#mentions of lemony goodness

[hoe4hotchner]

the team meeting aaron's lawyer!wife who's personality is similar to his + she's the best in her field

Langston & Bell | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Lawyer wife!reader | WC: 1.2k | CW: Not really anything except for a little law jargon and mentions of a case the BAU is working on.

A/N: My brain hurts from looking up law terminology, and I'm not even sure if I used all the words correctly

The glass doors of Langston & Bell opened as Hotch led the rest of his team inside. The air felt heavy—as they entered—from the scent of freshly brewed coffee and a faint lemony aroma.

The firm itself was one of the most prestigious ones in all of Virginia, and its reputation suited it. Everything about the space was designed to impress—shining marble floors in the lobby, towering bookshelves filled with thick leather-bound volumes of law books and journals, and abstract art that screamed of a space aimed to do business with rich and pretentious people.

Emily glanced around, clearly trying to process how they’d ended up here. “Langston & Bell?” she muttered under her breath. “Isn’t this place out of our league?”

“They’re not dealing with criminal justice,” Spencer pointed out. “They specialize in corporate litigation and high-profile estate law. The firm is known for taking on cases that require absolute discretion.” Emily tried her best not to roll her eyes at Spencer's outburst of knowledge but failed.

Hotch didn’t respond, he kept his pace steady as he approached the front desk. His usual stone-faced demeanor was on full display, his features—although set not completely in a frown—were unreadable. He seemed unbothered by the hushed stares they received from the staff as they had entered with their badges held out in front of them.

The receptionist, a young woman with a straight posture and a sharp smile, greeted them. “Good afternoon. How may I assist you?”

Hotch stepped forward, his voice even. “We’re with the FBI. We’re looking for the attorney who handled the probate case for Samuel Larkin.”

The receptionist’s fingers danced quickly over her keyboard, her expression unchanged. “That would be Attorney Hotchner.”

Dead silence.

Emily blinked. “I’m sorry, did you say Hotchner?”

“Yes,” the receptionist replied, unfazed, almost on the brink of annoyance. “Would you like me to see if she’s available?”

“She,” Morgan echoed, his brows furrowing a little as his gaze flipped from the receptionist to Hotch.

Before anyone could recover from their shock, the sound of sharp heal clicks echoed through the lobby.

“Aaron,” came a clear voice from behind. “If this is your idea of surprising me, I’ll admit it’s more creative than flowers. But I have a deposition in thirty minutes.”

The team turned as one, their collective gazes landing on the woman who had just entered the room. You were dressed in a tailored navy suit that emphasized your poised demeanor. Your expression was both curious and faintly amused as your eyes locked on Hotch.

“Counselor,” he greeted smoothly, his tone carrying a subtle warmth that the team rarely heard.

“Counselor?” Rossi asked, a slow grin forming as his gaze flicked between you and Hotch.

Your lips quirked up in a small smile as you approached, your heels clicking against the marble with each step. “I assume this is your team?”

“It is,” Hotch confirmed.

You turned your attention to the group, giving them a brief once-over with an expression that wasn’t unkind but clearly measured. “Well, where are my manners? I’m Y/N Hotchner, senior litigation partner here at Langston & Bell. And yes, I can see the wheels turning in all your heads.”

Morgan crossed his arms, already grinning. “Oh, I’ve got a lot of questions right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Feel free to ask them, Agent Morgan. I’ve been cross-examined by some of the sharpest minds in the country—I’m sure I can handle you.”

JJ stepped forward, clearly trying to keep her surprise in check. “Wait, you’re married?”

You tilted your head toward Hotch, your expression softening just a fraction. “You didn’t tell them?”

“It never came up,” Hotch replied with a shrug, though the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes didn’t escape you.

You shook your head, exhaling a soft laugh. “Aaron’s great at compartmentalizing, isn’t he? Well, to officially answer your question—yes, I’m his wife. And judging by your expressions, this is news to you.”

“Big news,” Emily muttered, still processing.

Hotch cleared his throat, subtly redirecting the conversation. “We need access to the probate records for Samuel Larkin. Anything that might help us build our case.”

Your demeanor shifted instantly, professionalism overtaking the playful edge. “Aaron, you know I can’t just hand over client information without a court order.”

“We’re only asking for publicly available records,” he clarified.

You studied him for a moment, a silent exchange passing between you. Then you turned to your assistant, who stood nearby. “Jane, pull the Larkin docket and bring me all publicly filed documents. Annotate them if you have time, and leave them on my desk before your shift ends.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jane replied, already moving toward the elevator.

“You always find a way around the rules,” Hotch said, his voice was low but carrying a note of fondness.

“And you love that about me,” you shot back with a wink, your eyes glinting with mischief.

Morgan leaned closer to Emily, his voice just loud enough for her to hear. “I don’t know what’s more surprising—the fact that he’s married, the fact that she's a lawyer, or the fact that she might be scarier than him.”

Although Jane hadn't gone through the records yet, she sent you a digital copy as soon as she had found them. You walked the team through them with ease. Every legal term you used was calculated, giving away as little about your client as you could, while still helping your husband and his team. You made sure to translate every dense legal jargon into actionable insights every time you saw one of their faces pull an expression.

“Here,” you said, pointing to a transaction on the financial statement. “These wire transfers are from an offshore account linked to Larkin. It’s not evidence of criminal activity, but it raises enough red flags to warrant further investigation.” If Larkin found out you had helped the feds, you could be in big trouble, you thought as you revealed the account.

Spencer leaned in, his eyes lighting up with understanding. “If we trace the accounts, we might uncover a connection to our unsub.”

“Precisely,” you replied, offering him a small nod of approval.

By the time the team wrapped up, they had everything they needed to move forward. As they gathered their materials, you leaned against the edge of the table, folding your arms as you looked at Hotch.

“Dinner at seven?” you asked, your voice softer, the edge of professionalism giving way to something more personal.

“Seven,” he confirmed, his tone lighter than usual.

You smiled, leaning in just enough to lower your voice. “Try not to scare anyone off before then, okay?”

“No promises,” he replied, his lips twitching upward in the faintest of smiles.

As the team exited the building, Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “She is definitely scarier than Hotch”

Emily grinned. “I think I like her better.”

“I like her too,” Rossi added with a chuckle.

Hotch walked ahead, the faint smile still playing on his lips, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The team had seen enough to know he’d married his perfect match—an equal who could still challenge him enough to keep him on his toes.

[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [2]

・❥ Two odd visitors and a mugging. Can’t you stay out of trouble?

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

x: he’s back!! a little longer this time, 8k words. enjoy!

That evening after meeting Alastor, you sat at your friend’s dining table, your mind racing.

Your finger aimlessly twisted that gold ring he had magically placed on your digit, as you explained what happened. The creep harassing you, Alastor swooping in to save you. All of it laid out for your friend to digest. Which she wasn’t taking it very well.

“I mean, I'm glad that demon helped you out of that, but you should have gotten away as soon as possible! Haven’t you heard what he’s done, what kind of deals people have made with him?”

You sighed, feeling a bit frustrated with your friend's skepticism. "Look, I get it, you're worried. But Alastor isn't what everyone makes him out to be. He helped me when I needed it most. Besides, who are we to judge someone solely based on rumors?"

Your friend leaned forward, her eyes fixed on the ring adorning your finger. "What about that? What if it's some sort of trap he set for you?"

You instinctively pulled your hand back, a protective gesture. "Don't be ridiculous. Alastor wouldn't do something like that. He's... different."

"Different? More like dangerous," she countered, reaching out to grab your hand. "Come on, let me see that ring. We can take it to someone to see if it’s been magically altered."

Dangerous? He saved you from someone dangerous! Yes, he was a demon. A sinner, who probably did some bad things, and most likely continues to do bad things. Except, for the fact he didn’t leave you, a defenseless nobody, to be taken off and.. you couldn’t even think about it. 

You jerked your hand away from her hand, the ring glinting in the lamplight. "There’s nothing wrong with the ring, you’re just being paranoid. It’s.. comforting, actually."

Your friend sighed, frustration evident in her voice. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Please, at least consider what I'm saying."

You softened, realizing she was only looking out for you. "I appreciate your concern, I really do. But I’m not a child, I can make my own decisions."

Your friend relented after a moment, sinking back into her chair. She nodded slowly, agreeing with your statement.

At that moment, your friend’s husband had entered the room. A large pot of steaming foodstuff in his oven-mitt protected hands as he walked. 

“I hope you guys are hungry!” He said cheerfully, the tension in the room easing with his upbeat demeanor. You quite liked him, he had some good jokes and cared about those around him.

You smile gratefully, welcoming the distraction from the intense conversation. “Absolutely starving,” you reply, grateful for the opportunity to shift the focus to something more light-hearted.

Your friend’s husband sets the pot on the table, filling the room with the delightful aroma of home-cooked food. “Well, dig in!” he encourages, serving everyone generous portions.

As you take a bite, the flavors dance on your palate, and your eyes light up as you eat. 

“What is this?” You turn to her husband, who looked up from his bowl, face stuffed with food.

“Crawfish Étouffée! A popular dish from New Orleans, back on Earth. Do you like it?”

You nodded vigorously. Is this what Jambalaya tastes like? If so, you really needed to try it. Maybe, you’d see Alastor again, and he could give you that recipe he had mentioned? 

As your thoughts drifted back to the red demon, your finger began to twist the ring around your digit once more. Why did it bring you such comfort? You had no idea. 

Sometimes, if you put your hand to your face, you could smell faint traces of his scent, that you had first memorized when you walked side by side with him. It smelled like an old cologne, something that you couldn’t quite recognize from your days. Maybe, it was back when he was alive? 

Lemony, hay-like and grassy. A whiff of licorice. Something peppery too? You couldn’t quite place it. But every deep inhale sent you into a lull. A trance, almost.

Your finger still mindlessly caressed the golden band a while later, during the early hours of the morning. You had been sweeping the front doors to the formalwear store you worked at, tidying up before it would be opened for customers. 

It wasn’t until you heard the sound of someone clearing their throat, did you get pulled back into reality.

“Pardon me, miss. Are you guys open?” 

Turning around to address the voice, you find no one. It wasn’t until you looked down did you see the demon man. He resembled that of an imp. Dark red skin with thin, striped horns that peaked out of the top of his head. 

He wore a white turtleneck, with long white hair that curled around his chin. His eyes were unreadable, hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They were Ray-Burn glasses. You could immediately tell from the bridge, which were curved to resemble a half-circle rather than an oval. 

You also knew how high-end that brand was, and it wasn’t easy getting a pair either. The wait for those was no joke. And, this style was from their newest collection, which meant that he had to be of some importance to get one so soon.

His posture also struck you as odd, especially for an imp. He stood tall, shoulders back, head held high. Despite being a part of one of the lowest social classes in Hell, the demon regarded everyone and everything around him with an air of confidence and assertiveness. 

It was also odd that he was wearing sunglasses so early in the morning, there wasn’t really much light to need protection from. Maybe he had some bat genetics in him?

You smiled at him, but shook your head. “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed right now. You’ll have to come back later.”

The imp visibility deflated at your words, a frown etched on his face. You could see his eyes through the shades just enough to show them flicking down the streets. 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine, I guess. Thanks, I'll just.. have to figure something else out.” 

He backed away, as he scanned the nearby stores again. He muttered to himself, too quiet for you to hear, but his tone sounded scolding. As if he was berating himself. The demon bit his lip, as if he was contemplating something.

A pang of sympathy hit you, as you watched him become more anguished. It seemed like he really needed whatever was inside, and you didn’t have a reason to deny him business other than to follow the official hours of operation. 

Placing the broom against the brick wall, you pulled out a set of keys. The demon turned slightly as he heard its jingle, and you met his shaded gaze. 

“There isn’t really anything else I need to do before opening though, so I suppose it’s not a big issue letting you inside.”

The imp perked, a smile blooming on his lips at your words. You bent to turn the lock with a click. Pulling the door handle, you pulled it behind you, allowing the demon to follow you inside.

“That is so kind of you! Truly, you don’t get to meet many kind and considerate people in this place.”

Well, it was Hell. Being friendly to strangers was not a common occurrence. You just weren’t one of the, well, bad ones. Sure, you had some flaws, you weren’t a resident for no reason. But, you prided yourself in having a reasonable moral code.

“Don’t worry, I know what I need. I’ll be quick!” The imp promised, as he passed through the entryway. The large room was dark, besides the morning light casting through the windows.

You flicked on the lights, and the overhead lamps lit the interior of the store. There were mannequins lining the dark-blue walls, styled in different tuxedos and dress shirts. Next to them were rows of shelves, each specific to a type of garment. There were dress pants, vests, shoes, and smaller accessories like ties and belts. 

As you walked behind the black-granite countertop, the imp had hurried over to a mannequin facing out of a glass display. He reached down near its feet, a small shelf lifted from the floor. A pile of red suits was neatly tucked next to the display. 

Gingerly, he lifted to the top piece, examining it thoroughly. After a few moments, he brought it closer to his chest, before turning to you. Your hands tapped against the display of the digital cash register, readying it for service.

You looked up just as he placed the garment on the counter, your eyes scanning the suit. Strange, he was still wearing those shades. You simply smiled at him, before pulling the item closer to you. Carefully, you unfolded it, examining its form.

It was a beautiful red tuxedo, with golden lapels. Dark-red buttons, with white cuffs. It was a women’s suit, which was rare for you to see, since the store mostly marketed towards men. 

“What a wonderful piece!” You exclaimed, your tone dripping with customer-satisfying professionalism. “Getting this for a special someone?” 

The imp nodded. “For my daughter. She runs a hotel a few blocks away, up the hill. The Hazbin Hotel, if you've heard of it? She needed a new suit, and this was the perfect fit.”

The hotel that was supposed to help sinners with redemption? You’ve heard bits and pieces, mostly when you watched that disastrous interview with Katie Killjoy. You couldn’t recall who ran it, though.

“A little, but you sure do have an eye for style!” You nodded, grabbing the small tag from the sleeve to input the information into the register.

“Well, it was my sweetheart who picked it out first,” the imp gushed, “I can’t take all the credit, I'm not good at these sorts of things, anyway.”

“Do they have a background in fashion?” 

“No, they’re an artist,” the demon beamed, his voice growing softer as he spoke of his lover, “I can promise, you’ve never seen a real painting until you’ve seen theirs. If it were my way, I'd fill every billboard with them, instead of those.. repulsive pornography ads they have downtown.” 

The imp held a look of pride and admiration as he spoke, obviously having full confidence in his claim. You pulled up the item on your screen, and read him the price. It was not a cheap suit, but the demon had no reaction to the total and simply pulled out his wallet. 

“Is business running smoothly at the hotel? Do you guys get a lot of guests?”

The imp contemplated for a moment, before pulling out a large sum of money, placing it gently on the counter. You reached for it, before licking your finger and counting through the bills.

“Not entirely. It just opened recently, and, with the demons it caters to? Hah, there’s not many around here with the mindset of redemption. But, I'm going to be helping her out, supporting her with the work.” 

What a nice father, helping his daughter out like that. If only someone like that had helped you when you were younger, maybe you would be stu-

“Especially when it comes to keeping an eye on some of the.. colorful characters she calls staff. Like that Radio Demon.” As the imp spoke, you could hear the disdain in his tone, as he uttered that name. Your head shot up from the bills in your hand at his words.

Radio demon? Alastor? Alastor was working at the Hazbin Hotel? 

“As in, the tall red guy with deer antlers? Carries a staff around with a microphone on it?” You questioned him, excitement lacing your voice.

“Yes. Do you know him? Word of advice, stay away from that demon. He’s nothing but a self-serving, pompous show-off.” 

That couldn’t be true, could it?

Quickly, you placed the bills into the cash register, pulling out change to hand to the imp. As he took the money in your hand, you found it right to defend Alastor.

“He helped me out of a tough spot awhile ago, practically saved my life, actually.” 

The demon regarded you for a moment, eyebrows raised as he took in your words. He didn’t argue, seemingly trying to leave as fast as possible. Back to the hotel presumably. “Hmph. Well, just be careful, you never know with demons like him.”

You were about to wish him farewell and turn away, before his hand lifted once more. Looking down, he held another stack of money in his hands, you could faintly read ‘100’ on one of the bills alone.

“For your kindness,” the demon stated simply, giving you a wink, “I enjoyed our short chat, there’s not many people down here I'm interested in talking to. Go treat yourself.” 

Your eyes widened at his words. How did he have so much money he could just.. give it away?! You almost wanted to reject his offering. But, money was money, so you took them from his grip. 

“I-I don’t know what to say, but thank you! This is very generous of you.” 

He only shrugged, sending you a charming smile. “I am indeed a very generous person. Just don’t spend it on drugs, or anything like that.”

As you handed him the small pink bag, his shaded gaze landed on the ring on your finger, and he leaned in just an inch to get a closer look.

“Boy, that is a fine piece of jewelry you’ve got there! Very nice, was it from a lover? It really makes a statement! Just curious.. do you by any chance know where you got it from?”

You tilted your head, wondering why he wanted to know, was he planning on getting one himself? You just shook your head, you couldn’t really tell him it magically poofed onto your finger by the same demon he held negative feelings for. 

He nodded, muttering something like ‘that’s fine’, before pivoting away from you towards the door. 

“Adios!” He called, a hand in the air in farewell as he strolled to the exit. The bell above the door jingled as it closed behind him, and you saw him step near the curb, away from your view. 

Suddenly, a flash of gold illuminated the small window on the door. Crossing the room, you peeked out the large display window. There was no one on the street, even when you cranked your head to both sides of the street. It’s like he just.. vanished. Strange.

You flipped the large sign on the window from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’ before returning behind the counter. Your fingers still holding the money he gave you, your mind elsewhere as you waited for the day to begin. 

Your thoughts were still on that encounter when the assistant manager walked up to you a few hours later. He was a rather short, plump man with small horns protruding from his head. His skin was a pale blue, his figure resembling that of an ox. Alan was his name. 

You weren’t very fond of him, he always threw flirtatious comments and jokes at you. Always insisting to join you behind the counter, or lean right over your shoulder when you worked. He reminded you too much of that creep from the streets, which made you uncomfortable.

What was up with you always attracting the questionable suitors? Maybe your friend at the cafe was right, you weren’t going to find ‘The One,’ you’d just have to settle for less.

Alan would always try and pry into your personal life, asking if you had a lover, or kids. You’d simply change the conversation as smoothly as possible. If you told him we’re single, he’d no doubt try and court you. Which made you nervous, he didn’t seem like someone who could take a rejection. 

You weren’t able to say, ‘why yes, I have a hubby of my own!’ because you never had proof. Without a ring, and the rest of your co-workers aware of your singlehood, you knew lying to him would have consequences.

Not to mention, he was your boss. He had power, and unless you wanted to end up homeless on the street, you had to keep a friendly facade with him. 

Luckily, he wasn’t around much. Except today your manager had meetings out of town, and he was the substitute. So, for now, you were stuck with him.

“Hey, you still know how to use that sewing machine in the back, right?” He asked you after you had finished assisting a customer near the large display window.

You nodded, curious about his question. In truth, being a tailor sounded much better than working for customer service. You had spent late nights slowly practicing the craft, on that ancient sewing machine in your basement. Maybe, you’d use that money the imp gave you to buy a new one.

“Well, Darlene just called in, which means I got no one as my seamstress. We’ve got a few pieces in need of mending, you think you can handle that?”

“Oh, sure! I can do that, no problem.”

It was then you heard the bell above the front entrance jingle slightly and the creak as the door opened, which caused you to turn sharply to greet the newcomer. Except.. there was no one there.

That was strange. There were other customers milling about, but you were standing in a position that made it impossible to miss anyone exiting the building. 

“Must be having strong winds or something.” Alan remarked, and you turned back to him. As you moved, you noticed the corner next to the doorway was more shaded than usual. As if a large black shadow had taken residence there. Perhaps an overhead light went out? You’d have to check on that later. 

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” Alan started, a flirtatious smile on his lips as he lowered his voice, “I’ve got VIP access to a new club that just opened a few blocks down. I was thinking you and I could get some drinks and have a little fun, whatcha say?” 

You groaned internally. Not this again. How were you going to say no this time? 

“Well, I mean, um- you see the thing is…”

Your eyes went down to the ring on your digit, that little A shimmering in the light. Maybe, you could use this.

“��� I’m already taken!” You exclaim, your hand shooting up to give Alan a front row seat at the prize on your person. 

“You are?” He asked incredulously.

“Mhm!” You nod your head vigorously. “As you can see, this is my wedding ring. I eloped not too long ago, hence why it’s not common knowledge.” 

Hopefully, he would buy your lie.

Alan stood there, his eyes flicking from you to the ring. Was he going to try and fight your claim? It seemed like he wanted to. Before you even gave him the chance to, you whipped towards the door being the counter to start mending.

You had only used the machine in the back a handful of times, but you were trying to become more familiar with it. Nodding, you quickly slipped into the back room. The hum of the old sewing machine greeted you like an old friend as you fired it up and began to mend the pieces in need of repair.

The rhythmic clacking of the needle against fabric filled the air as you lost yourself in the task at hand, the radio beside you playing soft old-timey melodies in the background. You continued this calm pace for a few hours, thankful to be away from Alan and the bustling state of the store.

Until a familiar static-laced voice broke through the music. 

“Hello, sir! My, what a hellish morning it is!” 

Your foot instantly moved off the pedal nestled under the table, the vibrations from the machine ceasing as it stilled. You strained your ears, is that who you thought it was?

“Oh, why hello there! How can I assist you today?” You heard the loud, boisterous voice of Alan as he welcomed the newcomer. Quickly, you left your seat, and peaked through the small crack in the doorway. 

Your breath quickened as your eyes landed on the tall, red demon. Alastor. How did he get in here? You didn’t hear the loud bell jingle at his entrance.

He sported his usual red coat, with his staff resting lazily in his grip as he stood before the demon. He had a large smile on his face, but his eyes spoke differently. He looked absolutely bored, disinterested in the man before him and his surroundings.

“I’m simply here to adjust some wear-and-tear on my suit,” he remarked, “as you can see, my sleeve has taken quite the nasty wound.”

He lifted up his arm, displaying a tiny piece of missing fabric from the cuff. It was a clean slice, as if someone had taken a knife and barely nicked it. Nasty wasn’t exactly how you’d describe it, more like itty bitty. 

“If I may..” Alan leaned in slightly, reaching out to inspect the tear. 

Alastor only pulled his arm back, rejecting the gesture with a subtle yet firm movement.

“I prefer to handle my own attire, thank you,” Alastor stated, his voice carrying a hint of disdain as he withdrew his sleeve from Alan’s reach. His smile widened further, as he stared at the demon. 

Your boss recoiled slightly, taken aback by Alastor’s abrupt refusal. “Oh, of course. My apologies,” he stammered, attempting to regain her composure, “but not to worry, sir! We’ve got fabrics that match and a seamstress to do the work. Let me go grab her for you, I'll be right back!”

You saw Alan turn in your direction, and you backed away from the door. Your heart raced as you realized you were going to actually be face to face with Alastor again. How would he react to your presence?

You shot into your seat, spinning around towards the machine. You stepped on the pedal, and the machine hummed to life once more. The door opened, and Alan poked his head in.

“Hey, there’s a customer who needs some assistance. Get out here.”

His head disappeared from view, leaving you alone once more. Exhaling a large breath to ease your nerves, you rose from your seat. Quickly, you walked over to the door and gripped the handle tightly. Another deep breath, and you pulled it open gingerly before taking a step outside. 

Your boss was back beside Alastor, who towered over the man. As you slowly entered the room, Alastor’s eyes moved to you. They lit up with interest, the smile seeming to shrink slightly. The crooked edges on his smile softened too, appearing more genuine as he regarded you.

“Ah, there you are, my dear! I was hoping to find you here.” Alastor called to you. He stepped right past Alan, completely ignoring his presence as he strode up to you. 

As he closed the distance, you became awfully aware of how fast your heart was beating inside your chest. That smell of lemons and licorice hit your nose as he stood before you, and it eased your nerves as you took a quick inhale of breath. 

He turned, allowing Alan to see both of your faces as he slowly reached out to take your hand. His thumb gently grazed against the gold band and it spun slightly. Your breath hitched at his touch.

“It is so nice to be able to visit my dear wife at her place of work,” Alastor started, his gaze shooting to Alan as he spoke, “and, to meet her lovely coworkers! A pleasure indeed.” 

Did he hear you telling Alan about your ring? He couldn’t have, but there seemed to be no other reason for him to bring up the whole marriage farce.

Alastor turned back to you, finger still softly caressing your hand as he turned his attention to his sleeve. 

“It appears I’ve gotten into another miscommunication with an overly confident adversary, similar to what I spoke to you about before. Would you care to assist me, my love?” 

Your eyes momentarily snapped to Alan, who had turned a paler shade as he watched Alastor’s actions. Now, he was finally seeing who your ‘husband’ was. It appeared to be quite a shocker for the demon.

Your gaze flicked back to Alastor, who stood next to you. That grin of his hiding whatever emotions he was feeling as he slowly released your grip, indicating for you to lead him away.

“Thank you for coming to visit, Alastor. I can stitch that up for you, you’ll just need to let me take it for a bit.” You smiled at him, doing your best to play the part with professionality. What, were you supposed to just start calling him pet names like ‘honey’ and ‘babe’?

“I think I'd prefer keeping it on.” Alastor said curtly, adjusting his collar.

He wanted to still be wearing it while you fixed it? That meant you couldn’t use the sewing machine, without risking injury to him. 

“… I suppose you can just follow me, then.” You replied, turning away as you beckoned him towards the back room. 

Alan didn’t follow the two of you, maybe Alastor’s comments threw him off. You hoped they did, you had enough of that guy for one day. 

You opened the dark gray door, pulling it wide so Alastor could follow behind. The back room was a cozy nook from the busy establishment, half of it transformed into a makeshift tailoring nook. A small step stool nestled among tall mirrors allowed a multi-angle look for customers getting a fitting.

Rolls of fabric lined orderly shelves nearby, accompanied by an array of sewing essentials. In the corner, a small table and chair housed the ancient sewing machine. You walked forward, before realizing 

“Oh, i’m sorry, I don’t have another chair. Let me go get one!” You pivoted to go find a spare, but Alastor only lifted his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt.

“Not to worry, my dear! I’ve got it under control.”

He reached a hand forward, gripping the air like he was grabbing the top of the backrest of a chair. He tugged at the air, and a plume of green smoke wafted from his fingertips as he pulled a wooden chair from the smoke.

You stared, mesmerized as he dragged it next to your seat. He gingerly lowered himself, and plopped into the chair. That had to be powerful magic, for him to be able to produce such an object easily from thin air. Just like he did with the seasoning.

Quickly, you gathered the necessary essentials to begin fixing his garment. A couple of needles, some dark red thread, and multiple fabrics that you seemed the closest to his suit’s color. 

While you collected the items in a small bin, Alastor sat comfortably behind you. His nails clicking against his cane rhythmically as the music from the radio filled the room. 

He hummed softly along to the melody, obviously familiar with the tune playing. You had heard it before, a classic rendition of ‘Once In A While’ by Lennie Hayton. It was a softer tune, and an orchestral piece that allowed you to drift into a comfortable lull. 

As you carried the bin back to your seat, you nestled in beside him. There was a small distance between the two of you, your knees a few inches from grazing each other.

“May I?” You asked, holding out your hand to take his sleeve. You thought Alastor was going to react negatively to the gesture, like he did with Alan. Instead, he carefully reached out his arm, allowing you to pull his sleeve down to the surface of the table. 

You tried very hard not to touch his skin, as you adjusted the tear on his cuff to face you. Grabbing a few pieces of fabric, you began to hold them next to his sleeve, attempting to find the perfect match.

“So, what happened this time? Surely, not that snake demon from before.” You spoke, trying to spark conversation with your ‘husband’.

“Ha, I’m glad you do remember our last conversation! I was worried you'd forgotten as the days went by.” Alastor started, sinking deeper into his seat. He placed his cane against the table, 

‘Of course, I'd remember,’ you thought, ‘I can’t get you out of my head, no matter how I try.’

“I had found myself in a rather lively discussion with a particularly vexing imp. Tiny thing, but full of mischief and malice. Managed to get itself tangled in my grip during our little altercation.” He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I must say, it put up quite the fight for something no larger than a rat. But fear not, I emerged victorious, albeit with a few battle scars.” 

Alastor gestured towards the tear on his sleeve, his eyes sparkling with amusement. You smiled at his words, a small chuckle coming from your throat as you pulled another piece of fabric to his cuff.

Finally, you found the color that matched his attire, and you carefully began cutting a large piece from the roll. 

“I’m going to have to hand sew your tear, is that okay?”

“Of course, my dear! Just try not to poke me, hm?” 

You nodded with a smile, before plucking the small needle from the table. 

With nimble fingers, you carefully align the edges of the fabric, pinching them together to ensure a snug fit. Holding the needle firmly between your thumb and forefinger, you begin to weave the thread in and out with practiced precision, creating neat, tiny stitches along the seam.

“I have been meaning to ask, how did the seasoning I gave you fare?” Alastor spoke, his eyes filled with intrigue as he waited for your response.

“Oh! It was fantastic!” You beamed, your mouth watering slightly as you recalled the wonderful dinner from that night. “They made Crawfish Étouffée, and it was very delicious.” 

“Ah! Yes, that dish was a staple back in New Orleans, when I was alive. Folks would gather all over to get a taste of my mother’s own twist on the delicacy. She was quite the cook, and her skill never faltered.” 

As you listened, you realized his voice softened quite more when he spoke of his mother. That static in his tone seemed to disperse as he mentioned her, and you caught a glimpse of his true voice behind that radio overlay. 

“Well, now that I've gotten a glimpse into such an art. I really am interested in trying your Jambalaya.” You spoke genuinely, your fingers still delicately lacing the thread across his sleeve. 

“I am pleased to hear that,” Alastor hummed, “I’ll have to bring you a sample the next time I'm in the area.”

Silence filled the room, other than the music that wafted from the radio’s speaker. You continued to adjust and stitch together his sleeve, very close to finishing the mending work. 

Even though there were no words spoken between the two of you, the silence was not awkward at all. The two of you simply sat comfortably in each other's presence.

Behind you, the slight crack in the door allowed you to hear the loud voice of Alan, as he spoke to another customer. Alastor’s ears twitched slightly as he heard the demon speaking, his body tensing momentarily.

“Has that wretch been bothering you often?” Alastor spoke after a moment, the static in his voice growing thicker as he spoke of Alan. His claws slightly dug into the table, a faint trail embedded in the wood.

“Well, he doesn't treat me like that succubus did. But, he does not drop the subject of us becoming romantically involved. It gets.. uncomfortable, I guess.”

You sighed as the words slipped from your tongue, a frown forming on your lips as you thought of his many attempts to swoon you. Alastor’s head tilted at your words, that smile cracked even wider as you continued to carefully slip the needle through the fabric. 

“Would you like me to ĐɆVØɄⱤ Ⱨł₴ ₴ØɄⱠ?” 

You jerked your head up at his words, surprise etched on your face as you turned to him. His voice had changed, the last bit of his sentence distorting into pure static, and you almost didn’t catch his words.

The room crackled with energy, causing your hair to practically stand on end. It was chilling, and you shivered subconsciously at the feeling. The room seemed to darken as Alastor stared at you, his pupils shrinking to resemble radio dials.

“Excuse me?” You questioned, your tone never faltering from its original octane. Which surprised you, since this powerful demon was looking at you with such murderous intent.

‘It’s not you he wants to murder.’ the voice in your head whispered. Which made your heart flutter, was Alastor wanting to kill for you? That was.. unconventionally sweet. 

Is that what he did to the succubus the other night when you weren’t looking? 

“If the little oaf can’t keep his words to himself, then there is no place for him to continue to sour your mood.” Alastor explained, his eyes taking their original form slowly as he spoke, and the distortion in his tone subsided.

The shadow festering around you slowly shrank away from your seat, illuminating the room once more. That cold feeling that gripped at your shoulders vanished. 

It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling that left you, even if it smelled of darkness and destruction. It felt almost.. comforting to you. Like the shadow was pulling you into a protective hug, the chill cooling your heated skin into a soothing embrace. 

You only shook your head, “He doesn’t need to die for something like that. And, he’s my boss. Without him, the store wouldn’t run as well.”

Alastor only huffed, leaning back into his seat. His claws left the table, and were instead enclosed into a fist, as he rested his chin atop of it. 

“At least the poor bloke ceased in his courting when he realized another had already taken that place.” He shrugged, his eyes glancing down to the gold ring on your hand.

You halted, the needle hanging in the air mid-stitch. How did he know about you and Alan’s conversation? More importantly, what were his feelings about you still wearing the piece of jewelry? 

“Oh, right. Yes, I’m sorry for still wearing it, I know it was just for that moment and it was stupid for me to think I could keep it-”

“Nonsense! Do not fret, my dear.” Alastor interjected, brushing off your worry. “Think of it as a small gift to rectify the situation you were forced into that night.” 

A gift? He wanted you to keep the ring? 

“You could even go as far as to perceive it as a good luck charm, ha-ha. Trouble seems to never escape you, and if this ring can even give you an ounce of protection, why not keep it on to ensure nothing like that night happens again?”

You smiled at him, your eyebrows raised as you listened to his words. A tiny ring, protecting you? You doubted it.

“Well, thank you, Alastor. It is really nice to know someone cares in that way.” 

Alastor hummed softly in response, his toothy grin softening into a lipped smile as he turned his attention back to the music playing softly. 

The thread tightened snuggly between the two fabrics as you finished the final stitch, your other hand reaching to the small scissors next to you. Carefully, you snipped the thread as close to the sleeve as possible, and you leaned back to take a look at your work.

It looked perfect, like the garment had never taken a hit in the first place. Alastor pulled his arm back slightly, turning it over to inspect it thoughtfully.

“I must say, you have such talent with a needle and thread! When you told me you worked as a door girl, I never expected knowledge of tailoring to be in your resume as well!” 

Your cheeks heated as his compliment, and you began to slowly stand from the seat. For a moment, you wished there was something else wrong with his coat that you could fit. If only to keep him here a little longer.

What a selfish thought. You silently reprimanded yourself for such thinking, Alastor had no doubt better things to do than sit here and chit chat with a powerless nobody like you.

Alastor also left his chair, and he adjusted his collar. He gripped his cane, straightening his posture as he turned to you. 

“It seems every time we’re together, our conversations are never dull. Thank you for assisting me, I’d love to continue our talks but it appears I have other business to attend to.” 

“Back at the hotel?” You asked, as you walked with him to the doorway.

Alastor stopped in his tracks, his eyes widened slightly at your words. He tilted his head at you. “Forgive me, my dear, but I do not remember telling you such a thing. Where did you hear that from?”

Fuck. He never had told you about his place of work, and you writhed slightly under his stare as you tried to come up with an explanation.

“Oh, it’s just an imp had come in this morning, buying a tuxedo for his daughter. He said she ran the Hazbin Hotel. He also said you worked at the hotel too.”

‘And he doesn’t seem to like you.’ you added silently.

Alastor’s grip around his cane tightened, and his smile widened as he thought for a moment. A small chuckle escaped his lips, it sounded dark.

“Are you sure it was an imp, my dear?” He asked slowly.

You nodded, recalling the conversation. “Yes, short with white hair and red skin. Sunglasses too, weirdly. He was quite nice, actually. He gave me some money for helping him, nobody has ever done that for me.” 

“Ha! What a kind soul he must be. Did he say anything else to you, by chance?”

You shook your head, “no, not really.”

“A surprise, really. That imp has a knack for using his charm to bend others to his whim. I'm sure that gesture of his was nothing more than to sweep you off your feet for his antics. I’d keep your distance from demons like him, if I were you.”

Was Alastor.. jealous? He couldn't be. But, it seemed like the feelings between the two were mutual with the way he spoke with disdain. 

The imp seemed like he had someone he cared deeply for, anyway. You were sure his gesture wasn’t anything more than kindness. Although, you didn’t think Alastor would believe you if you told him.

“But, as you previously mentioned, yes,” Alastor changed the conversation, for his sake it seemed, “I do reside at the hotel in exchange for my services. Redeeming sinners is no easy feat, it needs special hands to mold such a dream into reality.”

“Well, I'm sure you’re doing a great job.” You spoke, doing your best to voice your support for him.

Alastor smiled at you, before nodding in agreement. He pulled the door open, and stepped through the doorway. You followed him, stopping at the threshold as he turned back to you. 

He lowered himself slightly, a small curtsy in your direction. As he lifted himself, he leaned closer to you.

“Until we meet again, my wife.” He spoke loudly, most likely for the others in the vicinity to hear. His voice was like honey to your ears as that faint hiss of static dispersed from his tone when his lips settled on wife.

You really did like his voice, and hopefully, you’d hear what it really sounded like more often. His eyes settled on you for a moment longer, as if he wanted to say more. He didn’t, instead turning towards the register across the room.

Leaning against the doorway, you watched Alastor stroll to the cash register. Alan stood behind the counter, and he seemed to shrink slightly under the taller demon’s gaze.

The sharp edges of Alastor’s smile returned as he watched the demon quickly ready the digital display for check-out. His pupils dilating slightly, eyes narrowed as he waited.

You had watched him leave the store, watched him stroll down the street without a glance at anyone else. That mild boredom taking over his features, like it had when he had first arrived.

For the rest of your shift, as you sewed buttons back into place or trimmed stray threads that stuck out of garments, your thoughts continued to stray to events earlier in the day. To that imp, to the ring on your finger, to Alastor and those fluffy little ears on his head.

You were still deep in thought when you clocked out, your feet carrying you out the door as your path led you to the bus stop a few blocks down.

It was a small blue sign, with the symbol of a bus engraved into it. There was no one around, the empty streets quiet as you plopped onto the bench to wait.

Your hands reached into your bag, pulling out your phone from its pocket. You scrolled through your notifications, before clicking on a message from one of your friends.

You were so deep into the screen in front of you, that you didn’t hear the quiet footsteps approach the bench. You didn’t see the knife pointed directly at your face, or the masked man who’s gaze traveled down your form. 

“Hey, you!” A voice coated with malice addressed you.

Your head shot up, and you reeled back at the large knife right in front of your nose. Your heartbeat quickened as you scrambled off the bench, the man only keeping pace with you as you backed away.

“You seem like a nice young lady, and I’d hate to ruin that pretty face of yours. Just give me everything you’ve got, and we can go our separate ways.” 

“I don’t really have anything for you to take!” You said breathlessly, your hands shaking as you pulled miniscule items from your bag. He only ripped the entire thing from your grip, throwing it behind him. 

“What about money? Hand everything over, sweet cheeks.”

You grimaced, before pulling the stack of bills the imp had given you from your person. He ripped them from your grip, before stuffing the money down his pocket.

“That’s all I have, I promise! Please let me go.” You begged, your back hitting the wall of an abandoned building behind you.

You prayed for someone to come to your rescue. Alastor graced your mind, that he’d swoop in to save you once more to save you. He was right, trouble never seemed to leave you.

This time, you’d let him tear this guy apart.

“What about jewelry, huh? I see that ring on your finger, it must cost quite a pretty penny.” The thug sleazed.

Instinctively, you brought your hand to your chest, trying to shield the band from his stare. The demon only closed the distance between the two of you, his mask grazing against your chin as he abruptly yanked you forward.

“Don't fight me, you bitch! Just give it to me, don’t make this difficult.”

His rough hand encircled around your wrist. It was harsh against your skin, and you winced in pain.

“Let go of me! I’ve already given you enough, just leave me alone!” You screamed, hoping someone would come to your aid.

He raked his hand down your finger, the ring slowly moving down your digit as he tried to dislodge it.

It was a snug fit against your skin, and it took him a few moments for him to begin pulling it off your finger. Tears pricked at your eyes as adrenaline pumped through your veins, but you dared not to move with the knife slightly pressing into your side.

Another tug, and the ring grazed over your nail as it was pulled harshly. It wasn’t able to make it past before something strange happened. 

The ring ignited in a green flame, and the thug’s hand shot away as he yelled in pain. It licked at the tip of your finger, but you felt no heat from its touch. 

You barely had time to blink, or scream before the ring exploded. It burst into a large cloud of green smoke that engulfed your figure. Shielding you from your surroundings. Energy crackled in the air, paired with a chill that made your breath visible as you gasped.

It felt like someone had reached out and gripped at the collar of your top, and you felt a much gentler tug and you were pulled backwards.

The smoke seemed to vanish, and you were drenched into darkness. You felt your feet lift off the ground, as if you were floating.

The problem, you had no idea where you were. Your heart felt like it was going to burst as you squeezed your eyes shut. It felt like hours went by, but in truth, it was only a matter of a few seconds that darkness surrounded you.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended, and your closed eyelids were hit with a ray of light. There were voices surrounding you as your feet touched on solid ground, the floor softer this time, like carpet.

The chatter stopped abruptly as you settled in place, and for a moment you felt like curling into a ball and hiding from whatever scene you had been thrusted into.

“Ah, there you are!” A familiar voice exclaimed next to you, static dripping from their words. “I was wondering how long it would be until you showed up!” 

Wait a second, was that Alastor speaking? Was he responsible for whatever the hell just happened?

Your eyes slowly opened, revealing a large room covered in dark red wallpaper that cracked with age. Gold framed the edges, and lights mounted on the walls illuminated a few paintings that filled the empty space.

It looked like a lobby. Couches nestled in a corner around a small box tv. Next to that was a small bar, bottles of liquor stacked on shelves behind the counter. 

Your eyes trailed away, before they landed on a small group of demons in front of you. Your breath quickened in fear, as you quickly scanned over their figures. 

There was a woman in a red tuxedo, her mouth slightly parted in surprise. Long platinum-blonde hair tied into a neat ponytail as it traveled down her back. Beside her, a tall snake held a hand to his chest as he leaned back slightly, as if he was more afraid of you than you were of him. 

There were a few others too, but your mind was racing so fast you weren’t able to get a settle on their frames before you eyes were bouncing around for an exit.

It wasn’t until you felt someone’s arm snake around your elbow did you whip your head to the side, Alastor’s large smile greeting you as he laced his arm with yours in comfort, no doubt noticing the way your knees were about to buckle. 

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel, my dear!” He exclaimed, as if your arrival was expected and totally-not-strange whatsoever. His eyes were soft, doing his best to calm you with his familiar presence. You opened your mouth to speak, even though you weren’t sure exactly what to say.

“Who the fuck is that?” The fuzzy, pink spider demon piped up from the shocked onlookers. A pair of hands on his hips as he regarded you with confusion. 

Your lips upturned into a faint smile, and you lifted your hand for a half-hearted wave.

“Um, hi..?” 

I hope you enjoyed part 2! Sorry for that cliff hanger 😭 i hate doing that but had to end it somewhere haha

and.. hold up yall…

for real?! i did not expect this my first month on this app, nor at all really 😍 what started as “just this one luci one-shot..” became so much more!

Thank you all for the support and love you’ve given me, lowkey itching to buy a computer just for writing (yes, all my fics have been written with sore thumbs haha)

HUGE thanks to @spoiled-slutt for being my beta reader and helping me brainstorm ideas for this part! They’ve been an amazing help, and you should definitely check out their works if they interest you! <3

have a great day, my swans! 🦢

—

taglist:

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @plapperlapapp @wonderlife974 @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ interlude - i have questions

chapter summary: Logan tries to figure out how to move on from your death after Alcatraz Island in the years following.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is kinda different from what i normally do, but i had this idea in my head. if anyone has ever read 'a series of unfortunate events' or watched the show on netflix (i highly recommend both) then you know lemony snicket (the author and narrator) always puts a quote about beatrice, the love of his life who he lost, at the start of every book. so instead, i put some quotes at the start of every time cut (there are only three very short drabbles, but i wanted to try my hand at it so this is not a required read for the series)

warnings/tags: sadness, angst, depression?, heavy drinking, mentioned blood loss

series masterlist - chapter 9 → chapter 11

you left too soon,

i wasn’t done loving you yet.

---

During the night Logan hoped for two different things: that he would go to sleep peacefully, without dreams of you, or that he would dream of you.

The mansion was unnervingly quiet. The students had adjusted to the absence of Charles, Jean, and Scott in ways only kids could—by moving forward. The classrooms still buzzed during the day, Ororo still led them with grace and determination, and Hank busied himself in his lab, pushing forward as if the cracks in the foundation weren’t there.

But Logan? Logan couldn’t move forward.

Not without you.

It had been months since Alcatraz, and every day was heavier than the last. He’d carried you back himself, refusing help even though every muscle in his body screamed against it. He’d stayed with you until the funeral, until the dirt covered the final trace of you. But even that couldn’t make him leave.

Now, the mansion felt like a ghost of what it had been when you were alive. The hallways didn’t echo with the same warmth, and he swore that every room still smelled faintly like you, even though he knew it wasn’t possible. Your classroom remained untouched, the pen you always twirled still resting on the desk where you’d left it, just like every other time you’d been too nervous to notice.

He couldn’t bring himself to enter it again.

Logan sat on the edge of the bed in the room you’d shared that last week before the battle. His elbows rested on his knees, a cigar burning out between his fingers. He stared at the floor, your name an unspoken ache in his throat.

Sleep wouldn’t come. It never did. Not since that night.

His head fell into his hands as he let out a shaky breath. Memories of your smile, your laugh, the way you’d said I love you before kissing him—those memories haunted him, louder and sharper than anything else. He carried you in a way he hadn’t been able to carry anyone else.

He felt your absence in every breath he took.

The bed creaked as Logan stood. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, its glow casting shadows across the room. Three in the morning. The kind of hour where the world felt still but not peaceful. His bag was already packed in the corner, and his boots were waiting by the door. He’d known tonight was the night—he couldn’t stay here any longer.

Logan lit the cigar between his lips, taking a slow drag before picking up the bag. The weight of it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He made his way down the hall, pausing briefly outside your classroom. His hand hovered over the doorframe before he clenched it into a fist and moved on. He couldn’t open the door. Not now, not ever.

By the time he reached the garage, Ororo was there, leaning against one of the cars with her arms crossed. She’d always been perceptive, too much for her own good.

“You’re really leaving,” she said softly, not as a question but as a fact. Her tone wasn’t judgmental—just tired.

Logan nodded, tossing his bag into the truck he’d commandeered months ago. “Ain’t much left for me here.”

Ororo stepped forward, her brows furrowed as she studied him. “That’s not true, and you know it. The students need you, Logan. We need you.”

“They’ll manage without me.” He pulled open the driver’s side door, but Ororo reached out, her hand on his arm.

“Logan—”

He stopped, exhaling a breath full of frustration and something deeper. “Don’t try to stop me, ‘Ro. You know I can’t do this anymore.”

Her grip loosened, her hand falling to her side. She hesitated, searching his face for something—anything—that might change his mind. “She wouldn’t want you to leave.”

Logan froze, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the door. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Ororo didn’t flinch. “She loved you, Logan. She believed in you. If she were here—”

“But she’s not here,” Logan snapped, his voice breaking as he turned to face her fully. “She’s not here, and she’s not comin’ back. None of them are. So don’t stand there and tell me what she would’ve wanted. You don’t know.”

The air around Ororo shifted, the weight of his words settling heavily between them. She nodded once, stepping back. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I don’t know. But I do know that running won’t make it hurt any less.”

Logan didn’t respond. He climbed into the truck, slamming the door shut as he started the engine. He didn’t look back as he pulled out of the garage, the headlights cutting through the darkness like a blade.

The mansion disappeared in the rearview mirror, and with it, the life he’d tried—and failed—to build.

As the miles stretched on and the road unfolded before him, Logan felt the ring pressing against his chest like a curse. He pulled it out, letting it rest in his palm as his foot eased off the gas.

He’d carried it for more than a century, waiting for the right time. But the right time had come and gone six times over, and this time, there was no coming back.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He slipped the ring back into his pocket, where it would stay—like the memory of you, a ghost that would haunt him for as long as he lived.

He kept driving, the road endless and empty, each mile taking him further from the mansion but never from you.

---

“You can’t love someone unless you love

yourself first.” Bullshit.

I have never loved myself.

But you

Oh God, I loved you so much I forgot what

hating myself felt like.

---

Getting shitfaced at a bar was Logan’s routine nowadays. It didn’t matter where—dingy dives or polished joints—it all tasted the same after the fourth whiskey. The bartender at tonight’s hole-in-the-wall had finally kicked him out, muttering something about closing time. Logan didn’t fight him. He barely muttered a thanks before stumbling out into the cold night air.

The streets were quiet, empty except for the occasional car passing by. His boots scuffed against the pavement as he made his way back to the motel where he’d been crashing. It wasn’t much—a single bed, a bathroom, and a TV that barely worked—but it was enough for someone like him.

The whiskey hadn’t done its job. The buzz wasn’t strong enough to drown out the memories, and the quiet only made it worse.

Logan shoved open the door to his room, letting it slam shut behind him. He tossed his jacket onto the chair in the corner and sank onto the edge of the bed. His hands came up to his face, rough fingers dragging down as if he could wipe away the exhaustion. But it wasn’t just his body that was tired; it was everything.

He pulled off his boots, letting them drop to the floor with a heavy thud. The cheap mattress creaked as he fell back onto it, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes. His hand found the chain around his neck, pulling the ring free from beneath his shirt. It dangled between his fingers, the light from the streetlamp outside casting faint glints against its surface.

The ache in his chest was a familiar one—sharp and relentless. He closed his eyes, gripping the ring tightly in his fist as if that could bring you back.

It never did.

---

It wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed of you.

In the dream, you were there—alive, warm, and smiling at him like you always had. You sat cross-legged on the bed, your glasses slipping down your nose as you scribbled something into a notebook.

“Logan,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re staring again.”

“Can’t help it, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “You’re a hell of a lot prettier than the walls.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of life. It tugged at something deep in his chest, the same way it always did. You pushed your glasses up the same way you always did, while you kept your head down, hiding that smile of yours.

Logan moved closer, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat beside you. You looked up at him, your eyes catching his in a way that made his heart stumble. He reached out, brushing a thumb against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch without hesitation.

“Don’t leave,” you said, so softly it almost wasn’t a sound. “Promise me you’ll stay this time.”

Logan’s jaw tightened at the sound of your voice. It was so achingly familiar, so damn real that he almost believed it was true. Almost.

“I’ll stay,” he said gruffly, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. His hand stayed on your cheek, the warmth of your skin grounding him in a way that felt cruel and kind all at once. “Ain’t got anywhere else to be, sweetheart.”

You smiled, and for a moment, it was as if the weight in his chest lifted. The lines on his face softened as his thumb traced the curve of your jaw.

“You always say that,” you teased, leaning closer until your forehead rested against his. “And yet you always find a reason to leave.”

Logan closed his eyes, the accusation cutting deep, even if it wasn’t meant to hurt. The truth was, you weren’t wrong. Every life, every version of you, he’d lost—by fate, by chance, or by his own failure.

“Not this time,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

Your hand came up to cover his, delicate fingers wrapping around his much larger ones. “But you have to go,” you said softly, eyes searching his face. “You can’t stay here.”

Logan’s chest tightened, the dream taking on that cruel, vivid sharpness that felt too real to be anything but torture. His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “No,” he growled, voice low and almost desperate. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Not again.”

You smiled at him, but there was sadness in it. The kind of sadness that cut deep, quiet and understanding. “You have to,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over his knuckles like you were comforting him. “You don’t belong here.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, the weight of your words sinking in, but he didn’t loosen his grip on you. “This ain’t fair,” he said, his voice rough, teetering on the edge of anger and pain. “You were s’posed to stay this time. We had plans, remember? You, me…” His voice cracked, and he looked away, the words catching in his throat.

Your free hand came up to cup his face, gently coaxing him to look back at you. “Logan,” you said, your tone tender but firm, “you’ve always been the strongest man I know. But even you can’t fight this.”

“I can try,” he said gruffly, his hand tightening around yours. “I’d fight the whole damn world if it meant I got to keep you.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had paused. “I know,” you said. “And you always have. But you don’t need to fight anymore. Not for me.”

Logan’s brows drew together, his eyes glassy as he searched your face for something, anything that might make this easier. “I don’t know how to let go,” he admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t even know who I am without you.”

“You’re Logan,” you said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “You’re the man who’s lived a thousand lives and still keeps going, no matter what.”

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, livin’ don’t feel much like livin’ without you.”

Your hand slid down from his face, resting over his heart. “I’ll always be here,” you said softly, your eyes holding his like they could anchor him. “Every heartbeat, every breath—you’ll carry me with you.”

Logan closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled a shaky breath. He wanted to believe you, to hold onto your words like they could fill the gaping hole you’d left behind. But when he opened his eyes again, the bed was empty, and the only sound was the faint hum of the motel’s heater.

His fist was still clenched around the ring, the metal warm from his grip. Logan sat up, dragging a hand down his face as the reality of the dream settled over him like a fresh wound. He looked down at the ring, the faint light catching on its surface, and let out a bitter chuckle.

“Even in my dreams, you’re tellin’ me to move on,” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not yet.

---

But life has plans for all people. Even if those plans separate us

from the ones we love. No matter where my life takes me or

yours takes you, I will love you whether there are a thousand

miles between us or none at all.

---

Logan stood outside the hotel room, rain steadily pouring down on him as Mariko slept inside.

“That’s a lot of blood.”

He looked over to the side and saw you—or rather a vision, hallucination?—of you. “I thought you were done being the hero.” You continued.

“These guys were… trying to kill her.”

You gave him a small smile before walking closer to him, kissing his stubbled jaw and turning his head to you with a hand on his cheek. “You’ve always been a hero.”

Logan’s throat tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m no hero, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Not without you.”

Your hand lingered on his cheek, your gaze steady and unyielding. “You’re always going to be a hero Logan.” You tilted your head and even in this vision, your glasses had specks of rain on them from the downpour, “especially mine.”

The words hit Logan harder than any physical blow ever could. His jaw tightened as he stared at you—or the echo of you, the cruel trick his mind had conjured. Your presence was so real he could almost feel the warmth of your palm against his weathered skin, the way your touch had always managed to ground him no matter how lost he felt.

“Darlin’...” The word slipped from his lips in a voice rough with disbelief and pain. “This... this ain’t real.”

Your soft smile didn’t falter. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your tone impossibly gentle. “But does that really matter?”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for answers he already knew he wouldn’t find. “It matters,” he rasped. “’Cause I can’t... I can’t keep seein’ you like this. I can’t keep hearin’ your voice in my head, feelin’ like—like you’re still here when you ain’t.”

You moved closer, your hand sliding from his cheek to rest over his heart. Logan flinched but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t—not from you, even if you weren’t really here.

“I’ll always be here,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against the soaked fabric of his shirt. “You know that. You carry me with you, Logan. Every lifetime, every moment—you never let me go.”

A bitter laugh escaped him, hollow and heavy. “Maybe that’s the problem, sweetheart. Maybe I’m the one who can’t let go.”

“You’re not supposed to,” you said simply. “Not yet.”

Logan’s gaze hardened, the fire of his grief and frustration sparking through his voice. “Not yet? Then when, huh? When the hell am I supposed to stop seein’ your face every time I close my eyes? When am I supposed to stop hearin’ your voice every time I take a breath?”

You tilted your head again, your expression unreadable but calm in a way that only made his turmoil worse. “When you’re ready,” you said quietly. “And not a moment before.”

The rain poured harder, running in rivulets down Logan’s face as he stared at you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wanted to be angry, to scream at you, to demand why you’d left him—again, always. But he couldn’t. He never could. Not with you.

Instead, he whispered, “I miss you.”

Your hand pressed more firmly against his chest, where his heart thundered beneath your touch. “I know,” you said, your voice like a balm over his frayed edges. “I miss you, too.”

The blood loss finally took effect, and without his healing he stumbled to the ground, passing out.

if you read this, thank you! next chapter is back to our regularly scheduled programming, 'days of future past'! and oh boy, will it be everything you wished for ;)

also, i'm flying home for xmas break today so i'm super excited and happy that i'll have more time to write and read my long tbr. anyways, i'm off to catch a(nother) flight! xoxo

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part fourteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

Blue holds her arm out, stopping you from taking another step.

"Sh. I see one."

Up ahead, a squirrel stills on a tree, beady eyes unblinking. In a matter of seconds, Blue throws her knife and pins it to the bark through the stomach. 

"Nice," you comment. "You got it on the first try this time."

In your hand is the other squirrel she killed for you. Ghost started working on your bow yesterday. He didn't say anything to you about it, but you spotted him sitting on the porch chiseling away at a hunk of oak. Until he's finished, you've struck another deal: helping Blue skin the rabbits in exchange for her killing squirrels with you. She's better at killing them with a knife than you are. 

"This is good practice for me." She wriggles the knife out and hands you the kill. "Poor guy didn't see it coming."

"Probably better that way."

She slips the knife back to her ankle. "Do you need more? Or is two enough."

"Two is enough. I saw these flowers by the trench that I think are edible."

"You can eat flowers?" She makes a face. The two of you begin heading back toward the camp. You didn't go off too far with her. Ghost said she wasn't allowed to go past the pond without him. Truthfully, you were surprised he let her go with you at all. 

"Yeah. Pink Sorrel. They taste lemony, and I'll add the leaves, too. Like a salad."

"Yum," she says sarcastically. "Did Paul teach you that?"

You nod. "He knew a lot about plants."

"Are you sure he didn't like you?" 

"Blue," you almost groan. "You've asked me this twice now."

"Well, you seemed to have spent a lot of time with him, and he taught you a lot of things."

"You can spend time with someone and learn things from them without... liking them."

"I wouldn't know," she shrugs, waving her hand around. "There are no boys here for me to spend time with besides Ghost." 

"Paul didn't like me in that way," you reaffirm. "Besides, he's dead."

There is a lingering pause as a cloud rolls over the sun, turning everything dim before it passes. The weather these past few days has been fluctuating like true spring. Cold showers in the morning, intense sunlight by noon, and clouds that come and go. The cabbages Blue planted have sprouted fat, juicy leaves. You've mentally scolded yourself for not including seeds in your deal with Ghost. 

"So when are you and Ghost going to start training or whatever?" Blue speaks up, switching subjects.

"Training?" you repeat.

"He told me you wanted to learn some things." She glances at you. "Look, let me just warn you, he can be a real hard ass. One time, he made me climb up and down a tree twenty times without stopping. And another time, he made me throw knives over and over until I hit the exact same spot on the tree again."

Right. Somehow, that last request you made of him has slipped your mind. You did ask him to teach you how to better defend yourself against other people.

It's been over a week now, and the two of you still haven't talked much except for the necessities. Honestly, it's probably best that way. Maintaining a clinical relationship with him should keep the peace and maybe even earn more of his trust. You're growing confident that he doesn't see you as much of a threat anymore. Last night, you ran into him again after waking up from another dream, and all he did was walk past you, step outside for a cigarette, and then go back to his room. He didn't seem suspicious of you being up at all.

That said, the reminder of the 'training' he's supposed to give you makes your teeth snag onto your lip. 

When you don't respond, Blue adds, "What exactly do you want him to show you? I hate to say it, but I don't think he'll give you one of his guns."

"No," you shake your head. "I don't want that. It's not Greys that I'm as worried about. As long I've got distance, I can use my bow for them. It's more about... other people. They get close. Too close."

"Well, you can always bite their nose off," she gives a bump to your shoulder.

You cringe. "I'd rather not have to do that again."

She pauses, looking at her boots. "What did it taste like?"

"Fucking awful. Probably the grossest thing I've ever experienced."

She looks up. "If you were a Grey, you would've loved it."

"Well, I'm human still, and I much prefer these guys." You wag the dead squirrels in front of her face and she laughs. If you could replace all her tears with that sound, you would.

"You still haven't answered my question," Blue tilts her head. "When are you getting started? Because I have some training in mind for you, too."

You arch a brow but don't question it. "Um. I don't know. Ghost hasn't said anything to me about it, and he's busy working on my bow right now."

"Why don't you ask him, then?" She shoots you a knowing smirk. "Are you scared of him, Twix?"

"No," you say all too quickly. "No... I'm not. I just don't know how to talk to him. He's not exactly approachable."

"Just do what I do. I say whatever I want to him. Except when he's pissed, then—" she freezes for a moment and lays a hand on your shoulder. "—it's better to shut up and listen. Believe me."

You speak under your breath. "Noted."

It's another dream that night which pushes you to actually confront him. The loud voices sharpen into images— a bloodied knife at your throat, a toothy smile, carved body parts. You wake up and grab your neck, expecting to feel severed tissue. Instead, you feel damp skin. Something bubbles up your throat and fills your mouth. Squirrel and Pink Sorrel. The taste makes you shudder, but you swallow your dinner back down. The dark, quiet living room mocks you. 

The morning after that, you find him on the porch. It's not raining, but the air pricks the back of your neck with dew. You've already bathed and woven your hair into braids, which is growing longer by the day and bordering on an inconvenience.

Ghost tilts his head the second a wood plank creaks beneath your footsteps, tearing his gaze away from the assortment of carving knives in his lap. You've caught him in the moment before he's started to work on your bow again.

He is wearing that balaclava that makes him look more man than ghost, along with a black hoodie and faded, brown jacket. The whites of his eyes are visible, slowly sliding up to yours. You fully realize he isn't going to greet you with a hello, and standing there in an uncomfortable silence doesn't interest you, so you bite the bullet.

"I want to start that other thing I asked you for."

He seems to know what you're referring to. "Right now?"

Your nails dig into your palms, realizing that you should've waited for a time when he wasn't preoccupied. Though, he's hardly ever not doing something. 

Blue was right. Something about him has you subconciously on the defensive; it's something you want to get over if this living arrangement is going to be long-term, which you'd prefer it to be. It was about two months ago now that he nearly killed you, and since then, he has kept you alive ten times over. Maybe you should focus on that: on the hand that pulled you up, on the warm jacket over your shoulders, on the bow he is making.

"Whenever you have the chance. But— now, if we could."

Ghost lowers his eyebrows and seems to think it over. "Now is fine. Your bow will have to wait a bit, then."

"That's okay," you speak as you exhale. "I don't mind."

It's at that moment Blue pushes through the front door and you almost startle. "Can I come with you guys?"

Ghost folds his knives up and responds in a firm tone. "No. You have work to finish up."

"But my leg is hurting," she retorts lightly. "I'd rather sit and watch you guys."

"Your leg was just fine yesterday when you were hunting and climbing trees." 

"That was yesterday. Today, it hurts." She bites her lip and shrugs.

"How convinient." He gives her a dry look.

"So is that a yes?"

"It's a no."

With a groan, she goes back inside. 

Ghost escorts you out of the gate and towards a small clearing nestled within a circle of trees. As you follow behind him, you find your eyes straying to his broad back and for a moment, you wonder if maybe you've changed your mind— or maybe you want to tell him to wait until Blue can come join.

But you remind yourself that survival is a proactive game; you can't laze around and keep getting sick from the memories. You need to shut them away into that box you've made, and in the meantime, get stronger.

"Here is good," he says, stopping.

It's been awhile since you've done anything like this. There were plenty of times Paul 'trained' you. He used to make you shoot at the trees until your back muscles were practically immobile. As an ex forest ranger, he wasn't much of a fighter. His advice was always this: "Don't let anyone or anything get close enough to where you have to fight them."

Clearly, his advice can only go so far.

In the five years you were at your old camp, you managed to keeps things at a distance for the most part. A few Greys had snuck up on you, resulting in thrashing and wrestling around to avoid bites. But there were only one or two times that you had to engage in close combat with a human. The few other survivors you encountered were usually punished by Paul's rifle or your arrows. 

You shed your jacket and hang it on a branch, left in just Ghost's shirt and your jeans. "So, um, what should I start with? Running laps?"

"You want to learn how to defend yourself, not run a marathon."

"Right." You nod and rub at the gooseflesh that sprouts on your arm. You turn to face him. "I was joking."

Ghost ignores your comment with a pensive expression, staring you down across the short distance. You put on a blank face and meet his eyes expectantly. 

The silence stretches for a second longer than what would be deemed normal. Is this just how he is, then? Or is it only with you? You're about to say something to put an end to it when he suddenly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You were a nurse." It should come out like a question, but it's more of a statement. His voice nearly makes you jump. 

You can't help it; you look away. "Um. I... wasn't, actually."

Why is he bringing this up? Never once has he asked anything about you. In fact, you sometimes toy with the thought that he might have forgotten your real name by now.

"Figured," he says.

You frown, flashing him a confused look. "What? Why?"

"You're a bit too young to have been a nurse five years ago."

You think back to the moment he found you with an inward wince. "So you knew I wasn't telling the truth?"

"It didn't matter if you were or not."

That's right. I don't need a nurse, he said. 

"It wasn't a total lie," you clarify, dropping your arms at your sides. "I was in nursing school."

He rubs his chin. "You should understand the body, then— its weak points."

Your fingers flex before they gesture to your face. "The nose and eyes are obvious ones. But... but if someone grabs me from behind like," you forcefully inhale, "Like you did, then I won't be able to reach them."

He gives a short nod, then looms closer. You will your boots to remain planted in the damp soil despite the overwhelming proximity and intimidating mass of him. You blink up as he points a gloved finger to the hinge of his jaw. "There's this, too. Pretty easy to dislocate." His fingers move to side of his corded neck. "And here. The throat is weak and vital."

"I still wouldn't be able to reach those," you point out.

"You have more than just your arms, Twix."

"So my head, then?"

"That's one way." He moves a step back and you release a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Why don't you show me what you'd do— give it a try."

The suggestion should be expected given what you're asking of him— of course he would have to touch you at somepoint. Yet, it makes you stiffen. He motions his hand for you to turn around and with great hesitance, you comply, until you hear the crunch of twigs beneath his boots as he closes in behind you. You stare straight ahead at a tree and focus on breathing. 

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

His flat tone makes your eyes twitch in irritation and you are glad he can't see them. "Yeah. I know."

Just as he did all that time ago, his burly arms wrap around you, though not as firm and threatening. Your feet don't hang and you're not skin and bones this time, but once again, you are imprisoned against a hard chest. Your lungs pick up their pace and an artery in your neck jolts. 

"Just show me what you'd do," he says slowly, warm breath fanning across the top of your hair. "Don't worry about hurting me."

You wriggle against him, but even without issuing all his strength, it's useless. You stomp on his foot, figuring that toes are pretty vulnerable, but his thick boot hurts your sole more than you could possibly have hurt him. Your eyes begin to sting. You suddenly find yourself panting in frustration. Before you can even think about trying to use your head, full-blown panic unfurls in your chest. 

"Let go," you say under your breath. He must not hear you. Your voice turns to a snarled hiss. "Fucking let go of me."

His hold immediately loosens and you stagger forward, creating much-needed distance. Heavy breaths scratch up your throat. You wipe the back of your hand over your forehead and close your eyes for a moment, seeing blood and burnt skin against the backs of your lids. When you reopen them, Ghost is staring at you. The humiliation sets in as a red flush on your cheeks.

"Sorry," you shake your head and stare up at the clouded sky. "Just— maybe we should go back." Your arms hug around your stomach to keep its contents contained. "We can start this another day."

Throwing up in front of him again is low on the list of things you'd enjoy doing. He's already seen you near-death— no need to add a mental breakdown to your repertoire. Your lips press tightly together as you head to the tree for your jacket, but his gruff voice pauses your fingers against the embroidered flag on its sleeve.

"This isn't going to work if you don't tell me what is bothering you."

Your hand drops. "What?"

"What happened when you went to get the ammo, Twix?" he presses.

"I..." 

To tell him would be to pry open that box you've made and let him peek inside. He has never even asked a single question about you until today, so you press onto the lid, tight, and turn to face him with pleading eyes. "I don't want to talk about it with you, Ghost. Don't make me."

In response, he lifts up his hands in resignation. "Alright." He lowers them. "Why don't you at least tell me how you handled it?"

"Why?"

He taps a finger to his masked temple. "So I can understand how you think. How you keep surviving all this shit."

The wave of nausea settles as you form your response. "I... I burned him. He cleaned the bite on my arm with some alcohol. I distracted him a little and then smashed the bottle on his head. I had my lighter, so I used it."

Slowly, he nods, as if your words are not all that surprising to him. "And how about at the base when I left you?"

"There was that Grey," you remind him. "I bit the guy's nose and pushed him into it. If it hadn't been there, Blue and I would be dead. You see? I survived because I was lucky. I hardly know what I'm doing."

Ghost argues. "You survived because you saw opportunities and took them. You were smart about it."

"And what about when there are no opportunities? I will just panic like I did now." The tightness in your chest turns into something that has you roughly grabbing the jacket and sheathing your bare arms. "Let's just go back now.”

This time, he doesn't protest. The silence that clouds the short walk back is expected on his part, and purposeful on yours. 

[minjoongism]

so ateez released some multi-use fragrance oils exclusively to japan recently, each one customised for each individual member. although i can't get my hands on them just yet, i do have access to their scent profiles, so for anyone else who's desperately curious about what they might smell like, i've attempted to describe them all below!

fragrance terms for reference:

top notes: the initial scents smelled on application - usually the lightest/sharpest scents used (e.g. citrus or super powdery/light floral scents);

middle notes: the scents that appear once the top notes have faded - generally considered the central core or heart of a fragrance. they're usually fuller/smoother than top notes (e.g. cinnamon/spices or fuller floral scents like jasmine);

base notes: the scents that form the foundational structure of a fragrance, underpinning the top and middle notes and generally being the most long-lived scents that linger after application (usually woody scents, or musks);

accords: blends of notes that form the character profile of a perfume (e.g. woody or floral). they're the text in coloured bubbles in the images below the cut.

some general impressions:

yeosang & wooyoung seem to have the most overtly masculine-smelling oils.

seonghwa & san seem to have the most traditionally feminine-smelling oils.

hongjoong, yunho, mingi, and jongho all seem to have relatively gender-neutral scents. yunho's might lean the most masculine of the four, but all four are fairly ubiquitously pleasing.

all of them are Very Fitting imo!! whoever put these scent profiles together did a really good job of capturing the essence of each of the guys.

individual oils are under the cut because there are 8 of them:

hongjoong:

hongjoong's oil's scent profile sounds to me like it'd smell like the air after warm spring rain, a fresh forest, and home. the top notes mix orange-citrus with herby scents to create a fresh initial scent. i don't know if this is the case for everyone, but for me, if mint is a top note, it immediately becomes the most dominant scent in the whole thing (with a few small exceptions).

hongjoong's whole scent is pretty light! i mention a lot of headiness in a lot of the others, but for the most part, hongjoong lacks it. jasmine, magnolia, and amber provide the brunt of any robustness in this oil, but white musk is a cleaner, lighter alternative to musk, lacking that deep, animalic base and instead being something softer and more powdery. olibanum is somewhat lemony, while still being green and herby in scent, with a touch of pepperiness and woodiness that blends nicely into the sandalwood, which has a light, green initial top note that then melts into something creamy, rich, and deep-woody.

tl;dr - largely minty/herby, with a citrusy undertone that melts into a nice, rich woodiness towards the end. comforting is definitely right here - it's relaxing, not particularly overpowering or overly intoxicating like some of the other oils :)

seonghwa:

as i said to @starseongs a few days ago, this scent profile gives sensual, in control femininity, which i absolutely LOVE for him, but it isn't delicate by any means - it's got the strength of a more masculine scent, with plenty of animalic notes from the top all the way to the base that are offset by sharper, fresher notes to prevent it from becoming too cloying.

orange blossom in the top note is already overwhelmingly complex - it's sweet, and heady, and a touch soapy at times. it's not too far apart from the scent of jasmine, if that's more familiar, to get an idea of the sort of animalic, almost musky sweetness of orange blossom. a cassis top note is also super interesting - it's shades of musk (again) and tonka, which is sort of a blend of vanilla and nutty almond, but mossier and less intense. lily is also pretty solid, but waxy and spicy, a little soapy like orange blossom with a hint of honey. it's very common in feminine scents, often a mid or incredibly strong top note.

in the mid notes, rose and blackberry add delicacy and bite respectively, offsetting the incredibly powerful, heady top notes. peony complements rose well, commonly featuring alongside it in perfumes. and the musk-amber-cedarwood base note combo... amber and musk is classic dark sensuality.

if i had to guess, the orange blossom-cassis-blackberry-rose combo probably makes this a pretty fruity, pink-red scent with a heady undertone provided by the powerful base notes (aka delicious <3)

yunho:

like i said in hongjoong's, if mint is a top note, it immediately becomes the most dominant scent in the whole thing - with a few exceptions. eucalyptus is one of those exceptions, and so is mandarin. eucalyptus has a herby, waxy, lemony sort of smell to it to me, and this, combined with the mandarin orange, contributes a very citrusy top note. mandarin orange is usually particularly potent, so i wouldn't be surprised if this was very heavily orangey at first smell.

ylang-ylang is another heady, sweet, almost custard-like, honeyed smell that pairs well with the lemony green of geranium, which in turn has a floral aside that blends nicely with lavender. rosemary is a note that tends to add depth to perfumes and scented oils due to its woody spiciness, cleaning up the syrup of ylang-ylang and reinforcing the tangy top notes.

anise is warm, smoky-sweet, and a touch liquorice-y. it pairs well with musk, which is another warm, very earthy, heavily animalic scent - masculine and strong, providing a strong and lingering foundation.

overall, this scent profile is veeeeery clean. professional. it has a light, herby, citrusy brightness that hides a spicy animal musk, fresh bite that gives way to a warm and heady animalism.

yeosang:

interestingly, other than wooyoung's, yeosang's is the most overtly masculine scent. thyme, cardamom, oakmoss, vetiver - these are all very masculine notes.

thyme, pink pepper, and cardamom create a warm, spicy, almost leathery (thanks to the thyme) top note. cypress pairs well with these, offering a freshness and elegance that complements the spiciness well.

the lavender and geranium middle notes complement one another well - they're typically associated with calm and soothing, but with a kick provided by the geranium, which is a blend of herb, citrus, and fruity floral. a lot of people see it as similar to rose in terms of scent, but with an extra lemony, herby twist that balances it out and masculinises it in comparison.

oakmoss is... well it's mossy. it's an earthy scent that carries notes of musk and amber, and acts well to both prolong and fix scents and also balance out spicier, sharper notes, lending itself to sophistication and refinement. this blends well with the lemony-green olibanum.

vetiver is another earthy, woody scent that is very popular in masculine perfumes / colognes and very associated with masculinity in scent, though it can show up in unisex scents to provide an extra robustness. the undertones of leather and smoke in vetiver are what separates it from other common woody/earthy scents and what also makes it go well with cedarwood, which has a hint of natural smokiness. think bikers and a hint of cigarettes for vetiver.

tl;dr: HEAVILY masculine, musky smell for yeosang, with touches of wood, spice, and smoke that give it an extra warmth and bite, and a greenness from the oakmoss that refines it and adds sophistication and freshness.

san:

the only vanilla accord!! very similar to seonghwa's in terms of accords, but swapping amber for vanilla sweetens and softens the overall profile.

SUPER fruity scent. pear, peach, and ambrette seed in the top notes all have super fruity scents, with ambrette seed also containing notes of pear in it. the top note profile is full and sweet, with an extra apricot-y woodiness from the ambrette seed. very yummy. rose and jasmine in the middle notes add to the sweetness further, with rose providing the same floral delicacy as in seonghwa's and jasmine adding a sort of heady sweetness similar to the orange blossom also in seonghwa's. cedarwood deepens the woodiness first scented in the ambrette seed, adding a warmth and a spice to deepen the profile.

cashmere wood is getting its own bullet point because :( it's one of my favourite notes in perfumes / scented oils. one of my favourite cashmere wood descriptions is one i saw a while ago that said it smells like warm, bronze, sunkissed skin in summer :( if that doesn't make you think of san i don't know what will!! it's often got touches of vanilla in it, which blends nicely into the vanilla and cacao in the base notes.

musk and amber provides much-needed solid sensuality to an otherwise incredibly sweet, fresh, fruit-heavy scent. overall, this is probably one of the strongest scents - romantic, fun, flirty, pink, sunny, and very lovely. sannie :( <3

mingi:

mingi's is pretty interesting. everyone else has either musk or a wood in their base notes, but mingi has neither. this scent overall is herby, a touch floral, a little lemony - warm in a green way, bright and fresh.

bergamot offers a scent of sweet orange with a touch of warm spice. cardamom will reinforce the warmth and spice, and complement the citrusy bergamot by balancing the sweet with a bit of extra zest… it lends itself to a hint of inviting intoxication. this one will smell suuuuuper nice imo. the clary sage might be the most solid animalistic scent in this profile, and even that’s offset by the sleepy sweet powder scent of lavender.

the geranium - as mentioned above in yeosang's, it's a blend of herb, citrus, and fruity floral - and powdery, light, clean white musk contribute to the airiness of this oil.

looking at the others’ oils, 5/8 of them have musk (not white musk (which hongjoong and mingi have), musk) as one of their base notes, and 7/8 of them have either musk or a wood in their base notes - mingi is the only one with neither! musk and woods usually provide that sort of robustness, depth, and warmth to a scent, and mingi's, lacking both, is probably very light, fresh, and airy in comparison to the others, focusing more on its mid and top notes to create the primary scent.

overall a really fresh, light scent - not heavy or robust in the way the others are. refreshing and soothing sounds really right :)

wooyoung:

cardamom, woods, musk, and amber all the way down make for a very solid, masculine scent. it's warm and incredibly woody, with a hint of spice through the top notes that offsets the headiness of the base notes.

the base notes are very heady. musk and amber show up in a few of the others' base notes too, and vetiver also shows up in yeosang's, so i've covered these already - vetiver in particular lends itself to a classically masculine scent. veeeeerrryyyy masculine base notes overall.

if i had to guess, considering the vetiver base note and the fact that sandalwood and cedarwood are mid notes and not base notes, this is probably a veeeeery woody-smelling oil. just natural, earthy, woody, masculine goodness <3

jongho:

lemon, bergamot, and lime top notes offer an immediate, sharp, citrusy goodness.

i'm not sure if orange flower is any different to orange blossom - it could be more akin to neroli, which is similar to orange blossom but less warm, and a touch bitterer. either way, jasmine, lilac, and leafy green notes offer a freshness and natural sweet, rather than something more artificial and sugary, that complements the citrusy top notes well - particularly lilac, which i've found often has an initial scent of citrus itself.

balsamic base notes... 😋 i'm not sure which one specifically this is referring to, or if it's a general mix, but balsamic scents are usually rich-sweet-tangy, with a woody, almost damp sort of smell to it. very thick, very heady, probably also very welcome after all that citrus at the top. it's still a predominantly citrusy oil overall, but the balsamic notes at the base offer a woody offset that tempers it just a little.

[veebeeboo109]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You do something reckless...}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Stalking, Mentions of medical procedures, TW! blood

Chapter 14: Chase

“Don’t look at me like that!” You hiss under your breath, pointing up at Mephisto in the tree overhead. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Mephisto’s head tilts sharply to the side as if saying, Are you sure about that?

No, you’re not sure about that. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re making a huge mistake, but you couldn’t stop yourself. This was either a complete waste of time, or a complete trap, but you couldn’t not do it. So, you’re pulling up to your old apartment building, having snuck away after Xavier and Zayne had left in the morning but before Rafayel and Sylus woke up. 

Mephisto’s presence was a surprise, but a good excuse because now technically you didn’t leave the house alone. You had Mephie!

  You sneak inside through the back entrance; one of the people on the bottom floor always left it propped open. You keep your head down, hoping not to be recognized by your neighbors.

It feels bizarre to approach your door, muscle memory has you digging into your pocket for keys that aren’t there, but you pull out a lock picking kit instead. Something you picked up from your time undercover. The locks in this place aren’t exactly cheap, but they aren’t top of the line either, and with a little maneuvering you’ve got the lock picked and the door open. 

You slip inside and quickly shut the door behind you, hopeful no one spotted you. 

The smell hits you first. That foreign scent of home that you only recognize when you’ve been gone a long time. It’s tinged with the stale scent of dust and a lemony floor cleaner.

The place is bare, and it looks so much bigger than you remember. Stepping further into the open room, your hand hovers near your hip– where your handgun waits.

“Okay! I’m here!” You state to the emptiness, turning towards the hall and around, scoping every corner. “You wanted me here, right?”

Silence answers. The cold nothing of an empty house.

The phone in your pocket vibrates and you jump. Heart lurching before you recognize the sensation and pull it out. It’s your old phone, buzzing with a message.

Not safe. 

The message is from a blocked number, and when you try to tap on it, the screen goes black again. You huff in frustration and turn around again, facing the bare walls with a glare.

“Yeah, I got that! I’m not scared of you!” You’re too wound up for this game anymore, and as you whirl about, scouring the corners for someone you know isn’t there– something else catches your eye. 

One of the sconces, slightly askew. 

With narrowed eyes, you approach it. You’d never noticed it before, but there’s something stuck underneath it. Was it always there?

A little jiggling and you’re able to pry your nail around the object and unlodge it from behind the light fixture. It falls to the ground with a soft tap, and you’re unsure of what you’re seeing. Not until you’ve picked it up and held it close. 

A bug. Not an insect, but an audio device meant to record everything in the vicinity– and judging by the little black antenna on the damn thing it was meant to send them somewhere. 

You practically snarl and resist the urge to crush it beneath your foot. “I get it! Someone’s been tracking me! God, this is sick.”

You yank the antenna off the thing and put them both in your pocket. Your stalker has some weird proclivities, like he wants you to know he’s been listening and watching you for longer than you thought. A psycho, no doubt.

Your phone buzzes again. Another message. 

Never safe.

Your stomach drops a little and you're pulling out your gun without another thought. “ Bastard . Stop this game! Show yourself and let’s end this!”

Another buzz. Only this time, it's your new phone. The heavy thing in your pocket ringing again and again, and after you sit the old phone down onto the counter and pull it out, you’re unsurprised to see Sylus’ name lit up.

That took longer than you thought. What with Mephisto sitting on your balcony, watching everything. You’d thought he’d call before you even entered the building. 

You answer it and he’s speaking before you can get a word in, “ Mephisto hardly counts as company, sweetie.”

“Don’t be mean to Mephie. He’s great company.” You quip back, holstering your gun. Sylus doesn’t sound angry which is good, though you’re not sure what it would sound like if he was angry. You have yet to see him so much as raise his voice. 

“Where are you, kitten?” He asks slowly.

“You don’t know?” You grab your old phone and stuff it back into your pants pocket, ready to get out of here, “I figure you were calling to scold me.”

“Oh, I am,” Sylus drawls, “ Imagine my surprise when Rafayel comes banging at my door, squealing about how he can’t find you. You frightened the poor fish, you know.”

You exit the apartment and shut the door behind you, “It wasn’t my intention. I just needed to see something on my own, that’s all.”

“A little warning then, hm?” Sylus sighs and you can suddenly hear another voice in the background. “ Tell her to get back here now! This is not what we agreed to!”

You laugh a little at the high-pitch to Rafayel’s voice. “It’s not like the stalker has actually confronted me or anything. We’ve been running on conjecture that the stalker and the phone virus was connected, but it might be nothing.”

“A gamble only you seem keen to take,” Sylus takes a deep breath and sighs, “ You’re more than capable, darling. I know this. Though, you’ll have to convince your darling fish when you get home.”

You scale the back staircase and head towards the entrance you came in, “I’m on my way back now. Tell Rafayel that–”

Your sentence stops. Your voice halts as you push your way through the door. On the sidewalk is a figure. Clad in a dark hoodie with the hood up, and the moment they see you– they’re walking. Speeding away as fast as they can without it being a run. 

“ Sweetie?” You hear Sylus’ voice distantly, “Sweetie, what happened?”

“Hey!” You shout, and you end the call. Stuffing the phone into your pocket, you’re taking off into a sprint. They’re not getting away that easily. However, at your shout, the stranger begins running.

You bolt past the gate of your apartment complex and onto the street, darting across it to follow the stranger. Blood pumping violently in your veins, you’re a hunter again– with an entirely new prey. 

The stranger darts left and you’re right after him, nearly running into a pair of pedestrians that you barely manage to squeeze past. Mumbling a quick apology. 

The cold winter air is icy in your lungs, and the sweat forming on your brow makes you feel a bit dizzy. Your core is too hot and your skin too cold, but your adrenaline is pumping. 

He’s fast, but he’s also big– so not quite as fast as you. He has to shift around pedestrians as the two of you make your way to a more crowded district of the city. A shopping area that you and your friends frequented because it was so close to your apartment. 

You’re gaining on him.

A caw overhead and you see Mephisto flying above you, like you’re some Disney princess with an animal companion– only you know better. He’s tracking you. Logging your location and recording where you’re going and what you’re doing for Sylus to observe. 

Just as you’re nearly within arms reach of your prey, he darts down an alley. Suddenly encased in shadow. He’s jumping up onto a firescape and scaling it at astounding speed, and you hesitate for only a moment before jumping after him. 

You palms are scraped and red, tiny pinpricks of blood from the sharp metal as you scramble after him. He’s the secret behind all this nonsense– all this headache. If you can just catch him!

He reaches the roof and you hear his hurried footsteps against the pebbled surface. With a sharp grunt, you haul yourself up onto the roof, watching as he sprints faster than he had been before. 

You debate pulling your weapon, but don’t. Deadly force isn’t necessary– despite your desperation. 

Following after him, you breath catches when he effortlessly leaps from one rooftop to the next.  Soaring across the alley and over to the slightly shorter building adjacent to you. 

You skid to a stop at the edge of the building, while the stranger catches himself into a roll. He crouches for a moment, and then rises up. Standing tall and daring to turn his shoulders to you. 

His face is shadowed and too far away to make out anything besides pale skin. You snarl slightly, his posture too haughty for your competitive spirit. Like he’s saying,  Gotcha. 

You take a single second to peer down the six stories down to the alley below before you’re turning on your heel. You storm over to the opposite side of the roof top, shed your heavy coat and then shake your shoulders once. 

You’re running, the ledge fast approaching. Reckless. Your mind screams as your boot finds the ledge and launches  you outward. A dragging sensation in your stomach and the howling of wind in your ear. And, distantly, you hear, “ Don’t!” Just as you jump.

Jaw clenched, you push your body towards the other roof, but your feet don’t find it. 

You slam into the edge of the other rooftop. A brutal crash against your gut before you’re slipping down, arms barely able to catch the lip of the half-wall before you fall down to your doom. 

You choke on nothing. The air shoved out of your lungs from the impact, and survival made you scramble for purchase to pull yourself back up. Reckless. Your mind cries now, sounding too much like Zayne. Foolish. Sylus barks. Dumbie. Rafayel scolds. Impulsive. Xavier chides. Their voices in your head made you feel that much closer to slipping.

Suddenly, there’s a pressure around your chest, and you’re being hauled up over the ledge and onto the rooftop. You collapse onto your stomach and gasp for breath, your entire torso feeling like one large bruise. It hurts to inhale, and there’s drool leaking from your panting lips. 

“Don’t do that again.” A voice snarls at you. Dark and dangerous. You turn your head to see the shoes of the stranger you’d been chasing, and weakly you reach out to try and grab him.

There’s a hand on the back of your head, pushing you down to lay flat, and he speaks again, “Stay down. Don’t follow me.”

He releases you and you hear him walking away, the edges of your vision darkening. 

The frightening realization that you really hurt yourself grips you, but not tight enough to keep you conscious. You try and palm for your phone, but you groan at the tugging it causes on your chest. You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is pounding, but slow. 

A caw behind you is the only solace you have. The only thing that keeps you from panicking when you inhale but it catches into a wet, bloody cough. There’s enough left of your consciousness to spy the splatter of blood in front of you before you pass out.

The next time you’re able to feel anything, you're met with the feeling of floating. Rolling around in a tidal wave of churning as you’re rolled over to your back. 

Next thing you know, you’re in the dark. Or, it feels dark. Peeling your eyes open, you recognize a car, and the warm sensation of someone’s hand on the side of your face. 

“There you are, princess.” Rafayel’s voice in a lighthouse in a storm, drawing you out of unconsciousness and into the safety of the bay. “Don’t move too much. We’ve got you.”

“Akso is the closest hospital,” Zayne sounds different than you’ve ever heard him. A sort of rushed desperation from where he sits in the driver’s seat of the car. 

“No,” You rasp, but too deep an inhale and you’re coughing again. In between wheezes and hacks that bring up more dots of blood, you try again, “N-No hospital.”

“Sweetie, you have at least two broken ribs.” Sylus says from the other side of the back seat, he’s got his hands on your thighs, and you see his Evol swirling around his hands. “Now, hold still, before you puncture your other lung.”

You choke a little and cover your mouth to stifle more coughs. 

The air in the car drops a few degrees, and the air around Zayne’s hands shimmer where he grips the steering wheel, “Short, shallow breaths. Don’t breathe too deeply. Check her heart rate.”

Rafayel’s pressing his fingers against your neck and you’re pulling away, “I-I’m fine…”

Though, as soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re out again. 

“Dr. Zayne, please,” Yvonne insists for the second time, “Dr. Cooper is highly skilled. You know you can trust him.”

“He’s only an attending .” Zayne hisses, the harshest he’s ever spoken to anyone in the hospital. “I’m the chief surgeon. She has protocore syndrome and a heart condition, I should be the one to–”

“I know, I know.” Yvonne reasons again, “But you’re too close to the patient. You know the protocol Dr. Zayne.”

Zayne scowls, but finally– reluctantly– backs off. 

“Why won’t they let you do it?” Rafayel asks with his arms crossed, “If you’re the best one, then it should be you.”

“Protocol.” Zayne snaps out the word like a curse, “My personal relationship with the patient will cloud my judgement. Surgeons aren’t permitted to perform on their family members.”

“Fuck protocol.” Sylus growls. The three of them standing in the empty waiting room, mere moments after you’d been carted off for emergency surgery. “Give the word, Zayne. Say the word and I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” Rafayel scoffs hotly, “Kill the nurses and the other surgeon? Down, dog. Or you’ll make it worse.”

“A well-placed donation to the hospital should suffice,” Sylus replies, a touch less wrathful, “Who’s the Chief again? Dr. Jiang-something?”

The door to the waiting room opens, and Xavier enters– face sharp like he was expecting a fight. “What happened? Where is she?”

“They just took her back for surgery,” Zayne says, eyes downcast as his mind drifts elsewhere.

“Surgery?” Xavier’s expression slackens a bit, a touch of horror dropping into the visceral rage. 

“She broke two ribs and fractured another. Punctured her lung.” Rafayel’s crossed arms tighten, “Nearly gave herself a concussion too.”

“How did that happen? What happened?” Xavier is turning to Sylus, knowing the white-haired man would know.

Sylus grabs Xaver by the back of the neck when he explains what happened– a grounding gesture that simultaneously comforts Xavier, and keeps him in place. 

They spend the next couple of hours milling about the waiting room, in various stages of anxiety-ridden stress. Zayne paces the entire time, watching the clock and muttering about procedures. Rafayel follows beside him, asking about how long surgeries usually take and  frustrated when Zayne gives the same answer– it varies. 

When Yvonne returns to tell them you’re in recovery, it’s a stampede of six foot tall men all crowding around the poor woman. And only when she finally allows Zayne back does the bombardment ease. 

It sucks to wake up to pain. Sucks even worse when that pain is met with restricted movement, scratchy sheets, and the smell of disinfectant. Great, you’re in a hospital. You’ve been in them enough to recognize it even with your eyes closed.

Your face scrunches up in displeasure, but the wrinkle in your forehead smooths when a cool touch brushes against you. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here.”

Zayne. You try to say, but your mouth doesn’t move. However, you are able to get your eyes open and the blinding fluorescence is too harsh to make anything out. Zayne’s form slowly comes into focus. 

He’s wearing a dark coat, and he looks so pale in the hospital lighting. But, when you meet his eyes, they crinkle softly. That immeasurably soft smile that only Zayne does. He must be able to tell you’re trying to talk through the haze of anesthesia, because he brushes his hand through your hair and hushes you, “You’re still in post-op. Take it easy while the anesthesia wears off. Blink if you can hear me.”

Groggily, you blink.

Zayne leans forward, careful not to put any pressure on you and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

You’re frustrated you failed to catch the stranger. Irritated to be in the hospital. And embarrassed that you needed to be rescued. The anesthesia makes it all the more difficult to get your feelings straight. You let your eyes drift back closed, sinking back into the darkness that beckons you.

When you open your eyes again, you’re in a different room. The walls are a more comfortable beige and there’s less beeping and the smell of sterility. 

You’ve barely got your eyes open when someone’s pushing into your vision. Violet, and azure, and cerulean. 

Rafayel looks angry and doesn’t give you a second before he’s bombarding you, “What the hell were you thinking? First you leave all on your own and then you jump off a roof!?”

You groan softly and lick at your parched lips, “In my defense….Mephie was with me. And I didn’t jump off… I jumped across. I just…didn’t quite make it.”

“Rafayel, back up.” Zayne commands sharply, and the violet-haired man backs off a smidge. But only a smidge. 

“Care to explain what happened, sweetie?” Sylus approaches from the other side of your hospital bed.

“Can I get a drink first?” You rasp and lift your arm, irritated by the IV connected to your wrist. “And maybe some morphine.”

Zayne’s at your IV immediately looking at the levels and adjusting. Simultaneously, Xavier appears, scooting Rafayel to the side and placing a beige cup with a bendy-straw to your lips. 

Once your tongue isn’t a shrivel raisin, you sigh in relief. “I went to my apartment because I thought ...ugh it’s embarrassing but I thought I might find some clues or something about the stalker.”

“I'm struggling to make the connection here.” Rafayel all but mocks. 

“A glitch.” You begin, leaning forward to Xavier’s waiting hands to make one more sip, “On my old phone. The GPS showed my old apartment and I thought I should go there.”

Xavier jerks your drink away from you, giving you the coldest stare you’ve seen from him since you met him, “You mean you walked into a clear trap?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m a hunter too. I can handle it. I handled it. Nobody was there. Oh! But I found a bug. Sylus, it’s in my coat pocket. Did you guys get my coat? I left it on the room.”

Sylus chuckles at your absurdity, “No, darling, I wasn’t exactly looking for you coat when you were lying unconscious on a roof.”

You click your tongue and shoot him an amused look, “Priorities, Sylus.”

“Recovery should take around six weeks.” Zayne comments as he walks over to Sylus’ side, “You were reckless. Chasing after someone who you had no idea whether or not they were connected at all.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.” You wince when you try to sit up, “No more chasing randos on rooftops.”

“Why do I not believe you?” Xavier mumbles.

Four visitors is a lot for one hospital room, and you’re in that god-forsaken room for almost a week before being discharged. In that time, you find that your boys are loyal. And downright matronly. 

It hits you when Rafayel shows up in the morning, as soon as visiting hours start with a coloring book and some colored pencils in one arm, and a bag of snacks in the other. And then when Xavier comes in with a tablet to watch movies on. Zayne’s visits are interspersed between his shifts, and their brief but he never fails to kiss your forehead and double-check your chart. Sylus arrives at night, long after visiting hours are over and you’re sure he’s bribed (or threatened) the nurses to let him in. 

It hits you that they want you. They love you. Not because your easily accessible as their housekeeper, or because you bend to their whims and pleasure them in the way they like. They like you because they like you. 

When you’re finally able to go home, you can’t stop feeling a little giddy about it. Home. Their big, ridiculous, cozy house is your home too now.

You’re propped up on the couch, leaning on Sylus while he scrolls through his phone. He shows you the screen, “What do you think?”

He shows you a picture of a house. A cozy beach house somewhere where the water is an enviable shade of blue that the sky attempts to match. The sand along the beach is pristine and white, and there’s plenty of trees with shade around the house. There’s a large porch facing the ocean, and the house is trimmed with baby blue and matching shutters.

“Pretty.” You comment, “Why am I looking at a beach house?”

Sylus’ laugh vibrates your shoulder, “It’s our beach house, kitten. I thought it might be nice to recover there. What do you think?”

“Did you–” You try to sit up but immediately regret it. Hissing before you relax back against him. Sylus makes a soft crooning noise, and he presses his lips to your hair in a soft, comforting kiss. You take a slower breath and try again, “Did you own this place before I got hurt? Or did you buy it just now?”

“Hm, just now.” Sylus remarks as if it’s nothing. “The other one I had is more of a safehouse. Too remote. So, I found one more suited to recovery. There’s a hospital less than an hour away, but no city noise to bother you.”

You bite your lip to stop from smiling, “Is this really ok? That’s an insane thing to do, you realize that right? Buying a house for somebody just to recover in.”

Sylus laughs again and puts his phone away, “Then I probably shouldn’t mention the house in the country I got for you either. Or the bike I ordered.”

“Stop!” You cry and smack his arm, “I’m going to choose to not believe you because that’s crazy.”

“So, no beach then? Rafayel’s already packing, and Zayne requested time off. I’d hate to disappoint them.” Sylus coos, and he  shifts to lay you a bit more reclined against him.

“What about Xavier?” 

“Wherever you go, the prince is sure to follow.” Sylus says softly. “He’s coming too. Just finishing up some things before we leave.”

You smile and sink into him, “So, when do we go?”

“As soon as you say the word, sweetie.”

<- Previous Next ->

[heartrender6]

VFD calls itself "not an aristocracy of power, based on wealth, but an aristocracy of the sensitive and considerate", yet ever single member we know of has immense generational wealth. They all live in huge mansions. THE DUCHESS OF WINNIPEG is a volunteer. Lemony describes having friends with big yachts and fancy vacations in asoue. The word "noble" is consistently used to mean 'good'. not to mention the implications of 'literacy' being such an important quality for 'noble people'. idk that sounds like the usual kind of aristocracy to me.

[xkaidaxxxx]

Shoto x Reader

Mentions: Characters are aged up! Body image, Plus size reader, Drinking, NSFW, Virgin reader, cute aftercare, fluff morning,

No proof read sorry for errors

MDNI

Reblogs are appreciated.

“ You should totally go on a date with him. He sounds very nice. I’ll be there at a distance just in case you don’t want to be there anymore or something goes wrong okay.” Mina said and Momo agreed. Girls gotta help each other.

Shoto’s name on the online dating: Senju 

Senju: We can meet up at weston. 

(weston is a fancy restaurant) 

You made very good money but you weren’t stupid rich

y/n: oh um Isn’t that too much? I’m a simple girl. Plus I don’t have that type of luxury.

Senju : You doll up and I’ll pick you up okay. Is 8pm good? 

Y/n: I’ll meet you there and yes that's perfect.

Senju: Okay see you there then. I’ll be waiting. I’ll be wearing black tux with a white and red brooch.

y/n: I’ll wear a red dress then! See you later.

You were so nervous and scared. You hadn’t shown him a picture of yourself. You’re a plus size woman. That was something you’re so insecure about which is why you didn’t date at all. Even in highschool. You did have crushes here and there but when you confess to them they’d instantly reject you, not even in a feel sorry for you way. They were rude. 

————————————————————————

They’d say things like:

“Hell no you look like a blob”

“ You’re a piggy and I don’t date such an ugly thing”

“Maybe in your next life you’ll be pretty”

“ lose a few pounds and even then maybe not.”

———————————————————————-

“ Come on let’s get you ready! You’ll look like a princess once you’re done dressing up.” Momo said. 

You wore a simple but classy red dress Momo created for you. It was short, had a slit to teasy a bit with one strap. Your make up was simple as well. Overall you looked Amazing! The girls dropped you off. You noticed a tall,handsome man with the white and red brooch that matches his hair color. You walked up to him nervously. “S-Senju or should I say Shoto ” you said. He looked down at you shocked. It wasn't that he didn’t like what he was seeing, if anything he was trying to control himself from devouring you. “ Y/n?” he replied smiling. “ Yes. It’s nice to finally meet up with you.” you said. “I lied about my name because…being one of the greatest heroes causes relationship issues.” he said walking inside with you. You were nervous about how dinner would go. “Reservation for Todoroki.” he spoke to the host. The host checked his table. “Yes sir, right this way.” you both followed the host. You were confused on why you were lead to a room with Shoto. “ The waiter will be right with you.” the host said and left, closing the door behind him. It was so beautiful. A private room. Every single detail screamed romantic and sweet. “ Is it to your liking?” Shoto asked as you sat down and he helped you tuck in your chair. “ It’s beautiful. Thank you. You’re very kind.” you replied. He sat down and started looking at the menu and so you did the same. About 20 minutes later the waiter shows up taking out his pad. “ We’ll have Cheesy Potato Croquettes as appetizers. I’ll have Lemony Salmon with potatoes and tensoba. Cold please.” Shoto said then looked over to you. “ I’ll have a lobster risotto,” you said. “ Drinks?” the waiter asked. “ Armand de Brignac Ace of Spades Demi-Sec and 1999 Andre Beaufort a Ambonnay Grand Cru Doux Rose” , Shoto said. You trusted him. He knows his champagne. After an hour you were having an amazing meal. You loved the taste of the champagnes and couldn’t get enough and so while you ate the more champagne you craved. Shoto was concerned about how much you drank. “Uh you should take it easy. It might not taste strong but it sure is.” he said. “ S’fine I’m not a lightweight. I swear.” you replied. Biggest lie. You guys had to leave through the back and since you were too drunk to speak correctly he had no other choice than to bring you to his house to spend the night.

You were at his house by 12am. 

Being drunk makes you tell the truth on how you enjoyed the night and how sexy Shoto looks. 

“ Did I..tell..handsome sexy so much.” you said and hiccuped. He chuckled and opened the door while holding you. “No ma’am you haven’t told me that.” he replied walking in with you. You were getting touchy. Playing with his hair and leaving a peck on his cheek. He set you down. “ Careful now, okay.” he said, locking the door. You looked around walking wobbly. As you were about to fall he caught you. He was tired of holding back and so he kissed you. You let yourself go and allowed him to have all of you. You are a virgin but you thought fuck it why not? He carried you upstairs to his room . The moment was so heated you guys quickly took your clothing off, so desperate for each other. 

“ You’re so cute my baby.” Shoto said, tossing you on the bed.“ Let me claim you.” he whispered in your ear. “ Yes please.” you replied. He reached down to your pussy and played with your clit. You moaned softly. He felt all your wetness dripping onto the bed, spreading your legs further as he pressed a kiss on your pussy. Your cheeks turned red. Eating you out was heaven for him. He hummed as he sucked and slurped so sloppy.. You grinded yourself against his mouth. “Nasty girl. You’re so needy.” he slapped your pretty cunt which made you jump and close your legs. “ Obey me.” he ordered, spreading your legs. Your cunny was aching thinking about the need of being stuffed by him. “P-please. I need you inside of me.” you said with glossy eyes. Your pussy clenched around nothing. He smirked, liking the power he has over you. “ m’kay baby.” he replied, running his tip teasingly at your folds. You whimpered as he finally stuffed your tight cunny making you wince in pain. He groaned. “F-fuck.” you sniffled.  He noticed how very sensitive you are.. There were tears slipping from your eyes. He eventually figured you’re a virgin and he didn’t want your first to be after a 1st date. “ I can't.. I won’t allow this to be your 1st time. It isn’t special.” he said. You nodded. “It hurts.” you cried. You never imagined it being painful then again every woman's  body is different. Even after foreplay some women still aren't relaxed enough to be penetrated. He pulled out carefully. You gripped his arm. “I’m sorry. You must be upset to not receive anything” you spoke as you noticed he was staring. He left and came back with a warm wet cloth. He cleaned you up thoroughly and carefully. You did bleed a bit. “Thank you Shoto.” you spoke. He nodded and tossed the cloth in the trash can. It was definitely a night to remember. You slept comfortably cuddling with him. It felt so natural. The following morning was shocking as you woke up in his arms remembering the event of last night. “Morning y/n. I hope you slept well princess.” he said, giving you a soft kiss. You decided to let fate take over. You smiled feeling happy,“Morning Shoto. I did sleep well." you replied. He couldn't help but carry you and head to the bathroom. You giggled. He was very strong so to him you felt like a feather. "Put me down sho." He refused to obey you. "No ma'am." you pulled his hair lightly. He set you on the counter as he got the bath ready. " Ready for a warm bath?" He asked winking at you, you understood he'd be washing you. You were insecure..no man has ever seen your body, let alone worshiped it. Shoto watched you as you let the warm water surround your body. "You're very beautiful." he commented. You blushed as he started scrubbing your back. " Just so you know. You're mine. Forever." he said kissing you. Your body was trembling with happiness. "Forever." you replied. His heart was beating at a fast pace. He knew that its you he wants to date, to get married someday and have children if you wanted. He wants to raise them and watch them grow into wonderful strong people as you two grow old. He wants forever with you. He kissed you again leaning in closer. He slipped inside the tub. He was drenched as well. Thank goodness this man is stupid rich otherwise there would be water all over the ground. You both laughed, bubbles on your cheeks and foreheads. You began to wash each other up. It was relaxing and intimate.

[archerygun]

Dr. Monty Montgomery from the Netflix tv show is straight up one of the best examples of Doomed By The Narrative I’ve ever seen and I need to ramble about it for a bit because therapy will not cover the emotional damage The Reptile Room: Part One did me as a child.

For one, this version of Monty is arguably the most competent even if he is still flawed. His biggest mistake comes from the misunderstanding about Count Olaf’s identity, and rather than that be a result of him not listening to the children, it seems to be more of a general misunderstanding? He knows ‘Stephano’ is bad news. The kids think he’s figured out who ‘Stephano’ is and has it under control. He hasn’t. Oh dear.

You’re told from the start that Monty is going to die. He’s screwed. So watching the episode, you begin to almost get the feeling that he knows that too. Like he knows he’s only got that episode’s runtime but maybe, just maybe, it will be enough.

He clings to life so furiously, the narrative has doomed him but he is kicking and fighting the whole way. He jumps out of the back of the van where he was supposed to die almost like he’s saying “I can do it. I won’t let you take me. I won’t die today. Just give me today, please.”

He jumped all the hurdles and then fell before the finish line. He pulled all the right strings, he outwitted the twins, he had the right people on his side.

He was almost perfect. And that ‘almost’ was what killed him.

It feels like he’s looking up at the writer and begging “Not tonight. Let me have tonight. I can do everything I need to do. Just give me tonight.”

Monty Montgomery is locked in a battle of wits not just with Olaf and his goons but with the story itself. His tenacity is what MAKES the tragedy, many good people die in this series but Monty Montgomery just HITS you. The optimistic lull ends with his death, so it has to be one of the most emotionally impactful. But GOD.

The almost time-loop vibes of Lemony Snicket mentioning how the Baudelaires replay that day again and again in their minds even in their later lives thinking about all the ways they could have saved him - and all the ways they couldn’t. Like it’s just a fact that in every timeline, Monty Montgomery dies that day. There was nothing he could do. And still he did everything.

The Reptile Room: Part One gives me too many feelings. I left the room five minutes from the end when my sister and cousin were rewatching it because his death just DOES that shit to you.

Thank you for your time I am in agony. Have a nice day.

[starfxkrinc]

ok ranking madisons perfume collection

jpg la belle (date night) - im a sucker for a gaultier and that ones just saur freaking good. warm sweet sexy pear vanilla she ate that

d&g devotion (mfw) - does this girl lurk on perfume twitter bc that was THEE it girl perfume of the summer. a bright lemony gourmand that goes with like...everything. cant go wrong

mugler angel elixir (in the studio) - the best angel flanker (nova is second tho) it takes the angel dna and makes it smoother, easier to wear and is less dated. updating the first gourmand perfume the best without that heavy ass patchouli

burberry her intense (time cut) - elixir is better but this is still good. the burberry her line is just very good i just dont have much to say about this one

tom ford lost cherry (obx4 summer) - better cherry perfumes have come out since that last longer and cost less. its just okay.

d&g light blue forever (obx3) - just okay...i think the male line of light blue just tends to be better? than the female line? kinda reminds me of britney spears curious tho which is one i love just a simple fresh white floral

eilish billie eilish (obx4 winter) - i dont rlly like this one....smells burnt

le labo another 13 (everyday honorable mention)- i dont get the pickle note but i also dont rlly like it

le labo the matcha (the painter) - ive smelled it and i dont remember it so theres that

glossier you (obx1) - smells like nothing

escentric molecules 01 (maintenance required) - smells like extra nothing

outlier - the one with the red cap and red heart? yeah idk that one so i cant review it

[paperpoetryandpetrichor]

I finally figured out what bothered me about the Lockwood & Co adaptation. Don't get me wrong, it was good. But it's a different genre.

The show is supernatural/modern/mystery/teen angst and a little bit of young adult humour.

The books are tim-burton-esque/grunge/horror/comedy and not to mention a societal commentary of great britain in a fictional pandemic, masked as a series for kids. More along the lines (and vibes) of Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events, Sherlock and Coraline, rather than Supernatural or any other teen mystery series.

[baudelairebizarre]

why the "A Series Of Unfortunate Events" movie didn't work

If you are a fan of the movie pease don’t take offence. In fact, I have a selection of compliments for it. on the other hand, if you don't like the movie, I hope you understand my few praises. in the end, I hope that fans or haters will take my points as they are, opinions.

spoilers ahead

Cast

Some of the biggest highlights is Meryl Streep and Billy Connolly. Connolly’s Monty was warm, filling me with hope for the short amount of time we saw him. Streep does amazing as usual, delivering each line with the perfect amount of fear and justification, even sounding as if she often gave kids too villains on the daily.

Jude law is fine, narrating the movie in the role of Lemony Snicket, just as he does in the books, he often appears to add suspense with his jammed typewriter. Never seeing his face, the mysterious atmosphere of unsolved questions is added to by a foggy figure. Mr. Poe, played by Timothy Spell, does a fine job. Only appearing at the beginning and end of each time they spend with their guardian, he does the best he can with the time he’s given.

As for the children, Emily browning is by far the best. However, Sunny steals the show. Her quick quips and funny jokes can bring a small light to the miserable tale. Klaus is good, no complaints or major compliments.

One of my major issues with the movie is Jim Carrey’s performance. Yes, count Olaf is extravagant, Carey takes it to a whole other level. The flamboyant performance adds a comical Layer to the character which isn’t needed. He makes an idiot out of a rather smart individual, not many people could get away with such a plot, and Carreys Olaf definitely couldn’t. In no way is he believable and would not be able to get away with such plot.

Olaf as a character is funny, his silly costumes, the accents, the ideas, even the people he surrounds himself with. He is meant to be played by someone who is enjoying themselves. For me, Jim Carey is not having fun, he just wants to seem like he is.

Costumes/sets

One thing about this movie I can praise is the sets. Each distinctive location is given a distinctive colour palette, letting certain colours pop against the overall gloom of the story. The buildings are all marvellously done, the warm yellow hues surrounding montgomerys home and outfits contrasts the cold tones of Josephines house. Count Olafs house is dark, dirty and I believe they could’ve gone further with it. It looks messy, but clean and organised messy. As if he meticulously placed each item to look chaotic.

The 40s/50s Americana sketches from the book are turned upside down for this gothic, victorian aesthetic they decided on. Not that I’m against this change, I just find it interesting. As the books never specified when they are set, they are up for interpretation. The dark glow of the costumes add to a miserable feeling of dread. One costume change I did not like was them not giving Klaus glasses. His whole schtick was the fact that he read so much he needed glasses. Not to mention that the fourth book revolves around him wearing glasses, further proving that they never intended to adapt any more of the story. Also violets hair was a whole choice.

Why it was never going to work

Shoving three movies into one would never give the satisfaction that the books or show does. Around half an hour per guardian, the bond is never formed deep enough to make the falling apart have such impact. Moving the wedding to the end caused a dragging pace with having to add a whole other scene where they almost get hit by a train. Making Olaf get punished pushes even further that a sequel was never in consideration, also showing absolute cluelessness to what makes the books so good. The fact that he never gets punished adds to it individuality and its charm. The movie makers clearly didn’t understand it and that’s what makes it so disappointing.

[unfortunatetheorist]

What happened to the statue of The Bombinating Beast? - Part 1: ATWQ to ASOUE

This theory is dedicated to @ven10, whose post depicting the statue in the episode of The End (https://www.tumblr.com/unfortunatetheorist/758594891663212544/it-certainly-is-ven10-it-certainly-is?source=share), inspired my thoughts. There are also inferences made by @snicketsleuth (and @snicketstrange) which are used.

So, by the end of WITNDFAON (which I admit I haven't read yet but will get round to), we know that The Bombinating Beast statue is of great importance, as well as:

"Snicket fed Armstrong to the creature, and then wandered into the Clusterous Forest with the statue. It is unknown what he did with the statue and what happened to that beast, or its siblings, after this" ~ Snicket Wiki.

The only hint we have of The Bombinating Beast is that Lemony wanders into the Clusterous Forest with it's statue. Therefore it is important to take into consideration an extra detail about the Clusterous Forest, which links the ATWQ universe to ASOUE:

Lucky Smells Lumbermill gets its green timber from The Clusterous Forest.

This is my line of reasoning as to what happened:

1. Despite being an agent of VFD, Lemony is still a child, so there is a chance he feels some remorse for killing Armstrong Feint/Hangfire.

2. It is out of said remorse that Lemony decides to have nothing to do with the Beast again, burying the statue of the Beast deep in the forest... or so he thinks.

3. During ASOUE (just before TMM) a worker (e.g. Evander) chopping trees for Lucky Smells Lumbermill comes across the statue.

4. Not knowing what to do with it, and being under hypnotic influence, the worker promptly hands it to the foreman, who gives it to Sir.

5. It is extremely likely that Sir (The Miserable Mill) and Wiley Smogface (FU:13SI, ATWQ) are in fact the same person; however, there is no reference of any connection whatsoever between Sir/Smogface and The Bombinating Beast's statue. This implies that he knows nothing about the Beast, which makes little sense given that he is from Stain'd-by-the-Sea.

This logical gap can be filled: if Sir/Smogface had a "very terrible childhood" as Charles has clearly stated during TMM, this could refer to his parents bouncing around from town to town as they seek different jobs with more and more money. Hence, Wiley is left by himself in his parents' latest job-stop - Stain'd-by-the-Sea - unaware of the legend of The Bombinating Beast.

6. Sir has no idea of the power he holds... but apparently, neither does Georgina! There's also no reference to Georgina knowing anything about the statue - she's just a VFD optometrist with a bad reputation who lives in Paltryville, even during the events of ATWQ.

This implies that the statue... well... just stood there, as an ornament, in Sir's office.

7. Someone took the statue from Sir's office at Lucky Smells Lumbermill. But who? Well, whoever it was must have known two things:

a) The importance of the statue

b) It's location

There are only 3 people who seem to fit the bill perfectly - Lemony, Ellington and Moxie.

We know that each of them have their reasons:

Lemony: To use its power to somehow help the Baudelaires.

Ellington: To end it all after falling into a depression from the loss of her father OR to claim revenge on Lemony after having gone through the grief mentioned above.

Moxie: For a great story and the Mallahan legacy; after all, Lady Mallahan allegedly slew the Original Bombinating Beast.

@snicketsleuth's post, 'What is The Great Unknown?' (Full post here: The Snicket Sleuth — What is “The Great Unknown”? (tumblr.com)), says the following:

"Following the events of “All The Wrong Questions”, Ellington eventually escaped from the prison cell with Kit Snicket thanks to the skeleton key in Ellington’s bag. Kit and Ellington, before going their own ways, exchanged a good deal of information. Kit Snicket could not help noticing Ellington acted extremely angry towards Lemony and VFD in general.

In the following years, Ellington worked tirelessly to recover her father’s remaining assets as well as uncovering the secrets of Inhumane Society. Though the book Caviar: Salty Jewel of the Tasty Sea was destroyed, she had had the opportunity to read some chapters Lemony hadn’t. No one knew about the CBB more than her. With some effort, she managed to find the animal hiding in the Clusterous Forest, as well as the Bombinating Beast statue that Lemony had buried there. With the statue, she was now in control of the CBB. Eventually she managed to track down an octopus-shaped submarine which used to belong to Hangfire, only to lose it to Count Olaf.

As Olaf escaped with the submarine (now rebaptized the Carmelita), Ellington pursued him. She used the statue to control the CBB, ordering it to seize the Carmelita. The CBB first encountered the Queequeg in close vicinity to the Queequeg. Unsure whether these two crafts were allied with each other, Ellington ordered the CBB to stand down. Captain Widdershins mistook the question-mark shape on their radar for an enemy submarine.  Later, Ellington witnessed the Queequeg being attacked by the Carmelita, and decided to approach the CBB to scare Count Olaf and help the crew of the Queequeg. Count Olaf also assumed the mysterious entity was an enemy submarine."

I agree with Ellington being the one who takes the statue...

...but I don't think she found it in the Clusterous Forest. Sorry, @snicketsleuth.

8. If Georgina's reputation was really as bad as Moxie made it out to be, there is a chance that Ellington would have visited the Lumbermill in disbelief - I think it is here that she stumbles upon the statue.

9. This happens:

"With the statue, she was now in control of the CBB. Eventually she managed to track down an octopus-shaped submarine which used to belong to Hangfire, only to lose it to Count Olaf.

As Olaf escaped with the submarine (now rebaptized the Carmelita), Ellington pursued him. She used the statue to control the CBB, ordering it to seize the Carmelita. The CBB first encountered the Queequeg in close vicinity to the Queequeg. Unsure whether these two crafts were allied with each other, Ellington ordered the CBB to stand down. Captain Widdershins mistook the question-mark shape on their radar for an enemy submarine.  Later, Ellington witnessed the Queequeg being attacked by the Carmelita, and decided to approach the CBB to scare Count Olaf and help the crew of the Queequeg. Count Olaf also assumed the mysterious entity was an enemy submarine.

The Queequeg eventually escaped from the clutches of the Carmelita. While making their way to the Hotel Denouement, Olaf, Esme and Carmelita Spats realized the Baudelaire orphans’ absence and were betrayed by Fernald and Fiona who let the imprisoned youngsters start a mutiny. Ellington followed the entire mutiny from afar. The youngsters were released. Esme, Olaf and Carmelita fled. The octopus-shaped submarine was eventually given back to Ellington Feint who promised to help Fernald and Fiona if they were ever in trouble."

10. Ellington had no further use for the CBB (as she already gained her father's submarine, which was the intention) so she [presumably, most likely] discarded the statue in the sea, before it washed up on the island, as @ven10 describes.

Part 2 (Post-ASOUE) coming soon,

~ Th3r3534rch1ngr4ph, Unfortunate Theorist/Snicketologist

[paperstorm]

Thanks for the tags @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @heartstringsduet @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @birdclowns @orchidscript @whatsintheboxmh @nancys-braids

I have withheld Tarlos from y'all for long enough so have an extra long snippet

“Hey.” TK smiles back. He turns to shut the door and by the time he turns around Carlos is right in front of him, arms opening for TK to tuck himself into. He does, letting Carlos wrap him up and hugging around Carlos’s waist.

“I was wiping down the shower earlier, I probably smell like Mr. Clean,” Carlos says, kissing the side of TK’s head.

TK rests his head on Carlos’s shoulder, extending the hug for just a moment longer because Carlos is warm and his arms have always felt like home. “Lemony fresh.”

“Super sexy, right?” Carlos jokes.

“Mhm.”

“How was work?”

“Fine,” TK answers, in a tone he hopes is a neutral. He isn’t lying, but Carlos has been watching him like a hawk the last week. Sometimes TK feels eyes on him like bright sunlight burning his skin, as if Carlos is waiting with bated breath for TK to break down sobbing in the middle of brushing his teeth.

Nudging his head up, Carlos makes TK look at him. Part of TK wants to look away, but he makes himself hold his boyfriend’s glossy-eyed gaze. This is what he’s always wanted, he reminds himself; someone who sees him, who knows him and loves him as if his numerous flaws aren’t just a floor-length list of deal-breakers.

Carlos brushes his thumb gently underneath TK’s eye. TK supposes they’re still a little puffy, in a way that most people wouldn’t notice but Carlos does. Softly, he asks, “Are you okay?”

TK nods and tries to smile reassuringly. He is okay, he isn’t lying about that either, he just feels like it’s harder to make Carlos believe him recently. He steps away from his boyfriend and moves toward the kitchen. A long moment of silence soundtracks him as he goes into the refrigerator. Carlos must have been shopping today, TK notices three bottles of sparkling flavored Perrier that weren’t there this morning. It makes him smile to himself and he selects the grapefruit one, finding a glass and turning back to Carlos to ask if he wants some.

He finds Carlos still near the door, looking at him with puppy-dog eyes and the little fold between his eyebrows. It’s so endearing it makes TK laugh. He shakes his head fondly. “Baby. I’m fine.”

“You lost your mom really recently, TK,” Carlos counters in a tentative voice. “You don’t have to be fine. I mean, of course I don’t want you to be sad all the time but if you are sad … that’s okay.”

TK nods. “Thank you. Do you want some water?”

“Sure.”

Carlos steps closer as TK pours, taking a seat on one of the barstools and smiling when TK gives him a glass. Their fingers brush and Carlos grabs for his other hand, bring it to his lips to kiss TK’s knuckles over the countertop before letting him go.

“So, coffee with Tommy?” Carlos questions, repeating TK’s earlier text back to him.

“Yep.”

“You’ve been working with her for over a year and you’ve never gone out for coffee with her.”

“We did actually go for coffee,” TK begins after taking a breath, not wanting Carlos to think he was lying. He takes a small sip, the bubbles fizzy against his tongue, and leans his backside against the closed door of the dishwasher. “We just went to a meeting, first.”

Carlos tilts his head to one side in confusion. “What kind of meeting?”

“Like a support group. For people who’ve lost someone, run by a grief counsellor.”

“Oh.” His eyes soften, lips parting slightly. “Oh, I … that sounds like a good thing.”

“It was,” TK agrees. “She’s been going since Charles died and she asked yesterday if I wanted to go with her.”

He doesn’t mention that before she asked, he’d spent a few heart-pounding seconds thinking she was about to fire him for almost stealing from the narcotics safe. The guilt of it eats away at his edges like acid, even though he thinks she was being honest about trusting that he won’t do it again. Whether he’d managed to fool her into believing leaving it unlocked had simply been an accident, he doesn’t know. Whether his father let her in on what TK’d actually been doing that day, he doesn’t know. It all simmers underneath his skin like mosquito bites, and the largest, itchiest one of all is the fact that Carlos doesn’t know anything about any of it.

Part of TK longs to tell him. He wants to give everything to this man, and he wants Carlos to do the same. For the time being, a larger part of him wants to desperately cling to the idea that his addiction and his mess and his jagged edges are all too far in his past to touch them. TK knows Carlos looks at him and sees softness and kindness and a rose-colored glow and he loves that; he loves imagining he could live up to the person Carlos thinks he can be. The idea of shattering that illusion makes his knees want to buckle underneath him.

“Do you mind if I don’t get into it?” TK asks. Nothing he said was a secret, but he already told a room full of people all about how much he misses his mom, and then reiterated it to Tommy 30 minutes later in the back corner of a busy Starbucks. He doesn’t think he has the strength to talk about it a third time tonight.

Carlos frowns for a moment but then he nods and there’s only a trace of tightness in his smile. “Sure, of course.”

Tags under the cut

Tagging @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @carlos-in-glasses @actual-sleeping-beauty @herefortarlos

@goodways @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader @freneticfloetry @mooshkat

@liminalmemories21 @lemonlyman-dotcom @inkweedandlizards @bonheur-cafe @reasonandfaithinharmony

@thebumblecee @never-blooms @sanjuwrites @jesuisici33 @kiwichaeng @fallout-mars

@honeybee-taskforce @vineofroses @fitzherbertssmolder @safeashousespdf @captain-gillian

@firstprince-history-huh @just-inside-her @welcomehometk

[melodramatic-orchestra]

Lemony Snicket and Beatrice Baudelaire

“I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.”

This is only a small paragraph of the huge letter Lemony once wrote to his beloved Beatrice. Even if everything is falling apart, even if everything is shit and you don't want to do anything except for crying and sleeping, if your favorite song becomes boring, if it's raining everyday and the sun seems to never rise again, or even if you just had a bad day, a bad week or a bad goddamn life, you would rather lose everything than that one person you’ve fallen for. It may be dangerous, but that's just who you are. That's how you love.

Your person is your favourite song, your sun and your good days, and weeks, and life. You don't care what happens to you as long as your special someone is ok, because they're the one who stop you from going out and killing people. And if everything falls apart still, your love for them will still linger for as long as you breathe. At least, that's how you think, because that's just who you are. Because that's how you love.

[decentishoutsidersthoughts]

Pls yap about your AUs, gimme a list of all of them plssss

Ofc I have my Stranger Things AU which I feel like a good amount of people are here from

Theres the a series of unfortunate events AU where Darry basically plays the role of Lemony Snicket

My cutesy little foster AU where the brothers are all separated at a young age, Darry gets a good home but those parents die too, Soda’s home is like horrendously abusive and he runs away, and Ponyboy gets bounced around a ton. They all reunite in a gas station

A lot of people have been talking about a Descendants AU so I’ve been thinking about that a lot

I haven’t mentioned this one but AU where the reason Darry takes care of his brothers isn’t parental death but neglect and abuse. But he high tails it out of there once he turns 18 and is fighting for his life to get custody of his brothers. It would start when Soda is about to turn 18 which means he’s going to live with Darry which would leave Ponyboy alone at home alone.

Also just Ponyboy at college :3