise you weren't alone, a soft breath rustling your hair gently in a rhythmic pattern that matched the movement of the warm form next to you. Your eyes traced the thorn like tattoos that ran up and down the arm that was draped over you, a thick, muscular thigh trapped between yours, a pillow of pale blue hair intermingled with your own. You had wrapped yourself around him like a koala on a tree, seeking out his warmth in the night and clinging to it so it couldn't escape. You tilted your head up, your face now millimetres from his, inspecting fondly the scars on his face that matched your own. The dark eyeliner he liked to wear under his eyes was smudged, always too lazy to remove it before he slept, and his chin was covered in a fine layer of blue stubble. You blushed at how handsome he was, and how close said handsome face was to yours, his strong arms wrapped around you like he was just as unwilling to let go as you were.

His eyes fluttered open, his dark irises immediately focusing on you and his pupils blown wide in surprise as he realised the position he was in. He tried to pull away, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but you pulled him back to you, pressing your lips to his on instinct, in a desperate plea for him to stay. For a moment he didn't move, frozen in fear that this wasn't real, that you hadn't really kissed him, till he finally accepted the reality and kissed you back. His kiss was tender, full of devotion and longing, and you made a small moan as his tongue ran over your bottom lip and his hand wove into your hair. You opened your lips for him and his tongue dove inside, rutting against yours with his own quiet moan as you held him tight, pulling lightly on his hair to wordlessly beg for more.

He rolled you on to your back, pressing his thigh further up between your legs, and you whimpered into his mouth as you tried to roll your hips to rub against him, desperate for friction but unable to get it with your stupid useless stump. Understanding your frustration he ran his hand quickly down your front, threading it under the waistband of your pyjamas and your panties to slide between your wet folds. He pressed a thumb to your clit, circling it as his index finger toyed with your entrance, before sliding in and pumping you with slow, shallow movements that made you cry out. You hadn't realised how badly you needed him, how much you needed him inside you, filling you and sharing your breaths. He pulled away from the kiss and you could see your own feelings reflected in his eyes, all that longing and need and love. Love you didn't think was possible for you to even feel again, but it was there, without a doubt, and you knew he felt it too.

He watched your face carefully as he slid a second finger inside you, then a third, his pace quickening as your walls fluttered around his digits, his clothed erection rutting against the thigh of your good leg in his own desperate need for friction. He wanted to he inside you so badly, he wanted to feel your hot wet walls take him in and see your face contort as you came on his cock, the thought alone was almost enough to make him cum as he groaned and kissed you with fervour. He swallowed your moans as you clamped down on his fingers, your back arching off the bed as you came hard, shuddering underneath him.

As soon as your high had settled, you were sitting up and trying your best to claw away at his pants. You wanted him inside you so fucking bad, you'd already cum once but you ached with need. He pushed down his pants, his cock springing to attention, red and swollen with equal need, precum leaking from the tip. You eyed him hungrily, he was thick and longer than average, a set of three piercings running up the underside, you wanted to know how they would feel inside you. He helped you pull off your own clothes before settling between your legs, his tip prodding at your entrance but not yet inside, much to your frustration.

“Are you sure?” He asked nervously. You pulled him down by his neck and kissed him, forcing your tongue in his mouth before biting his bottom lip, pulling a groan from him.

“Please, Heat,” you begged, “I need you inside me, please”

He returned his lips to yours as he slid inside you, stretching you out, till the need to breathe was too much and you broke the kiss to pant, holding his shoulders tight as he sheathed himself inside you. You let out a stuttered moan, your breathing haggard as you rolled your hips to try and get him to move. He pumped you deep and agonisingly slow, just enjoying the pull of your walls on his length, till you wrapped your good leg around him and pressed your heel against his ass, moaning and clawing at his back as his pace finally picked up. He buried his face in your shoulder as he fucked you hard and fast, holding the headboard above you for support while his other hand held your hip tight, his fingers leaving bruises in your skin. You cried out a flurry of curses, mixed with his name and a string of yes yes yes as he groaned and panted in your ear, whispering sweet nothings and praising you for how well you were taking him.

His movements became erratic as you started to tighten around him again, your fingernails sinking into the skin on his back as you screamed his name and came hard, clamping around his cock and pulling him forcefully with you. His thrusts stuttered and stilled as he unloaded inside you, his hot thick load dripping out of you for lack of space as he shook and groaned. He collapsed to your side, pulling you with him, his softening cock still buried inside you as he held you to his chest. You draped your leg over his hip, kissing him softly, slowly, your tongues pressing together with more careful and tender movements, no longer driven by the carnal need for him to be inside you. You were full and content, comfortable despite his cock still buried in you, you felt like you could stay connected like this forever. He made you feel safe, and beautiful, despite your scars and mutilated body, as he pressed loving kisses over your Glasgow smile, and you returned the favour with kisses traced along his.

#heat my beloved 💙#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

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